#that may or may not work their way into reality

[monstersholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration 'Choose your own adventure' story

Dragon x fem!reader— hate fucking, rough sex, marking, fire breath play, restraints (tail)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3

You stomp out of Minotaur Boss’ office in a blind rage. Your vision blurring with either anger or arousal, you’re not exactly sure. The sound of the door slamming open doesn’t attract any attention, your coworkers far too busy fucking to watch how hot you look when mad. But you can’t help but watch them, eyes drawn to the carefree way they drown in their pleasure. Caring more for satisfying themselves than continuing to work their job.

It was simply astonishing. They all hold a freedom you’ve never known. Not until yesterday when you got here, that is. The longer you stare the hotter your body grows, your pussy gushing with arousal. You feel your world spin, trying to accommodate to your new reality as you would have to accommodate a massive cock. Your thoughts quickly stray away from your mission, the arousal overtaking the anger brewing within you.

For a moment you seriously consider joining one of them. If this is your new life, who’s to say you shouldn’t take advantage of it? You bite your lip, slowing your pace as you walk past a pair of Cat Hybrids who look like they’re in heat.

No—

You can’t risk getting too distracted right now. You had to go confront your Dragon Headhunter and maybe, just maybe, you can blow some of this steam off on him. In whatever form that may take. With a deep inhale you try and clear some of the lust clouding your mind. You turn back toward the conference room, intent on going in, when you immediately bump into a man devouring someone like it’s his last meal.

A small yelp leaves you as you go flying back, not wanting to interrupt, but you quickly lose your footing and once again go tumbling to the ground. You briefly wonder if that sexy Secretary Bunny will catch you again. No! Focus! But then a pair of hands are on you and your heart, and your pussy, flutters.

The stranger’s hands quickly switch you around, causing you to plop firmly in his lap as you straddle him. A moan freely slips past your lips as you already feel his fully hard cock beneath you. As your head snaps up to look at your new rescuer your jaw drops, your eyes sweeping over his infuriatingly and impossibly perfect features.

But unlike everyone else you’ve met in this city… he appears perfectly human. That is until his eyes flicker, his pupils forming a small flame to reflect his burning desire. He wasn’t a human, he was a robot. No wonder he’s the most perfect specimen you’ve ever seen. You glance down, eyes trailing his form when you notice his IT badge. How ironic.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the main event falling right into my lap,” he purrs, voice smooth as silk as he leans in, brushing his nose along your jaw.

A small whine leaves you, his skin impossibly smooth against yours. Your eyes flutter and you hate how easily you melt against him. An IT Robot shouldn’t be so damn comfortable. You find yourself baring your neck to him, seeking more of his touch. His dark chuckle vibrates against your skin and you shiver, unintentionally grinding against him. Or was it on purpose? Fuck, you couldn’t even tell anymore.

“Technically you got me into your lap,” you sigh with bliss, your brain only growing fuzzier the longer you stay in his embrace.

It was like he knew exactly where and how to touch you. You were sure it was just from some strange programming he’s downloaded but who were you to question it? The IT Robot’s touch slips beneath your shirt and his large hands caress your curves reverently.

“And what else can I get you to do with me?” IT Robot’s voice rasps and curls into your ear as if putting you under a spell. A spell called his cock. He rolls his hips as he speaks, pressing his hard length roughly against your clothed clit.

“Nngh… N-nothing! I have to go, but damn I wish I didn’t,” you say through gritted teeth.

You force yourself out of his lap, your body vibrating and your cunt pulsing with need. You push the office chair he was sitting in away from you and he laughs. The chair stops as it bumps into another person but his eyes don’t stray from you.

“You’re always welcome, doll.”

It takes all the strength left in your tired and yet still somehow horny body to turn away from the sexy IT Robot but you do. You keep your eyes firmly trained on Conference room D, determined to see this through. Your Dragon Headhunter is the only one right now who deserves the impact of all your pent up emotions.

As you near the door, you stop short, surprised when it opens. For a second you wait with bated breath, wondering if maybe the Dragon Headhunter is looking for you too. You don’t even question the way your pussy floods with arousal. But your stomach drops as a Fae walks out of the conference room and sneaks off, not even seeing you staring after them.

Your fury returns tenfold to the point where you can’t even think straight. You rush for the door, barging in and smashing it closed behind you. The Dragon Headhunter jumps from the noise, lazily glancing over his shoulder at you. Your eyes automatically widen, a gasp leaving you as you finally see him in person. You’d video called dozens of times yet it all paled in comparison to seeing him face-to-face.

He was broad and painstakingly attractive. His scales glimmer in the sunlight that streaks in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. His suit fits tight against his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination of what lies beneath. The fabric clinging to his thick ass and strong thighs. A slow smirk forms on his lips. The sight has you shuddering where you stand and it only serves to make you more angry.

“Well, if it isn’t my newest treasure…”

Your eyes flash, focus returning back to his face. Just in time too to see the smug look painted across his face. You’re in front of him in an instant only to push him back. The creature barely even moves. He sways, although you know he only did it for your benefit.

“Where have you been? You have no idea what’s happened today?” you ask lowly, hands shaking from your anger. Sure, the dicks been great, but this wasn’t how you expected your new life to start.

It’s Dragon Headhunter’s turn to look you up and down, noting your disheveled appearance and lustful expression. It has his smirk growing somehow wider across his face. He crosses his arms, admiring what he’s done to you, what this city has turned you into.

“I believe I have an idea.”

The air grows thick between you and the Dragon Headhunter. You can barely breathe, only managing short shaky breaths as you stare each other down. Your skin burns under his gaze but you refuse to squirm and let him win.

“Of course you do. ‘Cause you fucking tricked me into coming here. Why?” You ask firmly, finally demanding answers from him. You won’t be leaving here without them. And you’ll do anything to get them.

You slowly walk up to him, trying your best to intimidate a beast such as him. But all you do is make yourself feel smaller as he towers over you. The height different has your pussy clenching around nothing. His nostrils immediately flare and you know he can smell how turned on you are. You cry out and push him back again with all your strength.

“Why?!” You demand with a ragged shout.

Without a single word, Dragon Headhunter swoops down and claims your lips in a searing kiss to shut you up. A low moan rumbles through your throat and the Dragon responds with one of his own. One that has you turning to mush in his arms. Your mouths clash together as they fight for dominance. The Dragon’s claws sink into the flesh of your wide hips and he whirls you around, pressing your ass into the conference room table.

Dragon Headhunter ravages you, his tongue swirling through your mouth as if trying to taste every last bit of you. He pushes against you harder and harder until he growls and lifts your plush frame up like it’s nothing and drops you easily on top of the table. You grunt and throw his arms off of you, forcing him to kiss at your pace. His claws sink into the wood and screech loudly as he drags them down, trying to resist grabbing at you again. But as you suck his tongue into your mouth he can’t take it any longer.

He pushes you all the way down on the table with as much as a small shove. You cry out as you go flying back, glaring at him. Dragon Headhunter starts furiously trying to shred off your clothes. You grunt and wrestle against him to get your clothes off without ruining them. He doesn’t bother, shredding his own clothes with a few swipes of his claws. You two glare at each other even as lust fills your gazes. He jerks your legs open to reveal your glistening folds and smoke leaves his snout with his huffs.

“This is where I fucked that pathetic little fae and now it’s where I’m gonna give you their sloppy seconds,” he snarls in your face and you grit your teeth. Your stomach churns with a jealous rage.

Before you can snap back at him, Dragon Headhunter snaps his hips forward, impaling you on his massive cock with a solid stroke. Fire shoots from your core and burns through your entire body. A fierce scream echoes off the walls and your pussy spasms around his girth as your body tries to adjust to being split open on his cock.

But the Dragon barely lets you take a breath before he’s rearing back and snapping his hips back against yours. You groan lowly, actually thankful for all your previous lays today as they helped prepare you for this. Your pussy opens up for him, allowing him to drive in even deeper inside you with each movement. Letting your fury fuel you, jerk your hips, meeting his thrusts. The Dragon’s eyes roll back in his head.

“F-fuuuuck— augh— knew this fuckhole was gonna be good without even seeing it. Looked like a damn slut who’d take anything given to them,” he says darkly, his tongue slipping as he gets more and more lost in the pleasure of your cunt.

Your eyes narrow at him, no matter how good he’s making you feel. Each pump of his hips brushes along every nerve in your core and it sends you flying, your body shaking with unimaginable pleasure. Your sopping cunt sucks him back in with every thrust, needing him inside you despite everything.

Wanting to drive him to the brink of insanity, your hands snap out and sink in between his sensitive scales. The Dragon throws back his head and lets out a ferocious roar. Then he falls forward, elbows caging you in and rutting up into your perfect pussy.

“Tell me why you sold me on this job. Did you think I was right for it?” you ask lowly, your breaths mingling with your close vicinity. Needing to ask and know the truth.

Dragon Headhunter chuckles and your pussy flutters around him, making him groan. He leans in and bites down on your neck, marking you with the memory of this moment. Then he leans back enough to look in your eye to deliver the blow.

“Nah, I just wanted this sweet cunt,” he says breathlessly, his words so simple yet infuriating. You dig your nails into the flesh beneath his scales the Dragon groans in pain, his hips surging forward into your tight heat.

“Fuck you.”

Dragon Headhunters eyes burn brightly, finally matching the anger in your own gaze. He smirks wickedly, flashing his fangs at you in a clear threat.

“Gladly.”

His tail whips out, quickly wrapping around your wrists and pinning you to the table. With a growl that sends chills up your spine, the Dragon picks up his pace, fucking up into you with a stamina your poor human body can barely handle as it jerks up with every thrust. A loud mewl rips from your throat as his cock bullies into your cervix with each stroke. His eyes gleam devilishly as he watches how much of a mess he’s turning you into.

But it’s not enough. His free hand flies to your puffy little clit and rubs your bundle of nerves in time with his thrusts. Your jaw drops, all the sensations building up inside you have you nearly losing your mind.

You scream in relief a when you finally fall off the edge. Your body shaking, hips rising off the table with the force of your orgasm. For a moment you see white and you hear the Dragon roar once more as he follows right after you. And when you open your eyes you gasp to see fire shooting out from his throat, teasing you. The heat it emits just turns you on even more, prolonging an already intense climax.

It’s only once you finally come down from the high of a lifetime do you seem to gain common sense again. You huff, your anger still palpable but more half-hearted as you tear yourself away from him. You slide off the table, heading toward your discarded clothes, needing to get out of here.

���I’m leaving,” you announce, quickly sliding your clothes back on. Ignoring the way your combined release drips out of you and pools in your panties.

“You’re under contract, sweets,” Dragon Headhunter replies, his tone filled with amused arrogance.

You whip around to face him yet unable to reply. He’s right. You’re stuck here. But is it really that bad that you are?

Seeing your hesitance to reply, thoughts clearly spinning through your mind, Dragon Headhunter smirks and saunters up to you in all his naked glory. “Welcome to Free Use City. Embrace it.”

Leaving the conference room you think over what he said. This was your chance at a fresh start and you wanted to make the most of it. In a Free Use City you guess that meant fucking strangers. Truly embracing the city for what it was and what it offered. You could do that! In your office building alone there were hundreds of people to choose from. You look around the office, wondering if IT Robot’s offer was still on the table. He’s bound to know everything about pleasuring a human. Or perhaps you could find Bunny Secretary and see if you could throw yourself at him again. And well… there was always that Demon Guard you passed on the way in. You’re sure he could show a sinful time.

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 6

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

DEFINETLY NSFW! Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

For somebody that filled her romance novels with plenty of smut… Sky wasn’t exactly as experienced as one may expected. 

Actually…she was woefully inexperienced.

There had been Admon…and Admon it had been.

The rest of the stuff in her books…well, that was just her fantasy wildly spinning stories about how sex should feel. Informed by plenty of books she had read, other authors, and of course…there were the two people that got to read every book she wrote before it was published: Orla, her publisher, and her friend Ressina, who was nice enough to take the pen to every thing she wrote that was woefully inaccurate. 

Because nothing ever felt to her like she portrayed it in the books.

Maybe that was normal. Maybe it was because of course her books portrayed something…better than reality, an escape from it. But still…sometimes Sky had just wondered…

As Azriel carried her towards the bedroom, Sky couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. It wasn’t that she didn’t want this, she did, more than anything. But the truth was, she was…nervous.

She had written about this moment countless times, had described it in vivid detail in her novels. But now that it was actually happening, she felt…insecure. What if it wasn’t as good in real life as she made it out to be on paper? What if she did disappoint him?

(Sky knew that she had disappointed Admon numerous times…that she seemingly had never been enough for him…had been so bad at it in fact that he had instead slept with her sister…which was a whole other kettle of fish that she really didn’t want ot think to close about right now.)

Sky tried to push those thoughts aside, to focus on the here and now. 

Azriel was here with her, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. She could feel it in the way he held her, the way he looked at her. And yet, that nagging feeling of doubt still lingered.

And then there was the fact while he had admitted to sending his shadows to search for her… Sky was still keeping a rather big secret.

“Az…Azriel…” she said hesitantly.  “There…there is one thing you should know about me.”

Azriel paused, setting Sky down on the bed gently before turning to look at her. 

"Go on," he prompted her gently, taking her hand in his as he sat down next to her and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You can tell me anything, Sky." She believed him. he wouldn’t judge her. She was sure of that as well. 

“You…You k…know how…how I…I write… ro…romance no..novels?” Sky asked him, biting her lip.

Azriel nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Yes, I do," he said, leaning in closer to her. "You told me.”

“I…I am Sellyn Drake,” she blurted out.

She had never outright admitted it to another person. 

Ressina had been the one who had send off her first manuscript to be published…and Orla had met with her…these were the two people in existence that knew that Skylar Alden was also Sellyn Drake. And Skylar had always been comfortable with keeping it that way. 

There was no need to tell anybody else. 

Which was why it worked so well, that Ressina was an artist and could paint the bookcovers for her. No need whatsoever to let anybody else see the hesitant first drafts until she was sure this was where she wanted to go. Just Ressina. Just one of her very few friends. If not her only. 

Azriel stared at her, his eyes widening in surprise. "What?" he asked, completely taken aback. "You're...Sellyn Drake?" There was no…outright disbelief in his voice, just shock. 

*We know! We made Master read your books!* the shadows cooed. *Lady Death, The Priestess and The Shopkeeper love them too!*

She had no idea who any of these people were but…

Azriel's eyes widened even further as the shadows spoke up. "You...you knew about this?" he asked them, turning towards the shadows in disbelief. "You knew. That’s why you gave me her books to read!”

This was just getting better and better.

Sky, who had been watching Azriel and the shadows’ exchange with a mixture of nervousness and embarrassment, couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. 

“Do…Do they always…” she couldn’t even put it into words. 

Azriel sighed. “They like to meddle,” he said darkly. “And this time they were particularly persistent.” He shot a reproachful look at the shadows, who cowered a little under his gaze. "I won't lie, they did manipulate me into reading your books. And when my shadows do something they are rather...convincing."

She swallowed. 

“Did…did you…li…like them at…at least?” Sky asked hesitantly. 

Azriel hesitated for a moment before answering. 

"I...I did," he admitted earnestly. "Your writing...it's brilliant, Sky.” Her heart soared at his words. She treasured them, hoarding them away like a dragon. But he wasn’t done. “The characters, the emotions, the way you make the reader feel everything...it's incredible. I couldn't put them down."

