#poking this fic with a stick

[dispatchwithlove]

I dragged this fic out of the trash bin and now I’m wondering what I should do with it, so I thought I’d share the intro. It’s called Invisible String and I wrote it three years ago. I want to shine it up till it’s real pretty and post it again.

She waits for him. At a beat-up table in a dim room, wearing a black hood, low, hugging her brow because it covers the scars cracking across her forehead and casts a shadow over the unsettling orange glow in her eyes. It doesn’t do much for the smoldering scars on her cheeks, though, bright crevasses telling anyone who lays eyes on her: I’m not normal. Or okay.

The hood is a desperate attempt to hide that from at least a few people. But there isn’t much she can do about her voice — weak and smokier than seems normal. Stuck on a hollowed-rock space station, the only way she knows that the day is more than half over is her dry throat and fried vocal muscles.

Shepard’s not sure what’s normal. Cerberus brought her back to life, but she woke up too early. The scars littering her entire body didn’t have time to heal, vocal cords were unused, yet inexplicably strained. And she has no memory of who she was. They told her everything would go back to normal eventually. Her scars would heal, her vocal cords would heal. Her brand new body would feel less like a glued-together shell and more like home. Her memory would return, either gradually, or something would kick it into action.

While they’re waiting patiently, Shepard wants to find that something that’ll kick her memory into action. Battle felt natural, but didn’t make her remember who she is. A chance encounter with a lost friend named Tali didn’t bring it back. The items sitting in her cabin, taken from her Citadel apartment after she died, are foreign and unappreciated.

Nothing is normal. Nothing is real. To make matters worse, despite feeling suspended two years behind everyone else and strung out, she’s recruiting a vigilante on the bad side of Omega’s gangs. All of them. Quite the accomplishment.

Someone from his crew escorted her to the room she now sits in, empty of anything but a table and two chairs. At least the lack of light helps to obscure the marks across her face that reveal she was recently nothing more than meat and tubes, which is fantastic, because nothing says ‘come sail around space with me’ like a fucked-up face.

Archangel takes his time, leaving her not only alone, but feeling alone, which leaves her with plenty of time to question not only who she is, but what she’s doing here. Maybe that’s his intent.

The steady, soft footsteps that echo up the hall stand in stark contrast to the tall, broad shouldered turian that enters the room. Vibrant blue markings strike his cheeks and mandibles. His face is out of place on Omega, the look of a privileged kid that would fit in better at museum galas than corpse-littered alleys.

He seeks the chair opposite hers taking long, confident strides. Unlike his pretty-boy face, the menace in his body language certainly fits in with Omega. He’s a self-appointed savior who helps the weak by inflicting calculated pain on those who exploit Omega’s abused and forgotten. He does good; the chatter she overheard in the markets proved that the locals think his actions are brave, and he’s the closest thing to philanthropy this shitpit station can hope for.

But his tactics show he takes a little too much pleasure in the pain he causes. The locals revered him, but with shuddering admiration and sickened fear they advised each other not to cross him. Can she trust a man like that?

He takes the chair, turns it with a twist of his wrist, and straddles it, folding his forearms along the back railing. Cool, blue eyes travel across her face, the lengths of her body, assessing the weapons she has strapped to her back. Something about the way he looks at her makes her think she’s received his approval, and something about him makes her want that approval. She doesn’t remember much about herself, but she knows approval has never been anything she sought — from anyone — before this moment.

[yourfavouritefighter]

Quick question, what if i started writing a tgs fic, and made fanart for it before i even finished working on the plot?

nah that would be crazy….

[auncyen]

I tried writing just a little more of the third loop and I realized. Within the THIRD LOOP, so as soon as Odile accepts her journal entries are genuine:

she'd totally clock that Siffrin is looping.

Arrived in House. Siffrin activated the Death Corridor's trap. However, he did not call it the Death Corridor. Mirabelle informed me it was the place when I asked about the trap. This seems to be our third time. Haven't told the others. The brevity of the previous entries makes them more alarming than helpful. But there's still a notable difference. First attempt: ends too abruptly. As a work of fiction, tasteless for implying a sudden death to a trap--may have been the case. Second: Siffrin successfully disarms the trap and names the corridor. Current: Siffrin disarms trap but does not offer details. They were also calm when the boulder crashed down. Siffrin tends to startle at sudden noises. May have their own knowledge of previous attempts?

just like. Odile being super analytical and clocking 'no gdit that's weird talk to Siffrin' and then as soon as she talks to Siffrin (probably during the first snack break) and sees them react to being questioned going 'okay yes you totally know. so since you don't have a journal, how are you getting the information--oh you remember all this. you remember getting horribly crushed by a boulder. That's...'

The only word coming to her mind is 'oof' and she does not want to say that

[waitineedaname]

transition would fix her -> jiang cheng

transition wouldn't fix her but it certainly wouldn't hurt -> luo bingmei

transition would make her worse -> luo bingge

[ikarakie]

i hope crowley doesn’t move on from this quickly, i want aziraphale to have to FIGHT for him the way he’s fought for aziraphale for so many years. i need crowley to go into whatever they end up having with zero doubts of azi’s feelings and loyalties, and that’s gonna take some fucking WORK

[fantastic-nonsense]

It's Seven Sentence Sunday and I am yeeting the roughest seven sentences ever into the void in the hopes that it will motivate me to finally finish my Cass fic

She is no longer Cain’s experiment. No longer the One Who is All. No longer the ward of Barbara Gordon or Batman's partner. No longer Batgirl. Now she is just Cassandra again. She had thought she knew who that was. Now she’s not so sure.

tagging @thatpersonwhosaidtheywouldnt, @secretlystephaniebrown, and @youareiron-andyouarestrong, and anyone else who wants to join in (no pressure)!

[pjisskullourful]

K̲̅e̲̅e̲̅p̲̅i̲̅n̲̅g̲̅ S̲̅e̲̅c̲̅r̲̅e̲̅t̲̅s̲̅

🎀 Damiano × reader

NSFW 🔥 smutathon, adults doing adult stuff

° Damiano David/female reader insert

° you gotta know I need it, tired of losing by Keeping Secrets ||| things change between you & your longtime friend damiano when he makes a cheeky comment at a party, you cant help reading into it [based dec 2020, lets not talk about the pandemic]

wordcount::. 19,684

° commissioned by lore (@lifeofa-fangirl) 💋 i have thanked you profusely& i will continue to thank you. thanks for sticking with me through this extended process& for believing in me when i didnt believe for myself [commissions are temporarily closed]

° lyrics stolen from madison rose & kandy

° [ITA:] bella: pretty

Shooting stars crash, crack and collide In the shadows we come alive Rub your skin on my skin to ignite Burn it down baby, let’s play with fire

“This guy!” Rachel exclaimed, instantly louder than what you had been saying to Damiano. “This is exactly the guy that I’ve been waiting to see.”

You had heard similar things said to him during the couple of hours since arriving at Taren’s Christmas party. You wondered if it was tiring for him, having so many people paying him attention and expecting it back. In the two years that you had known him, he had been gradually becoming more in demand, gaining more-and-more momentum with his band. The level of fame he had achieved had changed how people in your group of friends saw him. Not everyone, but enough that you had noticed.

The only thing that it had changed for you was how much time you got to spend with him - success meant a very full schedule. But he was still the same guy to you. He was the guy that you had almost shared a kiss with on four different occasions. He was the friend that loved superhero movies just as much as you, the two of you going to the cinema whenever something new came out. He was the one guaranteed to laugh at your jokes, when others seemed to not hear you.

Your little crush on him was your secret and to remain as such, because you couldn’t compromise the solid friendship that you had. Hours spent together laughing, unprompted text messages of support, all of those things were just as good as being his girlfriend - or so you told yourself.

You knew how to handle your friendship with him (you’d had a lot of time to practise that). A relationship was a swift way to surrender any control. And you needed control, you clung to it, because you saw how badly things went when you didn’t have it.

Before turning to the enthusiastic Rachel, he made a subtle gesture to you. Your shared code for put a pin in it. He wanted to hear the end of your rant about your job.

Rachel hugged each of you in turn, but it was only a one-arm embrace. Her other arm was occupied by a sizable plastic container, the contents concealed by wrapping paper. You exchanged the polite pleasantries.

“You were waiting to see me?” He asked.

“Rum balls.” She said concisely.

“What did she just call you?” You joked, seeing the confusion on his face. That was a feeling you were currently sharing.

She removed the lid from the container and held it out so you could each look inside. There was a collection of the brown and white bite-sized treats. You recognised them as something of a Christmas tradition, but you sensed there was more context eluding you.

But Damiano appeared to have figured out what was going on. “Right, rum balls.”

“Last year when I made them, he complained.” She started to explain to you. “He said I hadn’t used enough rum, so they weren’t rum balls, they were just ‘sweet balls’.”

You theatrically rolled your eyes. “You would say sweet balls, wouldn’t you? You’re always bringing balls up. And in public, too? Where’s your sense of decency?”

He played along, furrowing his brow. “Decen-... who?”

“Yeah, maybe there’s still time to add that to your wishlist for Santa.” You said.

“I called them sweet. I didn’t say they were gross, or anything.” He told her. “I was just expecting more of that rum flavour.”

She held the container closer to the two of you. “That’s why I did them differently this year. There’s definitely enough rum in these.”

Neither you nor he immediately moved to pick up one of the treats. It was a well-shared fact that Rachel wasn’t a good cook. Not due to lack of trying or ambition. But the little hobby she pursued more often than not produced results that didn’t taste as she hoped. She couldn’t get the heat of the oven perfect, or she had to substitute an ingredient with something not mentioned in the recipe. She always found a way to make chicken dry - no matter how she prepared it, or what she paired it with. At group dinners, her dish was usually the only one with leftovers.

But she always tried again. She took the good-natured teasing for what it was, proceeding forward with the goal of one day proving everyone wrong. Victoria played her ‘fussy eater’ card to avoid trying Rachel’s creations. But she could typically get some friends to eat the food out of pity.

“So, you found a new recipe to follow this year?” You asked, your hands kept at your sides as Damiano tentatively plucked one out.

“No, the same recipe. I just did my little alterations, working off of his constructive feedback.” She said, seemingly filled with optimism and pride.

Even though you were feeling uncertain, you knew that you didn’t want to hurt your friend’s feelings. You picked up a coconut-covered sphere as he was slowly raising his to his mouth.

“Mmn.” He was enthusing as soon as the dessert touched his tongue. He smiled as he began to chew. “It’s good.”

She perked up onto her tiptoes. “Better than last year?”

“Yeah, I think-...” His swallow was slow, almost as if it required extra effort. You hesitated from eating yours, watching as his eyes grew wide. “Oh, yep, there’s- there’s the rum. That’s more rum than last year, for sure.”

You were quickly understanding his choice of words, tasting rum, and then even more rum with every bite. You felt the texture of the shredded coconut, but you couldn’t taste its sweet flavour. Likewise the taste of the cocoa had been drowned out. The tang of the alcohol filled your mouth, overpowering to a degree you hadn’t been expecting.

It was like swallowing the contents of a shot glass - and you had never been a fan of shots. The dry flavour seemed to coat your throat. But you forced a smile onto your face, stifling your dislike of this taste as she looked for your reaction. She genuinely wanted to feel like she had done a good job and you couldn’t stand the thought of taking that from her.

“Ooh, yeah. That’s very rum-y. I think he’ll have to try harder to find something to complain about with these.” You said before suddenly spurting through some small coughs. You kept smiling as you reached for your glass of water. “Sorry, the coconut just tickled my throat a little.”

“Ray.” Taren said, getting her attention. “Come on, Keith is waiting to hear how terribly that mechanic ripped you off.”

“Right, let me-”

Before she could begin to turn away, Damiano surprised her (and you) as he grabbed for the container of rum balls. “Leave these here with us, will you? I don’t think I’m finished with just one and I’m lazy so I want them closeby.”

“Yeah, I was definitely planning on having more.” You lied.

She relented, transferring the food to his hands. She appeared pleased as she walked away with Taren, heading to a different area of the expansive house. You greedily gulped down more water, wanting to rinse the taste from your mouth. He quit smiling as Rachel left from your current view.

“What’s your plan, dude?” You asked. “Because I have no intentions of helping you eat those. I already feel like I’m over the legal limit, and that’s from one.”

He wasn’t eating more as he turned to you. “I had to do something to keep her from inflicting these on anybody else. And what if she offered them to someone more blunt than us? That could ruin the whole party for her- that’s not really in the spirit of the happiest season.”

This was one of the qualities that made Damiano a great friend: he wanted everyone to get a win. He was always there when somebody needed a cheerleader, boosting them and encouraging them forward so passionately.

“You’re very sweet.” You said.

“As sweet as balls?” He asked with one of his trademark mischievous grins.

You acted as if you hadn’t heard his joke, or noticed how handsome his smile was. “But you’re not gonna get me to eat those.”

“I think I could.” He said. “Come with me for a second.”

You didn’t resist, even though you had no idea what he was leading you to. It could result in trouble, his plans had ended that way more than once.

He carried the dessert with him, heading inside from the patio. You followed along, taken into the spacious basement. This was set up as something of a game room: featuring an air hockey table, a dart board and a large TV with various gaming consoles hooked up to it. There were some people relaxing in this area, but he didn’t stop to chat with any of them, he was set on his mission.

He walked directly over to the air hockey table, which wasn’t currently in use. He spun around, allowing you to see the smile still fixed on his face. He wasn’t distracted in the slightest, his eyes completely focused on you, which brought up the beginnings of feelings you didn’t want to address.

“Beat me and you don’t have to eat any others.” He said. “But if I win-... well, maybe you don’t wanna think about that.”

“And what if I just don’t agree to play?” You asked.

His smile didn’t slip, he didn’t see this as a true threat to his plan. “Oh, you mean if you forfeit? Well, I suppose I would just leave the rum balls here and hope someone else feels like being a good friend to Rachel…”

He was banking on your competitive side being activated. He had seen on countless occasions how much you loved to win at any kind of game or contest. He knew how difficult you found it to walk away if there was a slight chance that you could win, and he was exploiting this.

