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rambite6 · 2 days ago

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Astrology Observations pt 2: Ketu Nakshatra

Ketu natives struggle with attaching and relating to others from a young age. They are more observers than willing participants, showing little interest in faking emotions to make others feel comfortable or match the energy in a room. People tend to notice the detached behavior of Ketuvians and may judge them for it. Consequently, Ketu individuals may feel pressured to fake emotions. For Ashwini, there is a greater effort to fit into societal norms than for Magha and Mula. Ashwini is a Deva Gana (divine) nakshatra, making them appear more grounded and approachable. In fact, they often possess a mystic aura that leaves people astonished rather than intimidated—unlike Magha and Mula, both of which belong to the Rakshasa Gana (demonic). Magha and Mula can come across as aggressive, potentially alienating others they have more of an intimidating but pulling energy. However, Ashwini’s efforts to “fit in” are often unsuccessful. Striving to meet societal expectations can cause more harm to the Ashwini native, leading them to suppress their feelings. This suppression sometimes results in self-destructive behaviors, as Ashwini individuals feel like they are constantly hiding their true selves. All three Ketu nakshatras—Ashwini, Magha, and Mula—are quite rebellious, refusing to conform to expectations. In fact, they may deliberately disappoint others to challenge the emotional attachment to success or failure. I recall a memory of myself competing in a local festival competition, where I was winning. My family was cheering and hyping me up, but for some reason, this made me uncomfortable as it felt egoistic. So, I gave up on purpose and let the other child win, feeling happier doing so. My family was disappointed, but I didn’t care. I use to also walk away during social gatherings not to purposely be rude or anything but I felt the need to return to myself and when I would flash a smile people seemed to be uncomfortable. (I’ve read somewhere that ashwini smile can be creepy because it’s falsely exaggerated)

• Ketuvians have a natural inclination towards spirituality due to their detachment from material matters. This detachment allows them to deeply face and sit with their inner selves, often leading to a sense of emotional distance from their surroundings. For Ketu natives, expecting anything in return is rarely a priority. However, this sense of detachment creates a void within them, leading them to unconsciously drain both material and spiritual energy from others in an attempt to fill it. In the end, this process provides little fulfillment for them, yet the act of draining itself brings them a sense of pleasure, rather than the material rewards they seek. I would recommend that people with Ketu influence engage in a creative hobby. Creativity comes naturally to them, as it is not influenced by expectations of rewards or fear of judgment. Ketuvians thrive when they create because it serves as the most authentic form of self-expression.

• A physical trait I’ve observed among people with Ketu nakshatra is not just their sleepy, penetrating gaze but also their very thick, dark, wild hair. Among all the 3 naks, their hair stands out—thick, long, and bushy, often seeming to have a mind of its own. Their hair is typically on the darker side, very full, almost as if you could get lost in it. It often appears unkempt, as though they haven’t brushed it or just rolled out of bed. However, there are moments when their hair is styled, and that specific hairstyle becomes synonymous with the Ketu native. For example, Mula ☽—Amy Winehouse—is well-known for her messy, vintage updo. Ashwini ☉,—Magha ↑—Conan O’Brien has a signature hairstyle, his wild, iconic hair often referenced as a significant part of his brand, with people constantly mentioning it. Ashwini ☽—Pamela Anderson—popularized her famous messy bun, which many struggle to recreate. Lastly, Magha ☽—Aaliyah—with her signature side-swoop that covered her right eye became so popular and mysterious that false rumors spread, suggesting she was concealing a glass eye.

• You’ll find that many Ketu natives are involved in niche forms of media and alternative subcultures such as goth, punk, and grunge. They are drawn to styles that often include silver chains, black clothing, distressed fabrics, and DIY fashion pieces they design themselves, reflecting anti-establishment attitudes. In fact, you can observe a strong presence of musicians within these subcultures who have Ketu nakshatras. Notable examples include Lydia Lunch (Ashwini ☽), Robert Smith of The Cure (Ashwini ☉,), Nick Cave (Magha ☽), Joe Strummer (Magha ☉, and ☽), and Paul Simonon (Mula ☽) of The Clash. Other influential figures include Layne Staley of Alice In Chains (Magha ☉,), Jim Reid (Mula ☉,) of The Jesus and Mary Chain, Iggy Pop (Ashwini ☉,), Lou Reed (Magha ☽), and Penelope Houston (Mula ☉,) of The Avengers, as well as Tom Waits (Mula ↑).

(In my research, I also noted the presence of Mercury nakshatras within these subcultures, along with Krittika nakshatra. This tracks well, in my opinion, as these nakshatras are often rebellious, individualistic, and intensely creative.)

• A consistent romantic or close platonic pairing I’ve noticed among Ketu nakshatras is with Mercury nakshatras. Mercury and Ketu nakshatras sit at the Gandanta point, where the water signs transition into fire signs a point of spiritual transformation and awakening. These nakshatras seem naturally drawn to each other, but their interactions are often karmic and toxic. However, both individuals learn significant lessons from these relationships. Interestingly, it’s typically the Mercury nakshatra that initiates and drives the relationship. The Mercury native teases and provokes the Ketu native to get a reaction, but the Ketu person doesn’t give in easily. A personal anecdotal of mine, I was friends with an Ashlesha woman when I was outpatient at a mental institute, she was dating a Magha man She would do risky things, like experimenting with taboo drugs or even stealing from him, just to push his boundaries. At first, he didn’t react much, but over time he started to secretly enjoy her rebellion. Eventually, he joined her in taking drugs, and they even engaged in ménage à trois. Things escalated until she became pregnant, and both developed a drug addiction. Interestingly, their relationship grew stronger before it began to deteriorate. She made efforts to get clean, but he continued using. Despite this, he remained an active and supportive father. However, every time he returned to her life, she would relapse, so they eventually broke up. Both went to rehab, and their lives took different yet positive turns. She pursued higher education and earned a bachelor’s degree, while he began doing voluntary counseling for kids struggling with addiction. They are now great co-parents. Ketu nakshatras are also frequently seen dating Venus nakshatras or moving within their social circles. Typically, Venus nakshatras stick to other Venus nakshatras because of their elitism, but they occasionally connect with Ketu nakshatras and sometimes even Sun nakshatras. Ketu is the most raw primal self and Venus is the refined accumulation, @venusiastro has a great post about it in much depth here.

Notes on ashwini native

Taylour Paige - Ashwini ☽

Jaime King - Ashwini ☉

• Ashwini Nakshatra’s deities, the Ashvini Kumaras, are described in Vedic texts as twin gods who ride a golden chariot. They are the Physicians of the Gods, renowned for their powerful healing abilities, including rejuvenation, making the old young again, and even bringing the dead back to life. It is said that the Ashvini Kumaras were highly skilled in Ayurveda, the original system of healing, and that they revived Sage Dadhichi. Because of this connection, natives of this nakshatra often possess a youthful appearance that carries into old age. Their faces tend to retain a childlike quality, even with wrinkles, giving them an ageless charm. This childlike quality, however, can lead others to judge them as naïve. In fact, the Ashvini Kumaras themselves were not taken seriously because of their youthful demeanor, and many assumed they were incapable due to their playful attitude. Similarly, Ashwini natives often feel the need to prove themselves to others despite their incredible talents and capabilities.

•Ashwini is always on the go and dislikes staying in one place for too long. They are the type to embark on road trips or even live without a permanent home, as they have a deep fear of feeling trapped. This restless nature is connected to their affinity with transportation and traveling, not only in the material sense but also between different realms or planes of existence. In the material world, Ashwini natives are often drawn to motorcycles or horses—like cowboys or members of motor gangs—because these symbolize freedom and movement. They prefer to be freeloaders on their own journey but often enjoy traveling with a companion, as their deity is a pair of twin brothers. Ashwini’s primary symbol is the “horse’s head,” representing strength, movement, freedom, and endurance. This nakshatra is driven by a constant urge for movement, both physically and spiritually.

