#so the two of them end up way more successful in keeping relationships alive than Ivan ever could

[fumblingmusings]

It's such a petty thing, but my favourite somewhat sort of not really underrated character dynamics in Hetalia is Ivan and Arthur, and Ivan and Kiku's... non. relationship.

Like they just absolutely do not like that man.

I just... love... how consistent Arthur and Kiku's discomfort->dislike->virulent hatred of Ivan is. Which sounds mean. But he deserves it. Mostly. Like in terms of characters who kind of sort of suck at social interaction, Ivan, Arthur, and Kiku are certainly up there amongst the top five.

And yet... never once in like 15 years are Arthur and Kiku shown having a conversation with Ivan, which doesn't just go downhill insanely fast. Francis and Yao are more willing to humour him and have some kind of relationship there, and Alfred is... Alfred is the golden retriever man, but... Kiku is just absolutely not interested in being polite to him. Arthur tries sometimes but has such a low tolerance for nonsense that the moment Ivan mentions another country in a vaguely unpleasant manner, Arthur gets absolutely red in the face and snaps.

Hima being consistent in going yeah no England never has and never will like or even feel comfortable around that guy and Japan literally runs away to avoid being friends with him is just... peak characterisation.

[yandereunsolved]

"Don't Stop Me Now" — Five situations where yandere Five loses it

cw(s): yandere themes, non-descriptive self harm, mention of suicide and domestic violence

1 — someone ✗ something is trying to harm you

Pretty straightforward. 

This is the numero uno that comes along with every yandere.  

Five grew up with an abusive, emotionally absent father figure. He was pushed to be the best, the most successful of his siblings, just for an ounce of affection. He was isolated for so many years with nothing more than a department store doll. He has had to put away whatever loose morals he had to slave away in The Comission.

Then you come along and brighten up his life. No, you do more than that. You perfect it. 

Then someone comes and tries to strip that away from him?

It's safe to say you've only seen that crazed look in his eyes when you're in danger. He doesn't care about whatever mission, the greater good, or whatever the fuck when you may end up being killed. He's swift and merciless, just as he was taught. 

After he makes sure you are okay, he'll hold you to his chest for what feels like forever. He just needs to become secure again in the fact you are alive. You are here with him right now. It helps ground him so he doesn't end up going about on a killing spree. 

Yes. That has happened one too many times. 

Klaus now knows not to joke about random people flirting with you. Their spirits won't stop harassing him. In his defense, how was he supposed to know Five would just go out and slowly torture them before letting them waste away into death? Klaus didn't think Five was that unhinged. He knows better now.

2 — you harm yourself (in any way)

He keeps an observant eye on you, so it would be a miracle if you managed to accomplish anything along those lines. 

Two words. no. more. 

He has the internal breakdown. He's just standing there and staring at you. There are tears in his eyes. He wants to yell, to freak out, but his voice cracks far too much when he tries to reprimand you. 

No. Just no. 

That's the only word that encapsulates how he feels. 

He is not going to allow you to hold any sharp objects. He makes sure you have no contact with Diego. Five is paranoid and suspects that Diego had something to do with this. Somehow. 

You are more strictly monitored. 

He has an entire list of mental and physical health questions he asks you each morning. If you tell him to leave you alone or that you are tired, there's about a seventy percent chance that he'll go off. It would definitely be in a Five way. 

He'd be teleporting around you and sputtering out statistics and caring yet demeaning words. 

3 — keeping him out of the loop

Five is meticulous. 

When you keep him out of the loop—which could mean not saying good morning to him or hiding a romantic relationship—he feels so powerless again. He needs to know what is going on with you so he can protect you if need be. 

Don't even try to argue with him. 

He's older than you, so he knows best. 

He has so much more experience at anything and everything. He can solve all of your problems if you just let him in. 

Does that mean he will do the same in return? No. 

There's no reason for you to know what he is doing at any point of the day. You don't need to worry your pretty little head about it. Aka, he's doing things that are morally gray at best and human rights violations at... that's still one of the better cases. 

Just tell him. Or he'll force it out of you.

4 — things being out of his control

This ties in with every other scenario. 

He needs to be in control.

Everything has to be perfect. 

If one thing goes wrong, then you may slip through his fingers. 

That isn't allowed to happen. It can't. 

It eats away at him at night to think something could happen that he can't control. 

The apocalypse happened, and he had to spend decades just accepting that fact. Until there was a chance he could change it. 

Now he has to. He has to change, sort, and neatly put away everything. No speck of dust is out of place. If it is, then he'll end up pushing himself into fixing it, to the point of exhaustion or death—whichever comes first.

5 — escaping successfully

The only time there is a plausible chance he will resort to physical violence. 

Why, why, why, why, why, why!?

How could he be so idiotic? How did you do it? Who helped you? 

Whoever helped you is going to die if they haven't already killed themselves because they know Five is going to be coming after them. 

He will act nonchalant, like he is in control, when he finally finds you once again. He'll tease, poke, and prod at your fear, like a ringmaster taming their lion. A part of this act is the truth. He has you back, and now everything can go back to how it was. The other part of him is still devastated and wants to curl up in your lap and just be safe there.

Yandere Five: fragile—handle with care.  

✗ @clarioscharm

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 4th - Dry-Humping (Cardinal Copia x Gender-Neutral!Reader)

Tags: Established Relationship, Dry-Humping, Drunkenness, Desperation, Humiliation, Light Pet Play (If You Squint), Premature Ejaculation, Fluff And Smut, All The Papas Are Alive, First Person POV

I can't take Copia anywhere. It was supposed to be a nice, simple celebration dinner, to congratulate him on his success of joining the band. Who cares if he's not officially Papa just yet? It's still a momentous achievement for him, one he's been working for all his life, and I couldn't be prouder.

I've been with Copia since he first became a Cardinal, and I've known him for even longer. I know he's an intelligent, capable, hardworking man, someone with immeasurable patience and courtesy, a true gentleman; That is, until you get a few drinks in him.

It was Terzo who brought the wine. What I used to think was a kind gesture to show there was no ill-will between the two, turned out to be a revenge tactic to get Copia to embarrass himself in front of the whole Clergy. Copia smiled thankfully at him, and unable to resist, he poured himself a glass of wine. And then two. And then three.

Terzos smirk grew the more Copia drank, which only earned him a death glare from Sister Imperator, who saw through his whole schtick immediately. She'll surely have his head for this one. I unfortunately didn't notice, therefore couldn't stop Copia, until it was too late. We had to leave the dinner party early, Copia tripping, knocking things over, and making loud sexual remarks to me the whole time it took to drag him out. I could hear other members of the Clergy mumbling to Sister Imperator, asking if he was really the right man for the job.

"Oh, amore mio, you looked positively delicious tonight. I could barely keep my hands off you, topolino..." Copia purrs in my ear as I lay him down on the bed, wiping off his eye paints for him. I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, I know. You said that earlier, in a room full of upper Clergy members, remember?" I scoff sarcastically, my cheeks still glowing with embarrassment. He only smiles dazily, as if he didn't retain a single word I said. "Così bello, così bello..." He mutters to himself, running his fingers through my hair. How can I stay mad at him when he's this cute?

"Uh huh. Now sit up, I gotta get you undressed." I order gently, hoping he will make this easier for me, but honestly, when has he ever? He chuckles. "I like your way of thinking, amore. My pants are getting so tight, I need to be freed of them..." He winks, or at least I think he attempted to. He's so drunk he just ended up blinking really hard. I am not amused.

I look down at his lap, and lo and behold, hes telling the truth. His tight pants are constricting over his massive erection, and his lack of underwear makes it so I can see the outline in great detail. It twitches visibly, making me blush, but I do not give into temptation. He's drunk, after all. "Copia, you need to get some rest."

"How can I sleep when my cock is awake?" He slurs, nuzzling his face into my neck, nibbling gently, and turning his body to press his hard-on against my thigh. "Your Cardinal hurts, topolino. Won't you help him?" He rocks his hips, grinding his clothed cock against me, whimpering into the crook of my neck. I laugh softly at his act of desperation.

"The answer is no, my love. But you are more than welcome to take care of yourself." I hum softly, deciding getting him ready for bed can wait till he gotten all his sexual frustrations out. I expected him to sloppily yank off his pants and jerk himself off, but it seems he had other plans. He rocks his hips forward again, his eyes rolling back at the friction.

"Oh, so that's how you wanna do this, hm? You wanna hump my leg like a dog?" I snicker. He swears under his breath, his thrusts speeding up. I didn't know my words would have such an effect on him, but I'm certainly not complaining. I continue. "This is what you wanted? To act like a pathetic, drooling mutt, desperate for pleasure?" He lets out a choked whine one could almost mistake for a sob, and nods, too caught up in his frantic self-gratification to respond verbally.

His movements are feverishly swift, like he needs to use my body to survive, panting and growling like a rabid animal. His hands harshly grope whatever part of my body he can reach. He will no doubt be repeatedly apologizing later for the fingertip-shaped bruises littering my hips and stomach, no matter how much I tell him I don't mind. I hold back a giggle at the thought, not that he would notice if I did in his frenzied state.

He's barely been going at this for a few minutes, and already his thrusts are becoming weaker, his little whimpers and grunts become louder and more frequent, and his face contorts tightly. Before I even recognize the pattern, a long sigh escapes his lips, his expression relaxes, and his tight pants are now dampened, cumming in record-breaking time.

"Cazzo...! I- I would've lasted longer, if it wasn't for this... g- goddamn wine..." He hiccups, slurring his words sleepily, and ending his sentence with a loud snore, officially passed out. I laugh. "Let's get you cleaned up, Cardinal." I say, tugging off his pants, throwing them in the overflowing hamper. Copia can deal with that load (literally) in the morning.