And you were letting it happen, wearing a smile to match his. Because who else were you going to hang out with? There were no other friends that you would prefer to spend time with. You knew that the best fun of the night would come from him and you weren’t done soaking up his company.

“Alright. The winner gets the most points out of seven games?” You said, going over to one end of the table.

He set the rum balls down closeby, then took up his position at the other end. “Uh-huh.”

You turned the table on, activating the miniscule air vents that covered the surface. The puck was placed inside of the painted circle, the middle point of the rectangular table’s length. You each collected your circular paddles, which weren’t much bigger than the palm of your hand.

“Ladies first.” He offered and you acted quickly, hoping to catch him off-guard. But this didn’t work out, with him ready to send the puck flying your way before it could get too close to the goal.

You kept going, striking the puck from different angles. You hit it so hard that it flew across the table at an impressive speed. It moved too fast for him, slipping past his paddle and into the little recess that served as your goal.

“Ladies first indeed.” You boasted, wearing a bigger smile now.

You almost forgot about everyone else in the room as you focused so intently on the game. You couldn’t look away for a second. Your mind rushed to come up with tactics, needing to come up with the key to winning.

And you succeeded - earning six goals to his singular point. You did a little happy dance while he accepted his defeat, that spectacular smile leaving his face. He ate another rum ball and with Rachel out of the room, he didn’t fake any part of his reaction. Instantly he grimaced, seeming to labour through each bite. He shut his eyes as he swallowed, all of the joy gone from his expression.

“Bloody Hell, I’m not sure that she left any rum for the rest of the world. It’s all in those little disasters.” He said.

“Why did you say they needed more rum?” You asked.

“Because that was the only thing I could think of to tell her. And I thought she would add an extra teaspoon or something, not an extra ten litres.” He said.

“Well those ten litres are all for you, my friend. Because I’m just getting started on my winning streak.” You said.

He stepped up to the table’s edge, wrapping his fingers around the paddle’s handle again. “We’ll see about that.”

You won the next set of games as well, feeling your cockiness swelling up, even though he had improved, gaining three points this time. His suffering added to your victory and you let yourself get carried away with it, laughing with the malice of a Disney villain. He scrunched his face up even more, adding extra drama to his reaction to this serving of the dessert.

The trash talking started with the next round, each of you enjoying getting invested in this contest. You gleefully teased one another, your words selected to get laughs, not to incite any actual hurt. This became a playful contest, each of you trying to find the most outrageous thing to say. You mangled one another’s names, adding extra syllables so the word loser could be incorporated. There were times when you were too distracted by laughing that he could sneak the puck past you, scoring more than a few points this way.

The teasing only got louder after Ethan had followed through on his offer of getting each of you drinks. This was your third glass of alcoholic eggnog tonight and you were enjoying the buzz you had developed. You didn’t often drink, but when you did you liked the fun-loving side it brought out of you. You got looser, forgetting about those responsibilities that plagued your days.

It didn’t take long for the eggnog to disappear. You used its far superior taste to rinse your mouth after losing and being forced to consume more of the rum balls.

Their intense flavour wasn’t getting any more appealing. So you concentrated harder after every loss. You began trying to fake him out, moving like you were going to hit the puck from the right, only to actually strike from the left. But this only worked a couple of times, the rest he could easily block.

“That’s, like, the third time you’ve done that.” He noted when you came in too strong with your paddle, sending the puck into a momentum that launched it over the raised frame of the table. “You’re getting too aggressive.”

“Boo-hoo. I lose that point every time it happens, so it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. It just happens.” You said, leaving collecting the puck from the floor up to him.

“I don’t know if losing the point is doing enough to discourage you, maybe we need a harsher penalty.” He said as he returned the puck to its starting point.

You narrowed your eyes as you looked at him. “Like what?”

“You hit it off the table and you lose the point, but you’ve also gotta eat a rum ball.” He said.

“What? That’s a bit of overkill, don’t you think?” You responded.

He smiled as he pushed the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt further up his forearms. “Don’t knock it off the table and it won’t be your problem.” You rolled your eyes as he grabbed the top of his paddle, returning to his less-relaxed stance. “Alright, we’re at a draw of three points each and it’s my serve.”

You gripped your paddle tightly, not thinking of any funny things to say as you clenched your jaw. He hit the puck in your direction and you tapped it back, not following through with all of your power. He moved to the right, ready to knock it away from his goal. It zipped across the table, quicker than before. You were getting into position, anticipating where it would travel to after ricocheting off the side.

But its speed continued, launching the disc over the frame and onto the ground. Instantly you started to laugh, especially tickled by the way his face fell. He was silent as he grabbed the puck from the ground, then he went to the container of Rachel’s dessert.

“Don’t knock it over the side and it won’t be your problem.” You quoted him, deepening your voice in your effort to imitate him.

He frowned as he ate another rum ball, apparently he was struggling just as much as you were to find anything to like about them. He dusted the excess shredded coconut off of his hands before walking back over to the table.

“Hang on. Aren’t you forgetting something here, dude?” You brought up, successfully getting him to pause. “That’s a point to me, four to three- you lose this round. You have to eat another one.”

He complied without any enthusiasm, but you were grinning the whole time. He popped a rum ball into his mouth, chewing it unhappily. He visibly shuddered as he swallowed it, poking his tongue out to further express his distaste.

He had a couple of mouthfuls of water as he returned to his position opposite you. “Alright, get ready to pay for that.”

“Ooo, I’m so scared.” You mocked. “My serve.”

You proceeded through more rounds, wins shared mostly evenly between the two of you. From time-to-time different people came over to watch, Victoria was very excited over the prospect of him losing. Rachel didn’t appear in the room, allowing you to keep torturing one another with her food.

“I think we should call time.” You said before a new round could begin - even though you weren’t sure how long you had spent playing. Time could behave strangely when you were around Damiano. Hours could pass under the guise of minutes, leaving you feeling like you needed more.

“Aw, do you need a break from getting beaten?” He mocked. This façade was immediately dropped. “Actually, I was so close to suggesting that myself. I don’t think I can physically eat one more.”

You looked into the container, your hands held behind your back as you surveyed what remained inside. “We ate at least half- maybe more. She’s got to be pleased with that. I would say we were way more generous than just having a pity nibble.”

“Yeah, but at what cost to ourselves?” He asked, overly solemn.

You agreed that some fresh air was necessary. You could feel how ruddy your cheeks were as you stepped back onto the patio. You considered whether your current state could be categorised as tipsy. You sat down on one of the padded benches, but he didn’t join you.

“I’m gonna get us some water.” He said and you were quickly nodding along to show your support. “And some kind of something to eat to soak up the rum- a bit of it.”

As he was leaving through the door, he passed by Thomas, the guitarist walking in the opposite direction. He came over to where you were sitting on your own, greeting you with a smile.

“Hey, I feel like I’ve barely seen you tonight. Where have you been hiding?” He asked.

“Oh, I was with Damiano.” You said and the way his eyebrows jumped up couldn’t go unnoticed. “We were playing air hockey.”

“Is that what we’re calling it these-days?” He asked, lightly nudging your side with his elbow.

“What? We really were.” You defended, your voice getting a little louder as discomfort trickled in.

“Are you sure? Are you sure that you didn’t meet under the mistletoe, and that’s why you were missing for hours, and why your face is all flushed?”

You didn’t know how to handle your friend’s scepticism at first. “Is there mistletoe? I haven’t seen it.”

“Nice deflection.” He said, still wearing that sly smile.

“I promise you that we were just playing air hockey.” You told him sincerely. “Ask Ethan, he saw us.” Unfortunately for you, the drummer was nowhere in sight. “Or if you wait for, like, a minute, you can ask Damiano himself when he gets back.”

“It’s okay, I’m not genuinely going to call you a liar.” Thomas said, trying a different approach. “I just wouldn’t be surprised if you guys did sneak off to be alone.”

“Really, why?” You asked.

“Sometimes there’s a vibe between the two of you.” He said.

You furrowed your brow - was your secret crush on Damiano a lot less secret than you were aware of? “A vibe between us? What kind of vibe?”

Thomas shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, a vibe.” Him adding extra emphasis didn’t help you gain any clarity.

“A vibe? Oh good, I was worried you would be vague about it.” You sarcastically quipped.

You didn’t get the chance to get any more information out of him. Instead you were swiftly trying to act inconspicuous as Damiano made his return.

“You’re going to be really happy with me, dude.” He told you, both of his hands were very full. “I found a little stash of dinner rolls for us.”

“Is that to help you get your energy back after all of that air hockey?” Thomas asked, apparently not done with stirring the pot.

“Oh, she was bragging about all of her victories while I was gone, was she?” Damiano asked.

“No.” Thomas said, turning to look at you. “Did you beat him?”

You smirked after being handed a cup of water and a few small bread rolls. “Of course I did.”

“We were pretty even. It’s not like you were wiping the floor with me.” Damiano defended.

“You take my seat, man. I’m gonna go see if I can find that mistletoe.” Thomas said, standing up.

“Mistletoe?” Damiano repeated. “Who do you need that for?”

Thomas patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll hang it above my ass, just for you.”

Damiano grinned. “Hell yeah, I was hoping I would get lucky at this party.”

Instead of responding with another joke, Thomas just shot a look in your direction. You thought the smile on his face was saying more. 

But he didn’t cause any trouble for you, waving as he departed. Damiano sat down next to you, apparently oblivious as he bit into a bread roll.

“Thanks for getting the food.” You said after having a gulp of water.

“You’re welcome.” He replied casually. “You know you only got so many wins because you kept topping the puck, right?”

You knew what he was referring to, using the flat bottom of a paddle on top of the puck to halt it, gaining control of its momentum. But you didn’t know why he was bringing it up.

“I was not.” You said.

“Dude, you were.” He said.

“If I was doing that- if- why didn’t you call it out when I was supposedly doing it?” You asked. “I never topped, and you can ask all my exes, they will confirm that fact.”

The words had slipped out of your mouth. Your cheeks immediately filled with a hot blush as you mentally scolded yourself for your lack of impulse control. You blamed the alcohol in your system as you covered your mouth with your fingers. You wished you hadn’t said it, and you didn’t know how to play it off.

His eyes lit up. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You began shaking your head. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“What? Why? It’s not like I’m judging you for your position preferences.” He said.

This didn’t help you to stop blushing. Was he thinking about it, or picturing it in any way? You didn’t know what you wanted the answer to be and you were finding it difficult to meet his eye.

“Thanks. It would be pretty awkward if you unfriended me just because I'm a bottom.” You said, finding a way to joke through this.

He laughed. “As if.” You dared to look up at him again. “The reason I'm gonna unfriend you is for you topping the puck.”

“I was not!” You burst out, your indignation making him laugh more. “If you saw it, you should have said something.”

“I'll have to remember it for next time we play.” He said, his laughter stopping. “Oh, I’m an asshole. I totally forgot that you were in the middle of telling me about that friction at work, with what’s-her-name.” He said. “That’s my bad, dude. Did you wanna tell me more about that, her being overbearing as Hell?”

Sumia seemed like a safe topic to move onto - you could get back to how you had been communicating earlier, when you had been at ease, your feelings seemed less unavoidable then.

And your co-worker gave you a lot to vent about.

“I don’t know how much more patience I have for her and her telling me how to manage my team.” You said.

“Why does she think she’s your supervisor?” He asked.

“Beats me. Supervisors make more money, so maybe that’s what she’s angling for.” You said. “It’s like she’s trying to prove that she can do that job, by supposedly helping improve how the lab runs. But there’s no indication that the boss has that kind of promotion to give.”

He had finished eating, crossing one leg over the other towards you. He rested his elbow on the top knee and then held his chin in his hand as he listened to you. “Maybe she’s into manifestation.”

“Maybe she’s a jerk.” You said, grateful when he let this pass without pointing out the immaturity of trying to make this part of your argument. “She’s a shadow, a really terrible shadow. It’s like she’s always waiting for me to slip up. Instead of doing her actual job, she watches for me to do something that she doesn’t agree with slightly, so she can run off and tell everyone I’ve been naughty or something.”

“Well I hope she’s not in touch with Santa.” He said, surprising you out of your train of thought. You cocked your head to the side as you looked at him, too perplexed to speak. “‘Cause naughty girls get punished by Santa, you know.”

The image surged into your mind - too fast and too powerful for you to fend off. Your friend wearing only a Santa hat, calling you naughty. The word punish posed so many possibilities and your mind wanted to explore them, your heart already racing just as your thoughts were.

Your eyes had grown wide and you could feel the revealing blush in your cheeks again. It felt like your mouth was stuck shut as you willed this increasingly-detailed fantasy from your brain.

You didn’t have to be speaking to give him a response he wanted to observe. His eyes remained on your face, watching the changes in your expression - which were beyond your control. A smile was beginning on his mouth as you were scrambling to keep yourself together.

“This isn’t the reaction I was expecting. You’re looking a little shocked.” He said.

“Am I?” You asked and an attempt at clearing your throat brought on some coughing.

“Yeah, why are you acting like this is brand new information?” He asked.

You looked down at your lap, finding the napkin your bread rolls had been resting on was clear, you couldn’t use your food as a distraction. “I’m not trying to act that way.”

“Okay.” He said and when you looked up again, it was to find that he was still wearing his amused smile.

You feared what he might say if you asked what he was smiling about. You wanted to know, but you feared the change it could bring.

You were trying to recall a normal way to act. Maybe you could have found the right thing to say - 

- if not for Rachel serving as an interruption, again.

“You guys, oh my God, you ate so many.” She said as she rushed over to where the two of you were sitting. She carried the container and wore a broad smile. “Someone said you were eating them the whole time you were playing air hockey.”

Now that the focus had shifted, you found that your ability to speak normally had mostly returned. You had to protect Rachel’s feelings, and you had to make sure that eating all of those rum balls hadn’t been for nothing. “Did they say anything else?”