Sky grinned at his words, feeling a swell of pride in her chest. "I…I'm glad you..you li…liked them," she said softly.

*Master especially liked the…*

“Shut. Up.” Azriel snapped, his ears reddening and Sky started laughing. She could just about imagine what the shadows wanted to tell her at that moment. 

Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm going to kill them," he muttered under his breath.

"They…they are ju…just try…trying to help you, aren't they?" she asked softly, squeezing his hand in hers. Only now she noticed the violent scars that marred them, the texture of raised and bumpy skin…but she didn’t care. Not one bit.  

*Of course, we are,* the shadows said, like any other idea was simply blasphemous. *We gave Master the best information we could. So that Master would know what you like.*

Sky probably shouldn't find it as adorable as she did. But the lengths they had gone to...the way they had made Azriel read her books so that he would know what she liked...nobody in her life had ever gone to these lengths just to find out what she liked.

"I swear I am not a total creep," Azriel told her with a grimace.

Sky laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "No…no, no, you're not," she assured him, squeezing his, hands gently. "I…I ac…actually think it's… quite… sweet. In a weird, sli…slightly invasive kind of way. But sweet nonetheless."

"I think you are the only female that could possible think that," Azriel muttered, glaring at the shadows that didn't seem apologetic in the slightest.

Sky grinned, leaning in closer to him. "It’s… endearing,” she finally settled on. “Maybe even a lit…little bit charming," she promised him earnestly.

Azriel looked at her incredulously, his expression softening a little. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" he asked her.

Sky shook her head. "No. No, I'm not," she said, her voice unwavering. "I…I mean it, Azriel. It iss actually really sweet that you would go to… such lengths just to try to un…understand me better. And you ad…admitted to it. And not just after the mating bond was accepted but within hours of meeting me." 

Azriel didn't keep it a secret, even when he could have, and she would have been none the wiser. 

"I don't know what I ever did to deserve you. But I'm not going to question it," he whispered. 

She swallowed. That's what she was thinking. The exact same words. 

Sky pulled him down, letting his forehead rest against hers.

"I know that...that I am supposed to cook you something...but how disappointed would you be if I gave you one of those caramel bonbons in my purse to accept the bond instead?" she asked him softly, meeting his gaze. 

His eyes widened and he stared at her in pure, undiluted wonder. 

"I could not possible be dissappointed by whatever you offered me," Azriel whispered. "But...are you...are you sure?"

"I am being utterly selfish," she whispered. "Yes. I want you." She didn't care that people would have thoughts about it...that she was rushing into this. 

They were probably right. 

But Sky really didn't care. Sky only wanted him. Sky was ready to throw caution overboard and rush into this headfirst without a thought about the consequences, if that meant that she would get her mate.

"Then let's be selfish together," Azriel whispered.

With shaky hands she reached into her purse, finding one of the caramel bonbon she kept in there...unwrapped it out of the paper and then...then she offered it to him, lifting it to his lips.

Azriel looked at the bonbon, then at her, and for a moment she thought he would say something. But then his mouth opened and he took it from her hand... He chewed it, swallowing carefully, his gaze never wavering from hers. For a moment, they stayed suspended in that moment of tension, the only sound their breathing. And then, he leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed her as if she was the most precious thing in his entire world.

A Mating Frenzy had always been protrayed as animalistic in every book she read. So of course, Sky had written the exact same thing.

But it wasn't...not really.

Not for them. 

And being with Azriel was also a far cry from being with Admon...mostly because then it had often been...embarrassing and painful. 

Admon had always found something to criticise on her body...foreplay had been nonexistent, even when she had tried...and while he had been more than willing to use her mouth to find his own pleasure he had never returned that favour.

With Azriel it was different. Every touch, every caress, every kiss made her feel things she had never felt before. It was like her body was coming alive for the first time.

All her senses were heightened, every nerve in her body singing with pleasure, and Sky couldn't get enough of him. She wanted more. No, she needed more. As Azriel trailed kisses down her throat, she arched her back, pressing herself against him, her hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch of him that she could reach.

"Can I...Can I touch your wings?" she asked breathlessly, not wanting to...cross some unsaid line.

"Please," Azriel breathed out. "Yes, Sky, please." He lifted his wings, extending them out behind him, giving her free rein to touch and explore to her heart's content. As Sky's fingers brushed against the contours of his wings, Azriel let out a low, guttural moan, his wings twitching and shuddering at the sensation. They were massive and pitch black.

"They are beautiful," she whispered, running her hands over the silky black skin, feeling the warmth radiating from them.

He shuddered at her touch, his wings arching and trembling beneath her gentle caress. he leaned his forehead against hers as he gently tipped her back against the bed and she went willingly, wrapping her hands over the gleaming talons at the tip of his wings as she kissed him.

Azriel growled softly in response, his hands sliding up beneath her dress, opening the lacing in one fluid motion. As the dress fell open, revealing her body beneath, Azriel pulled back for a moment, looking down at her with dark, hungry eyes. "You are so beautiful," he breathed, his gaze roaming over her body.

She didn't even have the time to feel self-conscious, not when she was drowning in the waves of desire that shot across their bond from him. Not when her whole body seemingly trembled against his and she kissed him again, opening her mouth to his tongue.

He slipped open the dress and she opened her mouth, halfway ready to tell him how he could get the corset she wore off, but he already opened the lacing. "Why?" he asked her softly, as he saw the red indents left on her body, and she grimaced.

"Claire," she whispered.

She wore corsets usually for support, because her breast could get heavy and painful without the proper support...but she never laced them as tightly as she did when she saw her family. Or her sister. Then she pulled them tight, trying to squash her body to be something…something her family could stomach, something they maybe wouldn't comment on...she always failed.

Azriel hissed softly, his fingers lightly tracing the red marks on her skin. She knew that they looked horrible, and yet he looked...angered? Almost furious. His expression softened as he looked back into her eyes, his fingers gently tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Why would you do something like that to yourself, Sky?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers. "You are beautiful. You don't need to change anything about your body." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to a particularly hard imprint the corset had left.

Sky swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in her throat as emotion welled up in her chest. No one had ever said something like that to her, had ever made her feel like she was good enough just the way she was. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she just nodded, feeling a single tear slip down her cheek. Azriel wiped it away with his thumb, his other hand coming up to cup her face tenderly.

"You are perfect," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Just the way you are. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise. Not even your family." Sky leaned into his touch, closing her eyes and just focusing on the closeness, the warmth, the feeling of being cherished and protected.

With every word he spoke, she felt a weight lifting off her shoulders, her fears and insecurities melting away. She realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found someone who truly saw her, the real her. Who accepted her exactly as she was, flaws and all.

It was so easy to sink into that. So easy to trust him. So easy to just kiss him, as she pushed the shirt he wore over his shoulders...to feel acres of gold skin, dotted with scars and dark markings...to bare him for her view and see how utterly gorgeous her mate was.

He growled softy as she ran her hand down his chest, tracing the scars that marked his skin. His body was a tapestry of pain and survival, yet she wasn't deterred. She only found him more beautiful for it.

"Mine," she whispered, pressing her lips to his chest, to one particularly nasty scar. "All mine." She could feel his heart pounding beneath her lips, the steady beat matching the rhythm of her own heartbeat. Her hands trailed down his chest, his stomach, until she reached the waistband of his trousers.

It was so easy.

So easy, to shed clothing until they were bare...so easy to press against him and feel warm, perfect skin...so easy to relax underneath him as he stretched over her...so easy to simply cup his face as she kissed him...as her legs wrapped around his hips and he groaned and she whimpered as she felt him...hot and hard and huge, pressing against her...She was dripping wet without him even laying as single finger on her beneath the waist.

Azriel didn't look unaffected, his breath coming in ragged pants, his eyes fixed on hers as they were blown wide and dark with want. He didn't move, didn't kiss her, didn't pull her closer. He only waited. Waited for her. 

"I need you," she whimpered. "Please. Please, Az." He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl, his hips rocking gently against her, teasing them both with the heat and friction between them.

Nothing hurt. Nothing ever even threatened to hurt...Even as she could feel him notch against her there...even when she could feel herself lewdly stretched open on his cock...

It was so soft and gentle and sweet and…

It was everything Sky had ever wanted. 

Not the rough kind of fucking...not the animalistic coupling she wrote half the time...but she had wanted this. She had wanted sweetness and adoration and...love...and to be wrapped up in her mate's arms like she was a precious, precious thing. She had wanted whispered praised against her skin and to be touched like she mattered...

"Sky," he whispered, his hands running up her side, his touch was soft and soothing, worshipping her body. He kissed her, slowly, deeply, and there was something...almost overwhelming about it.

About the way he made her feel. The way he made her feel loved and adored. The way he made her feel cherished. Her hands wandered up to his back, tracing the muscles shifting beneath scarred, scarred skin.

She could feel him trembling, feel the tension in his body as he held himself back, but still, he moved in slow and gentle thrusts, taking his time. He worshipped her - every little gasp and moan, every curve of her body. He traced her shape with his fingertips and lips, exploring her as though he was trying to memorize every inch of her body.

She didn't know how long they stayed that way, their bodies as one, but Sky didn't care. She was surrounded by him - the heat of his skin, the sound of his breath, the way he whispered her name like a prayer. Sky could feel the love and devotion pouring through the bond, washing over her in waves, and she knew that this was exactly where she was meant to be. With him, in his arms, completely and utterly whole.

It nearly came as a shock as she came.

A breathless moan fell from her lips as her orgasm rushed over her, her body arching as she called out his name. He kissed her through it, murmuring praise against her lips as he held her close, his own release following soon after.

They stayed there for a moment, tangled together, both of them breathless and sated. Azriel's wings slowly wrapped around them, cocooning them in a warm, protective embrace that made Sky feel safe and cherished in a way she had never experienced before.

***

There was not one inch of his mate's body that wasn't utterly beautiful. From the tips of her arched ears, to her beautiful eyes...to the swell of her breasts and the dip of her waist and the soft flesh of her belly and the flare of her hips...she smelled so good too...especially now that their scents had started to mix, and he could breath in caramel and hazelnuts and cedars and the sweet, beautiful scent of happiness as she laid underneath him. His head was bedded on her stomach, as she drew short fingernails through his messy dark hair. He nearly wanted to start to purr as she scratched at his scalp.

Azriel felt...content.

More content than he ever remembered feeling. He was wrapped up in her, his mate, with her gentle hands in his hair, and he felt utterly and completely at peace. He didn't care if they never moved from that bed again. He didn't care if the world outside their little cocoon burned. So long as she was by his side, he was content. He had never felt like this before. He had never felt this...happy. This...whole.

"I need to go feed Hector," Sky told him softly, trailing her fingers through his hair.

"Can I just have the shadows kidnap him and bring him here?" he asked, not wanting to move.

"You can't go kidnapping my cat, Az," she chided him gently, but even as she said the words, she didn't stop drawing her fingers through his hair, and Azriel didn't move. He was far too comfortable.

"Why not?" he complained.

"You'll terrify him," she said with a laugh. "Besides, do you have cat food here?"

"I'll have the shadows find some Tuna," he mumbled.

"Do…Do they just ac…acquire whatever you tell them to?" she asked him with some amusement. 

And lots of things he didn't tell them to, as well. They thought he didn’t know. 

Azriel raised himself on his forearms, looking down at Sky with a glint in his eye. "You have no idea how many things I've acquired that way," he told her with a grin.

She lifted her hands, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down towards her, resting her forehead against his. "You're a menace," she murmured against his lips.

"Your menace," he replied, kissing her softly.

Sky smiled, a warm, slow curve of her lips that made his chest feel tight. "Mine," she agreed, her voice soft. "But no kidnap…kidnapping my cat. He's at home."

"We could make this our home," he protested softly. "Move in with me."

Azriel had no fucking clue what was even coming over him. They should have slowed down, stopped to think...but neither of them seemed to want to.

They just…they seemed utterly content to crash through what other people considered a normal timeline and just be together right now. 

He just wanted to be near her. He wanted to share a life with her, a home. He wanted to curl up with her in front of the fire on a cold winter's night, and spend lazy Sunday mornings in bed with her. He wanted to take her flying, and watch as she wrote and listened to her read the words she wrote. 

And he wanted - Gods, he wanted her to want that too. He held his breath as he waited for her response.

For a moment, she was silent, and Azriel wondered if he had stepped too far, asked too much too soon. 

But then, Sky smiled again, her eyes sparkling with emotions. 

"...Al…Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll…I’ll move in with you." 

Azriel couldn't help but grin as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Really? You mean it?" he asked, still unable to believe his ears.

"Really," she echoed with a laugh, before her expression turned serious. "But I…I have one co…condition." 

Azriel raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "What is it?"

"If I move in with you..." she began, wrapping her arms around his neck. "All my books need to come to," she told him seriously.

Azriel laughed, leaning back in to kiss her softly. "All your books can come, if that's what you want," he said. "As long as you're here, I don't care what else you bring."

And then the shadows unceremoniously dumped a screeching demon on the bed with them.

Sky let out a surprised yelp as Hector landed next to them with a thud, quickly scrambling away from the cat - and from under Azriel's weight. Azriel, for his part, sprang up, his wings flaring out in alarm. For several long moments, the three of them just stared at each other. Hector, his mismatched eyes glowing, his fur puffed up to twice it’s normal size, and Sky, her expression a mixture of surprise and affection as she looked at her pet. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Well, that's one way to introduce the two of you. Az, meet Hector."

...Gods, the shadows had really not been lying when they said that the cat was the ugliest thing they had ever seen.

Azriel slowly lowered his wings, eyeing the creature that was half-cat and half-demon. "He...looks like he wants to kill me," he said slowly.

Sky laughed, reaching out to scratch Hector's head. "He's just grumpy because he got teleported here so suddenly," she told him. "And he's not used to strangers." Hector's fur slowly flattened, and he began to purr, rubbing his head against Sky's hand. "Besides, he'd never hurt anyone," she added, looking up at Azriel with a smile.

Somehow Azriel highly doubted that.

Sky picked Hector up, cradling the cat in her arms as his purring grew louder. "See? He's not so bad," she told Azriel, moving towards him, and Azriel had to resist the urge to back away. "Hold out your hand, let him sniff you. He just needs to get used to you."

Azriel hesitantly held out his hand, trying his best to ignore the way Hector's eyes seemed to glow with an eerie light. After a moment, Hector moved forward, sniffing at Azriel's hand. Azriel felt the soft brush of whiskers against the palm of his hand, and Hector nudged his head against him, purring louder.

"See, he loves you!" Sky said enthusiastically

Azriel let out a laugh, slowly scratching the top of Hector's head. "I think he's just trying to lull me into a false sense of security before he scratches my eyes out, you know."

She rolled her eyes, "You are the most handsome cat I know," she cooed at him. "And you won't ever scratch out Azriel's eyes. No, you won't.”

Azriel would not quite go as far as describe the cat as handsome...but then...his own scarred hands weren't particularly beautiful either.

So Hector and him had that in common.

And the fact that they both wanted to cuddle with Sky. Actually, he was pretty sure that the cat hated him just for taking away his monopoly on that.

But Azriel would have shared a house with the King of Hybern if that meant that he got to have Sky in his bed.

She smiled at him, her eyes warm and adoring. "I knew you two would hit it off," she said, holding Hector in the crook of her arm. The cat stared at Azriel for a moment, as if sizing him up, before leaping off Sky's lap and disappearing under the bed with a soft patter of paws. "He'll warm up to you eventually," Sky assured him, but Azriel wasn't so sure about that.