Once I managed to wrestle all of the sweat-dampened clothes off of his limp body, I lay back in bed with him, exhaling deeply. The things I do for this man, I think to myself. It's all worth it though, when I feel his warmth against me. He lets out a little noise of content, his mustache twitching. He subconsciously pulls me closer, and as our bodies intertwine, I let his soft breathing lull me to sleep. I think I could love him forever.

-

[purpleqilinwrites]

quietly.

a/n: for the pixel café network's spooktober event. if you'd like to read more, the event masterlist is here!

fandom: haikyuu!!

character: ushijima wakatoshi

genre: angst

info: zombie apocalypse au; takes place around the time-skip; established relationship (ushijima is your boyfriend / fiancé)

warnings: might not be canon-compliant; mentions of gore; mentions of injury (one of them self-inflicted); major character death

synopsis: the world ended not with a bang, but quietly, in a room with blue wallpaper.

word count: 3.5k

Ushijima Wakatoshi

It was quiet outside. Too quiet.

The thought of something – or a group of someones – catching you by surprise prevented you from falling asleep, and you got up from the makeshift bed you threw together to stand guard by the smudged window again. Ushijima stirred from your abrupt movement, moving his arm to tug you back to him but only snagging a handful of air.

"They're not active when it's dark," he said, his voice still laden with sleep. You felt bad for waking him. He was the one who's been doing most of the hard labour keeping the two of you alive, and you thought that safeguarding him while he rested was the one thing you could do for him in return. You weren't much good at any of the survival things, despite being quite savvy at the games you played that simulated this exact situation you found yourself in. "Let's just sleep."

Cutting through the rotting flesh of a zombie was stupidly easy a few months prior, when all you had to do was press several buttons in quick succession. Ushijima had wondered what you found so fascinating about playing a character trying to survive a zombie apocalypse. You didn't know either. Maybe there was something about being a hero that you liked. The main character almost always won at the end, after all.

"Be back in a minute," you said, crossing your arms to ward off the late autumn chill. Ushijima left it at that, turning his head to the side where you should've been sleeping and closing his eyes.

You remained on your feet by the window for maybe half an hour after you heard him start snoring again. The only movement you detected outside was the trees bending at the waist to the strong hand of the night winds.

When the food you'd amassed was close to running out, Ushijima decided that it was time to move on from this defunct power station. With several jelly drinks and two granola bars safely stored in the fanny pack under your jacket, you followed him out of the ruined front gates once the afternoon began to wane into the evening.

It was all open terrain once you were out of the compound.

You were soothed knowing that if there was a zombie or two approaching, it would be easy to spot them since there was nowhere for them to hide. On the other hand, there was no avoiding another bloody confrontation once the zombie had been spotted.

The weight of the borrowed wrench in your hand did little to assuage your worry. It was cold against the heat of your skin. Colder than the evening breeze that whipped at your face once the stars began to wink at the pair of you from above.

You stopped Ushijima for a moment to admire them, and just for the slow count up to ten, everything was alright again.

It felt like you'd been walking for days on end when a town a little ways ahead came into view.

You exhaled your relief, your breath condensing into a misshapen mist that was quickly eaten by the breeze. "Let's hurry," Ushijima said, adjusting the straps of his backpack and then gesturing for you to keep up with him.

The house that was the first to greet you looked the way you felt, with the door missing, all its windows smashed in, and an entire chunk of the front wall lying scattered about the overgrown lawn in hunks of debris. As you approached, there was a pointed odour of decay rushing out from deeper within the house through the missing section of the wall.

You continued down the path that led to several more houses in the town instead of stopping at the first one, and all the houses in the row were alike in sight and smell. There was a much larger house at the north end of the town from where you started. Despite its less than hospitable condition, you said, "It'll have to do for now," and Ushijima acquiesced with that little wrinkle in his brow that told you he didn't want to stop there in the meantime if he could help it.

Less than two meters from what would've been the front gardens of the large house was a mostly intact concrete wall that reached only to your waist. There were several rust-coloured blotches splattered around the corners. It was arduous work putting the thought of what those dark stains could be to rest, but you managed. Across the one face of the wall was a metal plaque inscribed with a mostly faded name.

This town used to be a retirement village.

You shivered, even if you didn't feel particularly cold. Ushijima retraced his last ten or so steps and came to stand beside you when he realised you hadn't moved for a while, and his palm was warm against your bicep.

"Let's not stay here long," he said. "Just for the night."

The aluminised plastic rustled when you rubbed the packet of onsen salts between your hands. It didn't impart any warmth to you, but you still palmed at it anyway.

Ushijima looked up from taking stock of what was left of your food reserves because of the noise. "There's no running water here," he said. "You can't take a bath." A mirthless sound left your lips at his innocent reminder of your situation. It's been a few months already since the last time you took a bath. You wondered how long you'd be stewing in the medicated water if you knew beforehand that it would be your last soak for a while.

Even the ability to rinse your sweat-smeared face with clean water instead of drinking it was a luxury so far out of reach.

"I know." You spoke after a moment of silence, reading the words on the packet as if it were the first time you were seeing it. "I was hoping looking at this would make me feel better. Remind me of the days before all this."

You felt him scoot right up to you, his arms wrapping around your midsection as he leaned in to take a closer look at what you were holding. "We went there for our anniversary last year. And to celebrate my contract with the Adlers being renewed," he said, poking at the telltale logo on the upper left corner of the packet. You didn't miss how he let his touch linger on the packet of onsen salts in your hands. "I liked it too. The onsen."

For a man as stoic as Ushijima, though you knew it wasn't on purpose that he presented himself that way, that small gesture absolutely ripped your heart down the middle.

The next place you took refuge in was at a fishing port.

All the buildings along the port were repurposed shipping containers, the outer layer of paint dulled all over and peeling in some places, exposing irregular patches of rust. Ushijima stopped in front of the least damaged container and tried to open the door. When he determined that it was locked, he forcibly opened the door with his hammer and stepped in.

After a moment, he emerged from his initial scan of the shipping container's interior and beckoned for you to join him inside. "Come. It's safe for you."

Whoever owned this shipping container was a godsend.

The weariness you've been shouldering all these past few months seemed to seep out of your bones and evaporated as you hungrily took in the sight of the rows and rows of emergency food supplies and bottled water. You felt something wet trail down your chin. Swiping at your mouth with the back of your free hand, you realised then that you had been drooling. Even the wet sensation of your own spit on your face felt unfamiliar.

Ushijima was hauling the display cabinet at the other end of the container to fortify the now busted door when you came back to yourself. You began pulling where he was pushing, and the two of you made quick work of turning the display cabinet into a barricade.

Dinner was a comparatively extravagant affair now that you had options other than to have a bite of something for now or to save it for later.

You crunched on not just one but two cups of instant noodles, enjoying a forkful of canned tuna between bites of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Ushijima simply watching you eat, his own dinner of canned beans in tomato sauce with a sleeve of wheat crackers sitting yet untouched in front of him.

"You want some?" You reached over with an especially hefty forkful of tuna, which he easily accepted. As he chewed, he placed a cracker loaded with beans over the mouth of one of your empty noodle cups.

"I like this," he said, and you had an inkling he wasn't referring to the food in front of him. "It's been a while since I saw you smile. It's nice."

His sentimental declaration completely disarmed you. Even with the cracker he shared with you shovelled partly into your mouth, your eyes filled up with tears that quickly began running down your face as if by the bucket. Your tears surprised him, and with your vision partially obscured by them, you saw how he almost dropped the cracker he was eating. It made you laugh, despite yourself. Despite the cracker chunks sticking uncomfortably to the roof of your mouth. Despite the reality of things outside this shipping container.

There was something boneless about how you felt – a good kind of boneless feeling, if there was such a thing – when he put his food down to hold you until you were done crying around a mouthful of beans and a broken-off corner of a cracker.

This situation with the zombies has been a reality for exactly a year and eight months since the first time you got bitten.

It was in what used to be a covered shopping street. You remembered coming here with your friends from elementary school, your wallet heavy with coins so that you could spend hours and hours playing in the arcade. For a moment, you wondered about them as you walked behind Ushijima along the ruined corner of the shopping street where that arcade should've been.

This was a place brimming with good memories from your past. It filled your mouth with an acrid, bitter taste that in your present, this place would signal the beginning of the end.

You mourned the loss of two fingers from your left hand, your little finger and your ring finger that you had to cleave off if you wanted to avoid transforming into a zombie. For months and months after the fact, you suffered from irregular bouts of a phantom pain that was real enough to seize you from your sleep, and you were always left kicking and screaming until it passed.

Sometimes, when your mind cleared and you became aware that the wound had already healed into an uneven mass of a scar, you found yourself grieving also that if this zombie situation were ever resolved, you'd never wear a wedding ring where it was supposed to be worn.

After a particularly nasty run-in with a group of other survivors, the two of you collectively agreed to remain on your own. You wanted to ask "Until when?" but the words evaded you when you noticed that the clench in Ushijima's jaw had become a permanent fixture of his face. His natural expression was never angry, before all this.

The remains of Shiratorizawa Academy loomed over the residential and semi-commercial buildings that surrounded it, casting a shadow even in the late hour.

At first, you thought he wanted to stay there for the time being, and so you followed at the usual two paces behind him. Ushijima stopped without warning in his approach, and you rammed into his back. The sight of your shared alma mater cast a spell on him, and he paid no mind to you as you stumbled and latched onto his elbow to right yourself.