“Like what?” She asked, proving how oblivious she was, which ushered in some of the relief that you needed.

Before she could read too much into your question, he was distracting her with compliments - tapping into that charm he had a seemingly endless supply of. “Of course we ate so many, they’re great. I don’t know about her, but it was hard to stop once I started eating them. Maybe all that extra rum made them addictive.”

You nodded along to what he was saying and it was clear that she was buying it as she went on smiling brightly, standing with her shoulders pushed back. The dishonesty was giving her a boost in confidence - could it be such a bad thing?

“I feel a little bad that we had so many before anyone else could really have a chance to try them.” As he spoke, the movement of Thomas coming back onto the patio caught your eye.

“No, I think there’s still enough left.” She said.

“Hey Ray.” He greeted, standing beside her.

She swung her body to face him, presenting him with the selection of dessert she still had. “Hi, have a rum ball?”

“Oh, nice.” He said, his optimism surprising you. Did he think she had purchased them, instead of making them? “I was hoping someone would bring these.”

Damiano grabbed your wrist, each of you watching carefully as Thomas picked out one of the rum balls. There was no way to guess how he would react - he had always been a wild card like that.

He began to eat and it appeared there were no issues. He didn’t wince or frown at all.

“Mmm.” He hummed as he swallowed it down. “That’s good, it isn’t too sweet.”

“That’s exactly what I was going for.” She said, briefly showing Damiano a favourable smile.

Thomas wasn’t dropping the act. Was his poker face stronger than you had realised? He took another of the small spheres, happily eating this as well, not needing to be pressured into doing it.

At the same time, you and Damiano looked at each other. You could already tell that he was thinking the same as you - your unpleasant efforts hadn’t needed to be undertaken at all. While you had been groaning through every mouthful, Thomas would have enjoyed eating Rachel’s dessert, fulfilling her desire to have her cooking validated.

You started laughing first, feeling foolish but not embarrassed. As Damiano continued to look at you, he joined you in fits of laughter. That sense of obligation towards Rachel was evaporating and you kept laughing as even more relief took its place. His hand went from your wrist, now holding your hand. You were united in finding this unexpected outcome ridiculous.

“What are you two laughing about? What could possibly be this funny?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, you know what they’re like, always up to something, that’s their vibe.” Thomas said.

As you tried to get your laughter under control, you shot a glare in Thomas’ direction. But it seemed that Damiano had missed the statement and its potential subtext, he was too busy giggling to notice.

The other two left after a moment and his continued snickering made you want to start up again.

“Dude.” He said through a gasp for air.

“We literally didn’t need to do that, any of it.” You said, smiling as you shook your head. “I’m gonna have rum in my system for weeks. And the whole time, Tom would have eaten them and spared Rachel from heartbreak.”

He was still laughing. “Her Christmas spirit didn’t need us to save it.”

“We are so dumb.”

You properly noticed that he was still holding your hand and you looked at how your fingers fit perfectly with his. He had held your hand before (squeezing through crowded clubs and not wanting to lose track of each other, amongst other instances). You told yourself that this shouldn’t feel any more significant than the other times it had happened. You rejected your own inclination that this was a ‘couple-y’ thing to do.

But you missed his hand in yours as soon as he took it away. He used his fingers to wipe beneath his eyes as he steadily brought his laughter to an end. “That’s my bad, I should have remembered that he eats absolutely anything.”

“Yeah, I thought you guys were supposed to be brothers.” You said.

He looked you in the eye, he had quit laughing, but he was still smiling. “That’s definitely naughty girl behaviour.”

You stared back at him, denying the insistent imagery your mind was all too ready to produce. “What, what are you talking about?” Once again you were trapped under that gaze that seemed to see too much.

“Lying, only naughty girls lie.” He said.

You knew that the way you were holding yourself together would disintegrate further if he said more words. “Can we drop this?”

He playfully pushed you a little further. “Why, do you not like being called that?”

You kept your lips firmly pressed together. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t risk slipping up. It was the opposite of not liking him calling you a naughty girl, but you didn’t know how to make sense of that for yourself. There was no way you could explain it to him.

The teasing smile fixed to his face made you squirm. It differed to the typical way you would make fun of each other. A thought occurred to you - if you kissed him you wouldn’t have to see that smile anymore, you could get a break from its disarming effects.

This situation had shifted and you could feel the control you used to protect yourself under threat. And you weren’t ready to be without it, regardless of how appealing and handsome he was.

You had to fight yourself, and your urges, back, the effort feeling almost physical. But you did it, producing distance between the two of you by getting to your feet.

“I’m gonna go and see if I can find some pudding. I would like to get to the part of this night where I’m eating a dessert I don’t have to pretend to enjoy.” You said. “I’ll see you later, dude.”

“See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.” He said, showing no signs of hurt feelings.

You didn’t hesitate to walk back inside, you needed space and time. You knew that you and your friend could get back to normal before too long. But for the moment you needed solitude, time for the ripples he had created to die out.

*** *** ***

 Hey dude. Are you home? I kinda have a favour to ask…

This wasn’t the first time you were hearing from Damiano in the week since the Christmas party. The way you had been communicating could be characterised as normal, the word naughty hadn’t been used once.

But that didn’t mean you had stopped thinking about it. When your brain wasn’t actively engaged with something (work, Pilates), it wandered and a fantasy was unfolding. In your mind’s eye you saw a Santa hat as the concept of punishment produced many ideas. Would it be spanking? Would it be restraints on your body? Would it be more telling you how bad you were?

Your ventures into rough play had been short. Previous partners had treated it as a brief aspect of foreplay, doing as much as it took to turn them on before progressing to the ‘main event’. How much you wanted was usually ignored, but your people-pleasing tendencies kept you from voicing any complaints.

As you imagined going further than you had before, you willed a different face to appear under the Santa hat. You didn’t want it to be your friend. You tried to replace him with Harry Styles, or other celebrities you found sexy. Or a guy that you had gotten a crush on in the four months that you had worked together - what was his name?

But Damiano’s visage always returned to claim ownership of this role. There was a vast catalogue of memories that could be called upon to create a very clear image. You had gone swimming together countless times, you were familiar with what he looked like in nothing but a Speedo. Maybe other people at these group activities didn’t pay as much attention to his body as you did. But you always found something to like.

The fantasy always stirred something deep in your gut. You didn’t hate it, but you didn’t want it in your brain. It could compromise what you had and enjoyed.

You hoped for it to be a phase. It was like getting a song stuck in your head, it couldn’t stay on a loop forever. Sooner or later, your mind would move onto the next.

For now you were doing everything in your power to act normally with him. Surely the actions would impact your mental state, taking you back to a place of feeling normal (and in control).

Tell me what the favour is first. Maybe I’m not sure if I’m home yet.

You considered the words before hitting the send icon. Typically you gave messages a pre-send proofread to make sure there were no embarrassing spelling errors.

This was different: you were checking for anything that could be misconstrued or turned into innuendo. You had to conceal the swirl in your mind, picking up the implications that came with him reaching out to you so late at night. Why was he thinking about you past 11PM? Was it too much of a stretch to think he might be having difficulty falling asleep in a way that was linked to you? All of these theories had to be kept to yourself.

Haha. I’ll see you in about 20. He responded.

You stared at the screen of your mobile phone, feeling like you were on the way to becoming out of your depth. Hold up! You still haven’t told me what the favour is yet.

There was a brief pause (time for you to squirm on your sofa and tap your fingernails on the phone’s case) before you received his next message. I ran out of wrapping paper. None of the stores are open this late. & I’m driving to see my family tomorrow afternoon.

Running out of wrapping paper on Christmas Eve sounded like a stressful situation to be stranded in. It wasn’t a problem for you to worry about - you had packaged up your final purchase earlier in the week. You were the perfect person to rescue him and he was especially grateful when you confirmed that you could help him out.

From the highest platform of his cat tree, Iggy watched you sit up on the couch. You halted the renovation show that you had been watching, now motivated to get to your feet.

With the purpose of his visit so obviously platonic, it would have been odd to try to impress him, too much effort put into your appearance would be a waste. But you didn’t want to look like crap either. You went into the bathroom because brushing your teeth seemed like the best place to start. As you did this, you considered your reflection. The pyjamas you were wearing weren’t covered in any kind of embarrassing print and the robe you wore didn’t have gross stains on it.

You looked casual and comfortable. This wouldn’t be the first time he had seen you in your pyjamas. They were hardly glamorous or sexy, but they were you: the friend that he knew he could rely on.

After brushing your hair, you gathered the supplies he would need to get the gifts ready for his family. You placed all of this on the coffee table.

Instead of sitting on the sofa to await his arrival, you headed in the direction of your bedroom. You had just decided that putting a bra on was a good idea.

Suddenly Iggy was done with his lazing about. Your cat went sprinting past you, needing to get to the bedroom before you, for some unknown reason.

He had just disappeared out of your sight when you heard a knocking on the door. You would have to face Damiano without a bra, as your cat maintained his anti-social way of life.

You opened the door and couldn’t help laughing at what you found waiting for you. Damiano was dressed up - wearing an elf costume, complete with a hat and a green shirt that had a bright red collar. In one hand he carried a large fabric sack, it seemed a bit extra to transport his family’s gifts like this. But maybe he was this level of dedicated to the joke.

He smiled, seeming pleased with your reaction. “Are you going to let me in, or just stand there laughing at me?”

You moved to the side, still laughing as he came inside. “I’m sorry, but seriously, what are you wearing? Did you guys have some kind of themed Christmas show? Because I do not remember you mentioning that.” There was a bell at the tip of his green hat and it made a merry little sound with every step he took. “Or is this a service that you provide to the community every year? You put this costume on and you go door-to-door spreading the festive spirit?”

Once he had reached the lounge room, he stopped walking, turning to face you and you could see he was still smiling. “No, you’re the only one I’m seeing.”

“Okay. Well, can the elf wrap the presents himself? Or was he expecting me to help ‘cause I’m good with ribbons?” You asked.

“I lied about needing wrapping paper.” He said.

“Huh? Why would you do that?” You asked, more confused than upset by the deception.

“It was the only excuse I could come up with to come and see you. I needed to see you.” He said, his tone more serious than you had been expecting of a man dressed in a novelty T-shirt.

“What on Earth is going on?” You asked. You were trying to pick up clues from his expression, but you weren’t sure you had seen him like this before.

“Okay. So, part of this thing is that I wanted to give you a good laugh. I know how stressful your job has been lately and I know that you’ll be spending Christmas alone.” He said and it was flattering to know how well he listened to you, even when you were just talking about your parents going to England to spend the holiday with your little sister. “I figured you could use a little extra merriment, from an external source. And it seems like I accomplished that, awesome.”

“Yeah, you have.” You said. “What’s the other part to this?”

He paused to set the sack down on the floor and take a deep breath. “Don’t feel any pressure to respond in a certain way. I’m gonna be honest with you and I just want you to be honest back.”

“Okay.” You said - you were too confused to joke with him in any way. Your brain was so preoccupied that you had stopped noticing the silly hat and shirt.

“I want you.” He said.

The monumental statement wasn’t followed up by any laughter, keeping the sincerity present.

“I don’t mean to surprise you with this. But it kind of surprised me.” He said, happy to fill the silence as you remained too stunned to speak. “It started at the Christmas party-... well, maybe that’s not fully true. I guess I’ve thought about you, us, a couple of times. But it changed, it got more serious after the party.

“I was genuinely joking with that naughty girl stuff, ‘cause that’s what we do, lightening the mood and all that. But the way you reacted… I would have to be blind to not see that. You were having thoughts about it that went beyond a joke, maybe feelings, too.

“A lot of people think you’re shy, I’ve seen new people come into the group with that perception of you. And by extension of that, you seem innocent.” He said. “But I don’t think you’re what you appear to be. Your reaction makes me think that you like being called names and you like being put in your place, in a very un-innocent way.

“And thinking about you like that you got me all worked up. And I’ve barely been able to get it out of my head. So I thought we could bring our ideas of what Santa would do with a naughty girl together, and see what we like best.” He said and he picked up the sack, bringing it to sit in front of his feet. “I have my bag of tricks and I have a role that you could play, if you’re interested…”

He paused, looking down as he drew in a deep breath. “And if you’re not… I completely respect that. I will just go away, I might hit up Rachel’s place on the way home and see if she has any rum that she can share, so then I can drink this embarrassing moment out of my brain.”

“She’s not gonna have it. There isn’t a single drop left anywhere in Italy because she used it all.” You said, smiling. “They’re rushing to import more from the West Indies, but that would take a couple of weeks to get here.”

He met your gaze again, smiling as well. You supposed that he was waiting for you to say something. 

You powered through the trepidation, endeavouring to meet him in the middle. You had to act on your feelings, denying them hadn’t gotten you anything good.

You walked the short distance that separated the two of you. The way he was looking at you added to the certainty you felt, able to combat the nerves. You were filled with adrenaline and the concept of stopping didn’t feel possible.

You placed yourself directly in front of him. You stepped over the sack with one foot as you raised both of your hands to his face. You cradled his cheeks in your hands, wondering if you had ever before been able to truly appreciate all of the beautiful features of his face at the same time like this. He was familiar, but changed enough to provide new excitement.

You expressed these different feelings by kissing him. And putting your lips to his felt immediately good, not that level of awkwardness a first kiss could hold. You weren’t making adjustments, nothing needed to be changed.

After a moment (perhaps giving you a window of time to change your mind and back out of this whole thing) he wrapped his arms around your waist. Your heart was fluttering as you tasted more-and-more of his top lip, the pleasing scent of his cologne adding to this. One of your hands travelled up, moving into his soft hair, enjoying what wasn’t trapped under the obnoxious hat.

You parted very slightly, your nose still resting against his as you tried to somewhat catch your breath. “Naughty girls get punished by Santa.” You said, not needing to pause to recall these words that had been ever-present in your mind since first hearing him say it.

“That’s right.” He said.

“Then how come you’re dressed as an elf?” You asked, teasing.