He pulled Sky in closer to him, slipping back underneath the sheets with her, kissing her forehead. "I'll win him over, eventually," he promised her. At least, he hoped he would - he didn't particularly enjoy the idea of having to wake up with his throat being sliced open by an angry cat.

He would buy that damn cat all the Tuna in the world if that made Sky happy.

[lovscb97]

tags: step-brother!park jongseong x fem!reader, d/s dynamics, dom!jay x sub!reader, manipulation lowkey?, implied male masturbation, kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, use of nicknames (baby, princess, jjongie, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), spit kink, begging, daddy kink, unprotected sex (plz don’t), breeding kink, choking, praise kink, creampie, fluff and uncertainty at the end, etc

wc: 4.12k

add. notes: ok i know i said i would Not upload soon much less written work either but guess who lied!!! no but fr my mood was pretty terrible yst morning bcs of some stupid classmates not contributing to group work but u know what i had food n ice cream w my friend n i felt a bit better at the least. it still doesn’t excuse their actions but ya anyways bcs of my peace of mind n bcs i finished my part for my presentation, i present to u a Very long stepbro jay fic hehe.. some parts or sentences may look familiar but that's cus i acc sent them to a blog here as anon messages LMFAO but yea i hope u guys enjoy :3 icon creds to @/purinkiss btw!

. . . 

ever since your parents’ divorce, your entire world shattered. it only got worse when your dad announced he’d be bringing home a new woman, much less one who had a child the same age as you. of course, you disagreed at first, throwing harsh words at him up until the point he forced you to meet the delinquent, dragging you by the arm to the restaurant where you were to have dinner with whoever these random people who were about to become part of your small family circle were. you’d even made a firm promise to yourself to not entertain them and to be petty, whether that translated through snide remarks or rolling your eyes, and you swear you really were going to go through with it—

that is, until you met jay.

jay was nothing like you’d imagined him to be. in your head, your new, soon-to-be stepbrother was an ugly, rude and snobby brat who didn’t give two cents about joining your family, the jay you met in reality though? everything but that. he was sweet, and polite, and absolutely fucking gorgeous; blonde hair swept back with a strand falling over his forehead, lean shoulders outlined in the tight fitting black shirt he’d decided to wear for the occasion, and a smile worth a thousand bucks or even dying for. any words that were previously on the tip of your tongue died down when he took your hand in his to shake it, the soft feel of his skin and his bright grin making your insides positively melt and the thoughts of your parents split dissipate within seconds. 

your stepbrother’s attitude and good looks carried through the months you spent with him too. if anything, it became even more reinforced with him taking care of you whenever you needed him. he’d handle sharp objects for you while making your favourite food, hold your hand on the street if you had to cross the road, carry your bags when they got too heavy, rush in front of the door to open it for you, and so, so much more. you were at a privilege to be able to watch him walk around with nothing but a simple shirt and sweatpants around the house too, shamelessly raking your eyes over his attractive features and boring them into his back when he leaned over the stovetop to cook you ramen. 

part of you felt like a perv, for behaving this way and finding him good looking even if he objectively was. you knew it wasn’t like you could help it, you had eyes and they obviously saw what was in front of you, but you tried shoving it down anyways. it also didn’t help that jay constantly hovered around you and made your relationship out to be so.. domestic. he’d narrow his eyes when he caught you talking on the phone to your friends about your latest hook-up, lecturing you on the use of safe sex and how college boys were no good for you until you were red in the face with embarrassment, or he’d offer for the both of you to hang out together after classes ended for you every other day, draping a blanket over your figures and scooching in close to you up until you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. your dad and his new wife thought nothing of it despite your mind spinning, cooing over how well you two got along and relishing in the fact that their children were such good siblings already.

oh, if only they were aware of the twisted fantasies swirling in jongseong’s mind.

because from the minute jay saw you, he knew he had to have you. your pretty face, your soft-spoken voice, and of course, your fucking body. he felt like he was about to lose his damn mind when he first saw you walk around the house in nothing but skimpy shorts and that stupid pink top that left nothing up to the imagination. to an extent, it almost felt like you were teasing him on purpose, especially when he’d find you seated on the couch with your exposed thighs and the subtle dip of your cleavage peeking through the measly clothes that practically coaxed him to sport a hard-on right then and there. it’d be the dead of night when he’d finally find some relief after a day of watching you parade around the kitchen, wondering what it would feel like to grip your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pull your nose flush to his pelvis with him nestled deep inside your throat. and it was only when jongseong came all over his hand and sheets for the nth time after fantasising about you that he realised he needed to do something about this, whether that went against his moral compass or not.

it started with light touches. 

jay would grasp your shoulder to move past you when you were in the way, barely mumbling an ‘excuse me’ to alert you of his presence so you wouldn’t practically jump out of your skin when he did so. his hand would linger in yours for a second too long when he tried not losing you in crowds, gently commanding you to stay close to him in that stern tone of his that made your panties stick to you. it was common etiquette, you thought, he was just doing his job as a brother would normally do for his sister, but the only thing in jongseong’s mind was to make you let down your guard, let it down so much that he could swoop in at the perfect time to take advantage of it. he knew it was wrong, so sinister and dark to want to fuck his own stepsister to the point the only way he could get it up was to the thought of you, but jay didn’t care about any of that at this point, far too fucked out in his own head to think of having eyes for anyone but you.

and as expected, all throughout this, you didn’t suspect a thing. how could you? jay was so perfect, so well-mannered and so attentive. he listened to you rant about anything trivial in your life and drove you around when you wanted to meet up with your girls. he’d wake up late at night if you had a bad dream, consoling you even through the sight of your tears making him worked up, and rub your back softly when you needed to be taken care of. he’d let you sneak back in the house after you’d told your dad you were going out to the library to study, making up excuses for you when your lies fell short. he had your back, and in turn, you had his, so you would’ve never thought of him as anything but a gentleman and big brother.

until everything he did grew into more. 

until having an arm behind your carseat while looking into the rearview mirror turned into placing his hand on your thigh, inches away from the seam of your skirt. until sitting next to him while watching a movie with a shared blanket turned into him nuzzling against you under the covered fabric. until having dinner with both your parents present at the dinner table turned into his foot grazing against yours ever so slightly.

until your honey-like voice calling out for him to help you get the glass on the top cabinet turned into full blown moans of you getting eaten out on the living room couch, echoing throughout the empty house because of-fucking-course, your parents were out for the night on a dinner date.

you weren’t even sure how it happened. one minute, you were struggling to reach on your tippy toes, your mouth instinctively moving to utter jay’s name because he was the only one beside you at home who could help out, but the next, he was pressing up against you to the point of grinding himself into your ass, causing you both to inhale sharply. you vaguely recall turning around, ready to ask what your stepbrother was doing when you’d caught sight of his darkened eyes, practically eyeing you like a piece of meat. and by the time anything even registered in your mind, his lips were already on yours, and his hand was dragging you over to the couch in record time.

“j-jay, we shouldn’t be doing this.” you stuttered out, your voice meek and quiet as you tried not to roll your eyes back at the sight of him slurping up your juices. he didn’t respond, instead opting to move his mouth up to focus on your clit, sucking it into the hot cavern and rolling his tongue against it to the point it had you seeing stars. you knew it was wrong, going against so many moral standpoints and rules, but god did it feel so good. you quickly came to understand that the jay who was going down on you currently was nothing like the jay who engages with you in your day to day life. that jay is gentle, well-meaning and answers all your questions despite how dumb they may seem. but this jay? he’s fucking filthy, messy to the point you can tell your juices are dribbling down his chin.

“fuck, you taste so good.” he gasps out when he finally decides to pull away. “thought about this so much when jerking off.” your eyes widen at his crude admittance, and you know you really should be disgusted at it, but something about the idea of jay being alone in the darkness of his room, hand wrapped around himself while saying your name under his breath only makes you wet, even more so than you already are. at the back of your mind, something screams at you to stop, but you’ve already gotten a taste of what your stepbrother can provide you, and you’d be damned if you didn’t stick around to find out more about it. 

“this is wrong.” you quietly admit anyways, even if it’s not what you want to say. but jay just hums, leaning down to hover above your figure as his arms cage you in underneath him, doing very little to help the fact of how much smaller you feel below him. his lips ghost the shell of your ear as you shiver at the proximity between you two, and he gently nips at it, leaving you biting your tongue to hold back the noises you long yearn to let out. “i know it is, baby, but doesn’t it feel so fucking good?” jay questions with a low chuckle, pulling away to cock his head to the side. you curse internally at the way the nickname sounds coming from him, a dust of light pink spreading across your cheeks because fuck, how can someone be so alluring at all times?

“don’t you want to feel even better, princess?” jay’s voice draws you out, and you hold back a moan at the way he grinds his clothed bulge against your bare opening, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s slowly convincing you over to the dark side. “don’t you want your big brother to spread this pussy open and fuck it ‘till you’re crying from how good it feels?” you almost nod, trying to resist the urge to buck your hips up to catch the sensation of his lower region against you once more. instead, you choose to turn your face away from his striking gaze staring you down, but jay just grips your jaw and turns you to face him once more, the action only making your insides swirl with delight.

“still, what if your mom and my dad find out?” you mumble, and jay just grins wickedly. he swoops in, dipping his head down to capture your lips in a searing kiss that makes you giddy with joy, sneaking his tongue past the opening of your mouth to lick into it. when he pulls back, there’s a thin line of spit connection you both, prompting you to squirm at the sight to which jay’s chest rumbles with laughter. “you’re so fucking cute, y’know that? been dreaming of having your pretty body underneath me since i met you.” he admits lowly, your wide eyes only spurring him on further. “wanna know what i think?” you slowly nod, unsure of where this is going. jay’s voice drops an octave lower as he leans in close and whispers—

“i think you’re a dirty, little slut who deserves to get fucked by her big brother.”

you can’t help the whimper that escapes you at his words this time, and that’s all the confirmation jay needs to sit up and tear off his shirt, bringing to life all the fantasies you’ve had about his body this entire time. you can’t stop yourself from reaching out a hand to touch him, nails grazing across the ridges of his toned stomach and the dip of his v-line that’s hiding the very thing you’ve been craving under his sweatpants. meanwhile, jay just watches you with lust swirling in his orbs, a small smirk playing at his swollen lips as he takes in the picture of your innocent little face ogling his figure. “you like what you see, don’t you, pretty?” he murmurs, biting his lip at the way you nod in shame. “don’t worry.” jay grunts, standing momentarily to loop his fingers inside the edges of his pants. “you’ll get what you’re craving real soon.” he winks before he’s yanking the only thing separating you both down, exposing himself in all his glory to your awaiting eyes at last. 

“goddamnit, it’s pretty.” you think to yourself when your eyes finally settle on your stepbrother’s dick. the tip is an angry shade of red, dribbling with a few beads of precum that your face falls at when jay swipes them away with his thumb as he wraps his large hand around himself. your disappointment is short-lived, however, because he’s back on top of you soon, holding the very same thumb up to your awaiting mouth to taste, to which you eagerly wrap your lips around, the salty flavour of him invading your senses. “good girl.” jongseong commends as you suckle at the tip of his finger, the praise going straight to your core. he pulls his hand away from you after a short while, that same wet thumb snaking its way down to find your clit and pressing against it, which does nothing but rip a noise of satisfaction from you. jay continues to rub at your engorged nub, his gaze fixated on the sight of your pussy as if he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“shit. i can’t wait any more.” he growls after another second, retracting his hand to wrap it around himself instead, pumping once or twice before he’s pressing the head against your awaiting entrance. you watch with bated breath as he rubs against your folds, slicking up with your oozing juices until your patience starts wearing thin. “jay,” you huff after a minute, legs kicking up in frustration as your stepbrother glances at you teasingly. “what do you want, angel? use your big girl words and tell me.” he smiles, almost innocent to the point you even forget the compromising position you’re both in.

“want.. want you.” you admit shyly, averting your eyes to a forgotten corner in the room as jay tsk’s. “look at me when you speak, whore.” he spits out, his entire demeanour changing in an instant. it only makes you leak even more, and you swallow thickly, eyes pleading. “please fuck me, please. wan’ you to do what you said, spreading me open and using me until i cry, please, please, please. jjongie, daddy, please, i—“

you don’t even get the chance to finish because by the time both the nickname and title leave your mouth, jay has long lost his composure, instantly pushing inside you as he attempts to bottom out his large cock. he hisses at the way your warm walls envelop him, and the only thing you can do is cry out at the way you’re being stretched out to your limit, finally having the emptiness inside you satiated with the presence of your stepbrother’s dick. “fuuuck, that’s it, look at this tiny, little hole sucking me in.” jay curses, and you flare red in embarrassment at his nasty words, ignoring the way they only make you gush around him even more. 

“i’m going to absolutely ruin you, baby.” is the only thing jay says before he’s pulling out and slamming himself back into you, leaving you to cry out as his mushroom tip instantly hits that one spot deep inside. his thrusts are erratic, filled with a fervour none of the other guys you’ve ever slept with had, and you think the way he’s fucking you now is definitely going to rectify his promise of fucking you until you’re crying, the occasion seeming to be very well on its way of happening. 

“fuck, there is no way this is the last time we’re doing this.” jay groans, the noise of skin slapping and your moans echoing throughout the living room as he continues absolutely drilling you. each drag of his cock drives into you with sheer power and raw desire to completely destroy you it seems, and you’re sure nobody is ever going to top it. “gonna use you everywhere, every time i please. you want that too, don’t you? tell me you do, princess. tell me and daddy will fuck you like he means it every single time.” he blurts out. the only way you can respond is through incoherently mumbling and the nodding of your head, far too dazed out already at the way your stepbrother is pounding into you, which only draws a breathy laugh from jay. “seems i’ve fucked you dumb already, huh? cock that good? so good it’s got my baby all dumb?” he taunts. you only whine at his words, drool spilling out from the side of your lips which jay wipes off with a chuckle.

“i’m already close, god.” he sighs, his movements unrelenting and balls tightening with the way they slap against your ass. “want me to cum inside you? for daddy to breed this pussy full? maybe i should do it and make you walk around with my seed lodged deep in your messy cunt.” jay hisses, his hand snaking it ways to your neck as he continues talking. “bet you’d like that ‘cause you’re a filthy fucking bitch. letting your stepbrother fuck your tight cunt as he pleases.” slender fingers wrap around the skin and tighten their grip slightly to restrict your airflow, and that’s all it takes to abruptly push you over the edge, leaving you dropping your mouth open in a silent scream as you cum. jay continues fucking you through your high, making out your small mewls amongst the lewd sounds of his cock shoving into your hole. 

“good girl, good fucking girl. did so well for me, came so much all for daddy. you’re so, so good to me, princess. fuck, i love you.” jay blabbers as he lets go of your neck, too lost in chasing his own peak to even realise what he’s just admitted. you don’t catch it fully either in your haze of overstimulation that he continues to fuck you through, but some unconscious part of you mutters it back as best as you can somehow. jay’s heart swells at the way you take him, so small and pliant for him to just use for his own good, and he leans in to smash his lips against yours, drinking in your loud sounds as his movements start to falter with his upcoming release washing over him. 

“just a bit more, pretty, just a bit. such a good fucking girl for daddy, letting him use your body, fuck. i’m gonna cum deep inside you, angel. gonna reward you with my cum. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? like me to creampie this precious hole?” jay stammers out, the coil in his stomach close to snapping. he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up his exterior, sweat dripping down his forehead and closed eyes as his tired hips continue ramming his cock into you. he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, cracking his orbs open to find your fucked out face mumbling for his cum, your legs wrapping against his waist to keep him locked into you. 