The last time he'd held you, the angles of his bones didn't jut out this much.

"I wanted us to get married here," he said, turning around to face you. You had expected him to say something about volleyball instead. Something about the way his palm tingled pleasantly after he spiked the ball. Something about Satori-kun and the other Shiratorizawa boys he used to play here with. After all, he loved the sport before he loved you. You never once thought to equate these two loves of his. Even so—

There was that pinprick of warmth at the back of your eyes that warned of the tears to come, but that was the end of it. Maybe you were too dehydrated to retain the ability to cry. You blinked, as if to prevent a tide of nonexistent tears from falling.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but a low growl from within the abandoned Shiratorizawa compound made him close it.

There was a part of you that was too tired to run. You've already spent more than two years – or more? Had it been three years already? Five? More? – running and hiding and starving. When was the last time you were happy that you were still alive?

Ushijima appeared to be able to hear the words on the tip of your tongue that you haven't yet said, and he made the decision for you. As a swarm of zombies materialised from the twisted shadows of Shiratorizawa, he grabbed your forearm and yanked you after him.

The two of you narrowly missed the most nimble zombie in the horde. The one who relentlessly chased after you on all fours with a good portion of his face and most of his right arm missing.

It was in another school when you got bitten again.

This time, there were no memories attached to the place. Neither of you went to school here. It was too far north of Sendai where the two of you met. You took it as a small consolation, no matter that it was insignificant, that nothing in your past was sullied by this thing that happened in your present.

You poured an entire travel-sized vodka bottle onto the wound once you managed to duck into an underground shelter a good distance away from the school. Dipping your hand into your fanny pack left you disappointed; you had nothing else to clean the site of your injury with.

The wound festered unnaturally, darkening into the sickly purple-grey of a bruised plum beginning to mould. Even the flies that gathered around the corpses of people who died a natural death avoided the parasitic rot making its home in your body.

It occurred to you that you might need to self-mutilate once again, for the sake of survival. You brandished the one clean knife in your possession before you processed the thought, aligning the cutting edge with the curve of your lowermost rib on the right side. The exposed portion of bone, off-white from the poor nutrition of the recent years and mostly smooth when the bite was still fresh, had succumbed to the thing that was going to kill you.

If you didn't do this now—

Ushijima caught you with the pocket knife within its sheath, but still tightly enmeshed in the meeting of your two hands. There was a pleading look in his eyes that made your heart twist painfully in your chest. You couldn't bear to maintain eye contact for longer than a second, turning your cheek to him instead.

"Toshi, please," you said, and pushing those two words past your lips drained you. "I don't want to turn into a zombie. Let me do this, please. Please–"

If you didn't do this now, you'd have to ask him—

The last clinic the two of you stumbled upon was devoid of anything useful. All that met you within the shattered glass walls were the lifeless bodies of what looked to have been at least two groups of survivors fighting over the last of some medical supplies. You checked a can of disinfectant spray lying by the severed leg of the least decomposed corpse, and the way it rattled when you picked it up told you it had been empty for a while.

"We've already been through so much. We'll get through this too," he said, prying the knife from your trembling hands. You were prepared for the physical pain of what needed to be done, but there was nothing you could do to steel yourself against the cruel knowledge that you had to leave Ushijima behind soon.

"I can't– Do this anymore," you said. "It hurts. Everything– Everything hurts."

His eyes were watchful while you lay shivering and sweaty and grey on the stained mattress. You were bundled up in an assortment of clothes Ushijima had collected from the other apartments in this building. It was the heat of summer, clammy and thick, but it felt like winter to you.

You gathered the strength to wave your hand at him to properly get his attention, but your efforts fell short, your forearm rising only to flop back where it came from. The closest you came to swearing was a broken, wispy groan.

He was looking at you, but not seeing you. It was the same way you were looking at him, and all you could focus on was the repetitive floral motif on the pretty blue wallpaper behind him.

"–Toshi," you managed. It took maybe five or six seconds for him to register that you had spoken. Once it did, he rose from his seated position on the floor close to the mattress to kneel beside where you lay.

You mustered all the strength you had left in your quickly rotting body to nod to him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't summon the words to your lips and push them out so he could hear you. So that he knew that this was it. That it was time for you to go, and he had to let you go. All you managed was a singular decisive nod.

It felt like a moment that should've been tearful. This was goodbye, after all.

These few – or maybe more than a few – years you survived because of him. You never knew how much it cost him because he never let you apologise for being one more thing for him to take care of. Ushijima only accepted your feelings when you said, "Thank you" and "I love you" and "I appreciate you".

You gave a strained nod that sapped what remained alive in you, and he nodded back with his mouth flattened into a solemn line.

He leaned forward to press his lips to yours one last time. In the blurred vision of your one good eye, it looked like he was about to cry as his face drew nearer to yours. Since you couldn't bring your arms around him, you settled for two dull taps of your index finger onto the plush surface of the mattress and hoped he understood. Did he even see it?

You wanted to ask him not to cry while you could still be aware of it, but you've already asked too much of him.

He stood up, leaving your narrow field of vision for a moment. When he came back into view, the pocket knife you'd been using as your weapon of choice was in his dominant hand, the deep green of the weathered handle standing out against the colour of his skin.

Ushijima leaned over you, shivering and sweaty and grey.

His right hand passed over your face, and he mapped out the line of your jaw, the curve of your lips, the slant of your nose, the shape of your eyes. The calloused pads of his fingers were gentle as he shut your eyes for you.

"I don't want this," he admitted, nestling his cheek against your forehead. His voice was close to your ear, and you could hear the fissures in it worsening as he spoke. "Not when I was ready to die before you."

The cool of your grey flesh greedily soaked up the warmth of his body when he lifted your upper body to cradle you to his chest, safe in his arms as you've always been. You wanted to snuggle into the crook of his neck one more time before it was time for you to go, but there was no more energy left in you. Your life had run out, and it was time—

"I love you," was the last thing you heard but not the last thing you felt.

[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?”

»»————-　♡　————-««  

🍑  taglist: @floral-recs - @gr8rainbowpunk -   @idyllicbutterfly - @maneskindiva - @maneslut - @saschenkaaa   -   @slavicgoddess13 - @elvirabelle - @maneskintifoso    - @thegeminisgirl    - @ha-la-ansia - @butkutee   - @ursulalurks - @itsmaneskinbitch -   @icarodamiano -   @crwnnjules - @paralianeyes - @fand0mskullfa1ry -   @lizzylynch1 - @kammerstx - @myleftsock - @tellmesomething01   -    @adoredamianos - @vittoriaisfuckingpathetic - @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis - @shinshans - @lonnybunnys - @lyricalliz - @lifeofa-fangirl [join here!]

[soapskies]

Could I request yandere btas riddler and scarecrow, where they're helping each other to keep the reader all for themselves.

I love your writing so much I just want to eat it

YANDERE BTAS SCARECROW + RIDDLER

MALE READER. ROMANTIC HCS. CW FOR YANDERES TEAMING UP (GONE WRONG)

— sorry if these are a little short!

Spookiest man alive with smartest man alive, what could go wrong? (A lot actually)

Though you knew Scarecrow longer, Riddler would fall for you first, and harder.

They both admire your drive and your determination to accomplish your goals, but for Scarecrow it’s more about the fears that come with such a person…

Perhaps you’re afraid of failing, or proving yourself incompetent? It makes him find you all the more fascinating…

At first they had a bit of a rivalry. Scarecrow wasn’t willing to share, and Riddler wasn’t fond of the spooky fellow all that much. Riddler was especially concerned that Scarecrow would harm you for the sake of his experiments.

They respected each other, but taking their darling away from them? Neither of them are willing to give you up.

Edward is a lot better at hiding his disturbing tendencies, at least from your view, than Scarecrow is. He tries to romance you in the usual way, arranging things so you spend a lot of time with him and delivering (not so secret admirer) gifts to your doorstep.

Sure, Edward’s eliminated a lot of people in his way, but you don’t have to know that! He’s lucid enough to realize playing the long game will be more successful for him

While Edward plays savior, promising to protect you from Jonathan, Scarecrow takes advantage of your fears. He tries to convince you that Riddler is only acting polite for personal gain, that he would have no problem throwing you in one of his traps if you proved incompetent…

What if dear old Eddie pitied you, hmm? Only kept you around to make him feel better about himself? There hasn’t been anyone that Riddler considered an intellectual equal before, besides the Batman, after all. Scarecrow is just telling you how it is.

They may try to kill each other indirectly, but neither succeed. They were both expecting it.

Riddler is more open to working with others, and he sees Scarecrow as a grand opportunity to force you into his clutches.

It’d be a lot easier to control you if you were caught between two rogues.

When they meet, they come to an agreement: Scarecrow will be able to continue his experiments as long as they don’t put you in serious danger, driving you towards the Riddler, while Riddler will handle the technical stuff to ensure you’ll never be able to escape them.

Your relationship with them would be like running between two abusive exes.

Scarecrow’s manipulative, putting ideas into your head about your inadequacy and terrifying you into staying, always some underlying threat laced into his words when he shows you what he’s been working on or asks you to do something for him

While Riddler is very overprotective, constantly has you under surveillance, and caters to your every need, which can feel infantilizing and suffocating.

Even more so when you slowly find this all out, as his layers are pulled back the longer you live with him… it makes you think back to what Scarecrow had told you.

At this point, you’re probably too far gone to be dragged out of it. Edward’s taken care to remove you from any semblance of your old life.

Every time one of them hurts you, you run to the other for comfort, and it’s a never ending cycle.