He laughed lightly, which you joined in on. “This was what I had at home. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” You said. “I don’t see it bothering me for long. Everything’s gonna come off of your body soon.”

He was grinning. “Are we-... do you really wanna do this?”

You caressed his cheek. “Yes, I’ve hardly been able to stop thinking about it too. But this isn’t the only time I’ve thought about you like this. Not to sound like a high schooler, but I’ve got a crush on you.”

“And you never told me?” He asked, the tips of his fingers playing at the spot under your chin. “Keeping secrets is more naughty girl behaviour.”

“It sounds like there’s a lot of things you could punish me over.” You said, the adrenaline keeping you from being too shy to say something like this. You could inhabit this character and speak your truth without overthinking every single word.

“Have you ever been punished before?” He asked, his tone less flirty.

“No, but I wanna be.” You said.

He gave you a brief kiss before taking a small step back. “We need to start with boundaries because I don’t wanna do anything that interrupts your fun. I’m not going to do this with you unless we do it the right way.” You nodded along, even though you didn’t fully understand what was expected of you yet. “Do you have any strict no’s?”

You couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated. Usually it took a few dates for you to get into this kind of kinky conversation, but you had only kissed this guy a couple of times.

“Uhm, I'm not a big fan of anal. If this is something you’re into, I’m sorry, but I don’t like calling people Daddy…”

“That’s totally fine.” He said. “Do you have a safe word?”

“No.”

“Well, have a think about it.” He said. “I don’t mean to make it sound intimidating. If there’s something you don’t want to do, you just have to tell me.”

You made an attempt at looking more confident, pushing your shoulders back slightly. “I’m not intimi-...” He compelled you back towards honesty without any words, a glance was all it took. “I’ll let you know.” In his silence, you noticed how the smile on his face was growing. “What, why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something funny?”

“No, there’s nothing funny. You’re just really adorable right now.” He said. “And I’m not used to seeing you like this. I like watching you squirm, it’s not how you usually act around me and it’s not just so fucking cute. It also gives me inspiration, it makes me want to do other things to see what else makes you squirm.”

“I’m squirming?” You asked, all of these movements had been happening involuntarily, they didn’t feel significant to you.

He had walked over closer to you again. “Yes and I’m getting a little obsessed with it.”

“I bet you could show me all new ways to squirm.” You said.

“Only if you're a good girl…”

You were smiling as he put his fingers under your chin, guiding you to tilt your head back so he could capture your mouth with a kiss. There was safety and excitement in the way he wrapped his arms around you. You didn’t resist this rush for one second, letting your lips part at the first touch of his tongue because you wanted to indulge deeper.

Before you could find that perfect rhythm with him, he was bringing the kiss to a gentle end. You waited to feel his lips again as his breath continued to caress your face.

When you opened your eyes, you found that he wasn’t moving in for another kiss. Instead he was carefully studying your face, seemingly unwilling to overlook a single feature. For the first time in your life, you felt like you understood what it meant to be admired.

“I'm more turned on than intimidated.” You wanted to clarify.

“And I intend to keep it like that.” He said as he smiled. “Do you wanna go into the bedroom?”

“Uh-huh, I really want to.”

He picked up the holiday-themed bag and you began down the short hallway.

The epiphany came to you as you were walking and you immediately spun around, needing to share the thought.

“Grinch.” You stated.

He stared at you, waiting for it to be his turn to talk. “I’m gonna need some sliver of context before I can get to be as happy about this word as you are.”

“What if we make Grinch the safe word?” You asked. “Or is that a bit too obvious and uninspired?”

“Of course we can use that. Good work, baby.” He said.

The way that he sounded so pleased added an extra spring in your step as you continued toward the bedroom. Earning his approval was having an effect on you.

And you definitely liked the sound of him calling you baby. It was so different from the way he would usually address you, joking as he called you dude. This rolled off his tongue giving you some intriguing feelings, which you didn’t feel compelled to run from. Your old reactions wouldn’t suffice in this brand new scenario.

Once you were standing in the illuminated bedroom you turned to face him, and he was instantly upon you. It seemed that none of the toys he had brought were breakable, with him paying no attention to how the sack landed after he had tossed it in the direction of your bed. You were more than willing to be distracted from this, getting swept up in more of his exciting kisses. He put his hands to either side of your face, holding you in exactly the place he wanted. You wrapped your arms around his middle, feeling the acceleration past the point of no return - you could not walk it back from here. 

You savoured how it felt to explore beyond the typical with him. His lips left yours, travelling downwards. As he continued gracing your skin with kisses, he tilted his head and the bell attached to his hat jingled. It was almost funny how out of place it was, failing to add anything to the established mood.

But you didn’t want to laugh and you didn’t want to hear anymore of it. You grabbed for the cap’s tail, the bell ringing again as you pulled the hat off of his head. His mouth was discovering your neck as you tossed the accessory away, hearing the jingle for the last time. Your hands moved into his hair, the soft strands gliding between your fingers. His slow kisses moved across more of your neck. You wondered if he would leave marks, they would be exciting to wear.

He paused before getting too much lower. “I can’t get to any of the fun bits, you’re so bundled-up.”

You scoffed. “It’s winter and it’s nighttime. What were you expecting, should I be lying around my apartment in lacy lingerie and high heels?”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“You should be lying around in absolutely nothing.” He said.

“I guess that I’m gonna be the first present you unwrap this year.” You said.

He smiled and returned his lips to yours. But the distraction of getting you out of your clothes soon took priority. You saw the enthusiasm on his face as he undid the tie of your fuzzy bathrobe. He didn’t take his time, moving consistently quickly to remove your layered comfortable clothing.

Your skin formed goosebumps as you became more exposed. But this wasn’t in response to the low temperature that had seen you grab for so much covering. This was the anticipation, which was also keeping a blush in your cheeks.

You didn’t feel judged as his eyes took in all of the details of your naked body. You knew that your safety with him wasn’t at risk.

He began to experience your body beyond sight, and the touch of his hands brought to your attention just how sensitive you were. A caress to the small of your back brought warmth into your gut. The way he gave your hip an affectionate squeeze made you notice a tremble in your knees.

For the moment you had entirely forgotten about his sack, you definitely weren’t trying to guess at which sex toys were inside. You were feeling like a toy yourself, being played with. He was gently exploring you, getting a hint of your features that lay beneath the surface. 

His fingers continued to trail all over your bare skin and you saw the tantalising sparkle in his eyes before he gave you some more kisses. You wrapped your arms around his middle, low enough that you could slip your hands under the hem of his festively foolish shirt. Now it was your turn for fingers to trail as you appreciated his skin differently to ever before.

You followed your inclination to experience more of this, aware of your greed rising. One of your hands travelled up his back, while the other pulled the hem up because you were wondering how it would feel to have your bare skin pressed against his. It was a very inviting idea and you continued to gradually raise the bottom of his shirt.

His fingers caressed your cheeks as the kiss reached a gradual conclusion. “Are you feeling a bit eager? Don’t get too distracted now, you’re the one getting unwrapped here, babe.”

“What? I’m just trying to make it more even, is that so bad?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t classify impatience as a good girl quality.” He said with just the right amount of sternness in his voice.

You played along, pouting your bottom lip out a little. “You’re gonna make my punishment harder ‘cause I don’t like to wait?”

“Your punishment will be as harsh as you want it.”

“As harsh as you want.” You corrected.

“I have something that could be a counter to that impatience before you get too unruly.” He said.

“Alright, I trust you.”

It seemed that this was the right answer because it earned you some more kisses. As you soaked up the heat from his body, he slightly altered the way he was holding you. One of his hands reached lower to the back of your thigh and his arm tightened around your waist. Squeezing you close to him, he manipulated your body until both of your feet were leaving the ground.

This gave you a different type of rush. You had never been carried by a partner like this before. You clung to him as your eagerness continued to run rampant through your system, unwilling to forfeit its dominance. The muscles on his arms that you had noticed a fair amount of times weren’t just for show, he held you steady. He took careful steps, moving blindly as his focus went to continuing to kiss you.

He made it to the bed with barely a falter of his grip. The momentum changed and you were moved away from his body, his hands guiding you elsewhere. Your butt reached the mattress first as your eyes started to flutter open.

He was in the ideal spot directly in front of you for no more than a second. Then he was turning away, fetching the bag he had brought to delight you with. You regained your balance, trying to anticipate what he was about to show you, even though there were no visual clues. Judging by what he had said, you expected some form of restraints - but which style would he favour? Fuzzy handcuffs would go with the novelty of a Santa sack. Or did he prefer the precision and care of tying you up manually?

Amongst the other items in the sack, he found one, showing it to you as he walked over again. You were pleased to be proven correct by the sight of handcuffs, his thumb hooked through one of the shut loops. These weren’t novelty items, there were two thick cuffs that appeared to be made of leather. Despite the cute stars printed across them, you knew they would be strong enough to hold you.

“Would you like to veto these?” He asked. “And there isn’t a limit on your vetoes, you can use as many as you need.”

You were shaking your head before he had finished speaking. You weren’t very interested in ruling things out - you had already decided that you wanted to show off how much you could take. You were attached to the idea of impressing him.

Your eyes went to his other hand, which held the bag, its shape distorted by the items it still held. “It’s pretty obvious you didn’t just come over here with some cuffs. What’s left in that sack, what else did you bring?”

He smiled without a hint of bashfulness. “I think you’re probably better off asking what I didn’t bring.”

He wasn’t about to show you his entire hand yet. Instead of upending the bag, he reached in to collect something else currently out of your sight. A subtle crease came into his brow as he briefly concentrated. Before you could offer any assistance, he achieved his goal and showed you two of his fingers brightly decorated. They were unique finger puppets, but they weren’t entirely unfamiliar to you. You leaned forward, eyes greedily studying the little protruding bumps and ridges.

“Oh, I used to own stuff like that, I know how they work.” You said.

He didn’t let this deflate him or take away from his presentation at all. “You know all about them, huh?” You nodded, still feeling some self-confidence. “But have you had someone use them on you?” You stopped nodding. “‘Cause that can really change the experience. Do you want me to demonstrate that?”

You weren’t intimidated, feeling like you weren’t entirely out of your depth yet allowed you to stay possessed by intrigue. “Uh-huh.”

The cuffs and the remaining contents of the bag were ignored for the moment. He came in close again and you were relieved to not have to wait for the next kiss. You shut your eyes and drew your desires purely from his mouth.

You could have gotten distracted by this, still learning the little techniques that his kisses possessed. But before you could fully forget about the accessories placed on his fingers, you were feeling the rubber toy stroking down your chest. It dragged across your skin differently to his bare touch and you were hotly anticipating where you might feel the other toy.

The second stimulator got your attention when he flicked it against one of your hardened nipples. You couldn’t help flinching, bringing laughter from him, even as he continued to kiss you. The sound was muffled by your mouths, dying out as you pictured that cocky grin on his face.

He began to trail his fingers (both covered and not) down one side of your body. This whisper of a touch left you with goosebumps. He moved his hand up-and-down, applying pressure with the toys in a kind of massage, the slow patterns were so attentive. At the same time his tongue was pushing into the small space between your lips, easing them further apart. The exploration of his tongue paired perfectly with the caresses of his hands, one on either side of your body now.

You squeezed your thighs together when you felt him firmly grab your hips, almost pinching. Then he rubbed and clenched his fingers, rubbed and clenched. You couldn’t help lifting your hips a little, keen to press more of yourself against him. His tongue kept playing against the roof of your mouth, encouraging you further.

“I like the way you’re squirming under me.” He said. “I can tell this good girl is enjoying herself already, hm?”

“Mm-hmm.” You responded.

His hands moved lower than your hips, the toys pushing against your skin. The movement held your focus. He went to your ass, holding it in his hands, fingers extending and massaging this area. It seemed to you that he was truly trying to learn your body, giving you the sense that this was so much more than a fleeting interest and you let yourself get more excited, writhing a bit more frequently now. 

When you opened your eyes it was to find him watching you, something of a smile still on his face as your reactions intrigued him. He noticed you looking and smiled a bit wider. His hands were now dragging up-and-down, going from the top of your butt to the tops of your thighs.

“I’m not used to having a knowledge advantage like this. You’re so clever, so quick, so tuned in, you always know more than me. Not in a cocky, or arrogant way- that’s never been you. But you’re a smart, smart girl, and maybe this is an area where I’m ‘smarter’, so I think I might savour how this feels.” He said. “Having all the control as I show you something new, surprise you a little.”

“That means you’re gonna stretch this teasing out, aren’t you?” You asked.

“Is that not what you want, baby?” He asked with a teasing grin now on his face.

“I need to work on my patience. And I just want to know if it will be worth it.” You said.

“Of course it will be worth it. If you can earn it: you’re going to get a big reward.” He said. “And I don’t really wanna rush something I’ve waited so long for.”

“Waited, what do you mean?” You asked.

“All of the times you’ve popped into my head and I’ve wondered if it would only work as a quick fantasy… what’s that expression, if I had a dollar for every time?”

“You would have a lot of dollars?” You offered.

“Precisely.” He said. “Naturally my smart girl knew what I was talking about straight away.”

You wondered if he would be able to give you a more specific amount of this metaphorical money - you made a note to hold this question for later.

For now you were just concentrating on kissing him, his mouth covering yours again. His expectations were present in your mind, but they couldn’t intimidate you, not while you were preoccupied by how right everything felt. One kiss melted into another, a perfectly correct rhythm.

You felt one of his hands wrap around your thigh, the fingers splayed out in a purposeful grasp. He began to ease your legs apart.

Your concentration instantly sharpened when his covered fingers got to the area typically covered by your panties. You wrapped an arm around his neck, needing a hint of steadiness. He rubbed and massaged at your pubic mound, the pressure enticing you. You noticed how much blood was pumping into this area - all before he had made any contact with your labia majora. He was warming your body up inch-by-inch and it was splendid.

You felt the want pooling in your cunt as he started to work over your labia. He took his time to caress these folds, the rubber fingers gliding over your pubic hairs. It was a nice increase of intimacy, keeping you on track of hoping for what his next move would feel like.