“cum in me, daddy, please cum in me. wan’ your cum, i’ll take it like a good girl. please, daddy.” you babble, and that’s all it takes to send jay over the edge too, loud groans leaving his mouth as he shoots thick ropes of white inside your walls, painting them with his release. he cums for what feels like forever, holding your body close to his as his cock throbs inside your spasming cunt that’s still greedily sucking him in, urging him to fill you up. he finally stops after seemingly a good minute, panting against your neck where he’s buried his face into as he lets the post-orgasm bliss wash over himself.

“fuck,” jay heaves a breath once he’s finally recovered, making sure to use his softening cock to keep you plugged up in fear his cum will drip down and stain the couch, much less make your scandalous activities known to both your parents. he knows he’s going to have to face the reality of everything soon, but for now, he chooses to ignore it, propping himself up with an arm as he takes a look at your tired face that’s still so beautiful even after he basically fucked you within an inch of your life.

“you okay?” he asks softly after a while, prompting you to open your eyes and look up at him. there’s so much love and adoration in them that it makes jay feel all gooey inside, and when you nod with a small smile on your lips, he can’t help but lean back in and kiss you, desperately wishing this won’t be the last time he feels your mouth on his. “you think we made a mess?” you wonder out loud with a giggle once he’s pulled away, and jay just laughs breathlessly at you, brushing a strand of loose hair out of your face to take a proper look. “i’ll clean it up if so, don’t worry, baby.” he reassures in a quiet voice, leaving you to hum in agreement as a response.

“jay.” 

“hm?”

“..what now?” 

jay inhales when you bring forth the question he doesn’t have an answer to, looking down at you to find your worried expression staring back at him. he coos when you jut out your bottom lip, brushing a thumb against your cheek smoothly as he sighs. “don’t worry about that now, princess. just sleep.” he murmurs. 

he can tell you’re not entirely satisfied with his admission, and that you want to say something more, but even if you do, you choose not to, instead opting to follow his advice and shutting your eyes by letting the fatigue from what you’d just been through take over your body. jongseong watches as you slowly close off your thoughts and mind, gently resting his body weight on top of you in favour of pulling you closer. he tries to avoid thinking of the inevitable that’ll come to wake him up, but he’ll deal with that later, choosing to bask in this moment with you for as long as he can before he has to face reality. instead, he presses a small kiss to your cheek, nuzzling it with his nose before closing his own eyes. he eventually drifts off to dreamland, where his thoughts will still be filled with your face.

. . . 

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[sgiandubh]

Imagine

Imagine you are offered an exciting, well-paid job with an up and coming spirits business, whose owner you happened to sympathize with at a work event. Imagine you really invest yourself in that job and you are so enthusiastic about it, that you even put your own business network to service. Imagine you start seeing the first results of your efforts.

Then imagine that the owner you happened to sympathize with (and who probably recruited you) has a teeny-tiny problem, the amplitude of which was absolutely impossible for you to grasp. He is also an actor and, as many actors who are actively involved in successful cinema/TV productions, he has a fandom. Some things may have been mentioned to you, such as the abusive behavior of 'some' fans - but you really had no idea and you were way too excited to make this new job opportunity work for you. You definitely didn't take any warnings too seriously: you know that series has some sort of cult-ish status and that actor is many ageing women's secret fantasy, all around the world. You probably even think it's definitely corny, but overall these ladies seem harmless enough - plus they seem to show up in droves and buy in bulk, everywhere he goes. You are way too focused on your job to notice any misconduct: you dismiss it with a laugh.

And then, someone, somewhere decides it is your turn. You have excitedly posted a snapshot of a rugby match you have been invited to by the owner of the up and coming spirits company, who happens to have an excellent relationship with the local, prestigious club and is a rugby fan himself. You are over the moon to be a part of an event that allows you to better discern the new type of customers the business hopes to attract, in the foreseeable future. You enjoy the wonderful camaraderie in the galleries: you had no idea about what rugby means to so many different people, wow!

You are, therefore, very surprised to find out some women already started to claim on the Internet you and your boss are an item. This is completely nuts: courtship seldom involves attending a rugby match, in Europe - that much you know. You begin to receive nasty, insinuating DMs on your Instagram page. You perhaps remember one of your boss's friends, a young disabled artist, has very recently been harassed by his fans and had to call the police, in order to make it stop. You decide the best thing you could do is to erase the rugby match pic: too late, it has already been screen capped, shared and discussed. This is how you also find out that some of those women think you have an agenda, that you plan to seduce your boss and that you are, at any rate, a lousy wannabe in the business world and a highly functioning alcoholic, to boot. The ones claiming so are either pretending to be experts or to have SOURCES, based on FACTS. This is beyond your understanding. You may even have a mild panic attack and you definitely feel all of this is: a) ridiculous; b) unfair and c) potentially dangerous.

Most of the women who called you out have no idea about what happens at a rugby match. They are that kind of older people who still think geishas are prostitutes, for example, because they lack proper education. They have no direct experience of the business world, let alone the spirits business world. No real facts and no logical arguments are ever presented to seriously discuss your efforts, but many smearing accusations are being written down, with full confidence. All they know is that they don't like you, because you somehow failed to comply with their own, twisted version of reality. In their books, your boss is either a closeted gay man or a lewd womanizer, with a dirty penchant for whores. This would normally make you grin, but today you're just not in that mood.

Today's your turn.

[saddled-on-stars]

Hellooo, may I request something Keatlejuice x reader ?

I was thinking of something inspired from the “do you think I’m qualified” scene from the first movie and basically the idea is: Beetlejuice keeps flirting with reader, which hasn’t been very successful so far… But at some point his voice switches back to his “normal” one and reader pauses because since when does he sound so good??

He notices the reaction and kind of uses it to his advantage to make reader swoon hehe

Thank youu :))

okay- don't mess this up, don't mess this up, don't mess this up... HI THERE MY LITTLE LOVELY CONSTELLATION! Okay, full disclosure, I've never watched either of the Beetlejuice movies. I don't really know how the model exactly works, so I'll make it to similar to the musical; where you just find him on the roof. (I HOPE THAT'S OKAY, DARLING) So yeah, I've never watched either of the movies... I KNOW THE PLOT OF THE FIRST ONE THOUGH, AND I WILL EVENTUALLY WATCH THEM BOTH I SWEA- As far as Keatlejuice goes, I don't know a thing about that scene, and nothing came up when I looked it up, so I'm just going to go off of what you typed. 😀 Please feel free to criticize if it's inaccurate. OKAY, HERE YA GO, LOVELY <3 Happy reading! - Star ★ -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes, Mentions of Break-Up -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- - ★ - Spooky Smooth - ★ - Lying on your bed, listening to some music, it's about 2am. You have your earbuds in, connected to your phone, and are wearing some comfortable shorts and your favorite hoodie. You begin fiddling with the drawstrings, thinking of who gave it to you, then you frown in sadness. It was given to you by your now ex-partner, and they were a jerk. A TOTAL JERK. It all ended at dinner last night. But you hung on, and you still can't figure out why. But that's not why you're sad. You're angry and upset and heartbroken all at the same time, for letting yourself believe that they loved you. It crushed your heart into billions of pieces when they repeated to you that you just weren't good enough. They weren't the first ex, definitely not, and so, as usual, you thought they were the one. You poured your heart and soul into that relationship, only to have your heart shattered. You saw them in the bed with that fucking chick from some cheap-ass bar. You were so angry that you did things to them that you weren't proud of. You impaled all four tires on their small old Nissan Versa, to be specific. You wanted to do so much more, but your heart couldn't take it, and it crushed you in the most tragic way possib-

You drift back to reality as you hear something shuffling above you. It sounds like it's coming from the attic or the roof. You assume it's some sort of critter, and almost fix your earbuds back into your ear, until you hear something... sobbing, perhaps? Sniffling? Letting your curiosity get the best of you, you push your earbuds back in, still listening to the sad, yet comforting music, and you climb out of your window onto the roof. You climb up to the top, and quickly find yourself captivated by the stars. It seems to ground you for the first time you've felt content in a while. You pause your music, hearing something else. It's the sound of a small flyer blowing in front of you. Curiously, you grab it, wondering what it might say. Betelguese - The Bio-Exorcist. Speak my name three times. Betelguese? Like the star? Eh, sounds strange, and this flyer seems pretty aged and old. But how'd it get up high on the roof? You consider calling whoever this 'Betelguese' person is. If they're a bio-exorcist, then they could get rid of your nasty ex. After all, that bitch has some shit comin'. "Bettle-goose, Bettle-goose, Bettle-goose." You close your eyes, expecting something crazy to happen, but the only movement and sound are the stars twinkling and the crickets below chirping. You suddenly see another flyer blow by, and you pick that one up as well. Beetlejuice - The Bio-Exorcist. Speak my name three times. Now you understood. Whoever this person is, they must be here, and so, you put your earbuds back in their designated case, preparing for what's to come. You hold your hoodie in a self-hug, bracing yourself and you begin: "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice." You close your eyes once again, fearing that something large might happen that might spook you, but instead you hear a raspy voice say, "It's showtime~" Suddenly, a giant puff of green smoke appears in front of you, and you're slightly startled, but your curiosity overpowers your fear. Standing there before you is some sort of creature? No, this must be the Beetlejuice guy. He's in a black-and-white striped tuxedo, complete with some typical black shoes. Though, it's all dirty, covered in green spots from here to there. His hair is a pale green, sticking out in all different directions, and his eyes are surrounded by black circles, and you can't tell if it's a fashion choice or not. "Hiya, Babes!", he says, his voice still raspy and rough. "H-Hello..", you reply, slightly still startled. He comes over and sits on the roof in front of you. "So, I heard ya' called m'name three times! Tre!", he says as he's holding up three fingers, his fingernails looking a little overgrown. 'He knows Italian? How strange...', you think. He puts his elbows on his knees, and lays his head on his hand, in a relaxed position. "So what's a pretty lil' thing like YOU doing, callin' a bio-exorcist?", he says, his eyes filled with flirtation. Damn. Straight to the point, you guess. "I-I've had my heart broken by some bitch, and I need you to get rid of them...", you say, while trying to avoid eye contact, as you can feel your eyes show your anger. His other hand comes up to his face as well, until he's resting in both of his hands. "Well then, who's the bastard, and we can make a deal, Babes! Don't worry, I don't bite-", he says as his hands come back to his knees and he leans closer.

"Unless... if you're into that sort of thing, Babes..", he says as he winks, his voice suddenly changed. It's no longer raspy and rough, but DAMN, it's smooth and gentle. You feel your cheeks flush, definitely flustered from his flirtatious remark. "I- uh, uhm-...", you stutter, trying to find the words to respond. He chuckles at your reaction, and he replies to you stuttering, "So, what do ya say, Babes? Wanna make a deal with the devilishly sexy?”.

He's so close to your face now, it's almost burning with electricity. You nod slowly, not knowing how else to respond. You've been holding your breath for a long time now, but your lungs are far from their limit. He winks, and brushes your thigh with his hand, and snaps his fingers. You release the breath you've been holding, as you realize that he's dissappeared into a cloud of smoke, leaving you breathless. "Damn, that voice..."

- ★ - Written by Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[dottedwaves]

So, I did a literal masters degree focused on Tolkien and mythopoeia and the way he specifically constructed secondary worlds. And one thing that I found crazy and kinda soured me on academia as a whole was the severe avoidance that the pretty clear conclusion was: Yes, Tolkien is bigoted. Because he was a rich white guy in the 40s. He may have been progressive for the time, but according to our time he was still Big Ass Bigot. And therefore you must reckon with the racism, misogyny, ableism and other shitty things in his work. You can’t just read it uncritically - or worse, try and claim he was actually fine at this stuff really - because “he was good for then!” because, I cannot stress enough, we are not in the 40s any more. The goalposts have moved! And that’s a good thing! If Tolkien was alive now then he probably would be progressive - and then readers in the 2080s would be calling out different stuff.

And ofc academia doesn’t want to admit that. Because we are always studying things that came before and it sounds infantile to say ‘everything that came before me is bigoted and bad!’ but the reality is that is how progression works. Things, generally, get better over time.

And ofc there things can also get worse over time and there are examples of times and cultures and instances that are maybe Better Than Now. But the mid 20th century ain’t one of em.

you guys are so annoying. why do i have to see discourse every year that's like "was tolkien really a woke king or was he your conservative uncle?" the guy was a devout catholic and a genteel misogynist who maintained lifelong friendships with queer people and women, and this isn't even paradoxical because that was part of the upper-class oxford culture he was immersed in. tolkien told the nazis to fuck off (and in doing so demonstrated a real understanding of what racism is and why it's harmful, beyond simply "these guys are bad news because they're who my country is at war with right now") but his inner life was marked by internalized racism that is deeply and inextricably woven into the art that he made. he foolishly described himself as an anarcho-monarchist, and it's kind of crazy to see people on this website passionately arguing that he likely never meaningfully engaged with anarchist theory, because...yeah, no shit, of course he didn't. tolkien didn't have to engage with most sociopolitical theory because as an upper-class englishman of his position, he was never affected by any of the issues that this theory is concerned with. what is plainly obvious from reading both his fiction and letters is that tolkien's ideal political system was that the divinely ordained god-king would rise up and rule in perfect justice and humility; he didn't want a government, he wanted a king arthur, even though (obviously) he was aware that outcome was impossible. why is it so hard for people to accept that he was just some guy! his letters aren't a code you have to crack. no amount of arguing or tumblr-level analysis is going to one day reveal a rhetorically airtight internally consistent worldview spanning jrrt's fiction, academic work, and personal writings, thereby "solving" the question of whether he was a woke king or your conservative uncle. his ideology was extremely inconsistent because, at the end of the day, he was just some guy.

[nicholaschavezobsessed]

I Need a Doctor pt.2

Pt. 2!!

I had to cut this short because I have midterms... and I've never written smut before so this is a trial run to see if i should advance my skills and continue with it or just stick with fluff!

word count: 1,698

warnings: cursing, smut, 18+ MNDI!!!! fingering, lots if hot kissing, suggestive language, unprotected sex (wrap it up everyone!)

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

Fuck it. You don't even bother responding; your body takes over. Your lips crash onto his, taking him by surprise, yet he takes no time reciprocating the kiss. There was a sort of desperation with the way his lips captured yours, begging to be released. His hands find their way to your hips, roughly gripping almost as though to confirm that it is indeed you. His brown locs softly tugged by your hands, drawing him in closer. "Fuck." He mumbles against your lips, causing you to give his hair another tug. He groans softly, his grip on your hips tightening, causing you to slightly gasp against his lips.

Reality finally hits you. Shit. You're in public, more specifically a hallway in a hospital, not exactly the best place to act out your fantasy. You quickly pull yourself away, heart pounding against your chest as you catch your breath. "Charlie..." Your voice drifts off as you press your hands against his chest. "We can't do this... at least not here." A playful smirk tugs at the corner of his lips; his grip on your hips slips away, hands finding yours. He quickly drags you off, not a single thought running through your mind. It almost feels surreal, following behind him, his beautifully tame hair a mess. He looks back at you, a grin on his lips. Everything feels and looks as if it's in slow motion. This can't be real, can it? You're peeled from your thoughts as he pulls you into an empty room, shutting the door behind you. Before you even get the chance to glance at your surroundings, his lips capture yours in a hungry kiss, erasing any thoughts you may have had. Your hand slips between his belt buckle, pulling him against you, eliciting a gasp from the both of you. He pulls away, looking you up and down. "I hope you don't have anything planned after this because I'm going to ruin you." You press your thighs together, the thought alone turning you on.