•Ashwini natives struggle to stay still or be patient. Because of their restless nature, they often leave tasks or projects unfinished, constantly seeking excitement in something new—until that excitement burns out. They are highly independent and confident in their skills and abilities, which makes them resistant to being told what to do. Their stubbornness often leads them to ignore others, even pretending those people don’t exist. This is an inherently rebellious nakshatra. As children, Ashwini natives were purposefully defiant—sneaking out or running away, sometimes with no apparent reason other than to experience the thrill of it. Personally, I’ve found myself in situations, like sitting in class or walking home, imagining what it would be like to leave my life behind—and nearly acting on it. When Ashwini natives mature, they become more intuitive and insightful about the correct path to follow. However, those who haven’t evolved yet often act recklessly, doing whatever they please without truly understanding their actions. While Ashwini natives may not always finish tasks, they never give up easily. This nakshatra is incredibly resourceful. Despite a lack of discipline, Ashwini natives possess endurance and resilience. Once they master discipline, they can achieve anything they set their minds to.

• Ashwini natives are highly sensitive and easily overstimulated, with minds that are constantly racing. The symbol of the horse’s head conveys sensitivity, alertness, and an ever-present readiness. Ashwini is the first nakshatra within Aries, which, in Vedic texts, represents the head of Kala Purusha (the eternal being). The head is central to all bodily functions as it houses the brain—a concept made somewhat ironic by Ketu’s association with being headless. This connection emphasizes Ashwini’s mental impulses, making it a highly impulsive nakshatra. Ashwini natives also make excellent leaders. The Sun (Surya), associated with leadership, is exalted at its highest point in this nakshatra. In numerology, the Sun is represented by the number 1, while Ashwini is the first nakshatra. Vedic texts describe Surya as constantly moving and rising on a chariot drawn by seven horses. This ties directly to Ashwini’s symbol of a chariot and the number 7, which is ruled by Ketu. Horses, an animal associated with Ashwini, are emotionally intelligent yet fidgety and restless—traits reflected in Ashwini natives. Horses are also known for their stamina, abilities, and speed, which connect to Ashwini’s shakti or power: “to attain things quickly.” This nakshatra is the fastest among all nakshatras, and as a result, Ashwini natives are often blunt, direct, and quick to get to the point. They dislike long-winded conversations and can become irritated when others fail to communicate efficiently. Ashwini individuals are fast thinkers, quick talkers, and even quick runners. For instance, I remember racing all the boys in my elementary school during recess—and winning.

•Ashwini natives are deeply compassionate towards animals. Many individuals with this nakshatra (myself included) have a natural affinity for caring for animals, especially strays. They often take in sick or injured strays and nurse them back to health, Even the most aggressive animals eventually warm up to their kindness and care.

•You cannot tame Ashwini. They are like wild horses—sensitive yet aggressive and cautious. As I mentioned before, they deeply value their independence, which is one of the driving forces behind their highly individualistic nature. Ashwini natives often feel as though they stand out from others, and they sometimes sense that they possess unique talents. This is true, as Ashwini tends to have a pioneering attitude and spirit. This nakshatra is strongly connected to the original creative spark, as Vedic texts associate it with Ketu’s primordial creative potential. However, this creative energy is so intense and overwhelming that it can be difficult to harness and control—much like Ashwini natives themselves. One of the weaknesses of this nakshatra is its tendency to act on impulse, attempting extraordinary things without proper evaluation. However, when Ashwini natives learn to slow down and approach their ideas with more consideration, they become true pioneers. Ashwini natives often emerge as inventors or “the first” to achieve something, and people frequently look to them for answers. However, their journey is not without challenges, as they often have to prove themselves. Others may feel the need to humble Ashwini natives, perhaps because of their boldness and confidence.

•Ashwini natives lifestyle choices often resemble those of hippies. They may live in a van or other transport vehicles, no stable job, embracing a free-spirited, go-with-the-flow attitude (often accompanied by a love for marijuana).They tend to eat vegan, have an interest in herbs, and maintain a very laid-back demeanor. Ashwini natives can also be deeply involved in activism and politics, often emerging as powerful political leaders. However, their intensity can lead to making a significant social impact, whether for better or worse, as they are willing to go to any lengths to achieve their goals. (For example, consider Malcolm X, who had an Ashwini ☽, or Hitler, who had an Ashwini ☉.)

•Ashwini natives can be tricksters, often playing with illusions. This trait ties to their deities’ story, where ancient texts recount how Indra warned Dadhichi not to teach the Kumaras Brahma-Vidya (the knowledge of creation), as their occupation placed them outside that realm. Indra threatened to cut off Dadhichi’s head if he disobeyed. When Dadhichi shared this with the Kumaras, they devised a clever plan. Using their incredible skill, they removed Dadhichi’s head and replaced it with a horse’s head. After Indra eventually cut off the horse head, the Kumaras restored Dadhichi’s original human head.

•I’ve observed that Ashwini natives have bright, radiant eyes, regardless of their color. It’s as if the sun is reflecting in its most powerful and raw form. This nakshatra is associated with the Ashvins, the gods of the dawn, and their eyes resemble the striking ambience of the dawn sky.

• Red and black are Ashwini’s theme colors (the nakshatra color is blood red). Whether it’s red lipstick or clothing paired with dark hair and darker garments or red, this color palette complements them beautifully.

•Ashwini natives, with their strong Ketu influence, have the innate ability to detach from the physical world, which allows them to transcend boundaries and connect with higher spiritual realms. This detachment gives them the ability to enter and exit their body at will, a key trait that allows them to access profound healing abilities, both spiritual and medical. Their intuitive healing is often centered around a deep connection to the etheric and energetic bodies, allowing them to sense and manipulate energy in ways that others cannot. This spiritual detachment also grants them heightened clairsentient (feeling) and clairaudient (hearing) abilities. They may receive intuitive messages or insights through their senses, such as hearing things others do not or feeling the emotions and energies of those around them. These abilities make Ashwini natives highly sensitive to their surroundings, but they must learn how to refine and discipline these gifts to fully harness their potential. Without proper self-control, their sensitivity can become overwhelming or scattered. In order to master their abilities, Ashwini natives need to engage in spiritual practice, which helps them ground themselves and refine their intuition. Through meditation, self-reflection, and healing practices, they can learn to navigate their advanced perceptive skills. This discipline will also enhance their capacity for self-healing, as they can better understand their own energetic blockages and clear them.

Notes on Magha natives

Eva Green - Ashwini ☽ Magha ↑

Wyntor Gordon - Magha ☉, Mula ☽

• Magha is deeply connected to Pitra Loka, the realm of ancestors, which ties the nakshatra to the afterlife and ancestral guidance. This connection imbues Magha natives with a sense of respect for their heritage, tradition, and the spiritual wisdom passed down from generations before them. The symbolism of Magha often revolves around endings, death, and mourning, reflecting the process of transformation that occurs after death, both in the physical world and spiritually. Magha natives are not only influenced by the idea of death but are also tasked with channeling the energy of their Pitris (ancestors), who are seen in Vedic texts as protectors and nurturers of humanity. The elder energy associated with Magha comes from this ancestral connection, giving natives a wisdom that feels ancient and timeless. This is reflected in their aesthetic choices—vintage clothing, gothic aesthetics, and worn-out pieces, often oversized, especially suits. This style can reflect the idea of both embracing the past and holding onto something that endures beyond time. Their look may carry a sense of nostalgia or reverence for history, much like their reverence for their ancestors. Additionally, sunglasses are an intriguing detail in the styling of Magha natives. Since the eyes are ruled by the Sun, Magha’s co-ruler, and Ketu deals with what’s hidden, sunglasses serve as a way to shield the eyes from direct visibility. This style element not only creates a sense of intrigue but also connects to their desire to maintain a sense of privacy or inner world Interestingly, I’ve also noticed Ashwini natives embracing sunglasses, which might be due to their own connection to Ketu , Sun and the desire for some form of distance or protection.

•Magha natives are indeed eccentric,(it is a nodal nakshatra after all) The Ketu rulership and Their connection to the Sun imbues them with a strong sense of purpose, often manifesting in a unique and unconventional personality. They are deeply drawn to exploring and expressing their individuality, sometimes in ways that challenge or defy societal expectations. This can make them appear mysterious or intriguing to others, as they seem to balance their rebelliousness with a deep respect for tradition and responsibility. Their ability to maintain a strong sense of duty, while also pursuing their own path, creates a dynamic where they seem both grounded and unpredictable, operating outside the conventional norms.