He broke the kiss and you saw how he was grinning, his tongue dragging over his top row of teeth. “Isn’t that so much fun, so much more fun than just playing on your own?” He asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

It seemed he wasn’t done with making you wait. Instead of going forward, he took his fingers away and it was only the cool air touching your pussy.

But you didn’t relax, expecting more and wanting to be prepared.

You kept your eyes shut for the moment. You weren’t motivated to open them until he spoke again and he had straightened up, some distance between your bodies as he returned his hands to the sack of supplies.

“So you’ve met this kind of toy before, how about this? How familiar are you with this?” He asked, showing you a larger object.

“Oh, a wand. Of course I’ve used one of those before.” You said.

His hand went back into the sack. “Alright, I’m gonna need something to help me surprise you, then.” He produced an eye mask, which bore the same star pattern you had seen on the handcuffs. “Do you want to veto this?”

“No, but, well, I mean, not veto, but…” His eyebrows raised as you stumbled over your words. “I’m not against the blindfold, but am I really not gonna get to see you? You get to see me totally naked, but I’m not gonna see anything?”

“Just for a little while…” He said and he wore a smile as he came closer with the eye mask. “God, you’re adorable when you’re pouting like that. Don’t worry, kitten, you will get to see me naked, I’m here to tease you, not subject you to cruel deprivation.” He eased the mask over the top of your head, not pulling it any lower than your eyebrows for now. “My plan is actually for you to get sick of the sight of me naked.”

You smiled at this obvious joke. “Why would that be your goal? That would take a whole lot of nakedness.”

“Exactly.” He said. “What’s your definitive verdict for the blindfold?”

“I’m okay with it. That's the same stars as the…”

“Uh-huh, it goes with the cuffs. Actually it’s from a four-piece set. It also came with this…” He left the mask not blocking any of your view, his focus going back to the bag. He pulled out a small, flexible-looking paddle. Its body was decorated with the same solid white stars.

Then he showed you another item, which carried on the star motif on its thick straps. These adjustable straps were short and attached to a modestly sized ball. You knew exactly where that solid sphere was supposed to go, and it truly intimidated you.

“A ball-gag?” You asked, wondering how you could stall for a little time.

“Yeah, we don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. Personally, it’s not my favourite. But I brought it along anyway because I’m here to explore your favourites, and we’re gonna do that without judgement, one hundred percent.”

“I don’t need it.” You said.

“Cool, let’s just…” He trailed off, stopping himself mid-gesture. “I was gonna throw this to the side, but I don’t want your boy to come along and think it’s a toy for him and get at it.”

“Iggy’s scared of everyone, you’re literally not gonna see him at all.” You said of your cat.

The ball-gag returned into the sack and you felt better for it. He opened the velcro of one of the handcuffs. You straightened your arm and he wrapped the band around your wrist, then pressed the two ends together. You were smiling as you offered your other wrist to him.

“I’m proud of you for using a veto.” He said as he got the second cuff secured.

“Oh, thanks.” You said, not entirely sure how to respond to this unexpected compliment. Was it sexy to him that you had said no? You supposed that one veto wasn’t going to place many limitations on him, the bag in his hand still heavy with possibilities.

He kissed you, his fingers brushing up against the sides of your face. You lifted your hands, the chain giving a little rattle to remind you of your restrictions as you extended your arms. You held onto his shirt as his tongue massaged against your lips.

You felt something soft pressing against the top of your face. When he eased away, you opened your eyes to only see the dark fabric of the eye mask. You continued to hold onto his shirt as you waited for his kiss. You knew that it would anchor you through the rushing emotions and uncertainty.

A new but quiet sound got your curiosity as soon as you heard it. This proceeded you feeling the vibrations of the massaging wand, its rounded head pushed into the soft area beneath your belly button. At the same time, he leaned his body into yours. You had the sense that he was close enough to kiss, but it didn’t come.

“Lay back.” He said.

You instantly leaned away, your body blindly seeking out the bed. “So stern. Yes, sir.”

His lips crashed against yours before you were laid out. He was setting a lustful pace, faster than before.

Your back reached the bed, with him lying on top of you. The pressure from his weight was wonderful, further adding to the concept that he was fully in charge.

You had stopped noticing the mechanical humming of the magic wand. But it was brought back to your attention when he applied the stimulating bulb to your pubic mound. Your heart launched into your throat and you were breathlessly trying to keep up with his rushed kisses.

“It’s better like this, hm? It’s less intimidating for you, right?” He asked in a low voice. “Because you’re not trying to read my expression, you aren’t worrying about where I’m looking. You don’t have to wear the blindfold for the whole night, but it’s got its advantages.”

“I’m seeing that.” You said before giving a giggle. “Well, not seeing in the literal sense, but you know what I mean.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re still maintaining that knowledge advantage.” You said.

“And loving every second of it.” He said. “Raise your hands up above your head.” It wasn’t a request. At the same time you were feeling the vibrating toy moving lower, in a drawn-out manner.

“Yes, sir.” You said, making this adjustment.

In the same second that you had finished speaking, he swiftly delivered the vibrator to your clitoral hood. This opened you up to an excitement greater than before and you couldn’t help squirming as his body kept you pinned down. The vibrations titillated you, awakening nerves, even at this low setting.

His lips going to one of your nipples brought a choked sob from your mouth. He began to suck and the intensity perfectly matched the vibrations, creating a fire in your gut. You saw stars, but these weren’t the same as what was printed on the fabric. These little stars were appearing and glowing prettily in your imagination.

He transferred to the other nipple and increased the toy’s pulsations. He kept it against your clit, set on this as the best location.

When he gradually moved his mouth down lower, he also took the sex toy to a lower spot. Now its smooth head nestled between where your puffy lips usually concealed your entrance. The pressure he utilised had you feeling the consistent vibrations in your labia minora, an intensity you needed more than a moment to adjust to.

The desire reached deeper into you, rocking you on a greater level as his lips massaged across your skin. You were amazed by how much effort he was putting into your experience, working so hard for your pleasure. His lips trailed onto your belly as he stepped the vibrations up to the next mode.

You felt his lips parting so he could flit his tongue on your skin from time-to-time. And as you rode the sensations higher, more sounds fell from your mouth. Containing them felt entirely beyond your control and your face coloured with more pink as he heard every honest reaction.

He adjusted how his weight rested, lying his body on your legs as he progressed to kissing beneath your waistline. Your hands went to the pillow, gripping it as a means of supporting yourself as you anticipated what might be next.

The surprise was more than you could fathom when your clit was encapsulated by unique vibrations. Your mouth opened but no words came out as your brain struggled to make sense of what you were experiencing. The massage on your clitoral hood existed independent of the work of the stimulating wand, which he was continuing to hold at your entrance. This didn’t deliver the moisture from his lips, and you could still feel those on your belly, anyway.

You didn’t know what created the sensation, but you did know that you liked it. You watched the unreal stars growing, completely blind to anything else as your mind focused on the present.

“There’s the surprise I wanted.” He said, the stimulants persisting at the two spots on your crotch.

“Oh, uh-huh.” You gasped as your back arched.

“And have I found a toy you aren’t familiar with?” He asked, his tone a little gloating.

“I think so.” You said, slowly adjusting to this unrelenting intensity.

You guessed that he was no longer within kissing range, now his voice seemed to be coming from a spot close to your hip. It wasn’t much of a leap to presume he was getting a close-up view of how your pussy was reacting to his treatment.

“This fun little tool is a clit sucker.” He said as the pulsations continued to engulf the hood.

“I definitely don’t need to use a veto for that.” You said.

He chuckled. “That’s good baby, that’s really good.”

He took the wand away from your pussy. You weren’t sure where it was relocated to, you just took the opportunity to concentrate fully on what was happening to your clitoral hood.

When the pulsations came in harder, you could only guess how much he had turned it up by. Were there more powerful levels he intended to use on you?

It didn’t feel the exact same as having a pair of lips sucking on your sensitive peak. But it felt wonderful in its own way, consistently getting you more excited, until your toes started to curl.

All of a sudden there was an external heat at your entrance, with him pressing a kiss onto your pussy lips. Your heart skipped a few beats and you awaited more.

It didn’t take long for him to initiate another kiss, then another - more-and-more until it felt like he was making out with your entrance. He sampled how your desires tasted with some swipes of his tongue. All the while he kept the active toy sucker on your clit.

His tongue began moving into you, prompting your thighs to quiver and shake. More noises began to swell up in your chest and you bit into your lower lip, feeling unwilling to fully share them. He lapped in deeper, and greedy (yet incoherent) whines came from you, barely muffled. You sucked on your lip as great chunks fell out of your composure.

“Hey, hang on…” He said once his lips were detached from your cunt. “No, no, no, don’t hurt that pretty lip.”

You stopped what you were doing before you had fully understood what he said. You lifted your head from the pillow, momentarily forgetting that the eye mask blocked your vision.

“That’s my lip to bite on, to suck, to play with- I’m gonna be the reason it’s swollen tomorrow, okay?” He said. You hoped that your continuing wiggling wouldn’t be perceived as you not listening (something worth punishment). You simply couldn’t hold yourself still, not while the sucking device was working its magic. You nodded your head to prove that you were paying attention, trying your best to behave.

“If you really need something to bite down on…”

“Not the ball-gag.” You said quickly.

“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of bringing it back.” He instantly reassured you. “Here, bite on this if you need to.”

Something flat nudged against your lip and you complied by opening your mouth. Your mouth was only partially filled. As you shut it, the confusion left you, he had given you the flexible paddle to set your teeth into. Or at least that was what you guessed it to be. You could comfortably close your lips around it, keeping it in place without his assistance.

“Is that good?” He asked and you gave him the only answer you could of nodding your head. “And what about this?”

He seemed to refocus on how he was holding the sucking device to your clit, bringing it closer so that you could feel its pulsations with complete consistency again. Appreciatively your hips bucked up, which made the toy’s power all the more apparent. The makeshift-gag muffled your whimper.

“Yeah, that’s good for you, huh?” He asked. “And this is probably even better.”

He turned the vibrations up and your jaw clenched, your teeth locking onto the paddle. You raised your bound hands up to your face as you felt yourself getting lost for the moment. The intensity was huge, making you feel like all of your senses were being overwhelmed. How could you grasp for even a shred of composure in your current state?

He parted the device from your clitoris and it felt like you could come back to yourself a little. The breaths you drew were shaky, but they were full.

Then his tongue returned to your cunt. This slower stimulation felt like exactly what you needed, with him lapping appreciatively at the moisture. You lowered your hands and stopped gritting your teeth against the paddle as you started to settle into this sensation.

He slowly dragged his tongue up to your clitoral hood. You blindly reached your hands out, placing them on his head with your fingers exploring the soft strands of hair. Your lungs filled with more (needed) air as he gently drew circles around your sensitive nub.

Before you could get too invested in this progression, the intensity sharply increased with the reintroduction of the sucking device. You gave a dramatic twitch beneath him.

The thrilling vibrations were taking you back to that place with no thoughts and limited control. The quivering in your thighs was soon accompanied by the thrusting of your hips. They moved according to their own rhythm, just trying to make use of all of this feverish excitement. It accelerated the effects of the device.

But you didn’t find the ideal pacing, because the device was taken away too soon. This void was filled by his mouth before too long. As he worked his tongue and lips on your clit, you decided that this felt better than the device - this was the sublime experience of having your clit sucked.

The toy couldn’t replicate this perfectly. But when he switched it back, you still found plenty to enjoy of how it treated your clitoral hood, keeping your mind blissfully blank. It was a solid consolation, you couldn’t deny how titillating its vibrations were.

He kept switching from one to the other, your clit consistently stimulated and the tingles this brought to your body only grew more pronounced. You gave in more with each switch, beginning to see each as your path to orgasm.

But he never quite let you get that high. You spat the paddle out of your mouth, letting him hear your noises louder, in the hopes this would persuade him to allow you to ride this excitement to its logical end.

You pumped your hips, patience wavering as you tried to match him, tried to find the essential synergy. Your hands in his hair curled into unthreatening fists, gripping as more of your desperation showcased itself.

“Sir…” You whimpered, hoping you had found the cheat code to make him give you exactly what you wanted.

He applied more pressure with his tongue as he repeatedly worked it up-and-down against your clitoral hood. In response you lifted your ass higher off the bed. Your pussy was brought flush to his face as he seemed focused on working your clit in this promising way. His hand grabbed your butt as you delivered thrust after thrust into his face. The stars in your eyes got even brighter as it began to feel like your body was floating. A powerful fire burnt in your gut, with involuntary sounds falling from your mouth (you were too enchanted to feel self-conscious over whether the sounds were to his liking or not).

Your next noise was a loud and mournful moan when he took his mouth off of you. You kept your hands in his hair, even as your arms shook. The seconds without feeling anything from him seemed to stretch out.

“Please, don’t stop.” You said as he kept you waiting.

“Oh, so you’re not a fan of edging?” He asked, his tone so casual.

“I can’t say that I am.” You said, squirming in your wet-thighed anticipation.

“But the noises you’re making are just so nice, so so sexy, can you really blame me for wanting to savour them? I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you like this.” He said.

You huffed, trying to find the winning approach as you pouted again. “But-but don’t you wanna know how I’ll sound when I come? Aren’t you curious about hearing that noise?”

He caressed your ass now, still not giving you what felt as essential as oxygen. “I suppose that’s the noise I really want to hear. But I didn’t know that you wanted to come.”

“Damiano.” You substituted the curse words populating your brain for his name.

“What?” He asked, playing at being oblivious. “How am I supposed to know what you want unless you tell me?”

“Is that what this is about, you’ve been waiting for me to say it?” You asked.

“Uh-huh. I wanna hear you say exactly what you want. I wanna hear your dirty talk.” He said.

You shifted your legs, feeling a seed of insecurity over the possibility of doing this wrong. You wanted to sound sexy for him - but did you know how?