With that, he slides his black tie off, tossing it to the floor. Your hands immediately get to work on his shirt, hurriedly unbuttoning it. In one swift motion, your shirt is slid over your head, discarded without a second thought. His piercing brown eyes scan over your hungrily, taking in your thick figure. "Not a lot of men can handle me, so I hope you know what you're getting yourself into." You blurt the words out, a hint of doubt in your voice. "Why don't you let my actions speak for themselves?" With that, his hands are back on you, backing you up until the back of your thighs hit the bed. A quiet giggle escapes your lips as you fall back, hitting the soft bed behind you. You adjust yourself, your head falling against the rough hospital pillows. Charlie's hands firmly grip your ankles, slightly pulling you towards him, a squeal leaving your lips. His eyes flicker between yours and your bottoms, and without a second thought, your hands fly down to the buttons on your pants, hurriedly undoing them, popping one off in the process. He finishes pulling them off of you, discarding them across the room.

His lips frantically meet yours once more, as though he had been deprived of this. You stretch your hands over to his belt buckle, giving it a tug. His hands fly down, belt off in one movement. “That desperate huh?” You playfully run your fingertips over the fabric of his pants, feeling the outline of him. His breath hitches in his throat as you touch him. "You don't know what you're doing to me, Y/N." You position yourself upwards, arms flying around his neck, pulling him down to your level, placing one last kiss on his lips before trailing down his jaw, his head leans back, a groan escaping his lips as you trail wet kisses down his neck, gently nipping at his skin. As you work on his neck, his hand finds its way to the waistband of your panties, slowly slipping in two fingers. His fingers tease your entrance, causing you to let out a desperate whine, craving more. "Please Charlie." You beg, back slightly arching, urging him to continue. His fingers slowly dip into your entrance, a moan escaping your parted lips. His fingers move slowly, pulling them out almost fully before dipping back in. You toss your head back, fingers clawing into his shoulders as you moan desperately. "Need more." You plead as his agonizingly slow pace makes your head spin. His pace quickens at your desperate pleas, your eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched against him, your breath hitching until suddenly, he pulls his fingers out, causing you to cry out at the suddenly empty feeling.

"Can't let you finish that quickly. This is only just the beginning." A taunting smirk tugs at his lips as he tugs at the zipper on his pants, pulling them off quickly before diving back down to your lips as if it were the only thing he needed. His breathing strained as he pushes you back down against the bed, hands interlocking with yours as he pins your arms above your head. His body shuddered against you as your hands explored his body, tracing your nails up and down his back. "Been wanting to do this the moment I saw you." He mumbles against your skin as he works down your neck, nipping and sucking at your hot skin. Your hips buck up softly, eliciting a moan from the both of you at the contact.

"I've been needing a doctor lately; I didn't think this is what my body meant." You breathlessly whisper the words, not even sure if he heard. "I think this is exactly what your body meant." He trails off as your hand slips between the waistband of his boxers. "I think this is what you need, Dr. Mayhew. " He groaned softly, his hips gently buckling at the sudden touch. Your slip his boxers down, his length springing free. "You're in no position to tease; just remember that. His eyes darkened as he stopped all his movements. "Such a desperate fucking slut. I just can't wait to ruin you." He pushes himself off of the bed; you scoot closer to the edge, desperate to feel him inside you. Your arousal grows as his hand grips his length, teasingly rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds. "More." You beg, the throbbing between your legs unbearable. Without hesitation, he snaps his hips into yours roughly, giving you no time to adjust. His head tosses back, eyes rolling as he groans. "Fuck, you feel so freaking good." Your mouth flew open, releasing one of the most sinfully beautiful sounds he had ever heard, which gave him the green light to keep going. With every thrust, the intensity built, the longing for you the moment he saw you, getting closer to you each day. The best reward for all the pent-up desire. His rhythm picked up, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. The pleasure completely consuming you, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you, causing him to go in deeper. He shamelessly let out a string of moans, feeling your walls clench against him, bringing him closer to his release. "Fuck, just like that." You cry out in pleasure; your walls clench around his cock, causing his thrusts to become sloppier. The pressure in your stomach is screaming to be released. "I'm going to cum." You whine out, grip slipping from his hands. He takes this as his cue to wrap his hand around your throat, lifting your head to look at him. "I want you to look at me when you come. I want you to see who makes you feel this good." You look into his eyes, gasping as you feel his dick twitching inside you, causing you to come undone. You cry out his name as you look into his eyes, his cum coming in spurts as he fills you up. The final waves of pleasure wash over you as his head falls down, savoring the feeling of being inside you. 

He slowly pulls out, leaving you feeling full and empty at the same time. Your chests falling and rising quickly against each other, the room still spinning as you come down from the high. After what feels like hours, he falls next to you on the hospital bed, chuckling to himself as he stares at the ceiling. "That was most definitely worth the wait." He whispers softly as he closes his eyes. You take off your glasses, wiping the sweat from your forehead. "I guess I really did need a doctor." You wink playfully as you both sit up, head going to rest against his shoulder. You knew you needed this kind of distraction from everything; the state of your sister had been taking a toll on you. Charlies places a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for a few seconds before he gets up. You follow behind, searching for the clothing you both hastily discarded. Once fully clothed, he holds the door open for you; the moment shared between you two forever imbedded into your minds, but the gentle clearing of a throat catches your attention. You turn around, facing a flustered Dr. Mayhew, his hair a mess, and his face flushed red with swollen lips. A complete mess. "So, Y/N... let me take you to a proper lunch, yeah?" You stop in your tracks, debating for a moment, the nervousness on his face clear as he waited for you to answer. "After that, how could I say no to lunch?" He laughs in relief, his arm snaking around your curvy waist. "Had me worried for a second-" Before he could finish, the intercom interrupts him "Paging Dr. Mayhew." You both look at each other, his hand falling away and he's off. “12:30 tomorrow, be ready!” He calls out as he rushes down the hallway, leaving you back to your thoughts, heat rising back to your face as you leave a flustered mess.

[inukag-archive]

Hi! I was wondering if you could recommend your favorite InuKag works. It can be about anything. ☺️

Hello, @heynikkiyousofine, long time no answer! When we received your ask, we'd had an few mod favourites grace the blog, so we put it on the back burner for a time. The time is now so we can introduce @kstewdeux; our newest member of the Fic Finder Team!

To answer this, we set ourselves a goal: pick 3 fics that have never been recommended. Each mod has listed theirs below, and we've included our previous lists at the end! Happy reading ♥

Important Note: Some of these fics are incomplete, despite being marked as such, and have not been updated in a very long time. We've marked incomplete fics with an asterisk (*) before the title for those who wish to avoid them.

KStew

Flat Line by Salvatore Shan SW (T)

When Inuyasha collapses in front of Kagome's house, its a race to find out what's wrong with him. As a hanyou, Kagome didn't think he could even get sick but is he enjoying being ill? Up until he's rushed to hospital, at least.

Gone Swimming by Quickening (X)

A peaceful woodland on the hottest day of the year. A shallow river flowing through the woods. A naked hanyou sleeping peacefully on the bank. An equally naked Kagome discovering him there. 'Nuf said.

Live and Let Die by doggieearlover (X)

InuYasha has been missing for five days. Kagome wants to search for him, but the others wish to sit and wait for his return. In desperation Kagome strikes off alone, in the middle of the night, in the attempt to find the hanyou. Will she be able to find him on her own, before it is too late?

Anisa

Kiss Me at Twilight by BlueMoon Goddess (M)

They were best friends since high school. But after the kiss they shared on New Year's Eve, feelings and desires he's never felt before come rushing in. Can he convince her that what they're feeling is real, that their meant to be more than just friends?

*Fade and Flare by Pinku (X)

Kagome, Japan's number one pop star, has fame, money, and a superstar boyfriend. All she wants is to be happy. All her overprotective manager Inuyasha wants, though, is her… How long can they last like this?

*Zero G by Torenza (M)

Kagome unwittingly falls into a deadly game as the victim of a conspiracy. The players are ruthless, and Kagome is way out of her depth, especially when the stakes are life and death.

Lost

*To Catch a Demon by Alaviles (M)

Kagome and Inuyasha were able to live in marital bliss. At least, that's what she thought. But Inuyasha has been feeling rather restless about his life. While yearning for an experience of a time now gone, chaos ensues, and he must learn to accept a reality he would never have dreamed up for himself. One he will never wish to give up again. (Ongoing)

In Our Pocket of the World (Series) by Emmyyasha (G-E)

Inuyasha and Kagome may be stuck together in Quarantine, but they don't need to leave their apartment to have an adventure together.

The Darkest of Nights by kiichandesu (T)

He isn't afraid of the dark, but the night of the new moon always finds him terrified. Until it doesn't.

Pixie

*Not How it's Done by @dyaz-stories (K+)

After a one-night stand, Kagome finds out she's pregnant. She chooses to keep the baby but discovers, nine months later, that the kid is a half-demon. When she runs into the father by chance, it feels important to them both to do their best to raise the kid together.

The Fae and the Contract by @cstorm86 (E)

Kagome's mother is very sick. After having lost her father years ago to illness, she is terrified of losing her mother too. There are tales of a fae in the great forest who can make deals and save others. Can the fae save her mother? She has to at least try.

*Nextlahualtin by @procrastinatorrexii & @moonkissedart (M)

Once, Kagome had believed her grandfather was just an eccentric. A priest who, after long days of ritual and spellwork and dealing with politics and problems and the complexities of the Great City, liked to amuse himself by telling outlandish stories about the gods. Once he is killed, in a brutal and baffling way, she is left with no choice but to hope that at least one of his wild tales was actually true.

Could there really be a god dwelling among them? And, if there is, what else might be out there, waiting in the shadows?

Mama

Inextricably Knotted by ssukidesu (M)

Kagome Higurashi was orphaned as a baby and raised by her cruel aunt until the age of ten, after which she went to school and learned the art of service and self-suppression. Now eighteen, Kagome takes a job as the governess of Shippo, the young ward of the great and mysterious Lord Inuyasha Taisho. But as Kagome gets to know her bemusing master, a ghost seems to haunt his estate, hinting that there is a long-lost secret hiding on the third floor.

your flesh is so nice, let me take a bite - by @doginabirdcage (E)

Kagome's taken a new job with the prolific Taisho law firm in Osaka to advance her budding career. Everything's going rather well until Toga's youngest son shows up for work.

Necessities by Bee_Tawon (M)

Inuyasha and Kagome have a chance encounter with some rogue bandits. Kagome learns what it means to survive in Sengoku Jidai.

Rudd

Slave to the Heart by LovingmyKitsune (M)

She never once imagined to find herself unhappy. However, a sudden upset throws this young at heart girl into a whirlpool of emotion and conflict. Complexities and truths are discovered and all she can do is hold on tight, hoping for a miracle. InuKag

It's Written in the Stars by ElmOak1991 (M)

Kagome paled when she realized they were gone. Days ago she had told Inuyasha that she was going home to stay. She couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t pretend to be okay with being second best in his heart. It hurt too much to know he loved Kikyo more. Now that her jewel shards were gone, she found herself falling to the floor with tears in her eyes. He didn’t even say goodbye before taking away her choice of returning. Her heart broke as she thought about all she had lost. The people who had become her family. Five years have passed since that day, and the memory still stung. She would never forgive him for taking her choice away. Never. However, moving on from her past is proving harder than she would have thought.

I'll Find a Way by Gabrielle015 (M)

Everyone he ever knew and loved thinks he's dead. Being an agent was never an easy feat, but being separated from his friends and the love of his life has taken a toll on him. Three long years after his 'death' Inuyasha is completing several missions in hopes to defeat Naraku and go home. Would Kagome still be waiting for him, or had she found someone else?

Previous Mod Lists:

Mod Comfort Fics

Mod Favorites

Mod’s Favorite Ongoing Fics (as of mid-2022)

Feel free to add your own recs in the comments or reblogs! Check our Masterlist of previous lists to see which topics we've covered.  After reviewing our submission guidelines, send us an ask (here).

[yanderes-galore]

Jujutsu Kaisen Maki concept!!!

Sure! Decided to keep it Pre-Shibuya Incident to make things simpler. Maybe another time I'll do Post-Shibuya Incident since she changes then.

Yandere! Maki Zenin Concept

(Pre-Shibuya Incident)

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Slight controlling behavior, Slight stalking, Social isolation, Violence, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Maki is a character who would probably lean more platonic, yet is capable of romantic feelings even if she doesn't show it.

She's a stoic woman, always repressing her emotions based on how she was raised.

She's headstrong, straightforward, and capable.

She was always told by her family that she's weak.

Yet she's always been determined to prove them wrong, even if she can't see Curses by normal means.

Maki is shown to come off as cold or harsh at times.

But she's still caring for those she works with.

She'd care for her obsession and would want them to be strong.

Many yanderes prefer a weaker obsession to control.

Yet Maki doesn't want to control her obsession much.

She wants them to be capable just like her.

Which ends up being obsessive as she feels you need her to learn correctly and be properly protected.

I feel she's another protective yet stoic yandere towards her obsession.

There's times she's harsh yet she'd tell you it's all for your own good.

She's used to being called weak... so she wants her obsession to become strong beside her.

She seems like she'd be a mentor for a lower classman obsession in Jujutsu High.

She probably doesn't focus on romantic feelings a lot.

So she shows her feelings towards you through overseeing and training you.

It's probably one of the only ways she knows how to act on her feelings.

When you first meet her she's rather harsh.

She supposedly does it because she cares according to your classmates.

You probably can't even count how many times she's pushed you into the dirt during training.

There's times you've been bruised and bleeding.

Although, afterwards you're usually well taken care of.

Her obsession is subtle and you may even get the wrong idea about her.

Especially when she starts going harsher on you.

You may think she's targeting you or even hates you with how harsh she goes during training.

In reality, it's just Maki being concerned for you.

She has trouble expressing herself, always being told to bottle it up.

When she experiences these new feelings towards you, she expresses them in the only way she knows how.

Rigorous training to make you stronger.

She's been shown to want those under her to grow strong with her.

Which would be her reasoning for making you fall on your butt so often.

Maki isn't devoid of care...

She just often gets misread and... doesn't really want to show emotion.

She doesn't like others worrying about her and struggles to let others be close to her.

She simultaneously wants her obsession close and at a distance.

It's conflicting to her.

Which makes her struggle to process it.

Maki isn't possessive or easily jealous.

She quietly observes you and is a critic of your training.

In a way, your bonding is through training.

To be a Jujutsu Sorcerer is a dangerous task.

One you could easily die in.

Maki wants to not only be strong herself for a variety of reasons... but she wants you strong too.

She'd never lock you in a room, yet she'd be close to your side all the time.

She wants you both strong and often insists on being the one to help train you in your techniques.

She wants to be strong not only to spite her family... but protect you, the one she truly cares about in this world.

There's times you can tell she doesn't hate you eventually.

Small smiles when you're near or say something she approves of...

That or her being attentive towards your wounds after training or battles, showing concern over the scratches on your body.

Those close to Maki can tell she's interested in you in some way.

She just struggles to admit it.

Mostly because she doesn't want to admit how she feels.

It's an awkward conversation she doesn't need...

So hopefully just protecting you will help?