And Riddler has to admit, it’s fun when you’re under the influence of a bit of fear toxin, and you’re desperate enough to be held and reassured, doing nothing to fight their hands all over you…

[sapphire-weapon]

I’m about to vomit out a bunch of thoughts, and I’m not sure any of this is going to make sense by the end, but. I’ve been thinking a LOT about these three lines in RE4make:

“You haven’t changed. You just think you have.”

“You can’t save her. You can’t save anyone.”

“This time, it has to be different...”

I’ve seen people focus in on that Krauser line and tie it directly back to Sherry, which is cool! Even as recently as five years ago, people completely glossed over Sherry’s impact on Leon’s life, and it’s cool that the remakes have had people digging into his character and realizing “oh shit, literally everything that happens to him after RE2 is because of his paternal love for Sherry.”

But... Krauser’s line is about more than just her.

With the remake turning Krauser into Leon’s combat trainer, chances are he knows about everything that happened in Raccoon City. And I don’t mean, like. He read a government file. Leon probably told him.

In OG, Krauser and Leon have this exchange of dialogue:

Krauser: “What is it that you fight for, comrade?” Leon: “My past, I suppose.” Krauser: “Hmph. Umbrella.”

It was axed completely from the remake, because it doesn’t make sense for it to happen in the remake. If Krauser was Leon’s trainer, that question was probably asked very early in their relationship. And since they weren’t currently in a fight to the death, and because they weren’t already six years removed from Raccoon City, chances are, Leon’s answer was a bit more involved than just “my past.”

So, let’s back up a little bit. In RE2make, they basically turned Kendo into a completely different character. OG Kendo was literally just there to point a shotgun at Leon and/or Claire and then go “oh my bad you’re not a zombie” and hook them up with some guns before he gets eaten. In RE2make, he’s a desperate and terrified father just trying to spend his last few moments with his infected 6 or 7 year old daughter before she turns. After he shuts the door on Leon and Ada, Leon turns to Ada and says, “Protecting people like that is why I joined the force.”

But Leon doesn’t protect or save Kendo or his daughter. He doesn’t protect or save... anyone. Every single person that Leon comes into contact with and tries to save dies horrifically -- and some, he even has to kill, himself (Marvin Branaugh). The only people who make it out of Raccoon City alive are people who saved themselves (Claire and Ada).

Of course, there is Sherry. But Leon didn’t save Sherry; Claire did. ESPECIALLY in remake canon, since nearly all of Leon’s scenes with Sherry got severely shortened or removed completely in RE2make.

But then, when Claire entrusts Sherry to Leon’s care (on his own insistence, per her RE3 epilogue), he goes and fucks that up, too. Gets her kidnapped and held hostage indefinitely by the federal government, and the only thing he can do about it is do exactly as they say and just hope they keep their end of the bargain and not hurt her.

So, when Krauser says “You can’t save anyone,” he means anyone. Ever. And even up to that point in RE4... Leon got the two officers who drove him into town killed, and he watched Luis die a slow, agonizing death right in front of him. And then, past that point, Leon has to kill Krauser with his own hands. Then he watches Mike die.

Ashley is literally Leon’s first and only success story, up to this point in canon. (And even when you go all the way up to current-day canon, Ashley is one of... three? People? I can think of? Total? Who Leon actually saves?)

So, Leon saying, “This time, it has to be different,” he doesn’t just mean Sherry. He means Ada. He means Kendo. He means Marvin. He means the entirety of Raccoon City. He’s staring down a repeat of what happened back then, not in terms of the bioterror situation, but in terms of his own personal failures. His survivor’s guilt. He can’t handle the thought that he’ll be the only person to walk away again -- and he refuses to be.

And that’s why Ada’s line bothers me so fucking much.

I mean, first of all -- Ada, you haven’t seen this man in six years, and you’ve spent a total of like five minutes with him since meeting up with him again here, so how the fuck would you even know -- but even aside from that...

To be clear: she’s right.

But she’s also wrong.

Leon has changed -- to an extent. In RE2 (OG or remake), Leon honestly believed that if it was lawful, then it was also morally right. He doesn’t believe that anymore. There’s no more “letting the law sort it out” or trusting in the power of authority for him anymore. His moral compass has been boiled down to: “If you hurt or murder innocent people, you’re a fucking asshole, and I don’t really care who you are, I’ll kill you myself.”

RE2 Leon was willing to hear people out and give them an honest benefit of the doubt -- even Annette Birkin. RE4 Leon just tells people to shut the fuck up before opening fire.

RE2 Leon was honest and trusting to a fault, and he felt stronger as part of a team. RE4 Leon is suspicious almost to the point of paranoia, and he just wants to be left the fuck alone to do his job.

These are all things that were really important to who Leon was in Raccoon City, and they’re reasons why things turned out the way they did for him, back then.

But at the same time, Ada’s right in saying that, at the core of it all, Leon is still that kind-hearted, decent guy who just wants the good guys to win and the bad guys to lose. That’s why it hits him somewhere sensitive when Krauser says: “You can’t save anyone.” 

It’s just that, now, the way he approaches it is different. His outlook on life in terms of his goals is different. His expectations for it have changed.

So, if Leon had been smarter/wittier, he absolutely could have turned it around on her and said: “No, I’ve definitely changed. You just think I haven’t.”

And not only would that sound threatening as fuck, he’d also be right. They both would be, at that point.

And for all of those major parts of him to have changed and still be facing down the possibility of failing every single person he comes across, especially Ashley...

"This time, it has to be different.”

And this time, it was.

[bridgyrose]

So I started to think about Salem's relationship with Cinder and I think that relationship is a whole lot more complicated than "Salem cares about Cinder like her own child" and "Salem only wants to use Cinder until she's no longer useful."

Like, Salem tends to back Cinder up, even when she fails. Whether its all a manipulation tactic or not is all kinda up in the air, but there does seem to be a little degree of care when she talked about Cinder being the key to her victory. And what really blurs that line is the manipulation she does end up using on Cinder. She'll go from inflicting pain and yelling at Cinder to becoming the softest person that Cinder has ever known at a flip of a switch and keeping her firm under her thumb for as long as she's needed.

On the flip side, I dont think Cinder sees Salem as a mother figure as much as she sees Salem as a savior or a goddess of sorts. Her main motive to following Salem is power, a chance at a new world that keeps her from being in the same spot that she was in before. When she's calm, she can be calculating, putting a plan into motion over the span of months without anyone figuring out the full scope of her plan until its in motion. But at the same time, she's impulsive and reckless and even more so when she's angry or finds something that she wants. If its to kill Ruby or to go after a maiden's power, she'll disobey Salem's direct orders to stay or to leave someone alone/alive in order to try to get what she wants.

Both of them are using each other for their own reasons, and while Cinder thinks their goals align, Salem is only using her as a pawn until she's no longer useful, for the most part. But there does still seem to be some genuine care when Cinder follows her part of the plan that doest seem to be fully manipulative. After her failure to fully complete her mission in Vale, Salem still praises that failure as a success and seems to have made sure that Cinder was able to get back to Evernight safely and gave her enough time to recover before sending her back out.

This whole dynamic between the two of them is fucked up in so many ways, and yet, its the dynamic I want to see pushed to the limit, to see how far Cinder can push until Salem no longer deems her necessary or as a key to this victory. To find out what exactly is Salem's breaking point for Cinder and for Cinder to find out whatever truth Salem has planned for the relics.

And maybe a way for Cinder to finally realize that the power and freedom she's after is going to have a cost too great for her to pay.

[contrivedchaos]

So maybe an idea where say Sera falls maybe because she shows some backbone at the start and says no to adam when he proposes the exterminations and little emily falls too because she was loudly complaining about how wrong and unjust they are for wanting to kill sinners and get rid of Sera for saying no. The two end up in hell and struggle to survive Sera doesn't know how many of the fallen angels she knew are alive, where they are or if they would be happy to see her so they are on there own. They spend awhile struggling to survive maybe even have to go through the first extermination and eventually needing someone way to make money Sera is about to sign away her soul to an overlord when Carmilla shows up she heard about the two fallen angels trying to survive and got there just in time to stop Sera from signing away her soul. Carmilla is more than willing to take the two in for nothing she cares about Sera and hasn't been completely successful at getting over their past relationship and even though she just meet Emily she already wants to protect her more than anything. Sera is happy they are now safe and also happy and is wondering how she'll repay Carmilla and wondering if maybe there is still something there to restart their relationship. Also Emily is probably around the same age as Carmilla's daughters are and quickly becomes and friend and other sister to them.

Sera and Emily fallen angel AU!!! 👏👏

It'd be fascinating to see how Sera and Emily would navigate Hell, what their demonic forms would look like, how well they'd adapt to life there, etc. Would they lose some of their bird features, like Carmilla?

I can definitely see Carmilla just immediately stepping in to protect them and teach them the ropes. I feel like she does that for any of the weaker souls who end up in Hell. If she gets word that literal angels have suddenly manifested there, she'd be the first on the scene. She has people that keep her informed of those things. Only to get there and see that it's Sera and Emily. Surprise!!!

Emily would absolutely take to Odette and Clara right away. She would love them and dote on them. They'd go shopping. Manifesting it. 🔮🔮

[lexa-griffins]

You said that Alycia yelling gifs reminded you of post miscarriage farm Lexa. Care to share?

Right before they reach the end of their rope and Clarke gets Lexa in therapy by force, they have a fight - honestly it might be THE fight of their relationship. It had reached a point where both of them thought that maybe this was it for their marriage.