• Magha natives are also psychically sensitive, often experiencing prophetic dreams or gaining insight from the deep unconscious. Their ability to tap into these deeper realms allows them to perceive information that others may miss, sometimes giving them glimpses of the future or hidden truths. They are aware of their sensitivity and may even cultivate it, allowing their intuition to guide them in their life decisions. In contrast, Mula and Ashwini natives may not always be as aware of their own psychic abilities.

•While Magha is a Ketu nakshatra, and Ketu is inherently separative—disassociating from the material world—Magha itself is quite active in the material realm. This paradox exists because Magha is a dutiful nakshatra, deeply tied to social responsibilities, status, and the preservation of tradition. Magha natives often feel a sense of duty towards their community or heritage, and they take their responsibilities seriously, striving to uphold their legacy and make their mark in the material world. However, Magha’s rebellious streak—inherited from Ketu—emerges in its challenge to authority and conventional structures. While they engage in the material world, they are not easily controlled by external forces or expectations. Their rebellious nature often manifests in their refusal to conform to authority, whether it’s societal norms, hierarchical systems, or traditional rules. This makes Magha both deeply connected to the world around them and simultaneously disconnected from its oppressive forces.

• Magha natives often feel a deep connection to the past, and this is reflected in their affinity for older, nostalgic items like typewriters, record players, and handwritten letters rather than modern conveniences like text messages. They value tradition and often hold onto physical objects that evoke a sense of history, reflecting their respect for ancestral legacies. Their love for the past is tied to their desire to remain rooted in something timeless, rather than being swept away by fleeting trends.They also pride themselves on being independent and introspective, often cultivating a deep sense of self-awareness and self-reliance. This introspection extends to their interest in the occult sciences and psychology, fields that allow them to explore the deeper workings of the mind and the mysteries of the unseen. Magha natives are not only drawn to uncover hidden truths about the world but are also fascinated by the complexities of human nature and the psyche. Their connection to both the past and the unseen realms makes them uniquely equipped to navigate the spiritual and material worlds.

•Magha natives often have voices that are deep, haunting, and gritty—like they’ve smoked a pack a day. These voices carry a raw, almost preachy quality that can feel intense and captivating. The haunting tone can linger with you. Magha natives like Nick Cave and King Krule exemplify this with their powerful, commanding voices that have authority and emotional depth. Their sound is evocative, drawing you in with a sense of vulnerability and intensity. A similar voice can be found in Mula ↑ Tom Waits, whose gravelly, weathered voice carries a unique rawness. Other Gandanta nakshatras, like Ashlesha ☉, Revati ☽, and ↑ Louis Armstrong, also share this gritty, haunting vocal quality. Anja Plaschg (with Revati ☉ and Ashlesha ☽) and Bill Skarsgård (with Ashlesha ☉) in Nosferatu similarly possess voices that carry a dark, magnetic energy—intense yet strangely mesmerizing. These voices feel untamed and primal.

•Magha’s shakti, “the power to leave the body,” reflects its unique ability to access deep states of consciousness, sometimes akin to a trance or temporary death. This capacity for profound detachment is referenced in some old Vedic tales, where the nakshatra is described as the heat generated by the speed of a shift in the field of consciousness. It implies that Magha natives can experience altered states of awareness that transcend the physical realm. A great example of this influence can be seen in Magha ☽ native David Lynch, who embraced Transcendental Meditation (and has his own program that teaches this method) This practice is said to allow individuals to effortlessly tap into unlimited reserves of energy and creativity—qualities that are also central to Magha’s essence. Magha natives are often able to access deep, limitless wells of inspiration, channeling them into their work and life. This transcendental quality is characteristic of the nakshatra’s connection to ancestral wisdom and the ability to harness spiritual and creative energy.

•Magha natives naturally attract attention with their regal and commanding appearance. The symbol of Magha is a royal chamber containing a throne, signifying dignity, authority, and a connection to ancestral pride. Interestingly, many Magha natives are often photographed sitting in chairs or thrones, exuding a majestic aura that aligns with this symbolism. Take Magha ↑ Eva Green, in the photo above for example.

Notes on Mula natives

Beatrice Dalle - Mula ☉ Magha ↑

Anjelica Houston - Mula ↑

•Mula is deeply connected to the concept of the root, as its name and symbol both relate to the foundation or the deep core of something. Just as roots lie hidden beneath the surface of the forest, this nakshatra embodies the idea of digging deep to uncover what is concealed or not immediately apparent. Mula natives have an innate drive to get to the very essence of things, whether that involves unraveling mysteries, exposing hidden truths, or understanding the underlying structure of existence. This relentless pursuit of the core reflects Mula’s connection to transformation, as true growth and rebirth can only occur by addressing and understanding the roots.

•Mula has a profound interest in deep knowledge, often delving into the occult and exploring the unknown or unseen. They possess an innate understanding of hidden truths and are drawn to unraveling mysteries that others might overlook. You’ll often find Mula natives in private or niche libraries, completely immersed in studying various topics, from complex theories to alternative ideologies—anything that challenges or contradicts material reality. Their thirst for knowledge goes beyond surface-level understanding, as they are committed to uncovering the roots of existence and the deeper workings of the universe.

• The deity of Mula is Nritti, the goddess of dissolution and destruction. Her name translates to “calamity,” reflecting her association with chaos, endings, and dismantling illusions. In some Vedic texts, Nritti is described as a destructive demon, while in others, she is referred to as Alakshmi, the opposite of Lakshmi, the goddess of wealth, abundance, and prosperity. However, it’s important to note that while Nritti embodies destruction, it is not without purpose. Her nakshatra represents the highest point of material accumulation, which acts as a foundation for the beginning of spiritual awakening. Mula’s energy dismantles attachment to the material world, paving the way for transformation and the pursuit of higher consciousness. This duality of material success and spiritual liberation is a defining characteristic of Mula, making it a nakshatra of profound growth and evolution through intense trials.

•Mula natives often come across as apathetic, showing a disinterest in certain moralities or societal norms. However, this seemingly “depraved” outlook can be strangely liberating—they lack self-doubt, and their sharp wisdom, whether conscious or subconscious, often helps others reach higher states of awareness. Mula natives are known to underplay even the most intense life events with sarcasm or dry humor, a coping mechanism that can put others off. Their approach to situations, coupled with their intense and impulsive nature, may result in behaviors that shock or intimidate people. Mula is a nakshatra of extremes—hard, sharp, and dreadful—reflecting the destructive aspects of Ketu. This sharpness, while harsh, is often necessary to trigger awakenings and spiritual transformations. Mula’s intensity, combined with its raw, unapologetic energy, can intimidate others even when no harm is intended.Take Keith Richards, for example, a Mula☉ native. Many people find him intimidating because of his dark, shaggy hair, deep eyes, and brooding presence. Despite his appearance and history of addiction, he defies the typical rock star stereotype. Unlike many of his peers who chased the party lifestyle and fleeting relationships, Keith has been married to the same woman since the ’80s and showed deep care for the mother of his first two children until her passing. While other rock stars indulged in reckless pursuits, Keith’s grounded loyalty and respect for the people in his life set him apart. Those who know him often describe him as surprisingly sweet, proving that Mula’s sharpness hides a deeper, more sincere core.

•Mula has a tendency to cut off anything—or anyone—they don’t deem useful. Being part of the butcher caste, they embody the energy of severing ties and eliminating what no longer serves a purpose. This reminds me of their alternative deity, Kali, who is often depicted with her tongue out, holding a decapitated head. Mula is deeply tied to destruction, but this destruction is not without purpose; it paves the way for regeneration and transformation, even if the process feels harsh or ruthless. I’ve found that Mula natives naturally crave the deconstruction of the superficial. There’s a deep yearning within them to annihilate illusions, driven by an intrinsic feeling of emptiness. This emptiness motivates them to break through falsehoods, either to experience their own rebirth or to guide others through karmic transformations. Their shakti lies in the power to ruin, destroy, and break things, paving the way for profound change and renewal.

•Mula is also associated with intoxication and smoking, a trait I’ve noticed with other Ketu nakshatras as well. I believe this connection stems from Ketu being headless, leading to an oral fixation as a way to seek stability or stimulation. Additionally, there’s something mystifying about smoke clouding your face, giving the impression of being “not there,” which aligns perfectly with Ketu’s inherent sense of detachment and otherworldliness.