“Don’t overthink it.” He told you, demonstrating a superior intuition of what you could be thinking thanks to how long he had known you. “Just say what you want, that’s all I’m looking for.”

“Well, I wanna… I wanna come.” You said, feeling like you were stating the absolute obvious.

His fingers caressed your butt and it was the only thing that you had to hold onto.

“Uh-huh, and who’s gonna make you come?” He asked.

“You. I want you to make me come.” You said, before rushing to add. “Please.”

“Good girl.” He said. “How do you want me to make you come?”

Fingers playing in his hair, you considered making a joke. You could poke fun at him by saying that it was more than dirty talk he was after: he was going to have you write an essay of how you wanted to achieve an orgasm before he actually made it happen.

You wet your lips as you let this half-baked idea go. You chose to not get distracted. “I want your lips and your tongue.”

“Want them to do what?” He prompted.

“Please, I want you to use them on my pussy to make me come.” You said, too impatient to feel embarrassed over saying something so explicit. “Please.”

This proved to be what he needed to hear. Without a further word, he returned his mouth to your pussy, satisfying the way you burnt to feel more.

He didn’t come at you with any of the toys (both known and not). Instead he was finding his own rhythm with just his mouth and you let out an appreciative moan. Your hands rested on the back of his head as you got drunk on how these wonderful sensations were building. He kept one of his hands on your ass, a secure hold that was matched by the way he gripped at the top of your thigh, maintaining the distance between your legs that he wanted.

He created something of a seal around your clitoral hood with his lips, then applied his tongue to it. He played with the peak, seeing how far he could push it and experimenting with your responses to different patterns. You could focus on every swirl, no stops or toys to interrupt the flow. It was simpler than before, but it was such an effective way of blowing your mind.

He moved his tongue up-and-down consistently, not letting his mouth slip even slightly. The pressure was fantastic and you capitalised on this by thrusting your hips, driving your pussy into his face again. Your hands gripped his hair, needing him to stay where he was.

It didn’t matter how hard or fast you grinded, his mouth never failed you. You felt your chest hollowing and it seemed that you became smaller, so easily dwarfed by the immense pleasure.

Your breaths were marked by little whimpers as the effort took more-and-more from you. But you knew it would be worth it, getting blinded by the imaginary stars.

He made a slurping sound as he worked to keep the moisture in his mouth. The suck that corresponded with this brought a tremendous quake through your core.

You were irrevocably overpowered, levitating off of the bed further than before. Your fingers gripped onto his hair as you began to greet that lovely edge.

“Yes.” You whined, feeling how good it was to let everything go. “Oh my God, yes.”

You began to come undone, getting lost entirely.

There was an unexpected spike, the pleasure hitting a new level when he reintroduced the wand vibrator. You felt the pulsations in your clitoris as your pussy enjoyed the climax.

It was a spectacular explosion, the aftershocks still racing through you even after the vibrator was taken away. You didn’t know how to pull yourself back together, but for now you didn’t care.

The brightness of the room came back to your attention before you had opened your eyes. He had pushed the eye mask out of the way, allowing the light to push against your eyelids. The corners of your lips started to lift into a smile.

“Feeling that extra merriment now?” He asked before his lips captured yours for a moment.

“So much.” You said. “The merriest ever.”

“But I haven’t finished showing you all the surprises in my sack.” He said.

“And you still haven’t taken that silly costume off.” You said.

“It’s part of my character and it’s effective.” He said in his own defence before he seemingly had a realisation. He sat back on his knees and reached for the bottom of the green shirt. “But I guess it has served its purpose.”

He discarded the shirt and you were finally given the luxury of your eyes exploring his torso with little to no shyness. You could study like you never had before, really fixating on the details. You could notice and be enticed by everything that you saw.

You were grateful when he didn’t hesitate to take his jeans down. But just watching wasn’t enough to satisfy the desires swirling through you.

You extended your arms out. But before your hands could reach the waistband of his briefs, he stopped you by grabbing the chain that connected your handcuffs. He gave you a stern, but not disapproving, look as he used the chain to direct your hands closer to your chest.

“You haven’t learnt how to be patient yet?” He asked and you instantly identified this as a challenge.

It wasn’t a challenge you could ignore. “I guess I haven’t fully grasped the concept.”

You saw his eyes flicker, but the movement that corresponded with it was too quick for you to see. Instead of seeing him pick up the paddle, you felt its return to the scene.

He slapped the flat object against the side of your thigh, instantly compelling you to ditch any further challenges. Your breath hitched as you felt your leg heat and sting. You were caught off-guard by this sensation, needing to pause to figure out your own reaction.

His eyes were on your face, he was holding the paddle up, his arm tensed as if to strike again. But he didn’t follow through. At first you were reminded of a video that was buffering.

Then you realised he was waiting for your consent. And you gave it. You licked your lips as you turned your hips a little, presenting him with more thigh, and even some butt, to spank. You kept your hands to yourself, lying on your chest in what seemed like a safe zone.

The next slap from the paddle surprised you less, now you knew how to register the feeling. You liked it, hoping your skin would glow pink in a way that would please him.

There were no words coming to mind because the seconds between each spank were filled by you trying to prepare for the next. Then when it came, your mind went totally blank. As the sting radiated out, you began the climb of anticipation again. Your body was filling with tension, growing more intense. But you held onto the faith that he would be able to resolve all of it.

Another satisfying slap filled the quiet in the room. You heard his heavy breathing as more heat filled into the raised side of your butt. You still weren’t feeling pain from the continuing spanks, it was a sharp sensation and each time it cut through absolutely everything else. Your enjoyment was only increasing.

He pulled his arm back and your eyes fluttered shut as you awaited the next strike. Instead, he spoke. “Do you feel like having another try at behaving correctly?” He placed the paddle against your ass, resting it against the curve. “Or would you rather be a naughty girl?” Your need to be cheeky had definitely dulled. “There’s something I really want to show you from my sack. But I’m not about to share it with a naughty girl.”

“I’ll be good.” You said. “I’ll be very good, sir.”

He smiled, starting to lean down. Before his mouth could meet yours, he gave you another slap from the paddle. You couldn’t help flinching but you loved how it felt, settling into the feeling as he kissed you again. You let out a little whimper, your hands going to his hot pectorals.

Before you could get too accustomed to how his bare skin felt on yours, he pulled away. He ditched the paddle as he stood up.

He brought a small, slim box out of the sack. He moved too quickly for you to properly gain all of the details from the box. The device that came from it wasn’t familiar. It was matte black, probably made of silicone. It had two thin prongs, which kind of resembled legs, coming together at a compact disc. You kept your eyes on it, willing clarity to come.

He set it down on the bed, beside your leg, then proceeded to get something new from the bag. This next thing was far more straight-forward - a box of condoms. He collected one of the packaged items before getting back to taking his pants off. As soon as they were lowered, he took his underwear down as well. There was no missing how keen he was - immediately the stiffness of his dick confirmed that you had succeeded in turning him on.

There was a portion of yourself that felt self-conscious for wanting his cock so much. But overwhelmingly, you felt excited. All of the lust that had been developing now had a place to land.

He started at the tip, covering it then unrolling the latex further. As you watched this motion, you thought about what it would be like to experience his dick for the first time purely through taste. It was an intriguing and enticing fantasy, it didn’t seem farfetched to assume he would greatly enjoy it too, continuing your seduction.

But then you realised he didn’t want you to have any thoughts at all. At once you tried to empty your mind.

When he picked the tong-esque item up, you noticed a second, detached disc, but he held this in the palm of his hand, downplaying any significance.

“Did I bring another surprise?” He asked.

“Yeah, I have no idea what that is. I might be able to guess what it does.”

“You can guess, if you wanna. Or I could tell you and explain it. Or I could show you.” He said, entertained even in this in-between moment.

“Show me, please sir.” The answer seemed so obvious to you.

He grinned as he climbed up, placing his knees on the bed. “I really like it when you call me that.”

“Then I guess I have no choice but to keep saying it.”

Remaining above you, he placed the new device on you, its legs reaching toward your mound. At first you felt only the faint hint of its weight and nothing else.

Then he pressed a button on the tiny remote in his hand, and the disc on your lower tummy silently began to vibrate. It wasn’t too intense straight away, but it was enough to make you smile. He dragged it closer to your cunt and you worked to not squirm in your anticipation. You looked from the strangely-shaped device to his face - naturally he was still smiling, as his eyes glittered.

“But what do these little legs do?” He asked the question that was on your mind.

He picked the toy up and showed you how the prongs could be repositioned, bending them with little to no resistance. He curved them to face opposite directions and you were doing a lot of thinking trying to figure out the advantages of this. Was it supposed to go inside of you? It looked too thin, but you guessed the capability to hit two different angles at once had a lot of potential.

“Uh-huh, and what’s the point of that?” He asked.

He answered by taking the toy down, towards his dick as he changed the bend in the legs again. He placed it over his length, the connecting disc at the top. He gave the legs another repositioning twist, one at a time wrapping them around his cock, close to the base. He got this adjustable cock ring how he wanted, the ends of the legs crossed over at his balls.

“That’s a great surprise.” You said, showing him that you were less confused.

“You like looking at it, wait until you feel it. Wait until this pad is vibrating against your clit while I’m fucking you so deep.” He said.

Your legs were already spread, it was hard to know how much longer you would be able to hold yourself back. “Show me, sir?”

This earned you the proximity that came with making out. You lifted your arms out of the way, passing the cuff’s chain over his head. You rested your hands at the base of his neck as his body pressed so perfectly on top of yours. You settled into one another, lips working together as the synergy kept strengthening.

With no hesitation, you moved deeper into the lust. Your thighs clung to his hips as his tongue tasted and played with your bottom lip. Your tensed body wanted to melt for him more than anything.

He sucked on your lip as he started to sink down into you, accepted by your thoroughly-primed pussy. You identified this as the best sensation of the night, instantly superior to the toys, and definitely worth waiting for. Your fingers curled, grasping for his hair as you stretched to accommodate him further.

His body settled on top of you, fitting in between your legs. This closeness brought even more excitement - you already knew that he would be able to take you to another stunning peak. He had more energy to give to your pleasure.

Rather than seeking the greatest penetration at once, he gave you time to adjust. He was going to build to the moment of overwhelming you. For now he tested his range of movement, pumping his hips so you could feel the potential of what he could do with his shaft.

Gradually he worked himself deeper. You couldn’t help imposing little breaks between kisses as the pressure increased inside of you. 

It wasn’t long before you gave up from trying to keep up with his mouth altogether, a parting suck applied to your lip before you leaned your head slightly back. You decided to give your attention to moving your hips, attempting to match his affectionate pace.

Before you could truly sync yourself to him, the vibrating toy collided with you, surprising you momentarily beyond comprehension. Your hips dramatically jutted up as your mind slowly began to catch up. You shook as you adjusted to this new intensity.

It seemed your vulnerability was clear because he paused to ask. “Are you okay, bella? Is it too much?”

You arched your back to press into him, smiling. “Oh, it’s good. It’s really fucking good.”

“You don’t need your safe word?” He asked, still not moving.

“Absolutely not.” You said.

You opened your eyes and lifted your head in the pursuit of capturing his lips in a kiss. It didn't matter how short on breath you were feeling, you prioritised cultivating your connection with these excited kisses.

You also drove your hips forward, craving the beginnings of friction. He stopped hesitating and grabbed your butt as he gave you a push, moving in deeper. You couldn’t help whimpering as he delivered another thrust.

He swiftly and confidently took the lead - it made you want to call him sir repeatedly.

With each pump from him, you had begun to feel the silicone legs of the toy wrapped around his dick. You felt the smooth material rubbing against your pussy, but you had yet to register the vibrations (not that you felt you needed it).

You rested your head in the curve of his neck, unable to keep up with his kisses. But you were managing to stay with the pacing of his hips. You met every strike, lengthening each motion and giving you even more to enjoy. His energy was matching and coming together with yours as it had so many times over the past two years - but in a brand new way, more intense than you would have associated with him.

This was the most important mutual goal you had ever worked toward with him. You stuck with him, even as the threat of getting overwhelmed crept in again.

As everything wanted to shatter around you, he remained your constant. Listening to his raspy breaths kept you from getting entirely lost. Your short nails pressed into his skin and your nostrils were filled with the enticing scent of his sweat mixed with cologne. You didn’t care about anything beyond his body.

The tender massage between your inner-walls got even deeper, touching at a depth his tongue hadn’t reached. It brought the stars back to your shut eyes, but they were so much bigger and brighter now.

“Fuck.” You exclaimed in response to feeling the vibrations on your clit again.

Your gut clenched as you rode this sensation higher. He let you enjoy this stimulation, not rocking back according to the earlier pacing. Your cunt fluttered and spasmed around him. This prompted some cuss words from him too.

He writhed against you, barely pulling his hips away. Instead he completed some quasi-thrusts, seeing what else could be gained from this closeness. 

When he returned to full motion, it was absolutely electric. The quick touches of the vibrator to your clitoral hood were enough to keep you reeling.

The perfect synergy of your bodies soon brought you back to the edge. Little ecstatic cries began to fall from your lips.

“Yes, uh yes, yes-yes.” You stammered as you failed to meet more than a few of his bucks.

He kissed across your forehead, something so affectionate was in direct contrast with the frantic rhythm of his body. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Hearing that wholesome phrase was so unexpected that it felt out of place and you couldn’t help but laugh. This noise transformed quickly into an audibly strangled breath as he plunged all the way in again.

There was no composure left for you to regain. Even as he adopted slow and shorter strokes, you were helplessly overstimulated.

He put his hands to your sides, a determined hold. He kept his hips pressed against yours as he grinded into you repeatedly. The vibrator was directly on your clit, the pulsations were ready to devastate you.

“It feels like you’re ready to come.” He said. “Are you?”

The prospect of him edging you again occurred to you, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist before you answered. (You didn’t know how you would cope if he put you through more of that.) “Yes, yes sir, I am.”

He spared you any further teasing, he didn’t retract. He stayed close, quickly snapping his hips. He whimpered as he kept working his tip on your sensitive walls.