Lexa reached a point in her grief that seeing Clarke be the mom that is laughing and trying to make sure their kids are fine almost as a betrayal because Lexa is still grieving so hard and in her eyes it's like Clarke doesn't even care about the fact they lost a baby. And Lexa hates herself even harder for feeling like this because she knows Clarke is trying to keep their family together and functional but at the same time it feels like a reflection of Lexa's lack of ability to not be constantly suffering because of her miscarriage. She carried twins two years ago, had another two healthy and successful pregnancies before that and the blame for being unable to carry this one and being unable to care for her kids are eating her alive and turning it into anger towards the world and Clarke - something she had never, ever felt before, she had never blamed Clarke for anything that had gone wrong in their life.

One day, around maybe 2 months after the miscarriage, Lexa finds the energy to help Clarke clean up the kitchen after the kids have gone to bed. It feels almost normal again for a minute there, Clarke has this small smile on her face being able to just have this time with her wife again and then she talks. And Lexa doesn't know if its the fact Clarke talks about how Madi's teacher complimented her work on a project Lexa didn't even know she had been assigned, or the fact Clarke sounds so happy when she talks or maybe she just needed something to be her tipping point, but she's yelling - asking if Clarke is calling her a bad parent, why won't Clarke cry the same she does, how does Clarke not feel as empty with this as she does. It's unfair that Lexa feels so alone in this pain that is now the only thing that attacks her thoughts. How is Clarke able to move on and Lexa has to be alone with the guilt and grief of losing their baby and not being capable of caring for her other kids?! Does Clarke blame her as much as she blames herself for this?

And Clarke has been so patient; she's been avoiding making Lexa feel like she is letting their kids down or that she needs help but Lexa isn't sleeping or eating, she barely talks at all and Saige as even asked Clarke if they are ever gonna have mommy back again - and she's 4! She tries to calm Lexa down at first but when Lexa accuses her of not caring for the baby they lost she loses it and yells back, because she has been burying her grief as she tries to take care of everything around the farm, trying to be everyone's rock and the one they can't count on because she knew Lexa would need the time to process the miscarriage but now it's been weeks and she has not been allowed to grief yet because if she does who is gonna take care of their kids?! How does Lexa want her to even cry when she has the twins clinging to her because they are so young and their mommy suddenly vanished emotionally for them?

It's the very first time Clarke ever leaves the house after getting this mad. She just grabs the truck keys and leaves. It's also the first night in weeks Lexa spends more worried about where Clarke might be than being swallowed alive by her own grief.

Lexa wakes up the next day scared Clarke wont be home yet and terrified she might be because Lexa cannot see a way out of this. They spent so many years building a home and a family and this might be it for them. She expects Clarke to not speak to her, maybe serve her divorce papers and leave with the kids. But when she gets down to the kitchen, the dishes they didn't finish last night neatly put away, she finds Clarke pouring herself a cup of coffee. Her face is puffy and she has dark circles around her eyes but the determination on her face nearly makes Lexa cry - yup, this is it for them, she's sure of it. When Clarke sees her she asks her to sit. She doesn't smile but there is warmth in her voice that makes Lexa do as she asks. With a cup of tea in front of her - green and steeped to perfection as Clarke always manages to - Lexa stares at the papers Clarke put in front of her.

She shakes her head no.

"It's for the best Lexa."

"I will not sign this Clarke."

"Grief therapy is the bes-"

"I don't need therapy." Lexa states. It's a final.

Clarke tenses her jaw for a second, releasing it just a moment later with a deep breath. She knew it would not be something that Lexa would agree to easily but after a late night talk with Anya and her mom, they both agreed to help if it came to it.

"Yes you do Lexa. What you are going through right now is not healthy."

"I am grieving the lost of a child Clarke." Lexa is becoming tense and Clarke can almost see her defenses going up. There is a million things Clarke could say, remind her the baby they lost was not a child yet, not the same way their children are, the ones who are living and breathing and need their mother. Tell her how everyone is worried about her, how much weight she's lost in such a short time, how she does little more than stare at the wall in their room they have repainted every time they are expecting a new baby.

Instead, she chocks back a cry, "Lexa... we need you here with us."

"I am here." Lexa all but whispers. Isn't she? She hasn't left.

This time, Clarke lets the tears flow, "No love. No you're not."

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: hello. i hope you're keeping well. I'm a 20 y/o enfp. most of the time, I'd say I'm a pretty bright person, and get along with people quite well. not exactly extroverted, but I'm decently good at socialising. however, I've found that i struggle with maintaining trust in friends over a long period of time.

I do well in academics, and that has come with a lot of people approaching me for help with assignments or understanding things. i can almost always tell when someone only talks with me to get help. and i don't mind it, most of the time. i find teaching people helps me learn, too, and i make sure to not do anything at my expense.

on the other hand, I'm the kind of person who doesn't ask people for help a lot. but sometimes, when i do, and i turn to my friends for something, they tend to not reciprocate. the most recent time that this happened, i told them that I'd have appreciated a response from them, but just ended up getting ignored again. they're just fine with me when we're hanging out and having fun, but whenever i have some work related thing to talk about, it's like we're strangers forced into a group project together.

i feel like i may the problem here too. i feel like i get kind of uptight with my standards for things. i judge people for using ai to get stuff done, for messing around in class, all of that stuff. i understand that these people have their own choices, so it's not like i outright tell them these things, but i do feel them.

so to sum up, what i meant by me sabotaging my friendships is mostly that i feel like they're just using me for my academics, even though i have memories of them being thoughtful towards me, like with birthdays. but it may just be that I'm too uptight.

what I'd like to know is, is it wrong for me to have these kind of expectations from my friends? cause honestly I've not found anyone who measures up to them. and how could i bring up feeling ignored by them? i don't want to make assumptions and ruin things for us, but i also don't feel very comfortable feeling vulnerable especially if there is a possibility of them not really caring for me.

----------------------

I don't think it's unreasonable to expect reciprocity. If you think of relationship as an unspoken contract, both people have to put in their fair share of time and effort to keep the relationship alive and thriving. Nobody wants to keep investing in a relationship that goes nowhere and doesn't produce any benefits whatsoever.

There are two areas where your thinking might need adjustment, though:

(1) Help does not equal friendship. While you may be helping someone out of care and kindness, they may not necessarily see it the same way. For some people, help might simply be a "transaction" and they are chuffed that you didn't charge for your services. They asked you for something, you gave it willingly, and that's it. If you expected something in return, you should've said so at the beginning. Such people are not good candidates for friendship because they are emotionally stingy/withholding.

Perhaps you need to do a better job of distinguishing friends from opportunists. Friends step up. If someone doesn't treat you fairly or blithely ignores you during a time of need, they're not your friend.

(2) Different relationships should have different standards and labels. While it's tempting to carry over the childhood predilection of treating schoolmates as easy friends, by the time you get to college, you should be viewing them more as potential future colleagues and even potential rivals.

The pressure to succeed, even if subconscious, grows much stronger in college because there is much more at stake, in terms of financial investment and future prospects. There are always more graduates than job openings. When people are in a competitive mindset or hyperfocused on their own success, they're not thinking about your well-being. Competitive environments aren't always conducive to friendship.

A lot of people make lifelong friends in college, which is great. If you want to increase your chances of making lifelong friends, you have to be selective in choosing people who are capable of being good friends. Not everyone is relationship-ready.

Rather than getting lost in questioning whether your personal standards are too high or being judgmental of others, it's better to focus on what, objectively speaking, constitutes "a good friend" and what ingredients are needed for a good friendship. Then, learn how to be that and surround yourself with others who are that.

[chaosandcrimson]

no way is that NADIA CALHOUN.. they’re a 30-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being STRICT  &  CALLOUS but there are some people who have seen them being PRAGMATIC  &  TOUGH.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of bruised knuckles, the roar of a motorcycle, and how the ground trembles during an explosion, but that could just be because they’re considered the DETERMINATOR around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

So, they killed Cassandra first 'cause she feared the worst And tried to tell the town So, they set my life in flames, I regret to say Do you believe me now?

OVERVIEW

Name: Nadia Ieisha Calhoun

FKA: Nadia Ieisha Dasai-Shehadi

Nickname(s): Calhoun (by associates), Dee (by friends)

DOB: April 11, 2094

Age: 30

FC: Pinar Deniz

Height: 6'0"

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Unemployed / Odd Jobs / Activist

Relationship Status: Single (Closed)

[+] authoritative, pragmatic, tough [–] strict, callous, resentful

BIOGRAPHY

tw: death

Nadia was born to a no-nonsense sergeant, working for a private military contractor called Vanguard Security, and a mid-level corporate executive. Her mom was killed in action when Nadia was 2 years old.

When she was 4 years old, her father got remarried to the heiress of the Dasai fortune—the family who owns the largest of the Big Three corporations—which quickly elevated their position in the city. She was adopted by her stepmother and put in the line of succession, but her new stepbrother, who was slightly younger than her, wasn't exactly thrilled with being bumped down the list.

Luckily for him, Nadia ended up choosing to follow her biological mother's career path instead, joining the same private military contractor that she had worked for. As a soldier for Vanguard, she was outfitted with a number of top-tier cybernetic enhancements paid for entirely by the firm.

Her commanding presence and ability to remain calm under pressure lead to her reaching the same rank that her mom had attained before passing away.

It was also through work that she met her partner. The two eventually got engaged, because after seeing each other through literal life or death situations, it seemed only natural that they would agree to 'until death do us part'.

That turned out to be tragically prophetic when, on their actual wedding day, a known enemy combatant attacked their ceremony and her fiancé was killed. Their death was written off as a heroic sacrifice, which drove Nadia up the wall; she didn't want her partner to be a hero, she wanted them to be alive.