•As I mentioned before, natives with Ketu nakshatras often have notable hair. Mula natives, in particular, tend to have smooth, silky black hair that is almost reflective. Mula is associated with Sage Pulasthya, whose name translates to “having smooth hair,”. Another notable physical trait among Mulas is gap teeth.

• Mula natives possess a peculiar magnetism that can completely consume you. No matter how intimidating they may seem, you can’t help but feel drawn to them. Mula is associated with being surrounded by the galactic center of the universe, often referred to as a black hole. Like a black hole, Mula natives have an irresistible pull that draws you in.

Thank you for reading, a reminder that these are my observations from both personal experiences and what I’ve read from vedic text. sources: The Book of Nakshatras by Prash Trivedi & Barbara Pijan Lama Jyotisha site.

#vedic astrology #astrology observations #ketu nakshatra #ashwini nakshatra #magha nakshatra #mula nakshatra

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iamnotoriginalphil · 3 days ago

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I Dwell in Possibility (Casey Novak x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Your aunt Liz warns you to stay away from her ADA. Too bad for her, you'd never been good at doing what you're told.

Words: 9.3k

Warnings: Forbidden romance, reciting poetry, oral (R giving), hickeys, swearing, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, secret relationship, strap (R receiving), dirty talk, angst, hurt/comfort

“You’re not my aunt.”

The woman looking up at you from the low sofa was not the one you were expecting. Strawberry blonde hair shining in the overhead light, fierce green eyes, full pink lips, she was the kind of woman that would devastate your heart with so little effort. Leaning your hip on the doorway, you checked the door again, certain you were in the right place. It was just like you remembered from all the hours you’d spent staying out of trouble under the watchful gaze of your aunt during your more rebellious years as a teenager.

“Not last time I checked,” the mystery woman said.

Her eyes swept over you, assessing in a way that made your nerves vibrate. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, letting her look her fill, hoping you’d pass muster. You didn’t even know her name, and yet you wanted this woman’s approval.

“I didn’t realise Judge Donnelly had a niece,” she said, her voice a low timbre.

“I have two, and don’t even think about it.”

You whirled, finding your aunt standing behind you, the kind of look that once had you quaking in your boots on her face. Instead, your face split into a huge grin. Her face softened upon seeing you, not in a way most people would notice, but she’d been your favourite person by the time you’d graduated high school and moved away for college. She was the only reason you’d managed to get in somewhere decent. Somehow, despite all your raging against The Man, she’d kept you on track. Your sister had never understood your relationship with her, being one of the people who quaked under her gaze.

“Guess who’s back,” you said, giving her some nice jazz hands to drive your point home.

“No wonder the amount of the trouble in the city has increased,” she said.

“You missed me. Just admit it,” you said, knowing you were being the kind of cheeky that could get you told off.

She sighed but her embrace was tight. You closed your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. You’d missed it more than you could possibly put into words.

“So you finally finished grad school,” she said once you’d drawn away.

“I’m a bonafide doctor now. No way you can go around telling everyone I’m your wayward niece. You can just admit I’m your favourite without shame,” you said.

“And you’re a doctor in what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Something very interesting and not at all practical, just like God intended,” you said.

She shook her head but you saw the way her lips curled up into a smile. She finally entered her office, you trailing after her. The woman, still an unknown, had been watching with a rapt attention that kept making your skin prickle. Your eyes darted down to her, teeth sinking into your lower lip again.

“Please tell me you haven’t returned to the city looking for a hand out,” your aunt said as she sat in her chair behind her imposing desk.

“I’ll have you know I have actual employment like a productive member of society,” you said.

She scoffed but it was the fond kind, not the kind that said you were in danger. You were achingly familiar with both.

“No, seriously. My supervisor knew a guy in the English department at NYU and put in a good word for me,” you said, “I’m teaching intro to the Romantics this year.”

“A worthwhile endeavour I’m sure,” she said.

“Hey, critical thinking is an important skill. Plus, reciting poetry always goes down well when trying to score a date,” you said, falling back on the couch. Only as your arm brushed hers did you remember someone was already occupying it.

“Tell me you didn’t spend all those years at college just to pick up women,” she said with an eye roll.

“That wasn’t the only reason. It was just an added benefit.” You winked at the woman sitting next to you, lips pulling up into a smirk.

“Get out,” your aunt said.

Your eyes shot back over to her but she was looking at the woman beside you.

“You asked me to come see you,” she said.

“Later,” she said.

She stared at your aunt for a moment before she collected up her papers back into the file they’d originally come from. You watched her leave, appreciating the pencil skirt she was in.

“Who was that?” you asked once the door was closed and you knew she wouldn’t hear you.

“ADA Casey Novak and if she knows what’s good for her she’ll stay away from you,” she replied.

“Aw, are you getting all protective, Aunty Liz? You’ll be putting Dad out of a job,” you said.

“Oh, I’m trying to protect her. You’re a hurricane of trouble,” she said.

“Maybe I’ve grown up. It has been a while since I’ve lived here,” you said.

“Stay away from my ADA,” she said, using her commanding voice.

She should have known better. You’d always wanted what you weren’t allowed. And you wanted Casey Novak.

Over the next few weeks you were around your aunt’s office a lot more, traversing the halls as you reacquainted yourself with the building. Keeping your eye out for a certain strawberry blonde, you’d wander around as you waited for your new job to start. Your aunt, doing her best to ignore what you were doing, put up with your impromptu visits with grace.

Sitting in on one of her trials, you found yourself coming face to face with Casey Novak again. Or rather, you could lean back and watch her dominate in the court room. It sent a flutter through your body and an itch in your fingers to sink into her. She was magnificent, a sight to behold, a lion taking down her prey with a precision that was breathtaking.

And from her pursed lips, your aunt was not happy about your presence there to see such a display.

“What are you doing here?” she asked after calling a five minute recess.

“I came to see you in action. I like watching you scare the little people,” you replied, “tell me, I’ve always wanted to know, do you practice that scowl in the mirror or does it come naturally to you?”

“You don’t care about my scowls. You couldn’t keep your eyes off a certain ADA I warned you to stay away from,” she replied.

“Aw, you do care,” you said, “you seriously think I’m going to ruin your ADA?”

Something interesting settled in her face, arms crossed over her chest. You sighed, looking away from her.

“If it means that much to you, Aunty Liz, I won’t do anything with her,” you said, knowing that giving up one gorgeous woman was the least you could do for the woman who kept you from making all the wrong decisions with your life.

She gave you a small smile, one of the fonds one that let you knew you’d made the right decision. It was the kind she gave you any time you came back with an A on a test she’d helped you study for. You sighed.

“But you owe me one. She is insanely hot,” you said, but you were smiling and the sting wasn’t so bad when it was your decision to follow the rules.

You left the courthouse, knowing you had prep work to do before the semester started. No more stalking the halls hoping to run into Casey Novak by “coincidence” and strike up a conversation that might end in her bed. She was just another gorgeous woman who would remain a ‘what if’.

It was easy to push thoughts of her to the side in the flurry of semester beginning. You couldn’t believe how much work went into teaching a college course, your sympathy going out to every professor you’d ever had. Especially those teaching your intro classes, when freshmen came in with all the confidence they hadn’t earned.

“When did becoming devil’s advocate become the cool thing for boys to do?” you asked.

Your aunt looked up at you from over the rim of her glasses, looking less than impressed with your question. You sighed, slumping back against her sofa. On one of the few days you weren’t teaching, you’d sought refuge in the only place you knew would offer you both a slap over the head and a warm hug. Using the pretence of lunch, you’d brought her food and your frustration.

“Okay, sure, they’ve always kind of been like that but now I have to hold my tongue and not go off on how stupid they are,” you complained.

“Yes, because now you’re the adult in the room,” she replied with all the judgement held in her body in her voice.

“How do you manage it?” you asked, looking at her again, “I’ve seen some of your cases. You’ve dealt with some real…”

You couldn’t find the right word.

“Assholes?”

You turned, finding the only woman in the city you were forbidden from even thinking about standing in the doorway. Your aunt’s eyes darted to yours then back to Casey Novak and you saw the warning there.

“You said it, not me,” you said with a small laugh.

