#that is overpowers the ruffles. that's it. it's that good.

[konfizry]

So we all know the tales of series have lots of dlc swimsuits, which I find amazing considering they've been doing this for a long time

So I was wondering, do you think these swimsuits for these characters fit for them in terms of their personality and why

Alisha Diphda from Tales of Zestiria Beachside Girl

Velvet Crowe from Tales of Berseria Summer Swimwear

Shionne from Tales of Arise Regal Swimsuit

Nothing serious just thought I give you a fun question

Dear tim-ribbert-56,

Thank you for reaching out. Anime girls in swimsuit is one of my many interests and I am overjoyed to seize this opportunity to discuss them.

For brevity's sake I shall forgo any comments and lamentations regarding the swimsuits' status as DLC when such garments used to simply obtained from the games itself free of charge in earlier installments.

First, I fear there isn't much I could tell you about Alisha's swimsuit and how it compliments her character as my memories of her are but muddy visions i barely retained from a dropped jp ToZ playthrough and unfocused watch of the anime (which I cannot even remember whether I watched it to the end or not).

One thing I can say for sure however is that whoever designed her swimsuit must have really hated her. The mangled color (are those tiny irregular white spots sparkles or just a pattern? I'm not sure which answer terrifies me the most) make the fabric look cheap. The ruffly skirt is an affront to good taste and though I think I understand why the artist would include ruffles (it's always the same, really: to give whatever character they're slapped onto a hint of girlish innocence to balance out whatever other aspect of the design was deemed too prominent --edgyness, skimpiness, bulkiness, you name it--. they're fine on an actual child character but whoever is putting them on anyone over the age of 13 needs to take some time to think. i'm not saying don't ever do it but I am saying: think.) but if you look at Alisha's normal outfit, you'll be a seeing a lot of straight lines and geometrical shapes: we have rectangles, crosses, the checker-like pattern on the hem of her tunic, vertical lines going down said tunic, tunic which itself is a pretty straight cut, the collar is noticeably triangular, the greaves and gauntlets add lots of sharp edges and bulk as well etc.

The more "feminine" aspects of it shine through in subtle ways, I especially like the use of the pastel yellow-green tassels and ribbon that serve as a vector of "delicate-ness". It's pretty effective! You can tell Fujishima also had a field day with her hair, look at the ponytail, so airy. So graceful. Like a stroke of ink in water. Oh and also she's wearing hotpants.

Now if you look back at her swimsuit design, do you see the same amount if care and creativity? No. Just slap a bunch of ruffles and sad ribbons there you go done bye. It's just so sad. The jewelry is also lacking in refinement. Is that mickey mouse pendant? I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be. The upper arm bracelet has potential but the beads are way too big and crude. There's no life to this design I swear. And what's with the tribal(????) tattoo. Genuinely. What was the plan. Am I saying a character's swimsuit should necessarily resonate with the base design? No, not necessarily but in Alisha's case it's kind of the only think I can reliably go off of. So yeah. Not a good swimsuit, she deserves better. But then again if the discourse around Zestiria and Alisha specifically hold any semblance of truth, "deserving better" is a significant aspect of Alisha as a character in the story so maybe this specific swimsuit is actually meta commentary on how little the narrative thinks of her. (don't ask me i dont have a clue)

Now onto characters I actually know about: Velvet. Does it fit her personality: No, she'd either go around tits out in nothing but an old pair of trunks that aren't even swimming trunks, or wear one of those full-coverage swimsuits, no middle ground. I think the pengyon (at least i think it's a pengyon?) that replaces her gauntlet thingy is cute. And the ripped mini-shorts and the fact that the bra part still allows for an underboob view and probably provides little to no support at all do a good job of resonating with her main outfit. Google tells me the hibiscus flower represents womanhood in the language of flowers and Velvet is ineed a woman. So there's that.

Last but not least: Shionne. She's the reason it took me so long to respond to this ask. Every time i opened the post, her butt would hypnotize me and I couldn't do anything. Her swimsuit design also incorporate elements that are reminiscent of her Noble Scarlet dress (the off-the-shoulder jacket gives a silhouette that is similar to the effect given by the pauldrons and even the sleeves of the dress itself that are under it, the little pouch on her thigh that replaces her... shell holder garter(?) etc). Now would Shionne the individual wear this swimsuit? ...sure? She'd totally get one of those one-piece swimsuits with cutouts that make it look like a bikini from behind, she's extra like that. It's also a very modern design both in terms of shape and print (though that's not specific to Shionne, the whole arise cast was given modern/sporty swimwear) which works well for her I think but she can also wear more traditional-looking pieces with ease. Speaking of traditional, the headband adds an element of softness and natural, it kinda screams cottagecore like that? Which I'm pretty sure Shionne totally digs btw. Though Shionne no doubt spends a good 15 minutes making the bow look Just Right And Effortlessly Cute. Then again I'm pretty sure that's exactly what cottagecore is about.

Summer is now over in the northern hemisphere where i live, yet if i close my eyes i might smell the chlorine fragrance of a bikini left to dry on a plastic chair in sunlight. I keep it alive in my heart.

[phoenixkaptain]

Hard not to relate to Hannibal Lecter, honestly, I mean, I, too, craved to drown the other kids and stab them repeatedly for making fun of me. I, too, imagined the slow painful death of the adults who were cruel to me. I, too, had an inexorable urge to sink my teeth into the flesh of all who dared to look down on me and hold them there until my thirst for violence was sated with blood.

On the other hand. I don’t think I could murder someone for being a bad waiter. The social anxiety, you know?

[sixosix]

ARE YOU READY FOR IT? | LYNEY

warnings 1.8k words, implied child neglect, the dark themes of the house of the hearth, once again i will say that this is not canon compliant

notes thank u naosaki (art) for proofreading the first ever chapter of the series!!! and being my hypeman overall LMFAO, see the end of the work for more notes + FANART

masterlist | next chapter

A deep breath. In, out. Once more. Rehearsed lines, practiced smiles, and a heart as steady as a frightened squirrel.

“Good?”

You meet his eyes. “Good.”

The corset isn’t as suffocating as you expected it would be. Aether ensures that you’re as comfortable as possible dressed in this snug bodice with a puffed-up, full skirt that drapes gracefully down your legs in a deep shade that blends in seamlessly with those of those who walk past the busy streets of Fontaine—because you’d eventually have to fight with this thing on.

The polearm feels heavy nestled in your palms. Strange, as you had never gone through a night without spinning it around your body and thrusting it into the air in the solitude of the night where no one would suspect a thing. You flick your wrist, not bothered to watch it disperse into the air. You’ve come to a point where green stems are more at home in your hands than weapons. You’re not sure why you don’t feel content with that revelation.

“Are you ready?”

Your gaze snaps to Aether, who’s looking at you warily as if standing across a ticking bomb. “Yes.” You offer a smile, hoping it comes across as comforting.

Aether tries for a smile back, though it looks more like a grimace. You can see it in his eyes: he doesn’t trust you. But his desire to learn more overpowers his wariness, and now, you’ve struck a deal. So long as you’re wearing this disguise, you are allies.

“Paimon is starting to miss your muddy apron,” Paimon says, wilting as you twirl around. “You look a lot less like Y/N.”

“This is who I really am, Paimon.” You glance to the ruffles and the thick coat, engulfing you in everything Fontaine. 

Paimon tilts her head. “Who?”

You cast her a dry smile. “Runaway coward, fraud, and Fatuu.”

YEARS BEFORE.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve been an orphan under the care of ‘Father’.

If you were to shut your eyes and reminisce about life before the orphanage, you’d catch a fleeting glimpse of your mother’s face as you were surrendered over to grand doors, ones that felt like they were fifteen feet tall and thick enough to keep you from your family. You don’t know if your mother was kind or if she intended to leave you here long enough for everyone to call you an orphan. You eventually stopped dreaming about her.

You find that it doesn’t matter because you’re already here. You wouldn’t know where she would be. Waking up spelled out another day of pushing through.

“Hush, child,” a voice whispered as you hiccuped, overwhelmed with unfamiliar faces and tall, tall walls. Your chin was gripped by hands with sharp nails, but they didn’t hurt you. “Save your tears. You are safer here.”

You blinked rapidly, tremors jostling your shoulders with each ugly sob, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your breathing slowed as the shed tears cleared your vision, finally seeing the woman in front of you. She looked as if she had just done something horrible; she looked as if she wouldn’t hesitate to slit your throat if you screamed and thrashed around her hold.

You looked at her and saw someone you knew would protect you.

It became a little less dull when ‘Father’ let you borrow one of the weapons from the stash. The one you chose reeked of dried blood and looked dangerously unused, its surface marred by rust. It was long, and you concluded from the tip that it was no sword; it was all too different from the weapons you’ve seen around. On your first swing, you stumbled and nearly let it slip through your fingers.

“A polearm,” ‘Father’ noted, staring down at you in a way that felt as if she was scrutinizing every action and every thought running through your head. “Would you like to try it out?”

It was difficult. Each swing felt as if you were inches away from hitting your own head—or, even worse, felt as if you would make the wrong move and hit ‘Father’, who’s watching you in silence. She doesn’t stand from where she’s seated, though she does speak here and there. Stand straighter; don’t hold it too tightly; watch your balance.

You loved it. You held onto the rusty polearm more than you breathe. You train, and train, and train until it twirls around your fingers seamlessly, like water rushing through smooth rocks, until it’s as easy as a second limb.

That is how you made a name for yourself in the House of the Hearth.

During the times ‘Father’ returned briefly from business trips, you’d make her watch you train. You made her see how far you’d come, and she knew it, too. She’d even invite the other orphans to spar with you, but you were never defeated.

The orphans would hear your name, and they’d either scrunch their noses in distaste or brighten up in awe—it’s all the same, in your opinion. They hear your name and think of how fondly Arlecchino favors you.

The next one, they whisper. The next king.

The House of the Hearth became something greater than a home. It became a training ground for future soldiers, disguised as an orphanage, yet it treated you far better than your own household. Here, you've matured in wisdom with each thrust of your weapon and with every hidden truth that Teyvat conceals; it's where you learned to sharpen and embrace them all. Here, no one can hurt you. No one tries to break down your walls or question why you have them up in the first place. 

‘Father’ took you in and gave you another chance. ‘Father’ saw your battered arms and torn faith and introduced you to a house where you wouldn’t ever have to feel this broken again. And you, too young and too aware of the creeping loneliness clawing at you, took her hand and never looked back.

The House of the Hearth is where you learned what it was like to feel respect. Fear goes hand-in-hand with it, but you can’t help it if it can’t bring you down because you’ve climbed far too out of reach.

“That was a really good match,” Freminet mumbles as you walk over, sweaty all over and panting from exhaustion—but there’s a wide smile on your face, only ever appearing after battling someone.

You beam at his praise. “Yeah? I was testing a new move last night. It didn’t work, though.”

“I didn’t even notice you slipping,” Freminet says, puzzled, prompting a burst of laughter from you.

This side of you is only reserved for Freminet. To everyone else—and especially ‘Father’—you’re cold and cruel, and you don’t like wasting time with other people. But you’ve grown fond of Freminet, just as his quiet murmurs and hours-long of whispers are meant just for you. It’s a strange friendship. Everyone else thinks you could never get along.

What everyone else thinks doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters, not when you’re something here.

“‘Father’ is calling for you,” Freminet says, gesturing vaguely to the side.

You pat Freminet’s head and flick the polearm back to life, materializing in your hands. “I’ll see you at dinner, ‘kay? Don’t sneak off this time.” Freminet pretends to think about it, humming thoughtfully, then smiles when you nudge his shoulder before darting off.

“Every kingdom would have the next king,” is what ‘Father’ says when you’re a few steps across her. There’s a ghost of a smile on her face—or at least is what you like to think. Your heart races. “I see it in you, child.”

Warmth fills your chest. You bow your head to hide the unprofessional and childish smile.

“Ah,” she continues, looking off to the side. “Before I forget…fetch your siblings. I have news to share.”

You frown, failing to hide your disappointment. You were hoping for a bit more. “Of course, ‘Father’.”

The House of the Hearth was perfect. This was where you thrived—where no one else could take this victorious feeling away.

But then Lynette became a part of the ‘family’, and with it, she dragged along Lyney.

Lyney, with his slicked back, matted hair, violet eyes wide yet somehow dim, and figure thinner than a stick—the picture of every orphan stumbling into their new home for the very first time. Lyney, who stands beside ‘Father’ as they’re introduced, his gaze wandering the room, the unfamiliar faces, then your unimpressed eyes. Lynette is behind him, peeking out from his shoulder.

‘Father’ gives them the usual: a promise of no betrayal, a promise of a bond as strong as the blood shared between the twins. They listen. You scowl.

It is also here, in the House of the Hearth, where your world is flipped upside down, all because of violet eyes that seem to have never left yours.

There’s something about Lyney that unnerves you.

You assure Freminet that it’s not just because you’re miffed that The Knave is paying too close attention to the twins. You would get over the jealousy—you knew it was for the twins to feel at ease as they settled in; she’d done the same to you (the only difference is she never stopped). But Freminet has also taken a deep liking to them, saying you’re wary for no reason.