Still, something didn't add up. She investigated and discovered that her partner had been a whistleblower, leaking evidence of the firm's shady practices to a local resistance group, and that their death had been an inside job.

She ended up deserting her post and leaving Vanguard with the numerous cybernetic enhancements they had paid for, which they are definitely not happy about; her former employers very much want their property back.

Choosing to go by Calhoun, which would have been her married name, she now lives on the outskirts of society in order to stay off the grid. She has cut all contact with her very corporate family and does odd jobs to stay afloat.

Still filled with pain and rage and grief, she has recently gotten involved with the activists that her fiancé was leaking information to—specifically the more violent splinter group that has broken off from the main group.

MISC

Her middle name, Ieisha, means "she who lives"—which feels a little bit like a slap in the face given how she ended up where she is today.

She tries to avoid leaving the lower district, but when she does she makes sure to check in on her younger siblings, enough to confirm that they're safe.

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Her Embrace, Her Tears

Multi-chaptered, fluff, angst, eventually smut

Lae'zel probably didn't need a good excuse, or further motivation, to go to war with Shar. But, she is about to get it anyway.

Five years post game, Dark Justiciar/Mother Superior/Chosen of Shar Shadowheart and (with a few notable exceptions) everyone got their bad endings, in that everyone is still alive, but shitty. Lae'zel is thriving though, aside from her relationship.

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

or read Chapter Four below the cut

Even fundamental things had left her long ago. Do I sleep? Do I dream? Or am I just taken by visions in meditation.

Shadowheart knew that she needed to offer up a cherish memory tonight. It needed to be something that she had guarded in the past. Something that she didn’t want to part with. A true sacrifice.

The pain of loss would be momentary. Once she couldn’t recall what it was she had given up, how would it hurt her ever again? That was Shar’s grace, and sometimes even the idea of it couldn’t harm her, because that was also fundamental. She looked into the mirror, hand clenched at one side, and searched her own mind, for the right thoughts, the right moments. Her mind felt raw today, weeping, open wound. “Dark Lady, forgive me.”

That had been her refrain ever since she’d felt Shar’s displeasure and then that ominous lapse. That had happened before, she thought. Silence, to harrold shrieking.

In her mind’s eye, she recalled her first tentative moments of stolen intimacy with Lae’zel. Long before they knew one another well, before they’d touched one another. Shadowheart had told herself, at the time, that it was just a clever way to ensure that she had the ear of the woman who she perceived to be the stronger of the two leaders of their company. 

Lae’zel and Wyll had found one another on the nautiloid, and were already working on a planned escape when they freed Shadowheart from the coffin-like pod where she’d been bound. When their plan had actually been largely successful, in spite of the crash. Shadowheart hadn’t expected Lae’zel to offer up any deference to anyone else, sure that she would be as brash, violent and untrusting as all her people. Instead, Lae’zel had surprised her, both with her ability to cooperate, as well as her innate understanding of the need for other people, as help, if not as true companions.

She was brash, but shrewd. She knew not to bite when a bark would suffice.

She was violent, but more a tool of precision and practice than a blunt instrument. 

She didn’t trust them, in that she offered her own ideals and ideas as superior, but she did have a rather naive tendency to take everyone at their word. Shadowheart could never have said the same thing about Wyll. Between the two of them, the gith was going to be easier to influence, so that was what Shadowheart set about doing. Wyll could not be persuaded to leave the lands immediately surrounding the crash site easily, not while there was still unfinished business and leads that they hadn’t followed up on.

Lae’zel was eager to push on, but she could be persuaded to stay, and to seek out more promising options that didn’t involve a hike up a mountain and running for their lives from her kin.

And it was in those quiet moments between frantic, doomed searches for answers that Shadowheart set about trying to soften her heart, if only for the express purpose of manipulating her towards success.

But.

If she was very honest with herself, she knew the exact moment when she’d decided she actually liked Lae’zel.

Wyll had found Scratch out in the wilds, diligently keeping watch over the body of his courier master. To the shock of absolutely no one, Wyll was determined to have the dog join them, but then to the shock of everyone, Lae’zel was the one who took to the animal quickly, calling him a fine warhound and seeing to it that he was fed and properly outfitted for the dangerous journey. Lae’zel hadn’t exactly been secretive about it, but if Shadowheart hadn’t looked up from her prayers at exactly the right moment, she might have missed when Lae’zel tentatively approached the dog, barely schooling her enthusiasm, and their friendship began.

If a gith soldier who was entirely critical of everything that Faerun had to offer was open to finding something she actually liked on this ‘sad little mud pit’ then perhaps there was potential for her to be more than just a conveniently effective leader. At the time, Shadowheart told herself that since all were to come to the embrace of the Dark Lady, that necessarily included the githyanki, and that maybe she was just fulfilling Shar’s will by making an inroad into a heretofore inaccessible crop of souls.

Shadowheart grit her teeth, digging her fingers into her palms.

Worshipers. Not souls. 

She didn’t like to think of them in those terms. It was strange enough that her Soul Sight ability had become so sensitive and so… detailed. She’d always associated the ability to see the state of a person’s soul with devils and the like. For, what was the purpose if not to discern who was ripe for corruption? Shar wasn’t corrupting souls. She was unburdening them, in the only true way, that one could become unburdened.

The souls of gith were strange things, often pocked with the same kinds of shadows as followers of other deities like Talos or Tiamat, but rarely the depths and voids of Shar’s condescension. Shadowheart couldn’t see souls at the time, so she didn’t know for certain what Lae’zel’s had been like when they met, but she could guess.

By the time Shadowheart had proposed that the two of them share a bottle of wine and get to know each other a little better, she genuinely liked her, and was pleased to have a little time to enjoy her company as she proceeded with her Dark Lady’s sanctioned plan to better endear herself to the gith. Again, Lae’zel surprised her. She was always doing that, in the early days. She could be so soft, especially when it was just the two of them, especially when Shadowheart tried a little softness herself. She remembered thinking that Lae’zel seemed nervous, and then she wondered how old she was, and whether or not she had a great deal of experience with these kinds of interactions. With intimacy, not just in a physical sense, but moreso the clumsy, awkward exchanges that usually preceded it.

She remembered, privately confessing to herself that she liked her. A lot. Lae’zel was beautiful, intelligent, oddly funny, insightful in a way that could be quite dangerous, and dangerous in a way that made Shadowheart feel safe, once she raised that sword in her defense. She was also so passionate, nearly theatrical when you got her started on something she cared about. By the time Shadowheart plucked up the courage to kiss her, she was too intent on instead engineering the situation so that Lae’zel would kiss her first.

It had taken longer than she wanted, and in that anticipation, Shadowheart gathered up all her emotions. All her errant guilty thoughts about how much she genuinely liked her, and whether or not that meant she shouldn’t pursue it. All of it swirled within her, and she looked into the mirror and breathed in and out an offering. That would be the last of it.

Gone. And she’d never know what she lost.

Not really.

Shadowheart felt the relief and the release of being separated from something that had been balling her up, making every muscle in her body feel tense in a painful way.

She could rest now. She was careful to start moving again, knowing from experience that walking away from the mirror of loss could be disorienting. But, as she turned, it wasn’t the temple around her that greeted her, but a void. In the quiet, she heard herself gasp, but with a slow inhale and exhale, she calmed, and waited for her lady to make herself known.

“You are forgiven.”

Shadowheart opened her mouth to thank her, and praise her, but Shar was not in the habit of speaking to her over such trivial matters as… whatever it was she’d been forgiven of, whatever she’d done wrong this time. So, it shouldn’t have surprised her when the Dark Lady continued to speak. “You nearly came within breathing distance of another of my Chosen today.”

Shaowheart’s heart slammed into her ribs. “My Lady?”

“Your place as the head of my church is to usher all forward, including the youngest. Those in need of the most guidance. I believe you are ready to take on the task of molding this one to better serve my purposes as they grow.”

“As I was once molded, I will gladly do thy will,” Shadowheart’s response was a little shaken. She hadn’t prepared for this. She’d known that it was likely to happen, one day. Intelligently, she understood that Shar must’ve had this conversation with someone about her once. But, she had been very young at the time. How young was this one?

“The golden-skinned child of gith. Find them, and bring them home.”

Shadowheart recalled the moment, and how the pain in her hand had sharpened to such a scream. Was it only Shar trying to get her attention? Perhaps her error hadn’t been so great, but no, she dismissed that idea. No need to absolve herself of both the transgression and the forgiveness, not when her lady offered it so freely. The child was the focus now. Move on, unburdened.

“You will train and teach them in the same ways as you were once trained and taught. I will nurture them. I will guide you. This child will be mine, always, but you will care for them as a nursemaid, while I will be mother.”

“I am honored to be given such an important task.”

“An important calling, and one for which there can be no mistake, no misstep, and no mercy. I will whisper each word you should say and lead your feet that you may walk this path as I desire. The child is not a trifle, just as you were not. My Chosen are to be treated with the utmost care.”

Shadowheart felt the void around her recede, and found herself back in the temple, alone, cold, heart hammering. 

No further instruction could comfort her. She had her mission. Get the child.

Who were they? Where did they come from? What were they doing at Astarion’s palace?

She hoped she’d find the answers to these questions in the course of completing the task, but she wasn’t going to count on it. Her only focus should be how to go about doing this.

By any means. But, surely, it would not take much. It would not take force. Astarion had said she could have anyone she wanted. Who was the child to him?