The way she stepped into the room had you forcing yourself to look away. Her hips were swaying with a cockiness you’d attempted to pull off plenty of times and had never quite managed. If you kept staring you might never stop.

“Did you need something, Casey?” your aunt asked.

“The Jensen case,” she replied.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” you said, standing, collecting up your rubbish.

Your shoulder brushed Casey Novak’s as you passed her, a jolt of electricity going through you. Your gaze caught on hers as you passed and you felt your breath still.

It was a good thing you loved your aunt so much or else you’d be in trouble.

Taking yourself out for coffee was becoming one of your Saturday traditions. A worn paperback in your hands and a corner table with your caffeine fix and some kind of pastry was easily becoming your favourite part of your week. It was early enough in your weekend that you didn’t feel guilty for not having started on any of the work you still had to get done for Monday morning. You could relax, taking time for yourself.

“Is this seat taken?”

You glanced up, expecting someone looking to steal the other seat and take it to their table. Instead, green eyes were looking down at you, pretty pink lips curling up into a half smile. Casey Novak, in jeans and a t-shirt, hair pulled back, was standing before you in the morning light, looking like a dream come to life.

“Not at all,” you said.

She sat, legs spreading just enough to make you wonder if she was doing it on purpose. Leaning back in the chair, her eyes slid over you, leaving fire in their wake. You took a slow slip from your coffee, tongue dragging over your lower lip as you put the cup down.

“Is there something I can do for you, ADA Casey Novak?” you asked when her gaze darkened.

“You can start by just calling me Casey,” she said.

She thanked the waiter as he placed a coffee in front of her. You watched her take her first sip, her eyes closing in bliss. She placed the cup down again, turning that burning gaze on you.

“So what do you want, Casey?” you asked.

“Knowing your name would be a start,” she said.

The way it sounded on her lips as she repeated it made you shiver. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip again and you saw her focus on it, leaning forward slightly. The heat that went through you was searing and the throb was insistent, keeping time with your racing heart.

This was dangerous.

“Judge Donnelly is very determined to keep us from running into one another,” she said, a soft hum of a voice.

“So you thought you’d hunt me down to see what all the fuss is about?” you asked.

“Call it a happy coincidence. I was passing by, you happened to be here, no planning involved,” she said, “so your aunt can’t crucify me for taking the opportunity to say hello.”

“Do you always do what you’re told not to do?” you asked, tilting your head towards her.

“Not always. Only if it sounds fun,” she said, her smirk making your heart flutter. This felt too much like flirting.

“You’re going to get me in trouble, ADA Casey Novak,” you said, leaning away from her.

“Nothing wrong with a little trouble,” she said.

Certainly not when trouble looked like a smirking Casey Novak.

“And besides, who needs to know? I don’t see you ratting us out to Donnelly,” she said.

Her fingers brushed over the back of your hand, sending sparks up your arm. Your lips parted as your hand flipped, offering her your palm. They traced over it, the feeling of her touch burning through you. You weren’t proud of yourself for giving in so easily, but pretty women had always been your downfall.

“I promised her,” you whispered.

“We’re not doing anything. It’s just coffee,” she said, the definition of temptation.

“You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?”

“I’m used to getting what I want,” she said and you found it intoxicating the way her eyes smouldered as they looked at you.

“I suppose she didn’t say anything about not having coffee together,” you said slowly.

Her satisfaction was obvious in the smug set of her shoulders. You laughed and something in her face brightened.

“What are you reading?” she asked, nodding down to your book as her finger continued to trace patterns into your palm.

“Frankenstein,” you said, nudging it closer to her, “I can’t read poetry every moment of every day.”

“Do you really recite it to pick up women?” she asked, picking up your old book, the spine cracked to the point it fell open in her hand.

“Thy soul was like a star and dwelt apart/thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea,” you recited to her.

You saw a flush bloom high on her cheeks, eyes sparkling as she seemed to lose whatever smart comeback she had. You grinned, hiding it behind your coffee cup, lowering your eyes in a show of false modesty. You liked seeing her a bit flustered, finding it enchanting.

“I suppose I can see the appeal,” she said eventually.

“Wordsworth has yet to fail me,” you said, fluttering your eyelashes at her.

She pushed your novel back across the table to you and then downed her coffee. Her fingers threaded through yours, palm to palm, making you feel like you were losing control of the situation already.

“Did your aunt happen to say anything about ice cream?” she asked.

You shook your head, teeth sinking into your lip again. She grinned, standing, pulling you with her.

“Then let me show you the best ice cream in the city,” she said.

Later, when she’d managed to convince you to return to her apartment with her, she tasted of danger. And trouble. And everything that could destroy you.

When you returned home early Monday morning you were buzzing. You could still feel her lips on your skin and her taste was burnt onto your tongue. Hickeys littered your body and you were deliciously sore. You still smelt like her and you wanted her perfume to linger on your skin for as long as possible.

Maybe Aunty Liz had been onto something about staying away from her.

When she called on Tuesday night you didn’t hesitate to pick up. Lying on your couch, drink in hand, you pressed the phone to your ear as her smokey voice whispered to you.

“Please tell me your day was better than mine,” she requested without even a hello.

“I suppose that depends on how your day was,” you said.

“My case got thrown out,” she said.

“That sucks. Sorry,” you said, “I had a student tell me that only men know how to write romantic poetry.”

“Do you write poetry?” she asked.

“Only of middling talent,” you replied, “nothing worth repeating.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. You are a doctor after all,” she said with a small laugh.

“That brag was for my aunt, not for you,” you replied but you were chuckling too.

“Lucky me for being in the room,” she said.

A knock sounded on your door.

“Hang on,” you said, standing up with a groan.

Pulling the door open you should have been expecting the woman on the other side of the door but you hadn’t been. Her lips pulled up into a smile and you held the door open wider for her. Her fingers brushed the back of your hand as she stepped inside.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” you said into the phone, “a devastatingly sexy woman just arrived.”

She tossed her cell phone on the couch with a laugh. Your hands landed on her hips, pushing her back until you had her pinned to the wall. Her hands cupping your cheeks dragged you up onto your toes to kiss her, long and slow and deep. She hummed into the kiss, the vibrations going through you.

“Make me forget my day,” she requested when you finally pulled away.

You dragged her to your room, more than happy to oblige. You lowered her onto the bed, crawling up her body. Your hands were seeking her skin, pushing up under the skintight turtleneck she had on. Just the sight of it was driving you crazy, remembering the feeling of her curves in her hands. You kissed her again, not able to stop yourself.

She sighed when you pulled her shirt over her head, your hands finding home on her skin. Your thumb brushed over her ribcage from your hand’s place on her waist. Your lips ghosted down her body, feeling her tremble.

“There witching beauty greets the ravished sight/more gentle than the arbitress night,” you whispered into her skin.

She made such a soft noise, one that suggested her chest was caving in. You brushed your lips over the curve of her breast, enjoying the way her breathy moan spurred you on. Wrapping your lips around one peaked nipple, you laved attention on her. She arched into your, fingers winding though your hair. As you sucked, your name fell like a curse from her lips.

Your fingers were quick as they unbuttoned her slacks. Slipping your hand into her panties, you stroked through her folds. Her hips pressed up against your hand, wordlessly begging for more. You kissed across to the other breast, finding the yellowing hickey you’d left only a few days ago. With your tongue, you circled her other hardening nipple, teeth grazing over it for a moment.

“You’re so good at that,” she groaned, fingers tightening in your hair.

You grinned against her as you finger found her clit. Her breathy sigh was gratifying in ways you couldn’t put into words. Slowly, you kissed down her chest, hand slipping from her panties as you grasped her hips. You dragged her slacks down long legs you still remembered curling around you on the weekend.

“You’re so beautiful,” you said, looking up her body.

Your mouth made contact with her throbbing cunt. Keeping a tight hold on her hips, you pressed closer, tongue sweeping through her folds. You moaned at her taste, still addicted to it, the novelty of having her like this not yet having worn off. Staring up your body, you watched as her eyes squeezed closed, fingers fisting in your comforter.

Your tongue dipped into her entrance and a shaky curse fell from her lips. She was so beautiful as her face contorted with pleasure. Wrapping your lips around her bundle of nerves, you suckled as she whimpered above you. You held her in place, refusing to let her use you the way she wanted. You were going to take care of her.