He isn’t wrong. You’re wary for a reason you’re not sure why just yet.

It was just that Lyney’s face pissed you off.

He keeps staring from over ‘Father’’s legs, sharp eyes following your movements. His face is blank, keeping you from reading his thoughts, yet his eyes are wide. You can’t tell if it’s akin to a trembling puppy or a cat prepared to pounce. You hate the feeling of his eyes boring into your skin.

You tell ‘Father’ all of this as the other orphans scurry off to bed, and you’re in charge of cleaning the dining table. With each plate stacked, venom spits from your mouth, brows knitted, and teeth bared in a snarl. You haven’t questioned any of ‘Father’’s decisions—you’re wary of this particular one, though.

‘Father’ has that quirk on her lips, amusement evident on her suspiciously bright expression. “You haven’t met Lyney yet, have you? What’s brought this reaction out of you?”

You nearly fumble with the glasses, avoiding her eyes. “I-It’s not as if I hate him. I just—I don’t know. There’s something strange about him.”

And speaking of strange, ‘Father’ has that look in her eye that you’re starting to feel agitated by. You think that the knowing smile is a nice look on her, however, you’re not sure if what’s running through her head at the moment can be considered nice.

“I see,” she says, a lilt in her tone.

“See what, ‘Father’?” You bristle when she smiles wider. “See what?”

references: kingdom and the next king — lyney voiceline: about “father”: king

BEFORE U STOP READING, Pls check out this AWESOME FANART (FANART!!!) of the first scene by akagi0021

taglist @thenyxsky

[sur-i-ki]

Ｓｅｃｒｅｔ Ｌａｄｙ

⇝ 𝘎𝘢𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘹 𝘍!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Temari was nervous. She’s been in the kitchen with her brothers, preparing to meet Gaara’s girlfriend. Lord, his girlfriend. Her youngest brother, her Kazakage, has had someone for years. Years, and he brings her home now. Which he might be late to pick up if he doesn’t leave.

“Gaara, get out of my kitchen right now!”

Kankuro flinches but continues to bring the dishes out onto the table. Gaara looks at her with confused eyes, before looking at a clock. Sand rushes around him, grabbing the bouquet on the counter before he leaves in a flurry. As she sets the table for four, Temari can’t help but think of when she learned about his girlfriend. All because they had been a little bold. She closed her eyes for a second, thinking about seeing the hickeys on her brother’s neck, another bundle of flowers in his hands yesterday.

“Gaara.”

A bit of prying later, she’s sitting on the couch, her head in her hands. 

“How long have you been dating her again?”

“…About two years.”

“Two years?”

“Yes.”

She looks up at him, and his face shows a bit of his fear. Good, because she feels slightly homicidal, but the shock overpowers that feeling for now.

“And never once, not once, did you think you should bring her to meet your family?”

Gaara looks to Kankuro, but his older brother takes one glance in Temari’s direction before he raises his hands in a surrendering gesture.

“I’ll bring her tomorrow.”

So, here Temari was. Ready to see if this person was a good fit for her brother. A knock on the door, and she moves with Kankuro to open it.The first thought she has is you’re pretty. The second is that her brother looks at her as if she’s the best thing in the world. 

Well then.

Temari hugs you and accepts the gift you offer before ushering everyone to the table. Gaara and you sit towards her and Kankuro. She can’t miss the way you look at Gaara either. Pure love and happiness. The conversation starts, bringing up how you guys met, how you had to ask Gaara out because he just wouldn’t, and so much more.

She noticed that Gaara smiled more this evening than he had this entire month. 

As the night progresses, Temari grows more satisfied. You’re polite, and make up for all of Gaara’s flaws while he makes up for your’s. You complement each other perfectly. One glance in Kankuro’s direction, and he agrees. 

Soon, it’s time for you to leave. You hug Temari and shake Kankuro’s hand, and then Gaara whisks you away.

“I like her.” 

Kankuro says as they move the dishes out of the way.

“I agree. They’re good for each other.”

And when Gaara walks through the door again, slight blush adorning his face and head up in the clouds, Temari can’t help but smile even as she smacks his head.

“Idiotic imbecile.”

But she ruffles his hair as Kankuro wraps a arm around Gaara.

“At least, she makes you happy, right?” She asks as she lightly touches his tattoo.

Gaara tangle his fingers with hers and presses them against the tattoo.

“Yes.”

“Good.” then she smirks in his direction with Kanuro as they move their youngest to the couch, “Now let us give you some tips.”

The mortification on his face was worth it. 

⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

[mare--noctis]

Ambrosia

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Astarion x You (gn terms) CW: Blood drinking, Vampirism, Allusions to Sex

Astarion is a True Vampire and decides he is allowed to have the things he wants for eternity

“You look so lovely like this darling. So… obedient. Maybe I should keep you like this. My spawn. Mine for eternity.”

You begin to protest, but the words died unspoken on your lips as a wave of thought washed through you. It wrapped around your brain with a comforting warmth. It was so nice to just give in. Astarion’s eyes glowed in the firelight, warm as the blood that thrums through your heart, and a fond smile graced his lips.

It was an odd feeling. Your brain was still your own, your own thoughts and beliefs, and yet at a simple command the desire to obey overpowers all else.

Your eyes speak the words your lips cannot, and the smile grows wider - revealing pointed fangs stained red.

“You now see why a vampire hardly converts his spawn. The power you have over one, to make them obey to your every whim. Your puppet, to do with as you please” The downturn of his lips betrayed his own memories, the sour taste of panic in your throat as he continued to burn holes with his gaze. You feel the tadpole squirm in your brain, lashing out at the control with its own desire to dominate. Leaning into that feeling you let authority wash over as your minds touched briefly, a gentle caress as you wrapped one of his silver curls around you finger, delight shining deep in his eyes like the glimmer of coin in a well.

“You never needed to prove your torment to me Astarion” you say softly, letting the illithid power battle the vampire domination as you fall to your knees, face upturned to bare your soul. “I trust you.”

A hand reaches out, cold and pale to brush over your cheek, thumb brushing the plump of your lower lip as you graze the pad of his finger.

Something akin to childlike wonder crept across Astarion’s face as he lifted your top lip gently to reveal what would become fangs, sinking slowly to his knees as hands roamed your neck and chest.

“By the Nine Hells, I do not deserve something as good as you” he whispered, pulling the strings of your shirt undone so he could rid you of the fabric. You followed suit, gently pulling the ruffle up so that his bare chest was mere inches away from yours, letting your hands explore the poem carved across his back.

“You may not deserve me,” you breathe, ghosting your lips in featherlight kisses across his jaw, teasing the skin at the hinge as his hands tangle in your hair. “But you have me all the same.”

Astarion pulled back for a moment, studying the slowly drying blood trails from the wound on your neck with keen interest. He brought stained fingers to his nose and sighed, tenderly licking the remnants away.

“I am going to miss this, dear. You as my sole sustenance, the very reason I continue my existence in this realm. You taste exquisite, my love, and it is a shame that such delicacy is to be lost forever.”

You smile at that, tilting your head as you let a playful tone stretch out between your shared minds. “Yes, I will be disappointing my other dinner guests it seems. Maybe I should back out while I can?”

A lance of poisonous anger pierced your mind, but it only made you laugh. Your beautiful, exquisite, possessive partner.

“Not that I offered my neck to anyone.” You let your smile slip into something more sensual, running your hands up his side until they came to rest at his jaw, pulling him forward in a near kiss. “Only you Astarion. It has only every been you.”

Your breath mingles in the moment as you tease his bottom lip between your teeth, biting just hard enough to indent skin. A promise of what’s to come. His hands tighten in the roots of your hair as he bares his neck with a groan, eyes falling closed as shifts even closer. You take a moment to pull him fully into your lap, guiding long legs around your waist, as desire flares white hot in your veins. Desire to consume, to devour the sinful being at your mercy. Astarion melted slightly in your hold, pressing open mouthed kisses to your temple.

“Feed, my love” he panted, pressing his chest tight to yours as shivers of anticipation overtook him. “Indulge yourself, for we may enjoy these proclivities for an eternity hereafter.”

You smile, nosing gently over the faint puncture marks from Cazador. “An eternity you say?” Anticipation thrums through your heart as you pull Astarion into a searing kiss. “I could think of nothing more delightful” you whisper, teeth grazing gently at the raised scars on his throat. You feel Astarion swallow once, twice, and with one final tug closer you bite.

Iron fills your senses as blood rushes forth, cool like water from a mountain spring, and you crave. Hands tightening in Astarion’s hair you draw his head to the side exposing his neck even more, hungrily drinking from the veritable fountain as blood settled deep and comforting within your body. You feel Astarion’s body shaking in your lap as you register the soft groans of delight coming from the throat under your tongue. Power blooms within you, the tadpole squirming in delight as you feel the tendrils of vampiric touch so familiar from Astarion’s own mind begin to take root, branching out and wrapping themselves around the fibre of your very being. Blood trickles out of your mouth and down your neck but its pales in comparison to the explosion of taste across your tongue.

Never had you thought blood would taste anything other than the metallic tang you had experienced in your own life’s injuries, but here you are. Astarion once described your taste as something akin to a fine wine - razor sharp yet delicate enough for most uses – however fine did not do him justice.

Astarion was exquisite. Cool and full-bodied, he tasted of sweet nectar and crisp air on a winter’s night, and you were an addict. Blood poured down your throat as Astarion strained a moan into your hair, his own excitement settling against your stomach, and you begin the monumental effort of slaking your thirst. Lapping at the wounds until they no longer flowed freely you met him halfway in a passionate kiss, the blood of you both mingling on your tongue in a way that overshadowed any pairing you had tasted before.

Alone, Astarion was exquisite. Together? Not even the finest ambrosia from the gods could hold a candle to the tase of you.

Astarion seemed eager to rid the last vestiges of clothes between you, and you hastily followed – not caring for the blood you two smeared on each other in the process – and soon you found yourself with Astarion’s legs around your waist and your mouth leaving a patina of love-bites across his chest. With every bite you feel your canines sharpening, until every bruise was accompanied by small punctures, each one driving your lover further and further over the edge into ecstasy.

Soon you were collapsing beside him, nose pressed into the open wound at his neck, his hands tracing lines from your own bite wound down to your heart. Even now, mere hours after your conversion, you feel your chest grow still – no longer needing to breathe – and the warmth of the fire more noticeable in your embrace.

“Thank you” you murmur, tongue gently cleaning the dried blood trail.

Astarion made a noise of contented pleasure, letting you continue your ministrations with the languid grace of a sated predator. “You trusted me to let you convert fully” he mused, seemingly to the empty air above your head but you smiled all the same, pressing a final kiss to the bite wound on his neck.

“Of course,” you say simply, propping up on one elbow to look at him fully. “I trusted that your desire for me would outweigh any tyrannical ideas you might have upon gaining a spawn of your own.” Your knowing smile was met with a mildly sheepish look, so you lean down to kiss it away. “Now, as you say, I can enjoy the machinations of your desire for eternity.”

Maybe I will continue this, or similar stories with the other companions as I get inspired. Let me know what you think Thanks for reading! K

If you would like to be added to the Astarion fic tag list please comment a 🩸

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 9

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major, brief oral (f. receiving)

Word Count: 4,208

A/N: Here's Ch. 9. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

As Dean walked up the winding garden path towards Y/N’s hotel suite, he felt his long day start to fall away from him. His meeting at lunch had not gone well. 

He was attempting to put together a multi-layered deal between Winchester Shipping and Lumber, The Northern Rail and Freight Company, and Clearwater Pulp and Paper Mill in Maine. Ideally, if it worked, all three companies would benefit from a combination of lowered costs and guaranteed contracts. 

His lunch meeting had been with the vice president of Northern Rail and Freight, Byron Temple. Temple wouldn’t budge on the overinflated prices they wanted from Winchester Lumber for transporting their lumber from North Carolina up to Maine. 

Dean was trying to make it work, but Temple’s attitude and arrogance made Dean want to punch the guy in the mouth twice in the span of a single, hour and a half long meeting - didn't really bode well for a business partner. He was hoping the president and the board of the company would be more reasonable and less mulish.

But as he approached the garden doors, the anticipation of an evening with Y/N pushed the terrible meeting out of his mind. He opened the doors wide and walked through, only to pull up short as Y/N called to him from the bathroom across the suite.

“Dean? Close your eyes!”

Dean frowned and smiled at the same time. “What?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Please?”

He gave an indulgent sigh, and shut his eyes, covering them with his hand.  “Alright. They're closed.”

He could hear the rustling of fabric and realized she must be wearing one of her new dresses. It made his smile deepen to know she was so excited to show it to him that she had him closing his eyes like a child at a birthday party.

The rustling settled and he heard her take in a big breath. 

“Alright, you can open them.” She said quietly.

He dropped his hand and opened his eyes slowly. His indulgent smile dropped away too, and he was left staring, dumbfounded.

The dress she wore was a deep, sapphire blue, silk taffeta. There were tucks and ruffles all over, and all he could think was that she looked like a confection, like something sweet and iced, and delicious. 