It wouldn’t matter, just as it shouldn’t have mattered that he apparently felt something for that silly girl. Shadowheart could not be tempted to respect these people or their little lives. Shar’s will was all that mattered. She would find a way. Any means necessarily.

But, with any luck, the means would be simple and reasonable.

As she headed to bed, she thought of Lae’zel, unbidden. What would she think about a gith child being raised in a Sharran enclave?

With any luck, Shadowheart would never find out.

My Chosen are to be treated with the utmost care.

Alone in her room, Shadowheart stripped down to her smallclothes and curled up on the bed. Her surroundings were prosaic and meant only as a means of maintaining privacy when she needed rest. Vaguely she wondered if her rooms had always been like this. Before she was Mother Superior, what space had she occupied? It was hard to recall. So many things were gone from her now.

My Chosen are to be treated with the utmost care.

Why did those words ring in her head like nothing else?

Why did they make her chest tense?

It didn’t matter.

Tomorrow, she had to go back, and find the child. She must treat them with the utmost care, as had been done for her, all those years ago.

[genuinerio]

CHAPTER I. SAME OLD LOVE, SAME OLD BULLSHIT EXCUSE.

PAIRINGS: Rue Bennett x OC! (romantic), Fezco x OC! (platonic, siblings), Maddy Perez x OC! (platonic, best friends), Cassie Howard x OC! (platonic, best friends), Kat Hernandez x OC! (platonic, best friends)

WORDS: 2,124.

NOTES: I apologize for taking forever to write this fully, I just was thinking of how I would write this but I hope you all enjoy and happy New Year’s Eve! I had decided to change my OC’s name to Jackie and she’s now, Maddy’s sister so I hope that’s alright with everyone. Also, the text in italics is Jackie’s thoughts.

TAGLIST: @shycollectionwolfstuff

AS JACKIE STAYED LAYING IN THE EMPTY BEDROOM THAT BELONGED to her girlfriend, Rue Bennett, hoping that she wasn’t hurt while abusing drugs or worse, dead of a drug overdose. Getting up from the bed, Jackie began to pace back and forth, in constant worry. Eventually, the brown eyed brunette began to pray, she didn’t believe in god but she wanted to have hope that Rue would eventually be alive.

This is it, Jackie. You cannot do this to yourself!

The girl knew that she had to end it then and there, she was not going to keep believing that she could help Rue and that she’ll get her the help her girlfriend needs, that their relationship would be okay again. Throughout every unsuccessful fight, every ultimatum, Jackie knew that it would never work and as her best successful way to avoid fights, Jackie began to distance herself with hanging out with her best friends and sister that were Cassie, Maddy and Kat than preferring to hangout with Rue.

And unfortunately, Rue did at times notice the distance, she could tell that Jackie was pulling apart from her and she feared of losing her, losing Jackie would be Rue’s definite downfall considering how much she loved her and the strong influence she was on her.

The caring brunette was tired of this, the consistent lying, the fighting, screaming matches and having to beg for her to get better which only caused a distance of the two since Jackie wanted to no longer have to watch her girlfriend do that to herself in such a self destructive manner which led to an ultimatum that if she didn’t get her shit together, they were ultimately over.

Everyone including Rue, herself knew how much of a strong influence that Jackie was to her. Despite Jackie’s nature of being a party girl and enjoying to smoke weed at times, she never did that in front of Rue knowing that it would cause her to abuse more drugs but she never did hard drugs.

In spite of the fact that Jackie refused to see Rue for a couple weeks or days especially with her drug addiction being the only barrier standing between them and which caused her to distance herself further. It was the fact of the effects that drugs can really do to change a person, especially in personality.

Rue began to lie and become more secretive, lying to her about her whereabouts, believing her drug abuse wasn’t as big of a problem than it truly was and had no issues with not coming home until the next morning which caused Jackie to be worried sick, despite her not being religious but more spiritual, she would pray that Rue wasn’t found dead somewhere.

Jackie starting to begin to notice the time on her iPhone which was now midnight, she hated the fact that she was finally over this; with thinking and having the decision that this was it, it’s time to end their relationship. For quite awhile now, the girl refused to admit it but truthfully, could feel that their relationship was as if it was hanging on by a thread, she thought that it would be the decision and with good intentions that her deciding to finally put her foot down, a breakup was the best thing to do. Maybe in this way, Rue could finally get herself the help she needed.

With taking into consideration that the relationship was beginning to truly get toxic, the constant fighting and screaming got Jackie to pull away and become distant, avoiding Rue oftentimes to not have a argument and the fact that she felt their relationship was no longer having the love for one another like it once had but instead the two often butting heads and at odds, consistently over Rue’s substance use.

Not realising that she was playing with fingers, a habit that she held since she was a child when in times of nervousness, she hadn’t noticed that the door was finally open.

It’s finally the time, the thought of breaking up with Rue had been floating in her mind for weeks, she didn’t want to have to think of life without Rue in her life. She loved Rue, she’s so in love with her but Jackie was so over the fighting, false hopes and promises.

With tears falling down from her eyes, Jackie confronted her. “Rue, we need to talk.”

“Oh hey, gorgeous.” Rue wrapped her arms around Jackie’s waist in a loving embrace while initiating a lazy kiss, it was clear to her that she was slightly intoxicated.

The two sharing a passionate kiss which Jackie cut off a minute later had caused suspicions to Rue, “Rue, I’m serious. We have to talk.”

“Okay, then, what do we need to talk about?” A huff left Jackie’s lips as she was puzzled on where exactly to start with the conversation, the silence echoing throughout the room was very loud. “I. I don’t know where to start.”

“Just say it, babe.” Rue encouraged as she cuddled her but Jackie moved away sitting on the bed to which Rue followed, “I don’t think it’s working anymore.”

“What? What’s not working?” Rue’s voice broke at the thought of it being their relationship, “Us. Our relationship, it isn’t working.”

“What are you talking about? We’re fine.”

“We had a really explosive fight just last night. It was really bad, Rue and we can’t go on like that anymore.”

Taking Rue’s hands in her own, she confessed, “I think it’s best for us that we end this.”

Tears began to fall down Rue’s cheeks as she pleaded, “Please, don’t do this. Don’t leave me. I need you!”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll change, I promise. I’ll get help, I’ll go to more rehab sessions.”

“Rue, don’t say things that aren’t going to be true. You say this and then, you don’t mean it.” Jackie commented as she added, “Then, we’re back where we once started with constant fighting. And I don’t want that for us.”

“This time. I mean it though, I’ll get help.” Rue began but Jackie cut her off before she could go on, “I don’t want you to change for me, Rue. I want you to change for yourself.”

“At least think about it for your mom, for Gia.” Jackie got up with continuing, “Gia adores you, profoundly and she shouldn’t have to see you in such a tragic way.”

“And ultimately, think about it for your future. You deserve the chance of living and growing old just like everyone else and it would be awful for you to suffer such an unfortunate fate because of this drug use.” The girl stuttered as she watched Rue continue to fall apart.

A knock on the door had interrupted their conversation as Gia wanted to let Rue know that they arrived back, “Oh hey Jackie.”

“Hi Gia.” Gia felt that she could sense the intensity regarding tension in the room since it was very heavy, “Sorry, was I interrupting anything?”

“Oh no. Actually, I was just leaving.” Grabbing her purse and iPhone, Jackie wiped the tears out from her eyes while providing a quick glance to Rue who was staring back, “Goodbye Rue.”

With saying her goodbyes, Jackie rushed out of the Bennett household in hopes of hiding her teary eyed face, the girl was someone that didn’t like to show emotions much and rather preferred bottling them up but she couldn’t hide it this time. She shared such strong and intense feelings for Rue and that was very hard.

Jackie couldn’t help the fact that she had bawled her eyes out for over ten minutes while sitting alone in her car at an unknown parking spot. She hadn’t noticed that her phone was ringing off like crazy.

Her sister, Maddy was concerned with worry if she was okay but despite numerous messages and failed unanswered calls, as much as she appreciated her sister and friends’s concern, she rather preferred to be alone for a bit.

The girl began to get lost in her head, overwhelmed with overthinking thoughts regarding if breaking up with Rue was the best decision or not. It was true that she was tired of the fighting and she knew that Rue’s false promises wouldn’t change anything nor lead them anywhere else but she still felt awful about the whole ordeal.

For weeks prior, Jackie had contemplated the idea and had been interested in opinions regarding it with ultimately, seeking for Cassie and Lexi’s mother, Suze’s as well as Maddy and her therapist’s advice.

And like her therapist told her, she could love Rue all she wanted but that doesn’t always mean that Rue would get herself the help she needed so it would be the best choice to see how things play out first.

Stay strong, Jackie. This would be good for you both; hopefully, Rue will realize that she needs to get clean and she will.

After an hour of driving around East Highland engrossed into her mind, she finally arrived at her home with noticing her father sitting on the couch enjoying his beer, her mother and Maddy talking as they noticed her tears.

They could tell that whatever happened, it was clearly deeply painful. “What’s wrong, Jackie? What happened? Did you and Rue get into a fight?”

In noticing this, their mother and Maddy asked a various amount of questions and possibilities considering they deeply cared for her but Jackie didn’t want this whole interrogation, “It’s nothing.”

Turning away, she walked towards her bedroom, “I just want to be alone right now. That’s all.” As much as both were curious what exactly happened especially Maddy because they told each other everything but she understood that whatever happened clearly hurt Jackie and that when the time was right, Jackie would confide in her but not to push it.

Jackie spent hours laying down in her bed alone heartbroken over the breakup, she feared for Rue considering that at times of their many breakups, she’d abuse more drugs to cope.