Lifting her legs over your shoulders, you pressed her into the mattress. You couldn’t get enough of her, wanting to spend hours with her doing this. When she came, it was with your name on her lips, the sound of it going right through you.

You were slow to kiss back up her body, finding her lips waiting for you. She kissed you with an enthusiasm that had you groaning. Flipping you, she gazed down at you, lips pulling up into a smirk that was growing familiar.

“You’re entirely too clothed,” she murmured.

“You’d better do something about that then,” you said.

The next morning you woke with her arm flung around your waist and her face buried in your neck. It wasn’t a conscious decision to begin running your fingers through her hair, but when she pressed closer with a soft sigh you didn’t feel the need to stop. You closed your eyes again, nose burying in her hair, breathing in the scent of her perfume again.

“I need to get up,” she mumbled, lips brushing your skin.

“Don’t,” you whispered, “stay.”

“I can’t,” she said, “I need to go fight for my case to be reinstated.”

“You can do that?” you asked.

“If the detectives have found new evidence,” she replied, slow to sit up.

Your eyes tracked over the swathes of skin on display, feeling your mouth water. Something about Casey was addictive to you, making you desperate for more even after hours spent indulging in her body the night before.

“So committed,” you murmured, fingers tracing down her spine, “that’s pretty fucking hot.”

She turned, looking over her shoulder at you. Dark eyes swept over your body, half exposed from where the covers had pooled around her hips. You arched your back, offering more to her gaze.

“And if I win and this rapist goes behind bars, I’ll come back to celebrate with you,” she said.

“Promise?” You tried to smoulder, the way she did that made you feel electric.

She smiled, leaning own to press her lips to yours.

“Promise,” she whispered against your mouth.

She called you by the end of the week. You dressed up all pretty, in a nice dress and a nice pair of heels, hoping to make her head spin the ways yours always did. Meeting her at the restaurant, your breath caught at the sight of the smile she gave you. Then it moved double time as an appreciative look came into her eye.

“If this is what I get for winning a case, I think my conviction rate will go up,” she said, gaze slow to move down your body and then up again before meeting your eye, “you look breathtaking.”

You took her in, the silk dress clinging to her curves, her hair swept up in an elegant undo. Green was certainly her colour. Reaching out, your finger ran along the chain of the necklace she was wearing, watching the way a flush rose to her cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be allowed out like this,” you murmured.

“You don’t like how I look tonight?” she asked.

“I like it entirely too much,” you said, finger stopping at the base of her throat, “the things I want to do to you…”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” she chuckled, “patience, sweetheart.”

“I can be patient,” you replied.

“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”

Seated across from her, it was hard to look away. Her foot brushed your calf, sending a jolt through you. The way she was looking at you over her menu suggested you were what she was hoping to devour. You’d let her.

Placing your order, she took you through the trail, her voice soothing where the details were traumatic. Her foot kept bumping against yours under the table and each time her lips would quirk up. You found yourself leaning towards her, not able to stop yourself. Her gravity seemed only to affect you.

“But you didn’t ask for a blow by blow of the case,” she said, shaking her head after the food was placed down in front of you.

“I like listening to you,” you said.

“You do?” she asked, a surprise look crossing her face.

“Is that really so surprising?” Your fingertips brushed the back of her hand before retracting, “you have a way with words and the kind of voice I could listen to for hours.”

Something broke over her face, cracking open into a look of wonder. Your breath caught, not sure what to do with such a lovely expression on such a beautiful face. It was baffling that you could bring that out in someone like her.

“I’m beginning to see why your aunt wanted to keep us apart,” she said.

“What do you mean?” That was not what you were expecting to say.

“She knew I’d never let you go once I had you,” she said.

Your face softened into a smile. Reaching across the table, you threaded your fingers through hers, enjoying the feel of skin against skin. Her fingers tightened around yours, squeezing for a moment before she released you, beginning to eat.

“And here I was thinking the poetry was the way to seduce you, not the compliments,” you said, picking up your own fork, “might have to switch tracks if I want to keep you around.”

“I like the poetry,” she said, eyes darting up to you.

“And if I was reciting it to someone else…?” you prompted, wondering what was going through her head.

“Are you?” she asked, her gaze sharpening.

“Would it matter if I was?” you asked in response.

“I don’t like to share,” she said, her voice lowering, making you press your thighs together.

You took a slow sip from the wine she’d ordered. Her eyes darkened, lips pursing in a way that suggested you might be in trouble.

“So tell me, sweetheart, have you been reciting your poetry to someone else?” she asked.

“Not recently,” you said.

“How long?” she asked, and you were worried you were walking a razor edge with her.

“A few months,” you replied.

“What happened a few months ago?” she asked but you saw her lips begin to curl up into a small smile.

“I met a beautiful ADA and despite trying to be good, she was very convincing in tempting me to be naughty,” you replied.

She lent forward, her hand finding yours again. Tugging it up, her lips pressed a lingering kiss to your skin, making your breath catch. Your foot bumped hers under the table.

“Do you regret it?” she asked.

“I’m not sure I could ever regret you, Casey Novak,” you replied.

“So you don’t want to stop?” she asked.

“When Aunty Liz finds out, we’ll deal with the fallout then,” you said.

“When?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“If you’re planning on never letting me go, it’ll have to come out eventually. We can’t keep it a secret forever,” you said.

“Eventually.” Her lips pressed to the back of your hand again, “but for now I want to keep you all to myself.”

The thought was pleasing. You held her gaze for a long moment, the weight of it all crashing into you. Your heart thumped in your chest, tripping over itself. You saw possibilities sparkling in her eyes, and the potential future you could build spiralling out before you.

“Who from the cup of amorous delight/dashes the sparkling draught of brilliant delight,” you murmured before taking a sip from your glass of wine. The way she looked at you was like you were something from out of space, beautiful and wonderful and completely unknowable. It was a heady mix.

She didn’t let you return home all weekend.

You slipped back into the monotony of your work come Monday, working through what you should have done on the weekend. It had been easy to forget the stack of papers you had to mark when her mouth was on you and you were gasping her name. It should have scared you, how easy it was to lose yourself in her, but you’d known the first time you’d seen her that she could render you into nothing. You welcomed it.

On Wednesday morning, when a note was sitting on your desk, you rolled your eyes. Curt, to the point, three words that gave you all you needed to know. You put it aside, booting up your computer.

Your aunt didn’t bother standing as you slid into the chair across from her. The food in front of you was what you’d always ordered, your favourite thing on the menu. Especially when she was buying.

“You summoned?” you said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I was worried you’d gotten yourself into trouble,” she said.

“I don’t remember you being my parol officer,” you said, taking a bite of your lunch.

“Nothing you feel the need to tell me?” she asked.

“How about you just tell me what’s on your mind and then I can tell you. Or not, depending what it is,” you said with a wicked grin and a small shrug.

“You always go to work with a hickey on your neck?” she asked.

“Only if I had fun the night before,” you said, which you had.

“Do I want to know?” she asked.

“Are you asking for details about my sex life, Aunty Liz?” you shot back.

“Please, I’m trying to eat,” she said, indicating her soup.

“Don’t ask if you don’t want to know,” you said, “so why did you really ask me for lunch?”

“It’s my duty to check in on you. If not, who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into,” she said.

“Don’t pretend, I know you care. You worry about me.”

She didn’t answer but you knew the truth.

“Are you going to tell me about the girl who’s giving you fun nights?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“Eventually, I’m sure,” you said with a small shrug, knowing you couldn’t tell her, “all you need to know is right now I’m very happy.”

“Clearly.” Her gaze lingered on the hickey you hadn’t bothered covering up that morning, “you know, you’re not the only one who’s coming to work looking less than presentable.”

“You got something to tell me, Aunty Liz?” you poked, trying not to grin at her like a menace. Her beleaguered sigh only made your grin grow.

“ADA Novak has worn the same outfit twice in a row more than once over the last few weeks. Right around the time you stopped calling me incessantly,” she said.

“Lucky girl,” you said.

“And you know nothing about it?” she asked.

“I made you a promise,” you said.

“So it’s just a coincidence?” Her penetrating gaze made you shift in your seat. You’d never been good at lying to her.

“Seems like it.” You looked down at your food, “it’s not a shock two hot women happen to both be getting laid.”