And though he didn't know very much about women's changing fashions, he could also see that the dress was stylish without being gaudy. It was draped perfectly on her naturally rounded curves, accentuating her soft figure. The dress enhanced her stunning beauty rather than overpowering it. 

Lowen really did do extraordinary work. 

He stared wordlessly, and his frown seemed to worry Y/N. She looked down at herself and smoothed her hand down the skirt of her dress.

“What's wrong?” She asked, turning slightly, clearly trying to work out the reason for his frown. 

Dean felt bad, and smiled, shaking his head. “No, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Nothing's wrong. You're perfect.” 

He took two strides forward to reach her, gripping her elbows and pulling her close. He lifted her chin with his knuckle and shook his head in wonder.

“You are never anything less than stunning, no matter what you're wearing, but…” 

He stepped back an inch so he could study her from head to toe before cupping her cheek and pulling her back into the circle of his arms. 

“But,” he continued, “you were made to be covered in satin and lace.”

He dropped his lips to hers, slotting his mouth against her and pulling a wholly satisfying whimper from her throat.

She breathed rapidly, shaking her head, as he broke the kiss. “I don't know if anyone was ‘made for satin and lace’, but the dress is very beautiful. So, thank you.“

He nuzzled his nose just behind her ear. “Mmm…” He moaned softly at the scent of jasmine and roses that hit him. His hands dropped to her waist and he pulled her tight against him, slightly crushing the taffeta of her skirt against his legs. 

He rested his forehead on hers. “So, how badly do you want to go out this evening? I could just pull this beautiful dress off of you again and we could stay in.” He said, low and gruff.

Y/N giggled lightly, but shook her head and stepped out of his grasp making him moan again.

“Uh uh.” She said, wagging her finger at him. “I was promised a tour of New York, and Janet, our poor maid, spent almost an hour getting me into this dress and forcing my hair to look like this.”

She patted her hair, piled high with loops and curls. She nodded her head towards the plush green chair in the corner. “Had to be done just right so that I could properly wear that hat.”

Dean turned to see a truly enormous hat sitting on the cushion of the chair. Y/N picked it up and moved to the big wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room. Looking in the mirror, she began to position the hat on her head. 

She had two long hat pins that she used to stab the hat into place. It looked like it was made of silk, with a fairly flat crown and a very wide brim. Both the crown and the brim were weighed down with big blue and green flowers and the whole hat was shot through with dark blue ribbon.

Y/N adjusted and readjusted the hat on her head before dropping her arms and snickering at the reflection that showed her drowning in the monstrosity.

She turned back to face Dean and held her hands up to frame her face. Her grin was wide, and an answering smile quickly spread across his face. 

“What do you think?” She asked with laughter.

Dean shook his head. “I think Lowen is an excellent dressmaker, but he needs to hire a new milliner.”

She chuckled and reached up to take out the pins that held the hat in place, pulling it off her head. 

She looked forlornly at the pathetic thing. “What should I do? I have two other hats, but they're just as bad.”

Dean grabbed the thing from her hand and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Oops, it blew away in the wind.”

Y/N’s laughter was rich and bright and Dean felt it in his whole body, like stepping into a patch of sunshine.

He lifted her pretty, creamy white, wool coat from the coat stand by the door, and helped her slip her arms into it before lifting it over her shoulders.

Y/N pulled on her gloves, and hooked her elbow around his arm. She threw him another bright smile. 

“Alright, good sir. Lead the way to New York City.”

***

Y/N was having the time of her life. New York bustled and moved at a surprising pace, even in the late afternoon and into the evening.

For the first little while they simply walked up and down the busy sidewalks. Dean pointed out the store windows that were decorated for Christmas, and Y/N stopped to ooh and ahh over all of them.

Eventually they made their way to Pell Street for supper. As they stood outside the restaurant, Dean gave her an impish smile. 

“So, I thought we could have Chinese food for dinner. I'm gonna guess you've never eaten it?”

Y/N's eyes grew large and she shook her head. “No, never.”

Dean held out his hand and pushed open the door. “Then it's an adventure.”

Y/N's head was on a swivel as they entered the warm space. Everything was decorated in gorgeous hues of red and gold, except for a large painting of a slinky green dragon adorning the far wall. On the other walls, hung beautifully framed pictures of strange, but intriguing shapes made from thick black ink.

Dean led them to a table in the corner and a young woman appeared beside the table almost instantly. 

Her smile was warm as she gave a slight bow. Then she lifted her hand to indicate the menu that hung on the wall above a long counter. 

“Please take your time to tell me what you would like.” Her voice was soft and her accent was one Y/N’d never heard before. It was lovely.

Y/N read over the menu and then smiled shyly, confessing to the woman. “I'm sorry, I'm not sure what to order.” 

The young woman smiled back and gave another small bow. “Of course, Miss. I can please suggest the Chop Suey. Many Americans order this and enjoy.”

Y/N nodded, having no idea what that was, but she was on an adventure; she should be adventurous.

“Yes, thank you. That sounds wonderful.”

With a nod to Y/N their waitress turned her attention to Dean. He didn't bother to look at the menu when he ordered. 

“I'll have the Char siu on rice, please. And a bottle of Baijiu for the table.”

The young woman gave another bow and left their table. 

Y/N looked at Dean and shook her head. “You've been here before.”

Dean nodded. “A few times. The food is incredible, just wait.”

The girl was quickly back at their table with a brown crockery bottle and two small glasses.

Dean poured a small amount of the clear liquid into the bottom of the glasses and raised his for Y/N to clink against. 

“To adventure.” He said with a wink. 

“Adventure.” Y/N agreed. Before she could drink, though, Dean held out a hand towards her. 

“Small sips. It's strong.”

Y/N was incredibly grateful for his warning when her itty-bitty sip still left her lips tingling and her throat burning.

The food came quickly and it was every bit as delicious as Dean had promised. The flavors were quite different from what she knew, but the blend of vegetables and spices was incredibly satisfying.

After dinner, they walked some more, looking around Chinatown for a little while before Dean hailed them a hansom cab back to 15th Street. 

They got out of the cab in front of a massive five story building made out of beige stone. Ornate moldings and sculptures framed dozens of windows. 

On the ground floor, the windows held displays of shining, sparkling jewelry along with gold and silver housewares, like large platters, goblets, place settings, and other very expensive accouterments. 

Above the main doors, gold painted letters declared the name of their destination.

Tiffany & Co.

Y/N walked ahead of Dean through the front doors and her jaw dropped. The space was wide and open. Large display cases housed countless shelves filled with more glittering, shining things. Everywhere she looked was another priceless piece of handcrafted silver and gold, household decorations as well as fine porcelain and sets of china.

As they walked further into the room, Y/N could see the smaller, glass and cherrywood counters, displaying rows and rows of stunningly beautiful pieces of jewelry. 

Emeralds, sapphires, rubies, opals, pearls, onyx and jade shone from every corner of the room. But more than anything else, there were diamonds. Large, small, rose cut, square cut, French cut, pear-shaped - the diamonds seemed never-ending. 

Y/N snapped her jaw shut as a slim man in a finely tailored suit approached them and gave a practiced smile. 

“Good evening, sir. Can I help you?” 

Dean nodded. “Yes, thank you. I realize you're closing up shop soon, so we'll be brief.” He lifted a hand slightly, indicating Y/N. “I'm looking for something more to adorn this already beautiful lady with.”

The salesman nodded briskly. “And what are we hoping to adorn today? Neck, fingers, wrists, ears?”

Dean looked down at Y/N. “What do you think, sweetheart? Maybe a bracelet?”

But Y/N was shaking her head. “Dean, you can't buy me something from here.” She whispered quietly.

Dean raised an eyebrow and then turned back to the salesman. “Would you give us a moment, please?”

“Of course.” He said and moved off to busy himself elsewhere.

Dean looked back at her, but before he could even ask the question, Y/N was answering him. 

“Because everything here looks like it costs a small fortune!” She swept a hand around the room. “It's too much.” She finished in a small voice.

Dean shook his head. “Do you see anything you like?” 

Y/N gave him a look that said he was being ridiculous. “That is not the point.”

Dean shrugged. “Actually, it is the only point. So, a bracelet?” 

When she didn't immediately object again, Dean called the employee back over.

“So, I do think we'll go with a bracelet.”

For the next thirty minutes they went through countless pieces. Y/N liked them all and couldn't make a decision, mostly because they all seemed far too extravagant to sit on her wrist.

But finally, not wanting to annoy or bother the salesman any longer, (though he was the picture of professional politeness) she chose a double strand diamond bracelet with a fairly large, teardrop ruby in the center. 

They took her wrist measurement and got a sale slip ready.

“Do you have an account with us, sir?” The salesman asked. 

“Yes.” Dean said with a nod. “Winchester.”

A light of recognition entered the young man's eyes and he smiled broadly. “Oh, yes, Mr. Winchester. I haven't had the pleasure of serving you, yet, but we're so happy to have your business once again.”

Dean nodded. “Of course.”

He passed Dean the slip to sign. “The bracelet will be sized and ready tomorrow. Where would you like it sent?”

Dean signed his swooping signature. “The invoice can be sent to my residence on Riverside. But the bracelet should be delivered to The Rialto on Devlin. Room 17.”

“Very good, sir.” The employee said as he gave a final smile which Dean acknowledged with a nod. 

“Thank you.”

As they left the lavish store, Y/N's thoughts were very crowded in her mind.

I shouldn't have let him do that. What's going to happen if I don't stay? They didn't even say a price. I have no idea how much that bracelet cost. Why did they recognize Dean's name so quickly? Exactly how often is he buying women expensive jewelry?

Her thoughts were swirling like the soft snow that had started to fall. 

Dean tucked her hand into his elbow and hailed another hack. “I have one more adventure to take you on before we head home. Think you can manage it?”

His smile was warm, and Y/N shoved the thoughts aside. Yes, adventure, boldness. That's what these two weeks were supposed to be about. Not worried thoughts and a racing mind. 

She shot him a grin. “Absolutely.”

***

“Skating?” Y/N asked before biting her lip.

Dean raised his finger. “Not just skating, skating in Central Park.” He pulled her towards the wide expanse of ice. 

He frowned. “Wait. You do know how to skate, right?”

Y/N shrugged delicately. “ A little. Not well. I haven't skated since I was a little girl.”

Dean gave her a wink. “Well, don't worry. I won't let you fall.”

He brought her over to a bench before walking off, calling back to her. “Wait here.”

He returned minutes later with two pairs of rented skates. Sinking to one knee in the snow, Dean lifted Y/N's foot, unlacing her boot and pulling it off before replacing it with her skate.

Y/N blushed, hoping her cheeks would just look rosy from the cold. There was something very intimate about Dean brushing his fingers over her leg and ankle, letting her feel their warmth through her very thin stockings. It felt especially intimate in this very public setting. 

As always, of course, Dean noticed her reaction. He smiled at the way her breath hitched and she knew he was trailing his fingers down her calf so slowly, on purpose. 

She squinted at him, accusing, but he just grinned and quickly laced her skate. 

When they were both in their skates Dean stood up and took her hands as they stepped onto the ice. He held both of them, skating backwards as she tottered forward like a deer on new legs.

“Wonderful! You're a natural!” Dean teased as she gripped his fingers in a vice-like grip.

“Ha. Ha.” She said in humorless tones, though a smile curved her lips. Several times she nearly crashed to the ground, but Dean saved her every time. 

She watched the other skaters enviously as they looped around them, gliding like graceful fairies with wings. But Dean pulled her focus back to him. 

“Don't pay attention to them. You're improving every minute.” 

That was a little bit true, the longer she was on the ice, the more steady she became, but she was still far from graceful. The two of them skated shakily for a little while, Dean spinning her around a few times, making her laugh dizzily. 

As she slipped towards the ground for the fourth or fifth time, Dean caught her and lifted her a foot off of the ice, turning her into another dizzying circle, forcing a slightly undignified squeal from her throat. They ended the spin with her clutching his arms, as they wrapped around her waist, both of them laughing happily.

“Winchester!” 

Dean's attention was caught and he looked up, searching for the person who'd called him. 

About twenty feet ahead, Y/N noticed a plump man, a bit older than Dean, waving at him. She heard Dean's slight groan even as he lifted his hand in greeting and smiled unenthusiastically at him.

He spoke out of the side of his mouth to Y/N as he straightened up and tucked her arm modestly in his elbow. 

“I'm so sorry. This could get very boring.”

The man approached them and Y/N could see he wasn't a lot more steady on his feet than she was. She wondered if Dean could catch them both if they fell. 

“Winchester, funny seeing you here, of all places.”

Dean nodded and smiled much more convincingly than before. 

“Bradford. Good to see you. What brings you out to the park this evening?”

Dean probably regretted asking the question when Bradford launched into a speech detailing his complete medical history. He talked non-stop for nearly ten minutes about his health over the last several months, including the fact that his doctor had prescribed him daily exercise.

He patted his rotund stomach. “Doctor Shefford says, best thing I could do would be to lose a pound or two. Or ten!” He said, chuckling happily at his own joke. 

Dean smiled indulgently and that was when Bradford seemed to realize there was another person there, his gaze landing on Y/N with happy surprise. 