Eventually, the girl got up and sat next to her desk, pulling out fashion sketches that she had created and drawn out, a hobby she began during the summer. A soft knock was heard considering that her desk was next to her bedroom door, she knew it was Maddy.

“Hey.” The two exchanged hellos, as Maddy sat close by, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Jackie spoke, Maddy was surprised at her words, “What do you mean?”

“We broke up.” Everyone who knew Jackie and Rue knew of their tumultuous relationship and despite their many differences, they always assumed that they would go back to one another, “For real this time.” Jackie continued.

The words caused Maddy to give her sister comfort, “I’m really sorry, Jackie.”

“Well, yeah. I just feel like such a heartless bitch now.” Maddy was heartbroken at the way that Jackie referred to herself, “I mean.” Huffing as she explained in further detail, “What if she overdoses and it’s fatal? I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that.”

“Because, I know that I caused that. And it’s a definite possibility, it could happen.”

“Don’t say that, Jackie. It would not be your fault nor would anyone believe it is either.” The two embraced in a very sisterly comforting hug.

“Hey, you know what? Why don’t you come with us to the party tonight. It’ll be fun and take your mind off of things?” Maddy mentioned, Jackie was known for being a party girl but understandably, she wasn’t up for it tonight, “No thanks, I think I just want to be alone.”

Maddy left as she respected Jackie’s wish of wanting to be alone. Within hours however, word has spread across East Highland at the news that Jackie and Rue had broken up, peers were curious if this was finally it or just a break like normal times. In fact, her friends, Cassie, Kat and Lexi were leaving calls and messages asking if she was okay and that they were there for her at times of need.

Glancing through her window, the sun went down as it became dark in the night sky. The girl had been working on fashion designs for hours by this moment and as she was about to clean up, Jackie received a call. Her eyes widened when noticing the caller ID, Rue.

As much as she wanted to pick up the phone and answer the call as well as make up with her, she knew deep down that it wasn’t the right decision. However, she also knew that Rue was most likely in a deep crisis since even at times where they were fighting or “on the outs” of their relationship, Rue would call her to confide in when in need of comfort. But this time, Jackie put her ringer on and ignored the calls despite how badly it pained her.

While the days went by, Jackie tried her best to distract herself from the heartbreak and mostly succeeded in doing so but was also consistently reminded in the numerous times that Rue had tried to contact her. Despite the two’s heartbreaking breakup, Rue still saw Jackie as her emotional support even as friends. And without Jackie and the good influence she is on Rue, it was no surprise that Rue had abused more drugs as a way to cope without her.

Furthermore, when overhearing the upsetting news that Rue had overdosed over the summer, it caused Jackie to spend numerous sessions in therapy to get through on such guilt and blame that was by no means her fault.

[crepuscularqueens]

For the wip game: twin tag and how to achieve immortality? Cause they both sound like such fun!

thank you very very much!

twin tag is me painstakingly going through every max and silver scene (any scene they appear in generally and also when they appear together) to compare their journeys and explore how they parallel and mirror each other through out the show. i only got through season one so far, but it is my little pet project bc i love trying to dissect these two.

The season one finale finds Max much more comfortable in the position she has secured for herself. She is trusted and her knowledge is valued by her business partner, she is the safest we have seen her from physical threat and violence. By contrast, Silver is directly unsuccessful in fulfilling the terms he’s been allowed on the crew by, and his existence on the crew and his life itself is threatened by another crew member. Though he is successful in engaging in the fight he and Flint are adamant about, the results are disastrous and it ends with the imminent threat of trial hanging over his and his partner’s (Flint) heads.

Silver is, however, saved by the alliance that he had managed to form with Randall. Randall willingly and without being asked to injured De Groot (minorly) to save Silver’s life. Randall’s motives do remain ambiguous to the audience, though he clearly harbors loyalty to Silver for getting him back on the crew, and though the underlying motive for Silver was selfish in that case so would Randall needing to keep Silver alive so he can keep his place on board the Walrus. We also see the foreshadowing of Silver’s future in the relationship.

Max is able to confront Eleanor in her own way, showing the other woman her own worth and abilities. It was clear in Eleanor’s treatment of Max while they were together that she did not consider Max’s ambitions to be as important as her own, and this directly led to the end of their relationship. Eleanor thought Max would have the realization that her own dreams were lesser than Eleanor’s and give them up for Eleanor’s protection and be satisfied with the idea of belonging to Eleanor. Max is able to show that her own ambitions are not only valid and realistic, but now solid enough to be a potential threat to Eleanor’s, all without placing any direct threats. This acts to foreshadow the way Max will choose her path in direct response to the way she saw Eleanor wield her power

how to acheive immortality is a sort kind of harrow the ninth au/reimagining or recontextualizing of treasure island. after the events of black sails and up until the events of treasure island, silver slowly starts to realize that he can't die because he's absorbed flint's soul. when the news of flint's death in pre treasure island comes, billy goes to silver with the map and a plan to recover the cache. depending on your point of view, this either goes horribly wrong or extremely right.

the story of treasure island continues, intercut with flashbacks to black sails events as if flint never existed, becoming more and more unsettling.

"It isn’t my intention to upset, alienate, or drive you away with this course of action,” you told her.

“I never imagined that to be your motivation here,” she said, setting down the tin cup and with it all pretense.

“I’m not asking for your blessing or agreement, either.”

The woman closed her eyes, briefly hanging her head, only the loose curls framing her face affected by this movement, swinging while the rest stayed carefully pinned back in its typical fashion. You were then fixed with the full power of her direct eye contact, tired but strong, as she reached into the folds of her plain woolen dress and withdrew a thick stack of neatly folded envelopes.

“If you are determined to stay on this road, there are things that we must settle first,” Max was resolute as she removed papers from the first envelope, the remainder coming to rest on the counter, “I cannot be certain you will return from this, and I need assurance that if you disappear with the cache or you fail to make it back, my existence in this place will be protected.”

You looked blankly at the papers in front of you for a moment, absorbing the information, “You want to get married.”

“What I want is security,” she said in reply.

“I know,” and you did, you knew the nature of your relationship and that the traditional bonds of marriage were not desired by either of you in this situation, “In truth, we should have done this long ago.”

“I never had reason to believe I would outlast you here,” was her careful response, “Given the condition you exist within.”

Your brows drew with these words, the reminder that came with them. It was something the two of you had avoided speaking of ever since you had first discovered its existence.

[lemony-snickers]

it is so clear to me where my love of & appreciation for fanfiction comes from. this desperation for the story to never end. keep going, don't leave me behind, you know?

i still feel it when i finish a book i particularly love, the yawning open in my chest, that aching emptiness of what now, what am i supposed to do now?

i think the first time i really felt it was when i first finished the return of the king. it was summer and i was on vacation with my mother's side of the family. i stayed up until dawn broke over the lake where next to our cabin, alerting me to my missteps (we had so many fucking activities to do that day and i was bone-tired and dragging ass through every one of them) as tears tracked their way over my cheeks and i read voraciously through all the appendices and family trees, eyes scanning the words in desperation.

i didn't want the story to be over. i missed my friends already, the companions i had cultivated and loved through years as i read first the hobbit in grade school and then the fellowship of the ring and half of the two towers in quick succession thereafter. then i took a break, stumbled over a part of the tale i found too dull to pursue only to pick the book up two years later and crack its spine open and think how could i have possibly put this down? there is nothing dull about any of this.

and i remember then, how i wanted to weave a new story. keep it going on & on forever & ever, never let it go. clutch it selfishly between my fingers in a vice-like grip.

i didn't want to surrender to the fact that all the love i felt for that world and those characters had reached its end.

it's the same now as it was then, has been the same all those years in between. my mind just continues on, painting those old worlds with a new (perhaps less adept) brush.

don't leave me behind. just one more chapter, please.

i don't know how people let a thing like that go. i don't know how so much of the world simply closes a book and puts it on a shelf and thinks, yes that is enough.

i will never have enough of the worlds i truly adore and admire. never enough of the characters who bleed onto the page and into my own veins, whose dialogue whispers between my own lips like i am compelled by enchantment to put voice to their words.

(have i ever told you that i often read aloud the dialogue of characters in different voices? softly, of course, so my co-worker or my spouse doesn't overhear me from the next room. but that is how alive they feel to me. how real and necessary and loved they can be.)

and anyway i don't really know what the point of all this is. perhaps there isn't a point at all, just a rambling tumbling jumbly thought. i had some tangential thoughts about kakashi (ha, when don't i) & his relationship with icha icha, how he might view those books and those characters as it relates to my own headcanons for him, but i'm not sure it's even necessary to add them here.

because the larger point is just that i am so grateful there are others who don't want the magic to be over. others who understand that terrible empty feeling when you close a book and lose friends & lives you'll never get to live. so grateful they also create new stories & weave new tales so i can lose myself again in the magic of it. find my old friends and make new memories with them.

the older i get, the more i crave that sense of possibility from my childhood, you know? the one that truly thought one day i would walk into the deep, dark woods around my childhood home and find something inexplicably wonderful. or something dark and twisted.

something better than the dull grey world i was born into.

and maybe there isn't any magic waiting for me in the woods. maybe this dull grey existence is all i will ever be granted. but there is still so much magic to be found between the pages of a new book. so much wonder & love in the act of carrying the story forward after it ends. taking it gently in your hands, holding it delicately out to others as if to say, i made this for you (and for me) so we wouldn't feel like we've been left behind.

and whatever anyone thinks of fanfiction or fanart and the people who create it, i think there is something truly good & beautiful in that.