Yet... How far would she go to see you safe?

Maki already pushes herself quite a bit.

She pushes you, too, just to see you succeed and be okay.

There's times she even follows you in the halls, eyes watching you like a hawk as you go about your day.

Her fellow classmates comment on this odd behavior of hers.

She seems a bit too... focused on you?

Maki always gets defensive or brushes their concerns off.

She isn't too focused...

She just wants to make sure you're settling in fine.

In a way she's like an overprotective upperclassman.

If she had romantic intentions, she'd be more flustered when others confront her.

But the truth is, she herself may not even know if she's just being protective... or if she's strangely in love.

She just knows she wants you safe and capable of defending yourself.

She also wants to be by your side during that....

Maki personally doesn't view herself as controlling.

Although, ironically, she can seem controlling since she occupies so much of your time.

She has a tendency to work you too hard.

She often calls you for private lessons and has a tendency to run you ragged.

While afterwards she apologizes, she never seems to explain herself.

She just does it again once you've recovered.

When you bring it up, she brushes it off.

She's just helping you become your best self.

In reality she's doing it to not only be close to you... but ease her worries.

Maki is... conflicted by her behavior.

She isn't sure if what she's doing is right.

But it's unknown if she really cares, honestly.

Your bonds with your friends end up weakening as Maki takes most of your time.

You comply reluctantly due to how stern Maki is.

After all, she just wants to make sure you're capable...

Yet it feels like she doesn't think you are already at times.

Her training you and tending to you ends up taking most of your time.

She doesn't kidnap or murder, but with how much you're around her... You're pretty isolated.

Others try to ask her to go easier on you.

But she says if she does, you can't take care of herself.

Although, even she begins to doubt her reasoning....

She finds herself increasingly flustered or nervous about you.

Sometimes she even stays close to you, her touch lingering as she patches you up.

At some point she's come to realize she feels something for you, right?

Her feelings certainly aren't normal...

But she isn't going to admit that.

Won't she look weak?

She's definitely a yandere who seems harmless to her obsession.

She just seems like she wants to try and help, that's why she takes all of your attention.

Yet that's precisely the issue.

You think her behavior is normal, in reality she's monopolizing your time together.

Especially when she no longer is in denial of how she feels.

She feels she needs to help you no longer be seen as weak, and feels she's the only one who should do it.

For the most part, you trust Maki since she's your mentor in a way.

Surely all this training does have its benefits...

Why would she have ulterior motives with you, right?

[redjaybathood]

They were probably talking about people not being able to afford heating or having a decent place to live. Like, I know everyone - but the people who actually lived through it/had talked with their grandmas and grandpas about their childhood and youth - believes USSR was some kind of paradise, ditto with communist China. Nobody talks about slavery, about not having enough food to eat - and I am not talking about the famous famines/Holodomor even, just the scarcity of food, unless you are in the party elite - about how people were forced to live in barracks (not like military type barracks, but the cheap flimsy dirty cold type of communal housing with no central heating, no water, not even an indoor toilet)

"oh but USSR gave people free flats" unless you are talking about flats former owners of which, say, Jews, other minorities and types of enemies of the people, were arrested and shot or imprisoned in slavery labor camp prisons (to escape which people even resorted to cannibalism at times... This remark is directly to people who compare USSR prison system to the US one and even find the US one more harsh. How to put it? Prisons in most countries formerly occupied by Soviets are way better than back then, and excluding some more EU oriented countries, the inmates are pretty jealous of the US' prisons conditions, let's put it this way) - so their flats were freed up and up to grabs.

And sure, some people would get those flats, but not everyone.

This is called socrealism not because it realistically and truthfully depicts what's going on: a woman from lower class with a lot of children gets to have amazing luxurious flat, leisure and conditions to grow houseplants, raise a cat, buy a deficit radio or bike - all thanks to Stalin. That wasn't the reality of most of USSR citizen, especially working/farming class (which her hairstyle suggest she's from). That's a carrot they hanged before your nose.

The reality was, even if you got an apartment built by the government, this could have taken years. My family, for example, worked for thirty years before getting a 2 bedroom for six people. And my gran was what they called then, an invalid of childhood (meaning, she got a work-impairing disability from the childhood, thus she was supposed to get more social help from the government. Yeah, right). She didn't have a light job either. She was working full time. My dad, on the other hand, was doing one of the most difficult and health threatening jobs ever.

But hey, you will say, it's still a free flat! I'm in the goddamn capitalist corporate hell America, and I am paying thousands of American dollars to rent!

I feel you, Buddy, I don't have a home of my own either. With the war, I never will - I am pretty sure I will die faster than I can save for a downpayment.

But free flats weren't really free. You were still paying for them, with your labour being the least of it, bc your labour was underpaid. Like, you guys have 401K or something, right? Well, imagine you from now on have to get a pay cut, with your employer keeping most value of what you created, to themselves, and using some of it for a housing fund, where you may or may not get a flat for your grandchildren somewhere down the line. If you don't die earlier or become an enemy of the state or just being not very liked or socially adept person. "Capitalists still do that! We work, they enrich themselves! And now I can't afford to buy a flat!" so yeah, you're basically saying that there's no difference between capitalism and communism, you're still exploited in communism. You get that, right?

So yeah, you would have to pee a lot because you don't have money for charcoal or access to the market - and will be thrown into jail and or short for buying it on the black market - under maoism. And you would have to live in flimsy housing with lotsa spiders because you have to work dozens of years to build a whole apartment building by the cost of your labour, before you get even one room there.

(and that's if you don't piss someone who is sitting on the apartment distribution channel, because oh well. No housing for you, comrade)

I'm glad you two at least did not make fun of settler colonialism.

to be fair i dont know much about communism but i dont remember ever heard of something like that being part of their beliefs if im being honest with you

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel

Chapter 1: elation

low to medium honor Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Hi, I’m unwell about him and I needed to post this bc I need people to talk to about it and I probably also need help lmao also may be a bit ooc. New to posting here 😳😖😵‍💫

Warnings: dubious consent, low honor Arthur, smut, naive reader

WC: 7504 this is so long I’m sorry boys

Tags: innocence kink, size kink, vaginal and oral sex, no TB thank god. Arthur is sweet still but has mean tendencies obviously

Arthur’s new visitor has him hot under the collar.

The snow up here is about to overtake Lucky, the loyal Clydesdale you had known since you were a girl. His legs amble forward, winds whipping his mane and tail about. Hunkering over him; gripping his reins for dear life, you try to urge him further. Your throat is tight with nerves and of course the impending reality that Lucky has been slowing down. That the weather has only been getting worse since you started riding out. The last thing isn’t worth mentioning.

As if he could hear you over the blizzard winds, you clutch tight to his reins.

“Please Lucky, you can do it, boy. You can’t leave me here,”

His hooves trudge through the snow, his big legs managing to stay above the snow fall. He falters a bit here and there, more often as you go on. Grunting and shaking at his tack. You pat along his strong neck. The cold turns the moisture in the air to ice, the heat in his breath disappearing.

“I’m sorry, Lucky…” Shuffling onward, leading him on. Frost gathers over your coat and you would think the landscape beautiful if not for the lethality of it all. You’re not sure if people are meant to survive in places like this. With nose numb and fingers creaky in your thick gloves, you know you have to stop. Scanning the horizon for anything resembling a shelter, imagining yourself curled up in Lucky’s side, you can see the soft glow from a cabin a ways down the road. The only vestige of humanity you had seen for miles on what feels like the edge of the world. Windows glow with the tell tale orange of a warm fireplace. Your foot nudges into Lucky’s side for your last push, your last chance.

“Go!” you slap the reins on his neck, working him up to a trot. You approach and see what looks to be some sort of barn. It’s a small stable, a nice place to put a horse or two, maybe a dairy cow. Another horse lazily sleeps, fresh hay for his bedding. At your entrance, he perks up but stares oddly, easing back. Lucky knickers and snorts, just happy to be inside, you think.

“I’ll be back, hopefully not too soon…” You leave him there while he starts mooching the hay laid out for his new roommate. You pat his flank and watch the ice melt from his lashes.

Braced for the cold, arms crossed over your chest, you pull your legs forward through the snow outside. It’s a fight to get through the piles of snow, clouding around your lower thighs. Finally, you're on the wooden steps of the porch, which creak a bit underneath your feet. Panting, you meekly pat on the door.

“Please, I need help,” you shout, trying to speak over the blizzard. “Is anyone there?” You can hear the crackling fire, feeling like it’s warming you already. Heavy steps come to the door.

“Who’s out there?” A gruff masculine voice answers your call. It grates over your nerves, though if you weren’t alone you might have found it to be soothing. With any luck, he’s the father of a nice family whose heart would be softened by a lone young woman near frozen to death on his front door.

“Please, sir. I promise it’s just me,” your pleading seems to have done the trick and the man opens the door. Finally hitting you with a heat you had almost forgotten. He moves to the side after sizing you up. Hesitating even for a second causes him to dip his head to direct you inside. Forcing your stiff legs to lift. He takes a moment to analyze the gap you left behind. Carefully, he shuts the door and pulls the curtain closed. Maybe he had been robbed before? Lonely homesteads were easy and preferable targets for bandits. Typically neighbors were miles away, if you had any neighbors to speak of or to.

You get a better look at him, tall and strong, chest the size of a barrel. The sleeves of his plain white shirt are rolled up and the top two buttons are undone. Leather suspenders keep his deep brown trousers up. He stands as if unsure what to do with his body besides intimidate you with it, showing not an ounce of uncertainty on his face.

There is no one else here and if there is, they’re in the other rooms of his quiet and moderate home. The house smells of coffee, a disarming smell. Salt pork and boiled potatoes too. Certainly provisions that could last through this harsh winter.

“What the hell were you doin’ out there?” His tone is accusational and judgemental. He must think you an idiot to be traveling in this weather and maybe he wasn’t all wrong. Instead of talking, your jaw clicks your teeth together. The hard look he gives you melts away and he helps you out of your coat. He's almost surprised to see you, eyes stuck on every piece of you revealed to him. Snowflakes and icy debris are shed from you and you sigh. You try your best to get your natural reactions to stop but they insist on ceasing on their own. The man huffs, stepping towards the percolator on the stove. You watch on, feeling strange that he hasn’t really invited you to sit or do much of anything else.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” he takes a seat by the fire in a big chair seemingly made just for him. He sets down the coffee before taking a match and striking it, lighting the end of a cigarette he retrieved from the table. The coffee steams gently and you take it; seeing as you're very sure he had made it for you. Jerkily, you move to sit as he sets his eyes on you. The couch is soft and warm, homely with a pretty blanket, thick and colorful patterns. While his gaze seems easy and relaxed, he watches you like a hawk.

“No, I… was getting something for my granny. She’s not feeling too good. Ma sent me to get something for her. The doctor, I suppose. Didn’t make it too far,”

He exhales. The smallest noise of amusement.

“I can imagine,” You take a sip of the coffee. Warm and sweet smelling. “What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” You stare, feeling a bit like a child being scolded by this man.

“Oh well, I-”

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed. If it weren’t for me, well…” scratching at the darker scruff that grows on his face. His hair is that same light brown, almost blond. He sucks the smoke out of the slim roll of paper. It's bitter and acrid, a contrast to the warm smoky fireplace. Your brows furrow. Deciding to change the subject before you say something out of turn, you take another sip out of the enameled cup he had given you. The smoke he inhaled releases in a cloud around his features, obscuring the knowing smile he wears.

“I’m sorry mister, but I don't think you gave me your name…” He ashes his cigarette, tossing his legs up on the table in the center of the room. The weight of him and his leather boots don’t rattle the table, he’s careful with himself.

“Arthur. You married?” His gaze is as hot and red as the cherry burning on the end of his cigarette. You almost start to feel uncomfortable. If there weren't a blizzard outside, you might consider walking out. He hadn’t even given you a chance to say your name. Your nervous look only seems to enthrall him more. You only now notice he’s looking at your hands but thick gloves still encase your fingers.

“No, I'm afraid not,” You contemplate telling him a lie but think about when you might have to remove your gloves. You’d rather not get caught in a fib. Though perhaps his rather brusque flirting might have come to an end should you have warned him of a man who would be looking after you. Being out here by yourself seems to have him convinced that no one truly was looking after you anyway.

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself? Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” The butt of his cigarette meets its end in the ashtray on the table. Your face tweaks into a small nervy smile, nodding. “You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Your fingers start to twiddle, feeling your face warm, maybe because of the flames licking at the logs on the hearth. He’s certainly not the ugliest man you’ve ever seen nor the oldest, you frown at such an oddly self deprecating comment. You’re surprised he doesn’t already have a wife and several children running around, reading stories by the fireplace that you sit in front of. You revert back to old tactics.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind too much,”

“Ain’t no trouble,” His hands seem to itch to be doing something, he also seems to twiddle his fingers. One hand propped over the arm of his chair.

“Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He stands, hands on his knees and then he’s going into the next room. It gives you a chance to evaluate the room you're in. The mantle has all sorts of strange little knick knacks, the walls, plenty of… distinctive hunting trophies and supplies. Several gleaming guns in different finishes are displayed proudly. Although pretty, they don’t seem unused. If anything, well loved and worn. You’re starting to feel every bit the lamb in the wolf’s den this man is already treating you as.

He comes out of the room, holding a pair of cotton long johns in a cream color. You’re not sure why he thinks you need them but he has been nothing but hospitable if not a bit too strong on his pleasantries and very blunt. It can be lonely out here in the country, so you offer a small smile. He stares at you, even as you awkwardly side step him and go to his bedroom. You close the door and sigh, nice to just have a moment to yourself. Away from the strange man and the cold. The warm smell of fabric and the natural musk of the wood calm you, along with the faint smell of something distinctive to him. You claw and peel at the layers of your clothing, riding gear and boots. You notice how wet your clothes are from the melting ice. Perhaps he knew better than you did.

You slip into the warm cotton of what must be his long johns. They’re nice and feel almost new. Far too big for you. That man, Arthur, did seem to be quite big. Here in the quiet room, you can remember the wind, the cut of the cold air against your cheeks, hear the wind rattle the glass. You're glad to be out of all of that.

It’s a rather modest room, a bed, an armoire, a nightstand, a cabinet. Cigarettes and a few cigars, several empty bottles of bourbon. Some old faded photographs but you're not so brave as to pick them up. The room is severely lacking in the touch of a woman department, bed pushed up against the wall. The smallest mirror adorns the wall, dusty and plain. You turn to the door and see him, standing there.

You startle and put your hand to your chest.

“You scared me Mister…” no last name to utter has you confused, he had never given you one. Your smile isn’t forced but it fades a little when you see him looking at you.

“Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” he’s really giving several once overs that feel like thrice overs, drinking you in like those bottles of bourbon. Your face feels hot again. He stares at the junction between your legs, up to your chest and then finally your face. You don’t think you've ever seen a man look at you like that; not that you spend very much time around men. The type of men at the saloons in town were no good for you, or at least that’s what Ma would say.

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” he puffs up in pride a bit, you tilt your head. Hopefully he hadn’t been watching you snoop around, or even worse, changing. You nod, a small gesture.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” he makes space for you to exit down the small hallway. You try not to brush against him but he’s so big, fills up the sparse room between you and the wall. He drops his arm on the doorframe, making you pass underneath him. Looking up at him, you can make out the color of his eyes, a pretty summer blue. His shirt and suspenders smell clean and wintery. He makes you feel miniscule, a mouse and cougar. His features; squared and rugged from weathering the elements, are set in a stony expression but there’s excitement in his eyes.