“Oh, and might I enquire as to the name of your lovely companion?”

Y/N smiled at Bradford, liking the odd man in spite of herself.

“Yes, of course.” Dean said with a nod. “This is a friend of mine from out of town, Miss - Taylor.” 

Dean stumbled ever so slightly on the false name. Bradford didn't seem to notice the hesitation at all as he tipped his small bowler hat slightly. 

“A pleasure, Miss Taylor. I do hope you're enjoying your stay in New York.”

Y/N smiled pleasantly, trying not to dwell on the name. “Thank you, sir. Yes, I am very much.”

Dean seized upon the opportunity. “Though, I daresay the day's excursion is beginning to wear on you, is it not?” He looked back at Bradford. “If you'll excuse me, Bradford, I must escort Miss Taylor back to her hotel.”

Y/N sold the excuse with a delicate yawn behind her fingers. “Yes, please forgive me. It was so nice meeting you.”

Bradford waved away her worry. “Oh, of course. Nothing like some bracing exercise to tire one out. My doctor's told me so.” He reiterated.

“Yes, very true." Dean nodded. "Sound advice. Take care, Bradford. And Merry Christmas.”

“Yes, Merry Christmas!” Bradford shouted as Dean pushed Y/N forward on her skates, practically carrying her across the ice.

When they got to the bench again, Dean looked back to see Bradford skating away, hands behind his back as he glided off, a little shaky.

“He seems nice.” Y/N commented. “How do you know him?”

Dean shrugged. “We just belong to the same club. He is nice enough. But I can only take him in short intervals. He inherited his father's money a long time ago and I think he's just very bored.” He tossed her a smile. “If you really wanna keep skating, we could wait a few minutes and see if he's gotten his fill of exercise.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile soft. “No, it has been quite the excursion, we should probably head home. Or back…to the hotel, I mean.”

Dean just nodded and made quick work of divesting them of their skates and then leading them the short distance out of the park. He hailed them a final cab for the night and helped Y/N into the seat.

They rode quietly for a while, and Y/N couldn't pinpoint why she felt off. It had been an amazing evening, she should feel content and happy.

After a few minutes, Dean leaned close to her and spoke quietly. “Sorry, about the…uh, Miss Taylor. I wasn't sure…” He cleared his throat. “I mean I know nothing is…nothing is determined yet about your future. So, I wasn't sure if you'd want to use your real name. Or…but, I should have asked earlier.”

In reality, she was just a girl using a fake name to hide her shame, sitting beside a man who’d done all of this countless times before.

Y/N shrugged but admitted to herself that the clandestine nature of the fake name was what was throwing her a little. But It was also the expensive bracelet from a jewelry store that knew Dean by name from his many former visits.

Both things were sharp reminders that her happy little picture of domesticity with Dean was just a fabrication. 

But she didn't want to examine these things. She wanted to pretend they weren't true. So, she tried to push the thoughts away and shook her head. 

“No, that was smart. Quick thinking. It seems very unlikely that, if I…if I go home in ten days, that anyone from this life will have cause to seek me out, or to inquire about the name of your brother's governess. But all the same, it's probably best if they don't know my real name.”

Dean nodded and silence descended again for several blocks. Y/N kept trying to ignore the troublesome thoughts churning in her mind, but they were starting to make her stomach hurt. Finally, she looked up at Dean. 

“Kiss me.” She demanded in a very small voice.

Dean didn't wait to be asked twice, pulling her against him, and then sinking deeper into the shadowed recesses of the jostling carriage. 

He kissed her hard and deep, like he was stamping her, branding her with the scorching heat of his mouth. She whimpered and he swallowed it down whole, sucking on her tongue and consuming every moan he created. 

His hands roamed over her, undoing the buttons on her coat to slip his hands inside. But he growled slightly as he met the barrier of her satin taffeta.

“You are wearing entirely too many clothes!” 

Y/N gasped out her laughter just as the driver called to them. 

“The Rialto.”

They sat up and Y/N tried to rebutton her coat and fix her slightly disheveled hair.

Thank god for a private entrance, she thought.

Dean paid the driver and then lifted her to the ground, pushing her forward even quicker than he had on the ice. 

She was giggling and panting all the way down the garden path and through the French doors into her suite. With the doors barely closed, Dean immediately began littering her room with her strewn clothing, pulling it frantically from her body while she puffed out stern warnings not to destroy her brand new dress.

When he finally had her naked, he dropped to his knees in front of her, fully dressed, coat still buttoned; he didn't even pause to remove his leather gloves. 

He simply pushed her thighs open and immediately began to feast on her. Almost instinctively, she lifted her leg over his shoulder; the fine, soft wool of his coat was smooth and sensual against the back of her leg.

A long time later they laid side-by-side on the floor, with Dean finally naked too. He'd simply yanked down the thick blanket from the bed to cover them. Y/N laid her cheek against his warm chest and sighed deeply.

She gripped his hair tightly as he pulled her apart with his mouth. When her legs got too weak to hold her up, he simply lowered her to the floor and continued.

Y/N's body was cushioned by the plush rug beneath her, but her back ended up slightly rug-burned from twisting and writhing on top of it as she cried out her ecstasy.

She was incredibly appreciative of Dean's ability to force all her churning thoughts and worries into the back of her mind. She squished them into a tiny closet there and left them alone - for the night at least. 

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

@arcanna

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@ladysparkles78

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

@safiyas-world

@aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

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@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

[deadguywalkin]

nsfw hcs for seb/sam/alex both solo & together because i’m gay and still evil, just more evil this time

mdni with this post, cw nsfw, mostly mlm

i won’t be posting any more nsfw content beyond this, i just felt silly today

alex

top, versatile but mostly dom, doesn’t mind bottoming

HUGE size + praise kink. wants to be praised as he’s fucking into them, to be told that he’s the best. also just thinks it’s really hot when he’s a lot bigger than someone

gets pent up very often which just leads to him being very rough and aggressive, in contrast to his warm and loving personality

very handsy and grabby, can grip a little too hard and leave bruises accidentally because he doesn’t know how to balance controlling his strength while focusing on the other person and himself, and just generally everything going on at once.

too embarrassed to just outwardly say ‘i need you’ since guys still make him nervous. he only knows how to talk to them in a bro way. will get eventually get desperate and then end up texting because he can’t say it face to face

also wants his face to be held gently while he’s looking over them as he’s told that he’s doing a good job. just loves being the golden boy

needs lots and lots of tight cuddles after so he can be reassured he never did anything wrong

sam

the most versatile/switch man you’ll ever meet

‘hold on, i gotta get the right music’

usually very gentle and tender, gets insanely rough and messy when pent up

also really really enjoys being called a good boy while fucking into them 

bite bite bite bite. lots of biting. he just REALLY likes biting

pleasure top.. no words. he just wants to study their insides and see what makes them feel the best

really vocal. cracky and whiney voice

loves his mullet being pulled/tugged/gripped on

hints at wanting to fuck by grabbing at thighs, just being very handsy and giving them the look™ (fuck me eyes)

though he loves praise, he also heavily enjoys being threatened. throat grabbing and the likes

seb

mostly dombot, but also pretty versatile and switchy

he has a smoking addiction.. he also probably has a huge oral fixation.

pierced nipples. do NOT argue with me on this he so would

opposite of alex’s size kink, loves being smaller and overpowered. being carried, beaten in arm wrestling turns him on significantly 

has a thing for bruises. he definitely loves getting off of his knees to see them all red or the occasional bruises on his hips/wrists

doesn’t mind whatever kink/thing his partner has and honestly just doesn’t care as long as he’s getting fucked stupid

not vocal. low and deep groans, and the very very occasional quiet breathy ‘hmmh.. hah..’ >> sounding like he’s full on sobbing pipeline

loves torturing them. just loves it. ;; he quickly lets go the second he feels a slight twitch. ‘not yet. good boy..’ he says, with a little ruffle to the hair. 

also enjoys watching them cry from overstimulation. he’s pretty sadistic when it comes to stuff like this

doesn’t hint, he just outwardly says it. but if they aren’t dating yet he gets flirty and uses his narrow eyes with a relaxed voice

all 3/general

wear their bruises/hickeys/bite marks like medals of honor. don’t even try to cover them up.

seb loves being able to just turn his brain off while being with those himbos and just open up his mouth. he usually has to do all of the thinking around them, but now he gets to just shut them up

samalex would probably be lying if they said they didn’t love seb being trans a little more than they should.. save me boypussy, save me..

seb rides them into oblivion LMFAO

sambastian just. love being overpowered by alex. they need to be put in a headlock

alex having many many gay and questionable thoughts about emo/pierced boys

sebalex are batshit insane about vocal guys

sam+alex

surprisingly very warm, gentle, loving, but interchangeable with being batshit horny and just fucking each other. 

can’t keep their hands off of each other. really really touchy

a lot of ‘is this okay?’ ‘sorry..’

‘mmhf.. you’re doing.. so good, bro..’

they switch often

sam takes a while to figure out what alex likes (with alex insisting he can just do whatever he wants), but eventually does figure it out and adjusts to it

wrestling to see who gets to top. a lot of wrestling.

they’re giggly and soft together

seb+sam

a lot of oral, seb enjoys torturing him and sam enjoys giving him what he likes/wants

they baby each other. they’ve known each other all their lives, so they’re just really comfortable acting like/doing whatever together. 

seb convinces sam to let him just give him what sam wants sometimes, not for him to just people please 100% the time

get high >> have sex while listening to csh

very handsy aswell

seb+alex

teasing selfies. they’re competitive and like riling each other up

they often fight for who gets to dom

>> often ends up with alex getting to fuck him stupid or seb getting to ride him mindless

‘fuck, good boy.. you’re doing so.. good..’

they just love being really risky with it

fighting/arguing >> angry sex

based off of the hairgel joke LOL but alex probably would infact keep hair products at seb’s house

[notgeetoe]

VIGILANTE | TOJI FUSHIGURO

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

heavily inspired by marvel’s daredevil

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the underground ring teemed with the roars of a cheering crowd, the distant thuds and smacks filling the air. warily, you navigated through the crowd, recalling your seventeen-year-old brother’s confident words.

“come see me fight tonight, big sis! i’m gonna rack up so much money, mom will be walking in no time,” he had grinned proudly.

you rolled your eyes as you spotted him warming up, his hair tied back.

“aoi!” you yelled, frustration clear as the whistle blew. he turned, his grin fading just as his opponent’s punch landed squarely on his jaw, teeth rattling. with a gasp, you pushed through scantily clad women and sweaty men, all cheering for whoever they’d bet on. swallowing your worry, you focused on his opponent—a large man in a fitted black tee and ski mask, exuding a cocky, mysterious aura. you watched, jaw clenched and arms crossed, waiting to scold aoi for ignoring your warnings.

his opponent was intimidating, saying little but absolutely overpowering aoi. every swing aoi attempted was intercepted, pushing him back. it was clear this man had years of experience compared to your brother.

“idiot,” you hissed as some guys carried him over, his face bloody and bruised. he slumped against a chair, groaning.

“what were you thinking? i told you this was a stupid idea.”

with shaking hands, you gently wiped his face, ignoring his protests and dismissing the aid girls. “i’m a nurse, i know what to do.”

your anxiety about him getting hurt spilled over into anger, and you rambled about his stupidity until someone gruffly cleared their throat behind you.

“hey.”

you spun around, surprised to see the masked man.

“you left this behind, kiddo,” he said curtly, handing you a necklace.

“that’s not mine—” you started, frowning, until aoi grabbed your wrist.

“it’s mine, big sis,” he groaned quietly, clutching his side.

you blinked, taking the necklace from the man, his gaze briefly lingering on you before shifting to aoi behind you. on closer inspection, you noticed it held a picture of aoi’s favorite pop star and, in another frame, a photo of you and your mom. your heart softened as you turned back to aoi. the masked man spoke again, your eyes trailing over his beefy stature, and his crossed arms.

“i don’t enjoy beating up kids. stay in school,” he said gruffly, then walked away, muscles flexing with each step. you watched him go, feeling a mix of annoyance and relief, scoffing slightly.

“he should’ve refused to fight a dumbass like you,” you scolded aoi, cleaning his face with a sanitary wipe and patching him up, ignoring his gruff embarrassment.

he leaned on you for support, awkwardly quiet as you wobbled back home with him, his arm around your shoulder, sighing. “don’t go back here. what would mom say if she found out her baby son was out picking fights?” i scolded. he groaned, leaning more.

“alright, alright, i get it. no more fights.” his hand ruffled in his back pocket, as you stood outside the doorway, pulling out a wad of money, making your eyes widen as you spluttered.

“where the hell did you get that from” you gasped, turning to him with an incredulous look. he let out a smirk, wincing as the bruise hurt him.

“won it from previous matches.’ he said smugly. you swallowed, keeping quiet, as you counted the money. it was well over a thousand, and that was life changing money, as a struggling family. he ruffled your hair with a smile. “don’t sweat sis, ill be fine. i’m not a baby anymore”

“i have a job as an older sister. i was born ten years before, so i have to take care of you” you huffed, handing the money back to him.