“Okay, you can stop.”

“Good because neither of us is enjoying this,” you said.

She was more than happy to drop the topic. You moved on to much nicer things, like work and how your mother was repainting her kitchen much to your father’s annoyance. She had strong opinions on your sister’s latest boyfriend. You did too.

It was easier when you weren’t talking about Casey.

You started being more careful. You kept the hickeys to places you couldn’t see with your clothes on. She left early enough to get home or brought a change of clothes with her. And you made sure you were never seen anywhere your aunt might be.

Mostly, you spent time in her apartment, curled up in the bubble of the whole thing. You couldn’t understand why your aunt had been so against you seeing her. Everything about her was wonderful, and you’d never felt so sure about a decision before.

“Listen to this,” you said, looking over the top of one of the essays you were marking, “‘he made nature a woman because as everyone knows women are weak and they break under the passion of a man’s love.’ Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” she said, “you should hear some of the stuff men say to justify what they do.”

“I couldn’t do your job,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“That’s why I do it, and why you talk about poetry all day,” she said.

“Is that judgement I hear?”

You placed the essay down, crawling towards her on the couch on all fours. She lent back, watching you with the kind of look in her eye that made you want to submit to her. Her legs spread, offering you the perfect place to stop. Your hands on her knees helped you to push up, drawing closer to her.

“Do you think I don’t have a real job?” you asked, “that I’m just a silly artist who contributes nothing to society?”

“You contribute plenty,” she said, one hand gently cupping your jaw, forcing you to look up at her.

“Do I?” you asked.

“Keeping me happy makes me better at my job. You do your part in putting away all the bad guys,” she said, slow to lean towards you.

“Better make sure you’re on top form tomorrow then, hadn’t I?”

Your marking could wait.

Casey let you stay at her place when your heating went out in the middle of winter break. Curled up in her bed, book in hand, half sprawled against the headboard, you let the hours pass. The door opened and closed again. Looking up, your eyes itched and you realised it had gotten later than you’d expected.

“Hey,” you said when Casey appeared in the doorway.

She looked exhausted, the slope of her shoulders, her heavy footsteps. Your heart ached for her. Her fingers weren’t careful as she unbuttoned her blouse, dropping her slacks to the floor. You still stared every time you saw her naked body, not quite believing you were allowed to see it. She was so beautiful.

She wiggled under the covers, depositing herself on top of you. Her arms curled around your waist, cold hands pressing to your skin as the buried under your sweater. Her face was buried in your neck. With your free hand you stroked a long line down her spine before curling your arm around her waist, feeling her let out a long sigh.

“Long day?” you murmured, lips brushing against her temple.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” she replied, muffled against your neck, arms tightening around you.

“Okay,” you said

In a soft voice, you began reading your book out loud to her until her breathing began to even out. It took a while, her muscles slow to relax. You would read to her all night if it would help, whatever she needed. When she finally dropped off, you gazed down at her, finding yourself enraptured. This was the kind of moment you made sure was burned into your memory.

You ignored the way she made you feel. You pushed away the thought that you were falling for this woman. Even as you knew it was true.

The wolf whistle that passed through your lips was loud. You grinned when Casey’s steps faltered, her eyes seeking you out. She sauntered towards you, an extra swing to her hips when she found you. Leaning back against the pillar you’d been waiting against, you watched her, not even bothering to hide your appreciation.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” she said, coming to a stop in front of you.

“I had to drop something off with my aunt. Thought I’d sneak a glimpse when I got the chance,” you said.

“And?” Her head tilted to the side, crowding you against the pillar without touching you.

“And I think you’re something amazing,” you replied.

Her free hand reached out, fingers tangling with yours.

“Bit risky doing this when your aunt is just inside,” she said.

“She’s stuck in court for the next little while,” you said, “plus, it’s been months and she hasn’t brought it up again. I think we’re in the clear.”

“Lucky us,” she said.

“So can I take you to lunch?” you asked.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” she asked.

“I’m not sure I care,” you replied, then decided to pull out the big guns, “a poet could not but be gay/in such jocund company.”

Your fingertips brushed over her cheekbone.

“Fine, but you’re paying,” she said.

You took it as a win.

You gasped for breath, falling forward onto your elbows. The only sound was the slap of skin and your breathless moans. Casey’s hands were tight on your hips, leaving bruises on your skin. You pressed your hips back, your whines asking for more.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Casey asked, dragging her strap out of you.

“Uh huh,” was all you managed to say.

“Perfect little toy for my cock,” she said, slamming back into you.

You cried out as she hit that place inside of you that made you see heaven. Her name was nothing but a prayer on your lips.

“You were made for this, weren’t you?” she said, “God made you just for me to fuck.”

Her thrusts became rougher, harder, making you see stars. You were so close, feeling the wave about to crash into you. Your entire body was a live wire, every thrust making your head spin.

A loud banging on your door had Casey freezing.

“Ignore it. Whoever it is will go away,” you said, breathless and desperate.

She waited a moment for the knocking to stop before she slowly retracted from you before slowly pushing back in. Your whimper was pathetic, making her chuckle as she readjusted her hold on you.

The banging started on your door again.

Casey sighed, pulling full out of you. You growled, turning, the liquid heat in your veins calling out for more. The throbbing was unbearable. You’d been so close.

“Go handle that, sweetheart,” she said, running a hand through her hair, “then I’ll take care of you.”

You grumbled as you rose onto unsteady legs. Wrapping your robe around your naked body, you did your best to stride towards the door. Pulling it open, you were brought up short at the woman on the other side.

“Don’t tell me you were still in bed,” your aunt said.

“Okay. I won’t tell you,” you replied.

You glanced back over your shoulder, clutching your robe tighter around you.

“Are you going to invite me in?” she asked, her expectant look making you freeze.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Aunty Liz. I’m not exactly set up for company,” you replied.

“Or at least not company you have to be dressed for,” she said.

“What are you doing here?”

She pushed past you into your apartment. You were slow to close the door, hoping she’d leave, still feeling the slickness between your thighs begging you to go back to Casey and finish what you’d started. Her eyes slowly took in your place, lingering on the two cups of coffee on your counter.

“Am I finally going to meet your mystery woman?” she asked, turning to look at you.

“No,” you said, “did you need something or were just hoping to cock block me?”

“You’ve been dodging your mother’s calls. Call her back so she stops bugging me,” she said.

“Sorry. She just won’t shut up about redoing the living room and there’s only so long I can discuss the merits of eggshell vs seashell,” you said, running your fingers through your messy hair.

“Just call her,” she said, “I’d like not to repeat this experience.”

“That makes two of us,” you muttered.

The bedroom door was pulled open and your heart stopped in your chest. Both you and your aunt were slow to turn to the figure that had frozen in the doorway. Casey, wrapped in a sheet, cheeks still flushed and eyes wide, was staring back.

“Uh… it’s not what it looks like?” you tried when you got your voice back.

The look she gave you was withering. You shrunk under it, knowing the game was up. There was no talking your way out of this. Her jaw clenched and the tension in her body was enough to snap.

“I believe you gave me a promise,” she said, voice cold enough to give you hypothermia.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice shrinking under her glare, “it just kind of… happened.”

“And when I asked you about it, you lied right to my face,” she said.

“What was I meant to do? You were so determined I should have nothing to do with her. An opinion I don’t understand and certainly don’t share,” you said, knowing you were sounding like the petulant teenager who had been dumped on her all those years ago.

“You don’t have to share my opinion but you gave me your word,” she said.

“Don’t blame her,” Casey said, finally stepping into the room properly, “I started this.”

“You also gave me your word,” she said, turning on her, eyes flashing dangerously.

“That’d ridiculous. You can have a say in my personal life but one of your ADAs? Seriously, Aunt Liz?” you demanded, “that’s gotta be some kind of abuse of power.”

“Don’t start,” she snapped.

“It’s fine,” Casey said to you.

“No. It’s totally an infringement on your rights. She can’t ask that of you,” you said.

“Sweetheart, she didn’t ask me as my boss,” she said.

“Fine, then I’ll be angry about it on my behalf. You can ask me but not other people,” you said, rounding on your aunt.

“Did you ever think that maybe I had good reason for telling you to stay away from her?” your aunt asked.

“So why did you?” you asked.