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” he says. His hands twitch again, the one in the door is a tight fist. You know that you can’t leave. And you wouldn’t beat him should he chase, you doubt you’d even make it to Lucky. Especially now that he insisted you put on his underclothes. The temptation to be in dryer clothes has trapped you here. You flinch as his hand descends to rest on your neck and collar, rubbing. His body moves forward, taking your silence as acceptance.

“Please, I-“

“I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman,” his hand squeezing at your shoulder, you don’t dare to move. Broad chested, he seems to block out all of the light from the meager lamps and the fireplace.

“Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He eases off you and guides you down the hall, your heart thumping out of your chest. Certainly not because of the romance but the claustrophobic feeling of being alone with a man such as him, big and very strong in his advances. Thankfully, not too strong. Yet, a voice in your head warns.

The weight of him thumps down the wooden floors of his home. He’s big and he seems very adept at killing things. And you think you’ve heard the name Arthur Morgan before. The very man has his big hand on your lower back, warm and firm. He guides you to sit, pulling a chair out for you at a small dining table, plates and tin cups, forks out for your dining needs. Very gentlemanly for such a gruff man.

“I already had my supper but I thought you might be hungry,” He sets down a bottle of fine brandy and a plate of steaming food. More of the potatoes and salt pork, fried in more pork fat. Your hands slowly reach for a fork. He has two small tumblers set out, in which he pours two small servings of the liquor. You don’t think you’ve had much to drink except perhaps a bit of wine. He slides one glass to you and you nod.

“Thank you-”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. Think your company is enough for me,” He stares and he watches until you finally take a slow, small bite of the food he had laid out for you. As if the name he called you wasn’t enough to make heat rise to your face. He hasn’t done anything too bad yet. But you can’t shake the feeling that something at some point may go awry. Not that you could do much about it. He’s made sure of that. Finally he takes a sip of his drink, throwing it back with no hesitation. It slips easily down his throat. You decide to taste it and it immediately begins to burn the back of your throat, you can’t help but make a displeased face at the bitter taste. You can hardly bring yourself to swallow the fiery liquid. He smirks.

“Now ain’t that cute. You ain’t never had no drink before?” Arthur’s face is smug and endeared all at once. As if he’s just seen a puppy or a litter of kittens, all snuggled up. You feel embarrassed at his reaction.

“I have; some church wine, once,” You murmur out, trying to sound brave but you only sound defensive and inexperienced. Based on what you’ve seen of him, you don’t think there isn't liquor he hasn’t tried, an animal he hasn’t shot, or a gun he hasn’t fired.

“Where you from, girl?” You finally tell him your name in, again, what is a defensive and girlish tone when you had wanted to be assertive. He quirks a brow, repeats his question and somehow your name in his mouth makes you shiver. The half smile he gives you is even more charmed. He leans over the table, pouring himself another glass of brandy.

“I’m from west of here, out by Long Pine and that abandoned lumber mill. My family has lived there a while. My Pa traps and once upon a time, he went to California to find some gold with my uncle. My ma is from round here…” He listens to you, attentively. Focused on how your mouth moves, how your fingers mess with your hair. The prongs of the fork sink into a softened piece of the potatoes he made you. He nods, watching as you take more and more bites of the food he has given you.

“Not really from nowhere, moved around a lot when I was a boy. Had to make my own life. Didn’t matter though, that all went up in smoke…” It seems as if he remembered bitter memories at your included topic of family. It's all rather secretive, no Ma or Pa to be mentioned. The crackling fire does little to fill the silence.

“Do you like living here?” You ask him, hoping to not put him in a bad mood, especially with drink involved. It was your turn to question him anyway. He looks up at you, his eyes meet yours and your stomach feels strange. It feels like he's glad you’ve asked him a question. Like your interest is unexpected.

“Well, maybe not right now, weather’s shit, long ride to town, real quiet and lonely, but I can think of a few things that have made it more bearable today,” You nod along, his voice rough and deep, you can feel how it almost touches you, over your ears and down the sides of your neck. “I’ll let ya finish, all this yammerin’ on,” you try to finish but he really has given you much more food than you had even wanted nor needed. He corks his brandy, storing it away and takes away the glass you hadn’t touched after your first sip. He finishes your glass, putting away the dishes in the basin.

You’ve eaten all you could and you stand, placing the dish with the rest.

“I ain’t the best cook but I get on okay,” He stands in the small kitchen. As you set down the plate, he corners you again.

“Might be better if you did it next time, the cookin’, I mean. Your Ma teach you to cook?” You can read the subtext. Did she teach you to cook for a man, your prospective husband and family. The idea makes you feel strange. Just what does this man think is going to happen?

“As much as any mother teaches her daughter, I suppose. Somehow I feel you wouldn’t be too hard to impress,” You let your tongue move before you think but he seems to just enjoy it. He breaks into a smile, playful but still, he has you backed into the counter.

“I like your little spitfires, girl, think I’d like your cookin’ too, more than any fancy bullshit they make in St. Denis,” You feel that shy heat in your cheeks. A compliment for your cooking and you haven't so much as boiled some water. His hands are up on you, your hips, petting and rubbing with his thumbs. “You’re just the prettiest girl, you know that?”

“Mr. Morgan…” you saying his name in a soft tone only makes him more excited, leaning in. He crowds you with his body, his broad shoulders and muscled forearms trapping you against his wooden counter.

“Y’ain’t got no boy at home, do ya? Some yellow-bellied greenhorn, trying to touch on you like this?” He’s almost angry at just the idea of you having a younger beau waiting for you at home. No man has ever called you pretty, let alone the prettiest thing he ever saw. Maybe being alone on this mountain has driven him mad. “Wouldn't blame the feller, I ain’t exactly no better,” his hands tighten, pinch into your flesh, to almost the bone.

“Sir, you must be drunk, I don’t think you mean that,” his expression becomes more annoyed at your words.

“So you do?”

“No, I don’t have anyone, Mr. Morgan,” his grip is on your waist now, just under your breasts. A satisfied smile stretches his lips, his eyes relax again.

“You can call me Arthur but I kinda like when you call me that, respectful little girl I got. N’ I ain’t the kinda man gets drunk on half a bottle,” The front of his wide frame is up against yours again, a quiet groan leaving him, something rather stiff presses into you. “Mean every damn word I’m sayin’. I look like I’m a liar?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Your voice falters slightly, “I’m sorry, I hardly know you, Mister, I shouldn’t be here, I can’t-” You sound so squeaky and whiny but you have no wherewithal to notice. Your hands come up to grab him, trying to push him away in a panic. He’s finally pushed you enough that you’ve started to squirm.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll make an honest woman outta you, said I’d never leave ya alone,” Then there’s an iron grip on your wrists. “Swear I’ll make you my wife,” He’s shushing you, calming you like a skittish mare. His lips against your ear, the scratchy stubble on his jaw against the delicate skin of your face. Your arms stop pulling so he lets you go, slowly. He takes a deep breath, thinking for a moment. He deliberates, looking down at your chest, at your face and hair. You look up, bewildered and unsure.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna take ya to bed now and I don’t want too much fuss from you, do you understand me?” His voice is hot and cold, low like a sweeping bird of prey. Your eyes well with tears. You can’t believe that this man is the one who saved your life. His hand is around your neck, so small in his hold. You can only imagine what will take place in the next moments of your life.

“I said, do you understand me,” He punches his words out one by one. Arthur’s fingers don't tighten around your neck, a small notion of his patience. He hasn’t quite ravaged you like you thought he might either, hasn’t torn your clothes and groped at you crudely. Hasn't gripped cruelly at the hair on your head. You hum and nod, trying to stay strong but you’ve never been particularly good at that. He hasn’t been too mean about this and you hope nothing you do spurs him to be meaner.

“Good girl,” he picks you up, like the bride he thinks you are, carrying you towards the bedroom you had changed in. He’s much more excited now, happy to show off his strength. His tone is proud; you think of you but you're not too sure. You think you’ll make the distinction.

“Please, Arthur, no,” You whine through your hiccups, trying not to sound too defiant but it’s hard with the word ‘no’ in your mouth. “Can’t we jus-t-t-talk more? Please…” You cling to his shoulders, aiming for his heart strings. He looks down to your face, your appeasing expression. “We haven’t even kissed yet…”

“Well, honey, I can fix that,” His smile widens, he sets you down on the bed, blankets sprawled over the mattress. His mouth is over yours as he spreads your legs and pushes the breadth of him into the space. “You're so goddamn beautiful when you look up and beg,” His lips fit over yours and start kissing, licking along the softest flesh. You squeal and hold onto his shoulders, legs kicking weakly at nothing. His lips don’t feel unpleasant, you actually quite like the feeling of him kissing you, even with the taste of liquor on him.

“My darlin’s first kiss, how special is that,” It’s piping hot and messy, his spit all over you, the strange feeling of his tongue trying to touch yours, inevitably succeeding. You gasp and grip onto him. Your heart feels like it’s going much too fast.

“As good as you look wearing my clothes, I think it’s time we take these off you,” He pulls at the buttons of the long johns you put on, fiddling and then impatiently tearing at them.

‘Christ alive’ are the words he mutters when he has the front opened, staring at your breasts. Your face is white hot and your hands reflexively move to cover your chest. However, he’s faster than you, grabbing onto you. His eyes of blazing blue warn you without a word spoken, then they scan over you, drinking in every detail. His gaze makes you burn, you can feel the reverence of every second he spends committing you to memory.

Like a furnace, he runs so hot, making you sweat. His hands are slow and gentle, rubbing the swell of them, watching the way your face reflects your feelings. You're not supposed to enjoy how a man touches you, especially a man like Arthur. But his hands are just the right texture, temperature.

You can hardly think of anything to say, listening as he pants, getting spurred on by the sight of your skin, your soft underbelly and the sensitive tips of your nipples. How to make him stop is completely lost to you. A small part of you doesn't want to find out how.

“C’mere,” he lifts your midsection to his lips with his big rough hands, helping himself to you, putting one of your nipples in his mouth. Every bit of you tingles, a million shivers rack your insides. The sound you let out makes him laugh. Each swipe of his tongue, glance of his teeth on you makes you squirm. His stubble tickles your chest and scrapes roughly. Your hands are easily held down, he catches them.

“I thought I said there weren't gonna be much fuss,” His voice is firm, scolding. “Tell me you were listenin’ to what I damn well told you,” You flinch even if he hasn't even so much as raised his voice. You nod again. “C’mon darlin’, wanna hear you say you’ll be listening to me from now on,” His hands wrench the rest of the union suit off you, down your now bare legs.

“Yes, I’ll listen,” you breathe and whisper, putting those meek airs he seemed to like in you were you not giving him lip.

“That’s better, you know how to make me happy already, don’tcha?” This time, his head lowers to tuck into your neck, biting and sucking. The feeling has you squirming away more, harrowing noises that embarrass you to the core leak from your voice box. Your fingers are in his hair, legs squeezing him as hard as they can.

“You like this, I know you do,” when you try to shake your head, his hand slaps your thigh, like a horse that needs to get. You feel betrayed almost, having convinced yourself that he wasn’t lying, that he wanted to be sweet on you, marry you. That he wouldn’t hurt you. Whimpering and a small cry, make him look at you.

“Aw, honey, don’t like when I hit ya?” You’re so confused, as if he would care, his tone only slightly mocking you. A laugh jitters his words, a deep soft sound. Warmly, he kisses you, rubbing along your thigh, spreading you open. Can hardly see when his hand dips down between your legs, his thumb grazes the little slit which usually was nothing more than your unmentionables to you. The hair that grows there is tenderly pet and laid flat by gentle strokes of his fingers, making you whine, shutting your legs. To no avail on his strong grip on your legs.

“Sometimes girls who don’t listen need a little spankin’ from their daddy, don’t they? Not all the time but only when you ain’t actin’ right,” a finger of his starts to explore the tightness of you, pushing against you. Your body feels alight, a pure pleasure filling your lower belly. A pleasure which you had always been told was for lesser women. But how did he know how to make you feel so good?

“Promise I won’t hit ya if you keep listenin’, honey, never raise a hand to your face, neither. Girl like you don’t need a violent man,” your legs are tense and your lungs stall, unevenly breathing as he takes liberties exploring your most private spots. His finger is shallowly pumping against you, testing your limits, watching your face. Your body is half relaxed and half electrified. You can hardly stand to loop up at him, shy and ashamed but not enough to stop your body from relishing in his ministrations.

“Need a gentle hand, don’t you? Like when I’m sweet to ya,” dipping his head lower, he licks down the centerline of your body, “need your man to lick your little pussy, sweetheart,” the sticky spit dries on your skin, mouthing at your belly and down to your pubic triangle, tongue parting the fattened folds. If you were being forced to do this, why couldn’t you fight anymore, couldn’t kick at him? Why could you only whine for him? Were you really so weak? You spasm and moan, thighs over his ears, his hair tickling you. Small fires are set underneath your skin, you don’t understand why your body panics but also receives him, wants him to continue, finds his touch pleasing.

Arthur spreads you wide over the edge of his bed. Your hazy eyes look at the wooden ceiling, hips moving around in search of the way he makes you feel. He licks along your slickness and drinks you in. After a minute of his exploratory advances, he finds the spot you so longed for him to touch, heaven blooming on the tip of his tongue. The loudest he’s ever gotten you, abandoning the fight to enjoy the smoothness of him moving in circles.

Everything seems to slow down, makes you feel as drunk as drinking that bottle of fine brandy might have gotten you. You can’t understand what he’s making your body feel and do, continuing his assault. There’s something building in you, the pleasure is stacking up and you’re not sure what should happen when you’ve no more room for it inside you anymore. It feels warm, sloshing against the walls of your lower belly. Something about him makes you feel protected, even as he goes against your will.

“Arthur,” it's embarrassing how uncontrollable you are, how you’ve just let it slip from you in the face of this man. Your rather lewd call of his name makes him groan, licking all that you’ve been leaking from his lips. You were warned that a sin such as this was simple to avoid but you had let Arthur do what he wanted with you. Any propriety of yours peeled off along with his union suit. You want to cry, every tingle, every pinprick of pleasure, every bead of sweat pushes you further. His hands hold you, thumbs pinning you wide open for him. An undignified moan has you covering your mouth. You don't want to caterwaul like a cat.

“Wanna hear you, honey,” backing away from you, his fingers taking the place of his tongue. They start pushing harder than they had before, trying to pull even more from your lips. Tears track down the sides of your face. You promised you’d listen so you let him hear your desperate whining. You call his name, your legs helping your hips wiggle. Guiding his fingers to the perfect place.

“Arthur, I can’t, stop,” It's a weak plea, something is happening to you, wells up inside you, and you feel fit to burst. Your face is all scrunched up, mouth drawn open to cry for him. He responds by squeezing your hand.

“I ain’t gonna stop, girl,” You thrash, his fingers slick, sliding in and out of you, faster and faster. The feeling of him defiling you is so warm and good, even as he holds you down, waiting out whatever wracks your body. Your back arches and he gives you an affirming noise, encouraging you to buck and meet him, crying out. Floods and floods of sensation make you writhe and twitch, your mind blank for just a moment, completely subject to his will. And he has surely imposed it on you, you lay at his mercy, panting, confused and so very relaxed. The most perfect feeling you’ve ever felt, and at the hands of a man who has just met you. At least he also proposed. You don’t have the courage to look down at him. When you do work yourself up into looking, he has the most satisfied smirk on his face, looking at how he’s ruined you with just the touch of his tongue and the tips of his fingers. With sweat dripping all over you, and your hair all tangled about you, you're hardly the image of beauty.