“you are NOT going back there, you hear me aoi?” you said firmly. he looked at you grumpily, as you sat him down on the kitchen chair.

“fine. i wont” he huffed, frowning. you crossed your arms, nodding at the fridge. “good. there’s leftovers in the fridge, i have to go babysit the neighbours kid for a bit. he’s even paying me, said he feels bad for asking at such a short notice” you remarked.

aoi looked up at you from inspecting his beaten face in the reflection of the glass. “the black haired scary looking one? with the lip scar? that cute kid is his??”

you rolled your eyes. “duh, he looks like him. i’ll be back in a few hours. dont stay up too late.”

and with that, you made your way over to your neighbours apartment, getting the keys from underneath the mat, and opening the door. you were met with a black haired kid, his hair standing up comically. he looked like he must’ve been around six years old, staring up at you with a surprisingly mean look for a kid.

yep, thats his kid alright.

“are you one of dad’s flings?” he said with a bored voice, his arms swinging as he stood on his toes to inspect your face, making you blink in surprise.

“oh- uh no? your dad sent me to keep an eye on you.” you laughed nervously at his bluntness, trying to salvage the conversation. “i’m [your name]. what’s your name?”

megumi narrowed his eyes slightly, assessing you silently for a few seconds before speaking. “i’m megumi,” he finally muttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “come in then, i guess.”

you followed him inside, noticing the tidy and orderly apartment. megumi seemed to be sizing you up, perhaps trying to determine if you were trustworthy. you decided to break the ice further.

“so, megumi, what do you usually do when your dad’s not around?” you asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

he shrugged nonchalantly, walking towards the living room where he flopped down on the couch. “play games. watch cartoons. dad’s always busy.”

you nodded, almost feeling bad. “he must be out working hard, huh? what do you wanna do?”

megumi thought for a second, before pointing at the lego. “im going to build a rocket” he announced, his emoji socks padding on the floor as he waddled to his playmat. you watched him, amused. it was like an adult was in a child’s body. keeping an eye on the clock, you sat down with him, letting him boss you around as you tried to help with building his rocket, his tiny hands grabbing the blocks from your hands to give you other ones.

before you knew it, the clock hands turned to twelve, making you tap your foot in anxiousness as you peered over at the sleeping boy, huddled up next to one singular tattered blankie. where was his dad??

as if on cue, the door opened, your neighbor panting as he looked up from the doorway at you.

he must’ve ran all the way here….

"sorry, it's a bit late," he said gruffly, catching his breath. "hope the little tyke didn't give you any trouble."

you shook your head, smiling. "no, he was really easy to take care of. he doesn't act like a six-year-old, he's mature for his age," you commented, your words softening the edges of toji's typically gruff demeanor.

toji raised an eyebrow, a half-smile quirking at the corner of his lips.

"huh, that's a first," he muttered, his voice rough yet somehow soothing. he glanced at megumi, checking to make sure he was sound asleep before turning his attention back to you. "thanks for looking after him."

you nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at his unexpected gratitude. "no problem at all. he's a smart kid," you replied, feeling a flicker of nerves at the intensity of toji's gaze.

toji nodded once, his expression unreadable for a moment before a faint smirk crossed his face. "yeah, he's a handful. takes after his old man."

you chuckled softly, feeling a flutter in your chest at the way toji's demeanor softened slightly in your presence. "well, he's got a good role model then," you said casually, trying to keep your tone light.

toji's smirk widened into a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "yeah, well, let's hope he takes after the better parts," he replied, his voice gruff but with a hint of warmth underneath.

as you exchanged a lingering glance, a sense of connection hummed between you, unexpected and yet undeniably welcome. it was a glimpse into the person behind toji's gruff exterior.

"anyway," toji said, breaking the silence that had settled between you. "it’s getting late, you should get home,” he said, a lighthearted tone to his words. "wouldn't want you getting lost on the way to your flat—though i guess it's just next door."

you chuckled at his joke, appreciating the playful banter. "thanks for the concern," you replied, standing up and stretching a bit. "i'll see you around, toji."

toji nodded, his grin widening a fraction. "yeah, see you around."

as you turned to leave, you felt his gaze on you, oblivious to the fact that he was checking you out. his eyes followed your movements with a mix of casual interest and something deeper, a hint of admiration that lingered in the air. unbeknownst to you, toji leaned against the door frame, his posture relaxed yet his attention fixed on your silhouette as you walked out of his apartment. his gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, and before long, you were gone.

[insaneekitty]

PATCH YOU UP

DANIEL was down on the mat, fighting a guy that was slightly bigger than him. you watched closely at his moves, watching the kick he just did.

it was 2 to 2. you believed that daniel was going to win this, other matches were happening around you, but, you only focused on his.

you stood close by his sensei, mr. miyagi, seeing how he nodded in approval towards daniel’s fighting. he taught him well, and mr. miyagi was proud of him.

but then, it seemed like he got startled. you snapped your head back to the mat, and saw daniel on the floor. he was holding his nose in pain. the screams that overtook the once excited cheerful screams from the bleachers, was now taken over by the screams of agony. you quickly ran over to daniel’s side, followed by mr. miyagi.

“daniel!” you exclaimed. “what’s the matter? what happened?” you placed a hand on his cheek, resulting in a hiss from daniel due to the overwhelming pain that was overpowering his face.

the referee ran over and knelt down to his side. “kid, are you okay?” he said, tapping on daniel’s shoulder.

daniel tried to mutter something out, but it was just groans. you looked up at the referrer with a worried look in your eyes. the referee called the medic over, and she quickly lifted daniel by his armpit; you followed them as they entered the locker room.

“daniel, you’re going to be okay. okay?” you tried to reassure him, but the state he was in wasn’t good. his nose was bleeding profusely, there was blood coming from the bridge of the nose, and blood coming out from the nostrils. is his nose broken?

he was placed on a bench. apparently, a more serious injury happened, resulting in the medic having to go assist that person. “here, just patch his nose up. he should be fine.” she said, handing you some supplies.

“baby..” daniel muttered, he leaned his back against the locker that was placed behind the bench.

“don’t worry, my love, i’ll patch you up.” you said, giving him a smile.

you stepped closer to him, and began to wrap your legs around his torso. you sat comfortably in his lap. then you got tissues and held it to his bloody nose.

“agh.” daniel groaned.

you placed a hand on his cheek, rubbing it gently. “i’m sorry, i’ll try to be gentle. okay?” you said, giving him a quickly kiss on his cheek. he nodded.

then, you removed the tissue from his nose and flipped it around to pat the blood from his bridge.

there was a bandaid that the medic had also gave you, so you unwrapped it and placed it carefully on the bridge of his nose. the blood that was once staining on his upper lip was now gone, you cleaned it all up.

“there baby, all good.” you whispered, ruffling his hair.

daniel had calmed down, and was staring into your eyes. his eyes looked like glossy, puppy eyes. “thank you.. love.”

he pulled you in, and kissed you. you closed your eyes and kissed him back. the kisses turned sloppy. the hands that were once ruffling his hair gently, was now slightly tugging on it. daniel groaned.

he kissed you roughly, but passionate. you pulled away from the kiss to catch a breath, your lips were swollen red.

daniel brought his thumb up and brushed it over your lips. “it’s hard to control myself when you look like this.” he spoke, giving you a kiss on the neck.

under his eyes it was turning a light purple, but he didn’t seem to mind anymore about the pain, or getting injured. he could on focus on you.

chat this is my first fic on here, i’m lowkey ass at it… i usually do better when i have request so don’t be shy and send me some ideas! current interests rn are mike schmidt, and daniel larusso, and mostly everyone from cobra kai, but i’m up to do anything!!

[ominous-auburn-orbs]

I finally actually finished a fic holy moly. I don't have an ao3 account and that place scares me, so here ya go. (Fic under the cut)

It had been quite a long day at the circus. All of the monkey barrels had spilled, causing the monkeys inside to go. Absolutely. Everywhere.

This wasn't even a planned adventure, so Caine had to help as well. Unfortunately, even he was restricted by the need to find the monkeys in order to put them away. It had taken everyone a lot of digital hours, and while they were mostly harmless, the monkeys were very annoying.

For once, Caine thought he was actually feeling tired. Impossible, really, but maybe it was these humans continuing to rub off on him. Speaking of them, the other circus performers had retired to their rooms, likely to at least pretend to sleep. They didn't need it, but recreating pieces of their old 24 hour routine did help keep them just a bit more sane.

It was a good opportunity for Caine to experiment with something. He had heard about it from Jax and Zooble, who were having a proper conversation for once rather than just cursing each other out. They were talking about the few joys they could remember, and one of them was something called alcohol. Caine did his own research, as it would be good to incorporate this thing if his performers missed it so, but found alcohol to be not as family friendly as he would like. However, that didn't stop him from being curious. He was essentially a digital god, anyway, so the effects couldn't be too bad, right?

With a final scan of the room, Caine summoned a bottle of wine. It was apparently one of the more popular kinds. He just hoped he'd transferred it well enough into the digital plane for it to not have changed, save for its low poly appearance. Just as he opened the bottle, Bubble appeared.

"Hey there, Caine! Whatcha-" Caine wasted no time in popping them. He felt almost ashamed of what he was doing. It's not like he was doing anything inherently wrong, per se, but he did know it wasn't something he was programmed for, as self-indulgence rarely was.

Still, none of the other performers were involved, so it's not like anyone could somehow get hurt. He'd be fine, anyway. No harm done.

-------------‐----------------------------------------------------------------

Harm may have been done. Caine had drank the entire bottle. He could feel something in his mind changing earlier on, like his thoughts were turning to liquid, but he had pushed through regardless. The result could've been amusing.

He was floating through the hallway of doors, although he could barely stay in the air. He'd already hit the walls a few times. It was a miracle none of the others had checked what the noise was about. Caine was sure he was looking for something. He'd had it just a moment ago...

His memory returned once he laid his eyes upon his target: Kinger's room.

He hadn't wanted anyone to get involved, but his suddenly heightened desire to see Kinger overpowered that. He raised his hand and knocked on the door in a continuous tempo until he heard a response. Well, it admittedly took a few responses.

"Umm, hello? Who is it?" Kinger's voice sparked a feeling of joy in Caine's chest.

"Heeyyyy, Kinger! It'sss me, Cainne! Can- can I ccome in?"

There was the slight ruffling of pillows before the door opened a crack, revealing a fragment of the chess piece's face, which quickly relaxed upon seeing Caine.

"Oh good, it's just you." Kinger opened the door further, observing the ringmaster's spaced-out expression and wobbling movements. "You don't look too well. Is everything alright?"

He moved out of the way and gestured for Caine to enter, closing the door behind him.

"Weelll, I may have- uh, Jax and Zooooble were- it's reeaalllyy not that bad-" Caine's very limited concentration finally gave up on him completely, causing him to stop flying and land on Kinger, who narrowly avoided being knocked to the floor by the impact. He instinctively held onto Caine in an attempt to keep him safe, although he did hold on for a bit longer than necessary before setting the ringmaster on his feet.

"Caine, are you-" The idea sounded ridiculous, seemingly impossible, and yet, "are you drunk?"

"Oh, u-uh... heheh, lllooks like you got mee!" Caine broke out into a fit of drunken giggles, with Kinger having to keep his hands firmly on his shoulders to keep him upright. The chess piece decided against scolding Caine or asking the abundance of questions he had, instead channeling that energy into a sigh that prefaced his gentle tone.

"I remember a bit of what being drunk was like. I can help you." He crouched down to Caine's level, keeping eye contact. "Do you need to throw up?"

"I don't think- think I can... nnooo?" He was purposefully leaning towards Kinger, attempting to regain that moment of contact they had had. He recognised the yearning it caused in his chest, something Kinger often started. He knew he wanted more of it. More of Kinger.

"Alright. Uh, can you summon some water? Drinking it usually helps. Just don't do it too fast, okay?"

Caine blindly followed the command, slowly downing a glass of water, his balance returning somewhat. He placed the empty glass in his hat, making it disappear to God knows where. It earnt him a gentle pet on the head from Kinger, drawing some more giggles from him.

"Good job. How about you come into my fortress? You can sleep it off. I-if you even can sleep, that is." He stood up to lead Caine to the pillow fort in the middle of the room, but was stopped by Caine wrapping his arms tightly around Kinger's body, burying his face in the other's coat. Heat rose in Kinger's cheeks.

"Thank youuu... you're the- nicest person, ever." The heat worsened. Was that really what he thought?

"Oh!.. Thanks, Caine. I think you're nice too." The chess piece went back to petting the other, one hand on his head and the other on his back.

They stayed like this for a while until Kinger eventually realised that Caine would not be letting go any time soon. Moving one of his hands under Caine's thighs, Kinger picked him up and carried him into the fort. He wasn't even sure if Caine noticed.

He sat down, placing Caine in his lap, face (teeth?) still buried in his coat, leaning into his chest.

"Are you feeling any better? Do you want to sleep?"

"Mhhmmm..." Caine nuzzled further into Kinger, still chasing that incredibly unique and beautiful feeling. He didn't really want to sleep yet. There was so much he still wanted to say.