You held him tighter (your cunt clenching too), giving yourself up to the pressure that just kept rising. Your hips stuttered at their own tempo, there was no rhyme or reason to it, simply moving to express some of your excitement. He didn’t correct this behaviour, letting you continue as everything began to come together.

Your gut tightened and you had to bite your lip to stop the loudest noises from getting free. He moaned your name over the consistent sound of your skin slapping together.

“Oh, fuck. I think I’m…” His pitch changed and you noticed how he had begun to be plagued by tremors. “Yeah, I’m gonna come, like right now.”

You were holding onto his taut shoulders as you opened your eyes. As he remained in motion, you saw the look of concentration on his face. Instantly you were enthralled by the idea of seeing him become complete, as you were on the threshold of.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Yeah. Oh yes, yes, yes.” He said, his eyes squeezed shut as he kept rubbing into that deepest part of you. “Yes, yes, fuckin’ yes.”

You wanted to watch him driving to that point of perfection. But the relentless pulsing against your clitoris was stealing your focus, insisting that you fall apart. The fluttering of your eyelids became harder to fight against.

There was a powerful moan that was swelling in your throat as he suddenly became rigid. He pressed against you firmly, loudly trying and failing to catch his breath. You felt how he shivered on top of you, demonstrating less control than any other point of the night.

The pressure caused by having him so close (and deep), with the vibrating disc still on your clitoris, was enough to take you over the edge. Your pussy clenched around his shaft as the orgasm dawned throughout your entire body. Biting your lip wasn’t enough to stifle the cries that your revelation brought out. You were stunned on every possible level.

Even once the vibrator’s massage was over, and he had pulled out, you still felt like you were on the verge of breaking apart again. Moving was beyond your capabilities right now and you thought it would be easier to fall asleep than recover.

“Oh my God.” You gasped when upon opening your eyes, your vision filled with him. The reality of this situation was beginning to settle in, things were clearer now.

“You alright?” He asked as he moved closer to free your wrists from the restraints.

“Uh-huh, I don’t feel like I need to say Grinch, still.” You said.

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you, but you really did pick the dorkiest possible safe word.” He said, wearing a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes and pulled up the top of the blanket. “It suits you, then.” This earned you a laugh from him. Before you could slip into the old and familiar teasing, you stayed tapped into this vulnerability. “You’re gonna stay, right?”

He smiled as he finished removing the cuffs, then he swept in to kiss you. “Of course, I would love nothing more than to stay with you, bella.”

As his fingers caressed your cheeks, you kissed him. This led to another, then another, at a slower pace than before because you knew you didn’t need to rush. This was an affectionate yet lazy continuation of your intimacy.

It didn’t develop into anything more, he simply laid down with you. You wrapped your arms around him, the two of you sharing looks that lingered longer than what you would have classified as normal.

You didn’t need to ask him to move his limbs, he hadn’t positioned himself in a way that had brought you any discomfort. You liked the way his arms fit around your waist. You didn’t need to put any of your clothes back on, this embrace had you feeling warm enough.

He broke the silence, speaking softly and at the sound of that you didn’t feel like you needed to prepare any witty retorts. “Thank you for trusting me. This was one of the biggest gambles of my life, and I feel lucky that you were willing to go along with it.”

“I’m glad I could maintain my unbroken streak of always going along with your ideas.” You said, able to see the smile he wore even in the limited lighting. “You mean the world to me, I’m always gonna trust you.”

Maybe more could have been said - there wasn’t a finite amount of emotions to be told. But the silence didn’t bother you. You didn’t feel obligated to speak: to win him over or otherwise make this moment. You were so content, running your fingers through his hair until sleep arrived.

*** *** ***

You began hearing a consistent tinkling, fun and non-abrasive, but persistent enough to keep you from falling asleep again. You didn’t open your eyes, trying to determine the source without seeing it. You were floating in the daze of not yet awake, the world covered by a kind of fuzziness. You rolled onto your side, yet to realise that Damiano was missing from your bed.

Your thoughts were clearing up as you continued to listen to the jingling. As you readjusted the warm blanket over your bare form, you recognised this gentle, non-rhythmic music. You had heard it very recently, even though it wasn’t a regular fixture in your home.

It was the silly bell from the elf hat. You were certain of this, opening your eyes at once. You lifted your head from the pillow, too curious to resist now. You looked around, trying to gain as much information from the room as possible.

You found Damiano was sitting on the carpet and he had the novelty hat in hand, jostling the fabric so that the bell would dance in the air. It was shaking and bobbing directly in front of your cat.

Seeing Iggy was the last thing you needed to drag yourself fully out of sleep. You hadn’t expected to see this, but he looked completely at ease. In the two years that you had owned him, he had never played with anyone but you. In all of his visits to your home, Damiano had only managed to briefly pet the cat, with Iggy always maintaining his strict disinterest in outsiders.

But now he was playing, seemingly totally invested. He sat so close to Damiano’s legs, those predatory eyes fixed on the silver bell. Damiano swung it close to Iggy and he picked up both of his front feet to swipe at it. The whole time, Damiano was beaming, so clearly enjoying this brand new experience.

“I don’t believe it…” You said, keeping your voice low to avoid startling your cat.

Damiano kept the hat in motion as he looked at you. “Crazy, huh? I guess he finally decided that I’m not his enemy. I didn’t even need to use any catnip to bribe him into this.”

“It’s a legitimate Christmas miracle.” You said. Reflecting back on how Iggy had shunned the attention of all of your past partners, this didn’t seem like an exaggeration to say.

“I know, right?” He said. “He was sitting there looking at it on the ground when I woke up. And I thought he would run away as soon as I got out of bed.” His words were accompanied by the music of the bell, which you were coming to enjoy more. “But…”

His face fell when Iggy began to walk away, unhurriedly going to the opened door. “Oh, now he’s leaving.” Iggy didn’t look back, disappearing without a sound. “He’s done with me, I guess.”

“Bye, sweetie.” You called after your pet.

“Damn, I miss him already.” He said sadly.

You couldn’t stop smiling. “He hates everyone.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m better than those other nobodies. That’s just how it is.”

You giggled. “You’re still naked.”

He got up on his knees, walking his way toward the bed in this fashion. “So are you. We’re just hanging out, naked.”

“I like it.” You said, sitting up higher as he got closer to you.

“Yeah, me too.” He said.

He reached the side of the bed, just slightly beneath eye-level. He leaned in, his eyes going to your lips as you put your hands on either side of his face. You kissed him, slowly, enjoying this indulgence just as you had last night.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, keeping his face close to yours.

“I’m good.”

“Yeah? You haven’t got any sore spots that I need to kiss better?” He asked.

You pushed one of your hands up the nape of his neck, into his hair. “Nuh-uh, no spore spots, no regrets.”

“That’s fantastic, babe.” He said before moving in for more kisses.

You managed to drag your tongue along the line where his lips met, before he eased back. You were left with building cravings.

“I’ve been awake for a little while, and I’ve had time to check Santa’s sack. It appears that there’s still something in there for you, one more thing.” He said.

“Oh, but it’s too early to be calling me a naughty girl. At least, I think it’s too early.” You realised that you hadn’t seen any form of clock, or even glanced at the window.

“This isn’t something for a naughty girl.” He said. “This is a gift.”

“Well in that case: gimme!” You said enthusiastically.

He laughed as he got up, going over to where the sack had been sitting overnight. He picked out an item that was wrapped in festive paper. You smiled, ready to love it, even with no inclination of what it might be. He handed it to you, taking a seat at the edge of the bed with you.

“I hope you like it.” He said as you started tearing away the wrapping.

“I have no doubt that it’s going to be amazing.”

Beneath the paper, you found a sleeve of protective bubble wrap. In here was your gift, a rectangular photo frame. You recognised the series of small photos from a photo booth at the cinema you usually visited. The five photos showed you and Damiano, side-by-side, making various faces for the different photos. You hadn’t seen these photos for two years, you had no idea he still had them.

“Oh wow, this is from forever ago.” You said, seeing how happy the two of you appeared.

“Yeah, do you remember this? It’s from when you dragged me to that midnight screening.” He said.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by how he was attempting to rewrite history. “I just said that I wondered what those were like, how the vibes were. And you said you would try it with me for Endgame’s premiere. There was no dragging involved.” You jabbed your pointer finger into the air before he had a chance to cut you off. “And it definitely wasn’t my fault that you fell asleep less than halfway through the movie.”

“I had been touring for months. It’s a miracle that I didn’t fall asleep while we were taking these photos.” He said. “I thought you might like to have these, like a time capsule of us being nerdy together.”

“I love it. I’m gonna put it somewhere that I’ll see it every day.” You said. “Just looking at it, it’s like I can feel how much fun we had that night… before you fell asleep.”

He eased your unruly hair back from your face. “You are really cute when you’re telling me that I’m wrong, did you know that?”

There was the beginning of a blush in your cheeks as you looked at him. “I know now.”

With a smile, you closed the distance between your bodies with a kiss. His arm slipped around you. You didn’t feel like you had sacrificed any of the significance of the friendship showcased in these old photos. Nothing needed to be lost on the path to this new level.

“If you check under my tree, you’ll find there’s a gift for you there.” You told him.

He grinned. “Really? You always get me the best gifts.”

“Why don’t you go get it?” You asked.

“I was thinking that I would open it later.” He said. “Like when I’m opening other presents with my family. And maybe you could be there too?”

“You want me to spend Christmas with your family?” You asked, thoroughly surprised.

“Don’t you think that would be better than spending the day alone? There’s no racist or otherwise weird uncles to ruin the vibe. My dad is a really great cook. And I’ll drive. And I don’t have to introduce you as anything more than my best friend if it feels too early for that.” He said.

Your heart had started fluttering as you listened to him. Now you picked up one of his hands, squeezing it as you found another of his appealing ideas to go along with. “What time do we need to leave?”

»»————-　♡　————-««  

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[definitelynotshouting]

sometimes i think about how in the secret marriage 3rd life au grian gives scar a little sun tattoo and then scar gives grian a heart and then i have to spend the next fifty minutes sitting at my desk like this

[odessa-castle]

Nothing Like the Sun: Chapter 20

In which things are (literally) on fire.

Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Astarion/Wyll Characters: Astarion, Wyll, Ulder Ravengard, Cazador Szarr, Dalyria, Petras, Original Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Intrigue, Trauma, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Ulder Ravengard's A+ Parenting, both these boys need hugs, but I'm going to be mean to them first, Unsolicited Fatherly Courtesan Procurement

Summary: Ulder Ravengard wants Wyll to enjoy more of the pleasures of youth, and Cazador Szarr has a solution: an enticing present for the young lord's birthday, in the form of an irresistible pale elf. To Astarion's surprise, Wyll is more interested in companionship than carnal pleasure. Their budding friendship sends ripples through the Gate's elite. But as that friendship begins to blossom into something more, the Grand Duke is called away to Elturel...

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(Picks up where Viper left off)

"You know you've got like a whole bucket of cactus paddles down there?"

Jak sauntered back into the throne room from the hidden door and tossed Damas a sealed bag of roasted crickets.

"I should hope it's a full bucket, considering I picked those this morning."

Damas pulled out one of the cooked insects, plucked off the legs, and popped the rest into his mouth.

"You don't eat the legs?"

Jak draped himself over the edge of the throne to snatch a handful of crickets from the bag.

"They get stuck in my teeth," Damas complained, "I save them for my birds."

Daxter snickered. "Even Pecker?"

"If Pecker doesn't like the food, he's free to fly back to Onin," replied the king with an almost mischievous look.

"Oye, you didn't mess with anything in the kitchens, did you? The head cook is...tetchy."

"She's a miserable old cuss and she threw a knife at me," Jak said indignantly.

"She throws knives at everyone. You're lucky it was only a knife."

Around another mouthful of crickets, Jak made an appalled expression. "What else does she throw?!"

Damas grimaced and rubbed his forehead as if remembering an old injury. "Whatever is closest. Pans. Porridge. Whole onions. Cactus paddles with the spines still on."

Daxter started to come closer, but glanced at the dead snake still decorating the dais and thought better of it. "Hey, Jak doesn't need to go to the kitchens to experience that! All he has to do is get distracted while on the Leaper again and he'll have a mouth full of prickly-pear!"

"That wasn't my fault!" Jak protested hotly.

Damas raised a brow. "Oh? I hadn't heard about this one."

Hoping to avoid retelling the story, Jak quickly changed the subject.

"Wait, can you actually eat cactus?" he demanded.

He moved to sit cross-legged directly in front of the throne, and began examining the viper's mouth to get an idea of how to harvest the fangs later. Absentmindedly, he reached a hand back behind him, and was too deep in focus mode to register that this wasn't Daxter or Keira he was non-verbally bumming snacks off of. Nonetheless, Damas made a goodnatured scoff and placed several more crickets in his hand.

"You can eat specific kinds of cactus," Damas clarified. By the emphasis he placed on "specific", it was fairly obvious he was anticipating Jak trying to eat random cacti in town.

"Only the ones with the paddles like you saw, understand?"

"Sure, sure." Jak brushed this off. "But what do you make with them, though?"

Damas inspected the bag of crickets and sealed it back up to ensure that they would have some snacks during the coming meetings. "You use them for just about anything you need a vegetable for, honestly. I tend to grill them with lemon. Some people boil them for salads. Sig's mother is known in the East Quarter for frying it in batter and selling it in little cups."

"Ooh! We still haven't met Sig's ma!" Daxter chirped. He grinned wickedly. "We should ask her about Sig's embarrassing baby stories."

"She has no shortage of them," Damas agreed.

Daxter glanced back at Jak, happily munching crickets, and shuddered.

"On a scale of one to "Jak eats things raw if he can't figure out how to cook them", how hard is it to cook?"

Jak looked insulted. Damas snorted.

"After the afternoon appointments, I'll teach you one of the simpler methods. You won't need much- Jak, don't touch the fangs. We still need the evidence intact."

"I was just looking!" Jak defended.