Yet the look he gives you makes you wonder just what he sees in you. All of the comments at just how pretty, beautiful he found you. His grumbles are low, a panther's purr, a wolf's growl.

“I don’t think you know what you’ve done to me,” He drags out his words, his hands unbuttoning his pants, pulling down his suspenders, leaving them dangling down his hips. There's an erotic undertone to the jingle of his belt as he unbuckles it and spreads it open. His shirt, he unbuttons in a hurry, ripping and popping at least two of the buttons off. Revealing his chest and his own belly, soft but still showing all the years a man like him has labored, kept himself upright on a horse for hours. There are scars, pale and jagged all over him and you think of him telling you where he got them. You're getting more and more nervous, you can see what you know men have going on between their legs but you haven't seen one so close.

Arthur is only happy to show you, rather proud looking of his manhood, standing at the edge of the bed. Your skin is damp but you can’t bring yourself to complain about the temperature. His hand comes to caress it, slow motions over the entire length, while watching your face, staring into your eyes.

“C’mere,” Husky and slow, his command moves you, makes you sit up and let him pet your hair, your cheeks. “Give it a kiss, honey, right there on the tip,” Putting your mouth on him makes you shiver, sure that this isn’t what husband and wife do behind closed doors but who were you to argue? Impolitely, you can’t tear your eyes away from him, staring at the small slit at the very tip, the veiny texture, the red and pink flush to the skin. Wiry hair crowns the bottom, the same dark blond of his stubble. His hand only covers some of it and you had thought that his hands were big. His hips inch forwards, eager to get you to lick and kiss him. Something in your throat makes you gulp.

“Be a good girl, ‘fore I lose my goddamn patience,” Rushing to appease his rather short tone, you nod and approach, trying not to seem so tense. You're sure your face gives it away anyhow but he seems unbothered, gladly holding your hair, fingers rubbing along your scalp.

“There’s my girl,” He sighs as you kiss, gentle and timid, a small peck at the very tip and center of him. It's warm but you don't taste anything with your lips closed.

“Do you… want another?” Hushed words fall from your mouth and he gives you another smug look. Looking down at you, at the way you tremble, your nude form. He must know that he has you right where he wants you, naked on his bed, about to do unholy things with him, despite your reluctance just twenty minutes ago. Easy and whore-like. You thought good men don't like women like that. Maybe he’s not such a good man.

“Mmhm, then you can open that sweet little mouth of yours,” You kiss and ease your mouth open, a groan escaping him at your tongue brushing against his smooth tip. Your mouth obediently widens to fit him over the width of your tongue, salt and the natural smell of him on your taste buds. “Take me, jus’ like that, sweetheart,” you’ve never thought in your whole life that this could happen to you, a man holding you and making you take him in your mouth. You struggle to inhale around him, trying not to retch as he pushes forward. He looks down at you, breathing heavily at the mere sight of you. Could swear there's some type of love in his eyes, some softness that gives way for you. Even if you think he’s mad.

“Don’t know how I got on without ya, darlin’, won't be able to after this,” Arthur pants out his words. His rough noises of pleasure spur you on, relaxing your jaw for him. He grunts when he hits the back of your mouth and throat and you whine, holding yourself open for him, flushed with heat. Your fingers go to touch his thighs, feeling skin you’ve never felt before. The hairs and marks on his skin are completely novel to you. The first time you’ve actually touched him. His words lull you, soothe you more than you want them to, considering he could still prove them to be empty promises.

Very suddenly, he pulls himself away from your mouth, a debaucherous line of your saliva dripping down to the floor, the weight of it pulling between you two. You feel dazed, gone from the world until Arthur pulls your attention back up, tilting your face to look upon him. He looks smitten, a thumb pulling across your lips, wet with the deed you’ve just done.

“Was gonna finish in your mouth, tha’s how good y’are, make a man like me finish from just the sight of ya, chokin’ on me,” He hitches you up the bed, so there's more space to take up more of it. You know what’s next but at the same time, have no idea what to expect.

“Look at what you’ve done, just by walkin’ in here, lookin’ like you do,” He strokes along himself again, spreads your legs, like he’s meant to be there. “Drove me damn near crazy, teasin’me, actin’ all sweet. Can tell you just need a man to be sweet to,” Your face is hot at his usual heavy flattery, not nearly close to used to it. Even after he had talked all his talk. His hands are on your hips, squeezing your waist. Then the tip of him is pressed flush to the slit between your legs. He sees the way you tense up.

“Relax, darlin’, can’t fill you up if you’re shut tighter than a frog's ass,” He chuckles and you wince at his peculiar and crude comment. “Aw, I’m just messin’, c’mon, show me that pretty little spot,” reluctantly, your legs open and you relax again, letting him cover you, press into you. “There she is, I know what you need, girl,” The push of just the tip of him makes you whimper, panicking and clenching your thighs on him. He fights to gain control of you, his voice in your ear to shush you.

He’s lost in his own pleasure for a moment, letting you cling to his chest and shoulders, pumping shallowly inside of you. The most obscene slick-wet sounds fill up the room, along with his groans, your squeaky whines. You're frightened at how quickly your body accepts the feeling of him officially taking your innocence away, turning the uncomfortable stretch into the most toe-curling warmth inside of you, the sweetest pain. Every loose part of you bounces to the rhythm of his slow rocking.

“Lemme hear how good you feel, honey,”

‘Arthur…Please,” you cry and beg for him, not entirely deciding on what you want him to do. He seems to know anyway, pushing harder and faster. Arthur may not be your husband and you not his wife, but he treats you so well, kissing you, reassuring you, holding you so tight.

“Who do you belong to?” He pants between his pleasured grunting, rocking his hips and slamming against the most sensitive parts of you. “Y’ain’t listenin’, girl,” He smacks your inner thigh, making you squeal again, clenching down tight.

“I said, who do you belong to?” His hand is on your throat, there's the smallest squeeze, right between his thumb and middle finger. The growl in his words makes you swallow, letting him feel the effect he has on you.

“You, Arthur,” Your answer is soft and just what he wanted to hear, a hazy smile breaking his straight face.

“That’s right, only man you need,” Slinging your legs up on his elbows, he makes it feel as if he’s been going easy on you, the frame of his bed almost scraping against the wooden floors. “Ain’t gonna last much longer, you’ve got the tightest little pussy,” You certainly feel as if he’s stretching you on him, the thickness and length pressing into. So delicious, you roll your hips, even if you don't notice it until he’s smirking down at you, all smug and Arthur-like.

“Gonna make yourself finish on me, sweetheart? Makin’ yourself feel good?” He lets out his gruff laugh, which compels you to stop your movements on him, shy and embarrassed. Your little pout makes him grab at your face. His wolfish grin doesn't falter, even as he grunts and forces himself as deep as he can, into the squeeze of your walls.

“Keep goin’, don’t you stop now,” He holds your face, not too harshly, you grind into him, the dirty slap of his hips into your thighs so obscene. Shivering and bucking against him, you feel that euphoria spread down your muscles, boiling your blood. Your moan has him groaning and holding you down, grabbing your hips so tight. Your spasms don’t stop him from rutting his hips into yours.

“Ah, shit, darlin’-” In a hurry, he pulls away. You whine, your body missing him, missing the stretch of him within you, the fire it sends racing up your spine. Your grip is practically tearing into his arms and shoulders. The sound he makes is like nothing you've ever heard before, a growl of what sounds like so much pleasure it's painful. Something hot and messy splatters against your skin, all over the softness of your belly. His face shows his relief, his brows are still drawn together, Arthur’s arm wipes sweat from his forehead.

He gasps for air, watching as you ease and relax. The pads of his fingertips pet down your face, so soothing and mindful. It's truly suffocating now, the heat in the room makes you wish you could open a window. You're exhausted out of your mind, limbs numb. He hums, turning you over gently, kissing along your neck and lips. ‘So good for me, honey’s and sweetheart’s and darling’s’ tumble from his lips, slow and easy praises. He licks at you like you're made of honey, down your neck and chest. Drifting off, you murmur and sigh.

If you made it, thanks for reading and pls send feedback 💝😭

[highpriestessaset]

Full Moon in Taurus

This full moon can be viewed Friday, Nov 15th (PST). Full moon energy can be felt 3 days before and after her arrival- giving us a week of heightened awareness. Taurus is the sign of the bull who models initiation and persistence for us. This reading is to illuminate what you are currently working on or experiencing and provide some insight and advice.

Pick an image: allow your intuition to guide your selection.

Please be open to receiving your message(s) with love-

IMAGE 1- I see that something you’re working on is quite dear to you. You may even be “holding your cards close to your chest” as to keep your moves on the low.

I feel there is an element of perfectionism here. You may not want to show or tell because it doesn’t look perfect to you or the circumstances don’t feel perfect for you.

Advice: Making mistakes and getting feedback on your work/situation can bring new information into your awareness. This can help you to try something you haven’t considered before.

“Mistakes” and feedback can be helpful, it’s up to you how you look at them.

———————————————————

IMAGE 2- I feel that you’ve been thinking logically a lot lately and not emotionally. This tells me that someone in the current situation is having some trouble seeing “eye to eye” (most likely with another). The situation may have something to do with lacking a sense of safety or security.

Advice: Provide comfort by thinking of a thoughtful gift or gesture that would be appreciated. Generosity, kindness, and playfulness can help to connect, build trust, and meet a need.

———————————————————

IMAGE 3- I see that you’ve been thinking of ways to make your dreams a reality, but that starts by taking a chance. Your mind has no problem dreaming up plans but the inner child may feel scared. Why is that? Do you have a fear of moving too fast and/or “crashing and burning”?

Advice: Go at your own pace and focus only on one step at a time. If you fear “crashing and burning”, the Tower says, things that are torn down can now be built better than before.

-Blessings 🌺

Disclaimer: Readings are for entertainment purposes only.

[jouxlskaard]

Hi so I may or may not have forgotten to actually post these on here. Ofc the original concept goes to the brilliant @wolfythewitch, I've just leeched off of it because I wanted to see Elias in the Hermes suit. Also I wanted to see Jon and Martin doing a little dance. And the way I drew Tim as Orpheus is just.... so similar to how regular Orpheus looks. I am sorry. He has a boob window so it's more accurate to his character.

As I talked about in my ask to Wolfy (which I believe to be what drew quite a few people here? idk at this point), I have quite a few reasons for why I think Elias would fit the role of Hermes. Obviously he's a much more sinister Hermes, but it's a neat little concept to play around with. I think the little things Hermes says (like the line above) can be interestingly recontextualised when you view Hermes as an antagonistic force, rather than a guide/mentor. I thought it'd be interesting to see Elias as someone who helps Tim/Orpheus because he knows that it'll end in tragedy every time, and finds enjoyment in the helplessness that the audience faces knowing how it ends and being completely unable to change it. Get Beholdinged, babey!

Maybe I'll draw some Gertrude!Hermes....? Who knows - I'm currently in the middle of doing a shit ton of work at the moment, both for school and for personal reasons. I've got Mechanisms fanart happening, some concepts for myself as a Corruption avatar (nature!), ideas for animatics (which I admittedly don't have much experience in, but I will try to do it), and some other random ideas. Only time shall tell.

[solis-solaire]

“WELL I’M KEEPING THE CRAVAT”

“OBVIOUSLY, how tf would you prosecute without one?”

I AM DYING.

--AA1 spoilers, AA5 spoilers, minor AAI case 2 spoilers ahead--

Well now this audio has me wondering why Edgeworth kept wearing the cravat after the whole DL-6 getting solved thing. Because it’s been accepted that he began wearing it in the first place due to von Karma’s influence, instead of wearing a bowtie like his father did.

Even after his first trial he lost the over-the-top suit that reflects Manfred’s (although he still kept it on the wall in his office. Maybe he’s trying to remember it whenever he works to remind him to never act that way again?). You’d think after that whole mess that Miles would want to distance himself as much as he could from Manfred’s teachings, and from the way he handles himself in court in the AJ Trilogy I’d say he managed that.

However you’d think that he would’ve started with the easiest things to change, which would be what he wears to court. The cravat is really the only physical part of his appearance (that I’ve noticed) in the first game that was reminiscent of von Karma, so why keep it past AA1? I would think it would be torturous to consciously wear the same things as the person who ruined your life and showed no remorse when he was caught, who just before that tried to send YOU to jail for a murder you didn’t commit.

Maybe it’s similar to keeping his first suit framed in his office, to remind him of what not to be. But I feel like wearing the thing is a little close to home, you know? It’s not like he can see the cravat when he’s wearing it. Maybe because he can feel the neckwear no matter what. Like the von Karma teachings will wring his neck if he ever returns to them.

Or maybe it’s more like Franziska. When I was playing the trilogy I initially thought that maybe she hadn’t heard the full story about Miles’ trial in Japanifornia, only that THAT FOOLISH PHOENIX WRIGHT had bested both her little brother and her father first try in court, and wanted to avenge the von Karma name.

But she was still referencing the von Karma name as something to be proud of during AAI, which takes place 2-3 years after AA1. It could be a variety of things, like she could be in denial, or she could be using it as a coping mechanism in order to feel like nothing’s really changed in her life when in reality she’s dealing with the loss of a parent. Or it could also simply be posturing in front of others in order to not show weakness to anyone in her workplace.

However, my own conclusion is that she decided that her father is no longer worthy of the von Karma name. The day he decided to shoot Gregory Edgeworth was the day he forsook the name of von Karma, therefore she is simply refusing to acknowledge he was ever a part of her family. I began thinking this because of what she said in AAI: “I thought I’d never see the day that a disciple of the von Karma household would become a criminal!” (In reference to Miles getting falsely accused of a murder). Like she just doesn’t acknowledge her father at all by saying that statement. She only seems to consider herself and Miles as part of that name, which is really cute honestly.

So, my point is that Miles is on board with Franziska’s own decisions with reclaiming the very teachings that misled him for 15 years. He investigates the crime scene exhaustively even though as a prosecutor he probably wouldn’t need to. He never gives up as prosecutor, even if he may not agree personally with his own arguments (I say this in reference to AA5. I personally feel like if he was given the choice, he wouldn’t be so hard on Athena since she was in a very similar boat to himself so many years ago. However, he needs to do his job and looked to approach the matter similarly to how Apollo did: needing to present every possibility of guilt in order to prove her innocent without a shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind, which is likely what he found a prosecutor’s job to really be).

Him continuing to wear the cravat long after Manfred’s sentencing (and probably execution) could be another example of this. To show to everyone that he is NOT turning his back on his teachings or his life for 15 long years, but instead reclaiming that part of his life as his own, to be proud of what he’s gone through and how much he’s grown. That despite how rough it was for him, he was still in control of who he wanted to be.

Or maybe I’m overthinking things and the artists just didn’t consider that when making his sprites for future games/didn’t want to make new sprites for AA2 and AA3

Request: Edgeworth Meets Edgeworth

Anonymous asked prozdvoices:

Prozd, could you please voice an arguing between rookie Edgeworth and investigations series Edgeworth (in a dream or crazy situation, dunno)? It would be kinda of a chalenge but it would be cool to show how he changed.

Consider it a magic dream sequence.  I always found rookie Edgeworth’s outfit REALLY GOOFY.

[appropriatelystupid]

[art-is-kayos]

Sight of a Star - Blue-ish Star Ryōshū and Don Quixote