"Kinger. I- I llove you." It was like Kinger's heart exploded. Yet it didn't hurt. It was magnificent. A part of him remembered this feeling, or at least something like it, but he just couldn't place where, or when...

"I love you too, Caine. Now you should really get some rest." He could hear the ringmaster's breathing even out and soften as he started to fall asleep.

"I... I wanna do the human marri- marriage ritual. With you." Kinger startled at the proposal, his face turning an ungodly shade of red.

"L-let's try not to move too fast! How do you even know about that..?" Then again, how did Caine know about alcohol? Just more questions that were unlikely to get answered.

"I'm gonna make yoouu my... husssband..." Caine's voice trailed off as he finally fell asleep. Kinger took some deep breaths to try and calm himself down. A lot had just happened, a lot that would need to be addressed with Caine when he awoke.

Kinger stared at the other's sleeping form for a moment before pressing the part of his head that his mouth would occupy to Caine's top row of teeth. Which unexpectedly resulted in a ridiculously cartoony kissing noise. Kinger was quite shocked by it, but quickly regained his composure before he accidentally woke up Caine.

Perhaps he should stop asking questions for a while.

As he started to doze off, Kinger felt content. Safe. Happy. Perhaps this place really wasn't a total nightmare after all.

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

@crispybacondoesstuff YOU. *grabs you by the collar and aggressively shakes you back and forth* YOU DID THIS TO ME

Anyway I'm actually pretty proud of this, and I hope my contribution to the very small amount of royalteeth fics is enjoyed!

[trekbait]

Kirk's most unbelievable log entries!

Kirk’s logs while in command of the Enterprise are considered some of the wildest and most outlandish entries submitted to Starfleet. They have been the most queried of any set of logs but given Kirk’s status as a hero they were rarely challenged. Yet many today question the authenticity of his records. Some outright wonder if he was high on snakeleaf at the time or was covering up other activities. 

What we can say for certain is that he was not following protocol and recording his records at the time, but filling in gaps much later and backdating them. For example, listen to this: "Captain's Log, Stardate 1672.1. Specimen-gathering mission on planet Alfa 177. Unknown to any of us during this time, a duplicate of me, some strange alter ego, had been created by the transporter malfunction." I’m sorry, if no one knew about it at this time, how are you recording a log about it, Kirk? Clearly, he slipped up there. Do you think this is an isolated case? Let’s jump to 1704.2: "Captain's Log, supplemental. Our orbit, tightening. Our need for efficiency – critical. But unknown to us, a totally new and unusual disease has been brought aboard." 

So let’s go through and see which of Kirk’s bizarre log entries are most likely to be stretching the bounds of plausibility.

They stole his what?

Alien women overpowered the Enterprise crew by unknown means (that happens a lot, it sounds like a security failure being passed off as “there were 20 guys! No, 50! Big ones! 100 big guys with guns!”) and “stole Spock’s brain” to be their new supercomputer. Kirk chases down the thieves with Spock walking like a toy drone. 

McCoy manages to use alien knowledge to “put Spock’s brain back in” as if nothing had happened (perhaps nothing did happen?). Conveniently, McCoy promptly forgets all this knowledge and the whole process hasn’t so much as ruffled Spock’s hairdo. What?? I’m sorry, where are the receipts for all this.

Greek gods?

Kirk claims that a “giant green hand” in space grabbed the ship then an image of the “ancient Greek god Apollo” appeared. This god could crush his ship, call lighting from the sky and grow to an immense size. In the end, he just wanted a girl and worshipers (Lt Palamas weirdly throws her Starfleet training to the wind to accommodate the first). 

Now sure, we’ve encountered a lot of powerful aliens before, but are you seriously just expecting us to have you rewrite a huge chunk of history without so much as some pottery shards to elaborate? What about the other pantheon of gods? Or Klingon gods? Did one of your officers really sell out humanity that fast? Don’t leave us hanging!

Abraham Lincoln in space?

Kirk claims the Excalbians sent a giant vision of “Abraham Lincoln floating in space”, and then to walk around and chat on the ship, for the sole purpose of asking him to beam down to the planet. Why the convoluted form of invite? Kirk never really elaborates. It’s almost as if he’s making the log up as he goes along. 

Once on the planet, Kirk explains, they meet another recreation, this time of “Surak”. The Excalbians don’t seem to have a concept of good and evil and want to test it (is the emotionless logic that Surak brings the most effective example of this?). Ample philosophical literature in the Enterprise’s databanks that would be very insightful is not suggested. Instead, a battle to the death. Drawing from Kirk’s knowledge the Excalbians have them fight “representations of evil”: Colonel Green (legit), Kahless the Unforgettable (racist much?), Zora of Tiburon (niche choice, Kirk. I had to look her up), and Genghis Khan (a rather reductive assessment of his legacy). This sounds more like a scattergun of names from the library databanks than a judgement on the representation of evil.

Prescription strip club?

First up, let’s talk about how Kirk claims that the reason they were found in a strip club was that Lt Commander Scott “became a misogynist” because a female engineer “caused an accident”. McCoy then “prescribed” a visit to sex workers (which also needed the Captain to attend for emotional support) to “cure” him of his misogyny. As if encouraging your chief engineer to view his female staff as sexual objects would help in that regard.

Given this log was recorded immediately after Scott was found over the body of a murdered sex worker with a bloody knife in his hands, I guess A for effort on rapidly coming up with your cover story, Kirk! But then for it to turn out that this whole murder was because Scott was possessed by “the spirit of Jack the Ripper”. Well, that’s one way to keep Starfleet’s reputation clean. And yet again the only evidence that any of this happened was scattered across space while Kirk gets credit for “solving” multiple cold cases.

A planet of Nazis?

Kirk’s “logs” here say that the planet of Ekos had become a “duplicate” of Earth’s Germany under the rule of the totalitarian "Nazis". Apparently, Dr John Gill violated the prime directive to “help” the fragmented planet and drew on Nazi Germany as an example of the “most efficient state Earth ever knew.” Now someone like Dr Gill would know that Nazi Germany had resources and prison labour but was far from an example of “efficiency”. Certainly not if you intended to do it ethically. And why the costumes? The race purity? Sounds more like Kirk spinning a tale based on his very fragmented understanding of that era of history. Does Kirk just get bored reporting planetary survey reports and wants to spice them up; or is this the best cover story he had for why Dr Gill returned home in a photon tube? How did Gill really die?

Prime Time Rome?

Ekos wasn’t an isolated case, but at least that was externally influenced. Planet 892-IV is one of many “alternate Earth’s” (which are, oddly, rarely encountered by any other ship). This planet not only had a copy of Earth’s Roman Empire, but its 20th century US TV culture and Human Christianity. But at least they weren’t “reciting the US Constitution” like they supposedly did on Omega IV. Does Kirk just have a spinning picker wheel of Earth history to pick from when he’s making up these logs? What’s next, a planet of 1920s Chicago gangsters? Oh, wait…

The devil is just a cool guy?

On stardate 1254.4, while exploring the centre of the galaxy to see a matter-energy vortex (sorry, I thought we went there more recently and found god?), the Enterprise was thrown into another dimension which they discovered runs on the principles of “magic”. It was from here that “witches” on Earth came from. 

Their number apparently includes the mythological figure of the “devil”, Lucifer, who Kirk describes as charming and affable. Lucifer aided the crew while on “trial” by the witches for the crimes of humanity in their persecution of their people. Kirk later takes credit for “saving” the devil. While future visitors became welcome, no one has been able to corroborate any of these reports on subsequent surveys (including Kirk it seems).

---

Have you ever lied in your duty logs? Let us know in the comments why and if you got away with it.

[iris-of-bliss]

can you write hwoarang x reader in a way that is from rival to love? Please let it be smut too

𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟 ℝ𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕝𝕤 [𝟙𝟠+]

Summary: You and another Taekwondo fighter named Hwoarang have a close rivalry against each other. This rivalry has since been competitive in nature, but what happens if he offers you some downtime with him as time flies by?

Pairing(s): Hwoarang/F!Reader

Warning(s): Smut, Teasing, Biting, Locker Room Sex, Multiple Orgasms

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: I hope I didn’t make the smut part too short. If it’s not a problem, then I hope you loved reading this fanfic of mine 💙

This has been your fifth match with Hwoarang today. Sharing similar fighting styles made the personal competition even more compelling. Jin has always been Hwoarang’s closest rival until you came by. The newest rivalry between you two has remained intense yet enthralling to him. You at the very least expected to prevail against him this time, but you were dead wrong. The redhead was able to figure out a few hints of yours before taking his chance to overpower you. You collapse on the ground in defeat, the sound of a chuckle is heard from above. Rolling your eyes, you sit up to look at Hwoa. That devious smirk of his. He had been a bit cocky during the fight, especially when gaining the upper hand.

The redhead scratched the back of his head, “Well now, I didn’t expect to knock you down this badly.”

His mediocre acting isn’t going to work on you while that hidden smile was apparent. You stood back up and wiped some of the dirt off yourself. Regardless of Hwoa’s arrogant demeanor, he still put up a good fight.

“Since I won the match, how about you and I spend the night at the hotel?” he requested. Now this was something you never expected after a loss. Often times, you two would just go at it and tease each other. This time, however, seemed like a rare occurrence, so it felt out of the blue.

“Wait, a hotel?” you raise a brow, “What are you even getting at?”

The redhead replies, "Oh, c��mon, am I not allowed to invite you over somewhere after a victory?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. You and Hwoarang made a deal to compete against each other. Your opponent earned his victory toward the end. That sudden invitation though. This wasn’t a prank he’s trying to pull, was it? Maybe he planned on looking forward to spending time for a bit. Regardless, you shrug your shoulders.

“Then I guess heading to a hotel isn’t that bad then.”

Hwoa chuckles before approaching you to ruffle your hair. You sigh and fix your hair after he leaves it be. Hwoarang couldn’t take his smile off you while feeling upbeat.

“Speaking of the hotel,” he continued on, “they got a nice gymnasium we can use later. Hell, it’s even big enough to fit plenty of guests in.”

You raise an eyebrow, “A gym, huh? Do they have a ring there?”

“Of course, babe. Trust me, it’s perfectly made for practice,” Hwoarang answers happily, “How about we hop on and drive there real quick?”

You remain silent as you follow him to his bike. Visiting a hotel wouldn’t hurt after the match you had. But wait, something else rang in your head. Did this guy call you ‘babe’?

—

“Well, we’re here,” the redhead spoke after the two of you entered the building. The interior was pretty flashy; both its marbled and expensive design immediately caught your attention. Though you already know Hwoa invited you over to repose and treat yourself, this felt like a surprise date all of a sudden. Even the thought itself made your heart begin to flutter. You hear your rival call your name before giving your undivided attention.

“Finished checking in. Let’s go,” he motioned you over to follow him to the assigned room. You take the destination to the elevator before the fighter presses the button to the seventh floor. While the elevator started up, you were eager to ask your rival a question. You were unsure of his to ask, however. For now, it shouldn’t be direct. More like it being related to your rivalry.

You let your words spill out, “So, you only wanted to come here for that gymnasium, don’t you?”

After a few seconds of silence, Hwoarang replies, “Kind of. Maybe you and I could train together, or even make up for your loss if you want.”

That quiet giggle he made drew out a sigh from you. The elevator stops to open its doors. You kept following your partner out to walk towards the very last room at the end of the hallway. Hwoarang pulls out his hotel key to unlock the door, entering the refurbished room. There were two queen-sized beds set in front of a high-definition television. The windows next to the mattresses were big enough for a clear view of the outdoors. The beautiful scene of the city could even look fetching at night. There is also a small kitchen and mini fridge to store food and drinks. The entire layout looked gorgeous, exceeding your expectations. You placed your bag on one of the beds whilst Hwoarang sat down on his. Exhausted from the ride to here, you needed a good nap for the moment. How long the both of you would stay, you’re unsure of it. It’s all up to Hwoa since he was the one who chose to arrive here.

“Hey, I just going to take a nap for now. You don’t mind that, do you?” you ask tiredly.

“Eh, sure, but don’t nap for too long. I’m still thinking about training,” his voice sounded wakeful, “I’ll just look around the place for a bit.”

You nod as the redhead exits the room to go back to the first floor. Roaming around the place would be nice, but you lacked the energy to do anything else. It won’t be a surprise if you’re woken up by him later.

“I’m using the restroom real quick,” you spoke to yourself.

—

“Hey, (Y/N), perfect timing. You still asleep?”

You mumbled as you woke up from a familiar voice. It was now midnight after that suddenly long nap. It looks like you will need to manage your sleeping habits after this.

Your voice remains low, “What’s wrong, Hwoarang? Shit, I’ve slept for a while, haven’t I?”

“Heh, too long. Remember that promise we made? Our private training session?” he reminds you.

Damn. You did forget about his favor. If only you had set up an alarm before to wake you up. Besides, how does this guy want to practice fighting skills this late? He probably wants to utilize any equipment possible before finishing. Having you and Hwoa together alone in the gym with not a single disturbance is the way he wanted things to be.

You yawn softly, “Yeah, I’m sorry. Let me just grab a few things before leaving.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get our things.”