"With your hands?"

With a gusty sigh, the teenager scooted back to the right of Damas’s seat. He looked a little cross, but it faded soon enough.

"What appointments do you have, anyway?"

Damas stood up to stretch. Precursors knew he wouldn't get a chance in the next few hours.

"Third bell after noon through fifth bell is reserved for Arbitration Court," he said. "Which is why I do not usually call you during those hours. My job as king is to uphold the safety of my people, ensure the continued functioning of the Beacon and the water filtration system, mediate disputes not serious enough for the Arena, and enforce laws agreed upon by myself and my council."

Jak made a face. "That sounds like a lot of being stuck inside."

Dryly, Damas asked, "Why do you think I planted an entire grove of date palms in here? I would have died of boredom years ago if I did not."

He turned to fix both boys with a stern look.

"Out of respect for your fellow Spargans, try not to fidget during Arbitration Court unless you notice something suspicious. After five is a monthly meeting with the northern clifftop farmers to discuss rent payments."

"You rent farmland?"

"They rent from me," corrected Damas. "I didn't clear boulders until my hands bled just to abandon my land when I became king."

Jak blinked. "Fair enough. Man, we should've charged Sandover rent, Dax."

"Pal, they thought we owed them compensation for being allowed to sleep on their porches and eat a bare minimum of their food," Daxter pointed out sourly.

He caught a troubled frown on Damas’s face after the statement.

"Hm. I would like your attention to be on the visitors most during the rent meeting and the council meeting after evening meal. If anyone has a problem with me, specifically, that's likely where they'll turn up."

Jak eyed the snake again. "And if they blow their cover, I get to take 'em out, right?"

"No." Damas narrowed his eyes and pointed at Jak as he sat down again. "I need to determine how far the plot goes. No killing the assassin or accomplices."

"What about after?" Jak pressed.

"I'm the aggrieved party, I'm the one who deals with them," Damas said in mild reproof.

Jak folded his arms. "I dunno, we're feeling pretty aggrieved, right Daxter?"

"Positively outraged," Daxter added, sounding more bored than offended. "More Jak than me, but he's the sensitive type. You know him."

"Yes," Damas said, shaking his head with a small smile, "Yes I do. The answer is still "no", Jak."

Jak huffed and settled more comfortably against the throne. "You never let me do anything fun," he joked.

"I don't, I really don't." Damas reached over to prod the back of Jak's head affectionately.

"I'm a horrible, mean, adult who only lets you risk life and limb four days out of the week instead of every three hours."

"The folks in Haven would think that was the worst kind of tyranny, not being able to make us do all their work for them," Daxter scoffed.

The lift began to rattle, and Damas cleared his throat.

"Well, back to work. Eyes open, my boys. Let us see if we can't catch a would-be assassin. Jak, don't touch the fangs."

"I wasn't!" Jak protested.

Neither of his companions looked convinced.

[thirteenemeraldcats]

I would to know more about the untitled-Jamie-blue-screen fic, if you wanted to share anything about it : )

Hello terrifyingly talented friend! I am happy to share!!

So this fic started rolling while I was writing 'i learned to walk while he was away', - that story explores some of the 'unseen' effects of Jamie's experiences, specifically what his relationship to expressions of violence (even when positively channelled) might be after growing up with an angry man. The 'untitled-Jamie-blue-screen-day' fic (which is technically 'redacted-title-Jamie-blue-screen-day' fic, I'm a fairly changeable person and the title's redacted purely because it's still subject to possible [who knows, not me] change) is another exploration of some of the 'unseen' or more accurately 'undeveloped' parts of Jamie's psyche that canon skips over.

Specifically, the symptoms of depression he displays in 3x11 Mom City.

I'm a card carrying member of the 'Jamie has multiple missing diagnoses' bandwagon and know first hand what a horrifyingly tricky combo neurodivergence and clinical depression can be.

I use a lot of metaphors to describe/understand the complexities of mental health- when I was studying it, when I'm teaching it and yea when I'm thinking about my own brain :)

Most of the metaphors are computer based- product of the times I guess.

The untitled-title 'blue screen day' is how I unaffectionately refer to the days when that horrifyingly tricky combo decides to be extra horrifying and extra tricky and causes total system overload. The days when you forget how to be a person. That 'blue screen' blink feeling of not functioning, but then it's not momentary, it's not a blink, it doesn't go away. You're seeing with your eyes sure, but you're not really seeing and they don't really feel like your eyes. You exist in your body yes, but do you really exist? Is it actually your body?

(To use plain language; it's a brief and intense episode of severe burn-out, typically bought on by cognitive and/or sensory overload, but sometimes seemingly spontaneous [clinical!].)

So that's what I gave Jamie, a blue-screen-day (sorry buddy).

But I also gave him Roy! And a smoothie! He'll be okay.

(Essentially the story is the idea that sometimes things don't have solutions or answers or a quick and easy fix. Sometimes all you can do is be. Sometimes all you can do to help is be there.)

The fic really is gentle hours, I swear.

[tacky-optic]

OK so i've been in this fandom for well over a year now (since the end of october, ew) and zenigata is still my favorite. so after all this time, i'm finally slapping down some of my thoughts about the version of the loud angry rectangle that runs around in my brain and this nightmare of a franchise in general. as a new year treat.

most of these have actually been in my notes since february or march, made as semi-sporadic thoughts while i trudged through the series. i wonder if it's obvious what installment i was watching/had in mind for each of these, lol. anyway i found these at the bottom of my lupin notes folder back in october, plopped them here, then forgot about them again, oops.

but they're here now! at the very end of 2023! under the cut! you can even read them, if you want!

zenigata is selfish. there is a genuine drive to help people and do what's right, but pursuing lupin specifically? 100% an ego thing. zenigata pursues lupin (the world's greatest criminal) because he feels like he's obligated to (as the greatest cop (and not that he necessarily thinks this about himself presently, but subconsciously)). it stopped purely being 'the right thing to do' after the amount of chases hit double digits -- probably even earlier than that.

so what does he really want to achieve here? who knows, because he sure as hell doesn't lololol.

but seriously tho. it's probably simple human connection. or acknowledgement. he's always operated on a different level from everyone else, likely to the point of boredom and/or unfulfillment, so once he comes across someone that might operate on a level higher than him, of course he gets obsessed. game recognizes game and it's liberating.

he's most likely used to "it's only a matter of time" and not much else, so i bet the realization that "it's gonna be tough to catch this guy, isn't it?" was exhilarating because he NEVER had to think that before. and honestly, good for him. he seemed to have been a different sort of miserable before, but at least this new version allows for some bouts of genuine enjoyment.

he had to have said "because i'm the only one who can" at LEAST once, right? which is true! he is the only one who can. that's why lupin keeps him around. zenigata is the single legitimate threat that lupin hadn't managed to get rid of/ sway to his side and that amuses him to no end. he really likes that stubborn old man. he's great.

it's obvious that his skills would be far more useful and impactful on literally any other criminal case, yet he ACTIVELY CHOOSES to allocate his time to chasing after someone who simply can't be caught. and what's even worse is that he IS the only person who can catch him, maybe even end it all for good, but it's reached a point where he simply doesn't WANT to, solely because the chase is THAT entertaining/enriching/compelling to him. calling it a compulsion is great, actually. he's obsessed, doomed by the narrative, consumed by his ideals, etc. etc, and he's completely trapped by cartoon logic. i doubt he knows anything else.

the dark infatuation is great and all, don't get me wrong, but i really enjoy those bouts where he kinda just exists. he's living his best life, candidly enjoying what's going on around him or the (comparatively) simpler aspects of his job, and all that stuff up top becomes irrelevant, at least for a little while. i don't think he's wholly doomed, per se, just that we won't be seeing an "after" for him in any official capacity. because again, cartoon logic. he's got a role to fill, even if it's an objectively shit one -- but he makes do, and the fact that he is allowed to do other things is enough for me.

y'know, in hindsight, i think the live-action show impacted how i view this guy the most. i really do believe he doesn't have to be defined by his role in lupin's story. at heart he's a chaser, a dreamer. he keeps trying, over and over, and despite everything, he hopes. if he was none of those things he wouldn't even be after lupin in the first place, or lupin would never recognize him as his true rival.

....maybe i'll actually manage to finish some of the wips i have about all that stuff one of these days, lol.

as far as other media goes: parts 1, 2 and 4, tokyo crisis, ep 0: first contact, g vs r, and fuma are all pretty high up there, too. maybe a smidge of koike if i'm feeling particularly angsty, but until zeni's title movie comes out i wouldn't put too much weight on that one.

i'd be remiss to talk about the guy's most popular pairing, right? i mean, i gotta. it's lowkey kinda wild how luzeni never fascinated me to a point where i'd feel compelled to write or draw much of anything for them. they're like, all the worst aspects of fujilup/jiglup smashed together lmao. THAT'S INSANE, THEY'RE INSANE TOGETHER AND IT'S SO GOOD. but nah, jigzeni. we'll, uh.... we'll leave that for later.

my guess is it's because the fandom satiated any itch for luzeni that would've been there otherwise, like, right off the bat. the fics alone are so incredible to me and have greatly impacted how i see zeni in their own right. i should really re-read some of them. and maybe you should too, so--

LIST JUMPSCARE!! i read all of these (and more!!) this year!! and yes, they all involve zenigata!! i don't half-ass this obsession, just like zeni lmao. just be mindful of ratings and tags, ofc. explicits are red but the rest is reader's discretion. and if by the incredibly slim chance any of the writers of these see this, thank you for sharing your works, they're really friggin cool B)

Knave of Diamonds/Thoughts May Dim/Under Your Hat

In The Margins Of Another Life

Sunrise, Sunset

Judo in the Schwarzwald

unsaid/lucky strike/cold hands

The Language of Flowers

With Enemies Like These/All Along The Watchtower/Fair Game

Friends Don't Let Friends Diss The Chef

Fates Entwined

The Many Deaths of Kōichi Zenigata

mean luzeni series/Secondhand Vanity

Disreputable Company

Smother Your Sorrow

Kintsugi/how to hit on Zenigata and not actually hit him

pour déplacer un autre/My Dear Icarus

Fifty-Two, No Longer Counting

Smoke and Moonlight/Off the Record

this doesn't even scratch the surface, hah. i think i might like to read but i can't be entirely sure.

my favorite part of this fandom is probably how moldable all of the characters are; you can pick and choose from so many different types of media and sculpt the finer details however you want, but at their cores the character's fundamentals still shine through. it's how we get those fics and fanarts and even text posts like these going on about headcanons. this cast feels like people that've taken on lives of their own outside of their (frankly problematic) source material and that's super neat.

so at the end of the day, there really is no definitive version of zenigata, or any of the others for that matter; just a handful of constants. all of those bits and pieces from up top are a part of my zeni, in one way or another -- but i like a dozen other zenigatas too, even ones that might go against those points. he's definitely been my favorite for a straight year for a reason. maybe one of these days i'll figure out how to actually finish a story all on my lonesome and you'll be able to see my version of him in action ;)

so that's that, i guess. here's to another year.... and hopefully more lupin content, lol. i might not trust tms but i trust the fandom. it's a small but strong and good one and i'm glad to be part of it, even if it isn't in the most active capacity.

anyway pls keep drawing zeni like twice the size of everyone else lmao. tms are cowards for giving him stick arms like lupin >:((

[marauder23]

STICK & POKE

A Louigan Tattoo Parlor/Flower Shop AU

Rating: e

11/11 COMPLETE

Chapter Summary: One year in the future we see Louise and Logan preparing for her debut solo art exhibition at the Fischoeder's gallery.

Chapter 11: epilogue is live NOW. Check it out ------> HERE.

Special thanks to my good friend star_stuff (not on Tumblr) for her gorgeous work on this commission of Logan's tattoo that Louise drew (you can even see Louise's signature!). I'm in love with this!

[14carrotghoul]

Inspiration Weekend

Thank you @happiness-of-the-pursuit for tagging me!! I haven't been able to write much (and probably won't for a while) BUT I'm putting my Shaan character study on the backburner once again because I got an Idea for a different character study

Tagging @cha-melodius @sherryvalli @read-and-write- @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @ssmtskw @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @raysletters @suseagull04 @myheartalivewrites and anyone else that wants to share!!!

[thatsgonnaleaveamark]

whumptober 2024 - day 5 ↳ heatstroke

finally managed to write again, it's been way too long

so, a continuation of this and it's not much or great but it's something and something's better than nothing and maybee i'll even manage to write some more

His head is pounding and his thoughts are still racing, even now, hours after the strangers have brought him inside and given him water. He stretches his legs out and tilts his head back, leaning against the counter. 

The woman who had talked to him earlier is sitting at the table with the other, younger person that he assumes is her child, who is writing something in a notebook. She looks over at him and when their eyes meet, she gets up and leans on the counter next to him.

“You can stay here with us for a few days if you’d like. You’re looking better now but you were burning up earlier. Why were you out there?”

Orion lowers his gaze and shrugs.

“I…I don’t know. I wasn’t really thinking.” He hesitates. “It’s been hard.”

The woman nods and her eyes dart over to the table where the other person who, when Orion takes a closer look, is just a boy, no older than maybe 14.

“I understand. We’ve been out here for so long. We’ve lost people. My son was just a child and now he’s growing up in these conditions, he almost doesn’t remember what it was like before…” she trails off, letting the words sit in the silence, and then shakes her head as if to erase the thought.

“Here,” she pours a bit of water from a bottle onto a kitchen towel and hands it to him. “Put this on your face, you still need to cool down. Stay the night, we’ll keep watch.”

Orion doesn’t have the energy to protest so he just nods weakly.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

He glances up at her, and for a second images of his own mother flash through his mind. He realizes he can’t entirely picture her face anymore.

“I have to, ” he replies and closes his eyes. He isn’t sure if he’s lying to her or to himself.

[mekonfoy]

and i thought to myself "what are the odds of modern!au roche having a horrible anime girl tattoo instead of the naked shield lady one" and then i realized. awfully high