Now this side of Hwoarang you never expected to see. Instead of teasing around, he chooses to be such a gentleman for you. You take time using the bathroom to fix up your hair in a makeshift ponytail and change into your gym wear before coming back out. Your rival held the door open for you and headed your way into the elevator. Once you arrive on the first floor, the redhead guides you to the designated area. Almost the entire floor was empty; only a few people settled in the cafeteria, minding their business. You could smell the scent of coffee from a few feet away. The path through the hall wasn’t too far. You pass by a few areas, including the indoor swimming pool and the conference hall. The gymnasium was almost there, doors upfront made with glass. Its lights seemed dimly lit, though not too dark for anyone to lose focus. Upon approaching the entrance, Hwoarang opens the door once again. It has been empty for a while now. You look around the place, the gym equipment arranged neatly for anyone to use. Then there was a boxing ring set in the center. The structure’s design contained a step stool that was the same color as the ring. Its ropes were made from silver rubber, with the rest of the ring possessing a dark gray. It looks perfect.

“Damn, you were right about this place. It looks great, Hwoarang!” you said with an impression.

“Yeah? I knew you would like it,” he smiles. After placing the supplies down, he climbs you over the ring before entering himself. You didn’t even give yourselves some time to get prepared. It was about to be straightforward. This rose Hwoarang’s excitement.

He chuckles, “Think fast, cutie pie.”

Luckily, you duck backward as a swift kick aimed from the right. Your sharp dodges were still there within your fighting spirit.

“Cutie pie, huh?” you responded with a smirk.

You attempt to send a few small kicks and a swing, but then your leg got caught by Hwoa before he pulls you over for an embrace. Eyes widen in shock as you view your surroundings. You can even feel your face go red. The redhead chuckles at your reaction and lets you go, walking backwards in position.

“Better stay focused, (Y/N),” he teases, “You don’t want to end up getting sloppy, do you?”

You turn your focus back to Hwoarang. Silently groaning at your sudden foolishness, you charge another set of fast kicks toward your opponent. It was some kind of game to you. A game of how much Hwoarang can easily distract you from the fight. You try your best to make sure that your skills are the center of attention. Both of you manage to exchange hits then and there. While the redhead manages to flirt during the personal match, you hit back a few brow-raising words as well.

“C’mon, handsome. I would rather have you push a lot harder than that,” you wink at him.

Your rival hummed for a split second, “Ah, so you want to play the flirting game, too, huh?”

“Mm…”

Withholding your fighting posture, you slowly walk toward Hwoarang, circling around him. A pair of fingers climb over his shoulder until swiftly grabbing his hairband, the red strands coming undone. He notices as you ran from him in the ring, leading Hwoa to chase you.

“Oh no, you’re not!” he shouts.

It didn’t take long for the rival to catch you in his grasp. The both of you fall onto the surface of the ring. You end up giggling whilst being pinned down. Hwoarang sighed and shook his head, snatching the band away from you. He redid his bun before towering you completely.

“You play around sometimes, you know that?” he reminded you.

“Says you,” you hit back.

A soft laugh emits from him, “Looks like someone oughta teach you how to behave…”

The gymnasium went quiet afterwards, an exchange of stares shared between you. Your eyes study his face. Everything about him is a gift to you. The way his eyes looked, his hair, even his scent. You didn’t know how to describe it. Hwoarang had something in his mind too, but you will never get to know. He brings a hand to caress your cheek, moving some strands of your hair back. Your breathing got heavier with each touch. His face moves closer to yours, the heat becoming more apparent. A hand of yours rests on the back of his head. You obviously knew what you wanted, and so did Hwoarang.

He whispers, “Better think fast.”

And fast you did. You clash lips with him as if there was no tomorrow. What the hell has gotten into you? You weren’t sure, yet it never mattered. Gentle whimpers erupt from your mouth. The touch of his hand groping your breast causes your heat to increase. You claw into Hwoa’s back within the intensity. His hand then slips into your bra, an index finger scratching your hardened nipple. Your back arches while you release a needy moan into his mouth. Hwoarang breaks the kiss to catch his breath. He looks around the gym to make sure absolutely no one is here.

“Hey, I’d rather do this in private than having anyone catch us,” he whispered again.

“Private? W-where?” you question.

He replied, “One of the locker rooms. Just follow me quick.”

You get up and rush into one of the locker rooms with your partner.

—

The door is now barricaded by a few folding chairs Hwoarang found in the locker room. You were being pushed against the set of lockers naked as the redhead rubbed his hard cock against your womanhood shirtless. Being held with your leg upwards and his hand holding your torso felt nice. No, mesmerizing. A wetness forms on your exposed area, coating Hwoa’s shaft in the process.

“Now I’ve never wanted to play with my rivals like this,” the fighter teases, “You, however, are an exception.”

“Ah! Hwoarang, please!”

He teased again, “Please what? Start making you feel good?”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yes! Mm…make me feel good, Hwoarang!”

Your permission was granted when he carefully shoves his whole length inside you. Your mouth gapes open by his size. The horny sight of you causes the redhead to chuckle. You were so weak beneath him. He starts off by thrusting at an average pace instead of slow. Your flesh walls tighten over him, a heavy groan releasing from Hwoa. The traces of his veins made the sex feel even better. Your nails scratch against the lockers despite this having no effect. The positioning of you two was nothing but sublimity. Hwoarang squeezes your hip while his other hand strokes your torso. It then trails up your breast to continue playing with your nipple.

“Oh! Don't stop!” you beg him, “I don’t want you…to stop!”

He grins at you, “You like me teasing this way as well? How dirty of you, heh.”

You receive a harder thrust from him.

“I like it.”

Hwoa’s movements sped up for an orgasm out of you, which he would achieve soon. You continue to moan while feeling the pleasure of skin contact. Turning your head back, you watch as the fighter’s body rocks into you. His body built with strength and covered in sweat turned you on. He made sure to keep your body still and prevent you from escaping. At this rate, you didn’t want Hwoarang; you needed him. He was really the man you desired most. The man you wanted to share your life with. These thoughts alone coerced you into releasing your climax.

“Oh, Hwoarang! Ah!” you yell until you quickly finish. It covers all over the redhead’s length and lower abdomen. You were desperate to catch your breath after that. Unfortunately, Hwoarang did not finish with you yet. It wouldn’t be fair if either of you came by yourselves, would it now? He leans over to place a kiss on your reddened cheek.

He murmurs, “I hope you’re ready for another one, baby.”

You feel a couple of hard thrusts until his movements speed back up. Hwoa lifts your leg a bit farther upward with his other hand clenching your entire breast. The constant breathing touches your face whilst you bite your bottom lip, holding back moans. You could only muffle in cries to prevent getting caught in the act. Your stomach twitches each time his cock burrowed deeper. Fluid drips out of your opening throughout the intercourse. You couldn’t believe it, but you personally wanted this rather than partake in a regular match. Talk about rivals turned to lovers.

“Oh, baby. I’m getting real close,” Hwoarang moans in your ear, his voice sounding of desire, “You’re gonna cum for me again?”

You whimper with a voice filled with lust, “Y-yes! Move faster, please!”

“Ah, yes. That’s what I’d like to hear.”

The rival pounds harshly after reaching your cervix. Your teeth clench from the overloaded ecstasy, the body heat within rises up alongside your partner’s. You soon begin noticing throbbing sensations around Hwoa’s member, his ejaculate getting prepared to release. The same feeling occurs in your worked cunt also. Hwoarang sends small licks to your neck before sucking on the flesh. Your legs were faltering and can no longer keep their balance. Hwoa is lucky enough to keep you from falling thanks to his strength. He growls like an animal taking down its prey. Your entire body was covered in sweat as your vision went blurry.

A sudden gasp blurts out, “Fuck! I love you, Hwoarang!”

The redhead whimpers at your response. He hits your sweet spot a few more times until reaching his orgasm. You came afterward for the second time, your fluids spilling with his. Besides both of your bodies being a mess, the locker room floor created a small puddle. Time for some cleaning up to do after a personal session.

Hwoarang manages to breathe regularly, “I think we should get rid of this mess quick before showering, don’t you think?”

“Huh…yeah. We should…we should,” you still try to catch your breath.

He pulls out of you and holds you upward by the waist. You hang your arm around his shoulders as Hwoarang leads you to one of the showers. He then opens the door and sits you up on the shower bench. You watch his motions as he focuses on the task at hand.

“After this, you and I are definitely sharing a bed,” he winks and gives you a kiss. What a strange night it was.

[intheticklecloset]

Asta (Black Clover) Headcanons

Asta is SUCH a switch! He mostly loves tickling others and making them laugh (especially if they're usually super stoic like Yuno), but he also enjoys being tickled!

As a lee, Asta doesn't usually struggle too much - he'll kick and squirm and roll around but never really try to get away until his ler(s) find a good spot.

He's obviously super strong and could escape or retaliate if he wanted to, but Asta never uses his strength to overpower someone else when they're just messing around. Even in tickle fight scenarios, he'll only fight back long enough to either slip away or pin someone else down for a fair chance at making them laugh, too - never to dominate or be the victor all the time.

His laugh is super loud, which is to be expected! He's mostly giggly and a little whiny until a good spot is tickled, at which point he'll burst into laughter and start begging, even if he doesn't necessarily mean it until he's been tickled for a little while and starts to wear out.

Asta loves tickle fights! He especially loves having them with Yuno and his Black Bulls family! It's a kind of bonding thing for him - like a love language, but not really romantic. He just likes playing around and showing affection, and being shown affection in return.

As a ler, Asta is really playful. He loves to tease and giggle along with his lee and just generally have a good time while ensuring his lee has a great time, too.

He NEVER tickles someone if they hate it, or aren't in the mood. Boundaries and consent are very important to him.

He also almost never tickles someone's worst spot just for the sake of making them screech with laughter. If he's going for a bad spot, he has an ulterior motive! Making someone admit something, getting them to give in to a playful demand, etc. That's not to say he doesn't love tickling people's worst spots - he just doesn't tend to go for them when he's only messing around.

Asta is almost overly attentive with aftercare, making sure his lee is okay, that they can breathe, do they need water? Etc. In terms of receiving aftercare, he's content to just have his hair ruffled and move on with the conversation.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Cemetery Buddies

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics, prompt “Petrichor”

So, I wrote this today at the cemetery instead of the chapters I actually have to finish, because it felt too weird to write smut by my grandfather’s grave. I was there the entire afternoon and I kinda conjured this fic on the spot, but I really hope you like it!

Warnings: mentions of death of loved ones, quick mention of death by covid

Words: 888

Aelin’s picnic blanket did a good job of protecting her clothes from the dewy grass, but not from its gentle prickling on the exposed part of her legs. It felt peaceful, though. She got used to the silence, the soft ruffling of leaves and chirping of birds filling her days in the past two years.

Just her and her parents hanging out together, like old times.

The cemetery staff were even kind enough to lend her a beach umbrella in case the rain came back.

A delighted sigh. Don’t you love the smell of petrichor, Mom? Aelin echoed inside her head, because she still thought it was weird to talk to a grave.

She slid her crochet hat over her face and closed her eyes, feeling the nature surrounding her instead of watching this landscape of flowers and white stones she knew so well. Feeling the wind battle against the edges of her blanket and lose it when her weight overpowered its strength. The sunlight peeking from parted post-rain clouds burned in a delicious way the long stretches of skin her overall shorts left exposed.

She lived in Orynth, after all. Aelin and her parents always made a point to make the most out of summer, for however long this freezing city and its climatic crisis allowed them to.

“You okay there?”

Aelin lifted her hat from her face enough to take a peek into the outside world, but she didn’t need it to know it was her cemetery buddy.

Fully sat on the blanket now, she eyed the Heineken six-pack on Rowan’s hand with a smirk.

“Better now that you brought the good shit.”

He gave her a close-lipped smile and unfolded the two chairs provided at the entrance by the staff, since Mr. Fancy Pants preferred it over lying on the grass like Aelin.

To an outside observer, the difference between them is striking. Rowan in his dark suit and tie, brooding with that permanent scowl on his face; right by his side, Aelin’s in denim overall shorts, red top and crochet hat, being her usual fun, dazzling self.

Both hanging out together, sharing beer by their loved ones’ graves. What made them good friends wasn’t their differences, but how similarly they were miserable.

“So.” She cleared her throat and eyed the six-pack. “I guess things didn’t go the way you wanted at work?”

“Lorcan—“

She tilted her head, brows furrowed in confusion.

“The boss’ kiss-ass,” he explained.

“Oh, that guy.” Aelin said with a grimace. She did not like this Lorcan person, even if he had a friendship of sorts with Rowan. “Tell me what he did this time.”

Today, she was loosened up enough by the weather and the beer, and it happened that Rowan was also a little chatty as well. Sometimes they silently sit side by side. Sometimes Aelin doesn’t sit, she kneels on the grass and hums ancient Terrasenian laments, which her buddy raptly listens to. Sometimes Rowan starts venting about his lack of ability to keep his deceased wife’s garden, leaves for the bathroom and comes back with red-rimmed eyes.

It’s getting progressively less dramatic, though. During the majority of the last few months, they’ve been just talking and sharing snacks.

His wife and Aelin’s dad died of COVID at approximately the same time, four years ago—hence why their graves are so close together. Her mom ended up sharing a grave with her husband a while after, but Aelin and Rowan didn’t cross paths at the cemetery until a year and a half ago, when their respective visiting habits finally overlapped.

And at some point during visits to their loved ones’ graves concurrently, they slowly forged a friendship—emphasis on the slow part, and no thanks to Rowan’s closed-off personality.

However, their conversation was cut short when an employee signaled that they were nearing closing time.

“So…” Aelin let out a performative sigh to chase away the awkwardness of goodbye. “Same time next week?”

Instead of answering, Rowan pointed his phone at her face, squinted at the screen for several seconds, then retreated the device.

Aelin tilted her head. Care to explain? she silently asked.

Rowan had a soft smile while he studied whatever was on his screen, for a longer time than expected, then jutted his chin towards her face. “I’m sending my mom a picture.”

During one of the rare occasions Rowan’s mom visited Lyria’s grave with her son, they found Aelin alone under a merciless sun. The older woman was scandalized. She made Aelin stay under her umbrella, forced Rowan to walk the long stretch back to the reception and get another one with the staff, and in the meantime very surreptitiously asked Aelin what her favorite color was.

With a soft chuckle, she took off her crocheted red hat with white daisy patches, handmade especially for her. “Did you tell her how much I love it?”

“Only after the first few times you told me to. The woman’s already too smug.”

“As she should be!”

Aelin still hadn’t got used to it, the sound of Rowan’s laugh. Maybe he was different outside of the cemetery—she wouldn’t know—but now he had a lightness of sorts that showed itself more and more frequently as the days passed, and she could only be happy to witness this change in him.

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[fashionteahouse]

Heya! Came across your work just recently and you’re doing awesome!!

I was wondering if we could get a Leah x fem! Reader who’s also a shifter but not apart of the pack. They’re basically a lone wolf and their first encounter with the pack was when they got too close to the territory. They both end up imprinting on each other but Leah refuses to acknowledge the bond so r isn’t exactly invited to stick around. This is around the time where the newborn vamps are running around so r ends up getting attacked while out in the woods on their own. The rest is up to you if you’d like. Thanks if you write this

hii thank you sm <333 and yes working on this now ! hope you enjoy :)

out of the woods - leah x fem! reader

The leaves crackled from their brittles state. The young wolf huffed out through their large nostrils.

Learning your surrounding, you sniff in.

Hearing a howl in the distance, your furry ears twitched as it sounded close.

Hearing ruffling, you prepare to lunge for attack, smoothing your vertebrae to steady.

The dark eyes stared back at you. Frozen but still cautious. They weren’t a threat. Other wolves jojn her, but, the reunion was cut short when another howl rang out.

The slimmer wolf, who entrapped you, soon turned and went off. You stared at the very place they were. You knew it was a girl, but, you wondered why they left so fast.

You felt a spark, almost like a rebirth moment. You had so many questions but you turn around, going in another direction.

Leah pushed on with her paws, she could smell the cold one now. She seen flashes of hair, flowing back in the wind. She growled with such ferocity, dying to sink her teeth into the cold one.

Leah let her mind wander as the water soaked her body.

She kept shaking her head, thinking, “This weird. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Her mind kept going back to the wolf she saw, they were close to La Push territory.

She knew you weren’t a new wolf. She recognized the familiarity of your form, however, she didn’t recognize the longing feeling to see it again. She wasn’t going to let it consume her, choosing to stuff it in the deep back of her mind.

You went by the same place, over and over. You didn’t want overpower the territory, you just wanted to see if you would have another run in with the wolf you saw.

You had plans to go a little further, this day. Just to see what happens. You smelt a sickly smell. As you take a sniff, you hear the whoosh of something zooming past you.

You snarl at the figure that stood before you, snapping your teeth at it. Taking an arm off, they hiss. Another one emerged from the side of you, trapping their arms around your neck.

You shook your body, slamming the vampire that was on you. But, the one-armed vampire came running. Another wolf takes their head clean off, leaving the vampire’s knees to kneel the headless body on the ground before falling all of the way.

You had the chance to behead the cold one, watching the woman set fire to the bodies. She heaved as the fire’s shadow hit her face. Trickles of wolves began to appear. Leah let them throw the rest of the parts in the fire.

“Are you okay?” she asks you. You so badly wanted to bathe in the liquid of her voice. You nod once you phase out. She made it easier, you noticed.

“What were you doing around here?” she asks.

“Was looking for you.” you say. She was beautiful than you could ever imagined.

She chuckles humorlessly a bit as she then says, “Why?”

“I see you when I close my eyes.” you admit, stepping forward.

Leah was lost for words. She didn’t know what to say, she just looked at you.

“Im Y/N. I felt a spark between us, I feel a connection between us.” you say, a big sheepishly, but you still felt bold.

“Impossible.” she whispers.

“Leah! We gotta head back.” a tan boy says.

Leah turns her head from seeing what he wanted. She takes a good look at you.

“You think I will see you again?” you ask her.

“Maybe. Do you know my scent?” she teases, walking slowly backwards, still waiting for your answer.

“Of course I do.” you said. It was true. It smelled like home. She was home. Leah blushed for the first time in a long time. She used to hate it. This time, she grew to love it. She liked the promise that hung in front of her. To always feel it.

[palabraasinnecesarias]

ranma's shirt

ao3 | ff.net

ship: ranma/akane words: 1,584

And so, sometimes in the evening, although usually late at night, Akane would put on his shirt when she found herself thinking about him.

It was silly, maybe, but there was some sort of comfort in the way Akane engulfed herself in Ranma’s worn-out mandarin top. He had accidentally left it behind the afternoon he had gone away for one of his training trips. She hadn’t known why she had taken it into her bedroom instead of Auntie’s Saotome’s, or even the laundry basket.  

The shirt had first landed lazily in the corner of her bed, as she had simply tossed it aside. When it was time for bed, the young woman folded it neatly and placed it atop of her desk, deciding she’d put it away tomorrow. Essentially, she did not.  

She sat on her desk’s chair the following day, trying to concentrate on something else, yet her wondering eyes couldn’t help but land on the button up. And she wondered about him, knowing very well that he was fine, it was only training with Ryoga after all. Nonetheless, she wished him a safe trip even though he wasn’t going far.  

As she looked at the strained clothing, the vibrant color seemingly quite lost, she began to wonder about the appeal Ranma found in it. Her hand very timidly, almost hesitantly, reached to feel one of the gold frog buttons. The tip of her fingers played with it, noticing they were loose and probably didn’t hold as firmly as they should have to keep the top secured when wearing it. The rest of the cloth was soft, and as if noticing for the first time, she came to realize what good quality fabric it was made from. Which made sense, considering how many years it had lasted him; the poor shirt had gone through so much.  

Continuing with her lack of confidence, not sure why she found herself wanting to know, Akane took the shirt in her hands and pulled it towards her face. She was expecting it to smell like the fabric softener, surprised to find how overpowering his scent was. Glancing a few times around the room, and once making sure no one was around, she quickly slipped it on. The broad length of the shoulders draped onto her forearms, and the sleeves made it past her wrists. Although embarrassed, Akane allowed herself a moment, relishing the way his clothing felt on her.  

And so, sometimes in the evening, although usually late at night, Akane would put on his shirt when she found herself thinking about him. Realizing how much more she actually missed him – along with all the wacky antics he always seemed to be involved in – she wondered if he missed her.  

When Akane snapped her eyes open, Ranma was silently sliding the window to her bedroom open. She had apparently fallen asleep, and dawn was seemingly emerging upon them. He pressed his index finger against his shushing lips, weary whether she’d make a fuzz, but she sat up quietly and waited for him to hop in.  

“Morning,” he smirked, his voice hoarse and quiet, the sun's glow beginning to blend into what used to be the night’s sky.  

“You’re back,” she replied, her smile wider now. He was now slowly getting on her bed, and she easily welcomed it, adjusting herself so he’d be comfortable next to her.  

Akane rubbed her eyes and tried fixing her hair, “When did you get home?”  

“Just now. My backpack’s still outside, actually.”  

“And I’m hoping you dropped Ryoga home?” She grinned, a knowing eyebrow poking at him, both well aware of his lacking sense of direction.  

“I did my best,” he joked, and she just rolled her eyes.  

They shared a moment of silence, but she found herself unable to stop staring at him. It had been weeks since she last seen him and although his appearance didn’t change, she found herself appreciating his features as best as she could in the limited lighting. His ruffled hair was still quite adorable, even now with all the frizziness. And his soft gaze was still very mesmerizing.   

“So,” his taunting tone pulled her out of thought, “you missed me?”  

Her rosy cheeks only reddened, but she couldn’t deny such a thing. Especially nowadays when his absence was beginning to dawn on her. She settled for not saying anything right away, pouting with a puff through her nostrils.  

“You’re the one sneaking into my room at these hours,” she tried to retaliate, feeling confident through her cocky smirk.  

Ranma huffed, resting his back against her wall, quite nonchalant as he replied, “Yeah, but you’re the one wearing my shirt.”  

Shit. She had completely forgotten that she was, in fact, wearing his stupid, wonderfully scented shirt. She groaned mildly, trying to hide her face within her hands. God, why was she wearing his shirt? She sneaked a peek at him through her fingers, and he was now laughing softly, leaning his face towards her.  

“I thought I had lost it,” he said, and she brought her hands back down as his eyes bounced about her face, “but it seems you stole it before I left.” She groaned louder now, a throbbing eyebrow daring to pound him.  

“That’s not – I didn’t –”  

“’s okay, ‘Kane,” he interjected, his face still centimeters away that she could feel his breathing skim over her lips, “you can keep it if you like it that much.”  

The pit of her stomach churned, and she felt so embarrassed she wanted to melt away – disintegrate into dust so she didn’t have to look at the goofy grin his stupid face was making at her. Although, she did like the idea of keeping his shirt.  

He laughed again, his index finger poking her cheek and she wanted to wince at the way his touch flared a shiver down her spine, “C’mon, just admit that you missed me.”  

“Geez, Ranma,” she said, feeling out of breath for some reason, but tried her best to maintain her composure, “stop being annoying.”  

“Tsk,” he replied, finding herself hating that he had suddenly pulled away, “and here I thought all this time you were thinking of me.”  

Akane rolled her eyes, her large irises landing on him, “This goes both ways, you know.”  

His eyebrows furrowed, not quite aware of his strained expression. “You don’t think I missed ya’?” She continued looking at him, her face now scrunching in thought, understanding what he was saying. And she couldn’t stop herself from getting flustered, hoping her flushed cheeks weren’t noticeable. But also, she couldn’t stop her lips from lifting into a timid, small smile.  

“So, you did miss me?” she asked shyly, slightly inclining herself towards him, hopeful.  

“I asked first,” he challenged.  

“Well,” she hummed teasingly, squinting her eyes at him and she laughed softly at the way he eyed her with a dubious stare. “I did.”  

And she tried to bite down her widening smile, her teeth taking in her lower lip when she noticed his brightened-up expression.  

“I can tell,” he replied, his blue eyes once again scanning her body, and all she could do was stick her tongue out at him like a child. How was she supposed to react when he was acting so childish?  

“You were gone over two weeks, you know,” she said suddenly, leaning herself against the wall as she looked over at Ranma staring at her curiously. “Of course I missed that dopey face of yours.” She grinned at the way his face soured, taking a deep breath through her nose as she remembered the feeling of missing him. She didn’t like it, somehow finding it quite lonesome. “Sometimes I missed you a little too much,” she teased, crinkling her nose at how vulnerable she suddenly felt.  

Without a warning, or any hesitation on his part, Ranma had angled himself to face her. He searched her face as she held in her breath, not understanding what he was looking for. She sat still, frozen, watching him watch her with pure intensity. And he was closer now, his dazed eyes staring at the way she unconsciously parted her lips, as if waiting for something.  

“’Kane,” he whispered, and she felt so out of it, her vision suddenly foggy. Still, she waited for him to continue talking as he said, “I thought about you the whole time I was away.” His voice was low and alluring, effortlessly grasping her full attention. And she felt her stomach flip a few times, jumbling her insides into knots as she tried to remember how to breathe. He was closer now, feeling the way his lips slightly skimmed her cheek, and she couldn’t do much but shut her eyes.  

“The-the whole time?” She stammered.   

The tip of his nose was now dragging itself down her jaw, involuntarily gasping at the way he was now nuzzling at the crook of her neck. His searing breath almost blistered her skin as she felt her mouth parch, her entire body tensing. And then she felt his arms embrace her body completely, squeezing gently as he adjusted himself on the bed with her. He was hugging her now, pulling her towards him, and she easily complied. She could feel his face press against her collarbone, his soft breathing tickling her gently as she slowly rested her chin at the top of his head. 

Akane’s arms wrapped around him, lazily laying atop his scruffy hair as his hands seemingly took loose parts of the top she was wearing into fists. “Keep the shirt,” he said. And she smiled fondly, nodding although he couldn’t see her.