Her eyes flicked to Casey who was looking between the two of you like she was desperate to leave this situation. You shook your head, turning away from her.

“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done and unfortunately for you we’re happy together. I think it’s time for you to leave,” you said, gesturing back towards the door, “I’ll talk to Mom.”

You didn’t bother looking at her as she left your apartment, the door loud in the silence left in her wake. Your stomach was unsettled, a toxic mix of anxiety and anger, and all you could do was stare at Casey. The color had drained from her face and there was nothing you could do.

“Kind of a mood killer, huh?” you said, hoping to break the tension.

“I should probably go,” she said before disappearing back into your bedroom.

“What? No.” You followed her, “you don’t have to. We don’t have to let her ruin our weekend.”

She didn’t look at you as she dragged her clothes back onto her body. A chill went over you, leaving you off balance and unsure. All you could do was watch as she put herself back together.

“I’ll call you,” she said, hand gently cupping your chin as she kissed your cheek.

The door slammed shut behind her and you fell back onto your mattress, the first tear falling. You’d known it was going to be awful when Liz found out, but you hadn’t thought Casey would be sent running. You’d stupidly assumed her feelings were strong enough to take the hit of your aunt’s disappointment.

She never called.

You kept to yourself for a few weeks, waiting, hoping she’d come back. Any time you called her it went to voicemail and she never called back. You stayed home, ordering takeout you didn’t want and left mostly uneaten. You curled up on the couch, stumbling through the days, wondering what you’d done wrong. Because you must have done something wrong for her to disappear from your life like that.

It took a lot of pride for you to drag your overwrought body over to your aunt’s. It was late enough you thought she’d be at home, but your knocks went unanswered. Sinking down onto her front steps, you lent against the ice cold metal of the handrail debating letting yourself freeze to it. It would be easier than continuing on in the hole you’d found yourself in.

“You make a sad sight.”

You blinked up at the woman towering over you. With a sigh, you hauled yourself to your feet, using the handrail to hold yourself up. Your aunt considered you for a moment before pushing past you to unlock her front door.

“You’d better come in,” she said, “can’t have you freezing to death out here.”

You trudged after her, letting yourself be enveloped in the familiar home you’d spent so many hours in. Her steady hand on your shoulder pushed you down onto her couch, disappearing out the back into where you knew the kitchen was.

A warm mug was placed in you hands, painful against your frozen fingers. You sighed, staring down into the steaming tea, the same brand she’d been stocking for you since you started sleeping over when life got too much for you.

“I sense I’m going to regret this, but do you want to talk?” she asked, lowering into the leather armchair that felt synonymous with her.

“Why didn’t you want me to pursue Casey?” you asked.

You’d been wrong. Your aunt always had a reason for asking things of you and she’d yet to be wrong. This was all your fault by not listening to her. So you had to know why she’d been so adamant this time.

“What’s happened?” she asked in return.

“I haven’t heard from her since you found out. She won’t take my calls. She won’t come see me. So I guess it’s over. I should have listened to you,” you said, staring down into your mug of tea. You took a slow sip. It was the same thing that had been going through your head for days now.

“Yes, you should have.” Your head snapped up to her.

“You knew this would happen?” you asked.

“I knew Casey Novak is a heartbreaker. She’s beautiful and smart and passionate. Makes her a damn good ADA. But the moment I saw the way she was looking at you I knew she was interested. And the way you looked at her said you were too,” she said, “you’ve never been able to lie to me.”

“So why did you tell me to stay away from her?” you asked.

“I think you forget I know you. She’s the exact kind of woman you’d destroy yourself for. I didn’t want to see you get your heart broken,” she said and you were surprised by how soft she could make her voice.

“So it wasn’t because you didn’t want me to distract your best prosecutor?” you asked.

“Distract her. Break her heart. I don’t care. It’s your heart I was trying to protect,” she replied.

“So much for that.” You slumped back, staring into your mug like it held all the answers, “I really fell for her.”

“I know you did,” she said.

“When you brought her up over lunch all those months ago…?” you asked, finally looking up at her again, realising what she’d said about lying.

“I knew you were lying to me. Foolishly, I thought it would lose its charm if I stop telling you what to do. I should have known better,” she said.

“I really thought she was falling for me too.”

And then the tears came. Your Aunt Liz had never been a cuddler, but the squeeze of her arm around you and her steady shoulder beneath your head was exactly what you needed. She let you cry until there were no more tears and then sent you upstairs to bed.

By the morning you felt a smidge better. Less pathetic at least. You stayed the weekend with her, reverting back to your teenage self, letting someone else look after you for once. And so you called out sick on Monday and followed her to work.

Her sharp look was all the opinion she was going to give you. After you’d told her your plan the night before she’d made her disapproval clear. But you needed to do it. For your own peace of mind.

Slipping into Casey’s office, you shut the door with a quiet click. Your heart squeezed as she looked up at you. The expression that went over her face would be enough to bring the tears on again if you hadn’t done your best to harden yourself to her. But there were dark circles under her eyes and it looked like she hadn’t slept since you’d last seen her.

“Hi,” you said, leaning back against her door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“You never called.”

Green eyes darted away from you, the hands clasped on her desk tightening. You’d grown used to reading her body language and this was not a good sign.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but if you wanted to end things I wish you’d just told me,” you said, leaving the safety of the door, “I mean, I got the message but it would have been nice if you could have just said something.”

“I’m sorry,” she said on a sigh.

You stared up at the ceiling, doing your best to keep from exploding your emotions all over her office. You heard the scrape of her chair pushing back. You focused on the light hanging above.

“Hope is a thing with feathers/that perches in the soul/and sings the tune without the words/and never stops at all,” you whispered.

A broken breath passed through parted lips. You inhaled sharply, turning your gaze back to her. Her eyes were swimming with an emotion you couldn’t name, tears welling, threatening to fall. You shook your head, looking down to your fingers, twisting together until you thought they might break under the strain.

“I really thought you liked me,” you said, “enough to handle my aunt’s disapproval. But I guess I was the idiot who fell for someone who didn’t feel the same.”

She stayed silent.

“She finally told me why she didn’t want us to get together. She knew you were going to break my heart. Next time I think about ignoring her advice I’ll come back to this moment,” you said.

She was still staring at you in silence. You shook your head looking away, disappointment welling in you again.

“That’s all I wanted you to know. I’ll leave you alone now.”

You turned to go, your sigh heavy. You should have expected this. She couldn’t even handle having a conversation to end things with you. As if she was going to say anything when you tried to have one. Still, at least you got it off your chest. That was really all you wanted to do. Your hand landed on the doorknob.

“Wait!”

You froze, not used to hearing such desperation in her voice. The ache in your chest only got worse. You didn’t turn around, but you didn’t turn the doorknob either, hung between one decision and the next.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and you could just imagine the tear spilling down her cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I wanted to call. I did. But…” You heard her take a deep breath in, “I’m not good when it becomes real.”

“What does that mean?” You turned, surprised at the spike of anger you felt making your heart beat double time.

“It means the last time I let myself fall in love in went badly. He… It’s not important, but I haven’t been able to let myself get that vulnerable again,” she said, looking at you like that explained everything.

“So this was nothing but a bit of fun for you?” you asked, “you never cared about me?”

“No!” Her hands grasped your forearm, the first touch of bare skin you’d had from her in weeks making your head spin, “no. Maybe that’s how it started but no.”

“Then make it make sense, Casey. If it mattered to you then why did you disappear? Why did you do this?” you demanded.

“Because I cared.”

She thrust her fingers into the front of her hair, gripping at the roots. She turned away from you, the anguish clear on her face. It was like a punch to the gut, sending you reeling. Your shoulders slumped, staring at her as she paced. The impulse to reach out and comfort her was still strong. You hated yourself for it.

“Look, I could ignore the way I was falling for you when it was just us. I could lie to myself and say it was just sex. That I didn’t want more. But then Donnelly was there and you were trying to protect me and I knew. I knew I was in love with you,” she said and you felt your heart break right there in her office.

“You were a coward,” you said, and it wasn’t nice but it was true.

“I was,” she agreed, “I didn’t want to hurt you but I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“You said you’d never let me go,” you said.

“A good line I thought would make you smile,” she said, shaking her head, “I didn’t expect you to actually want it.”

“Do you still love me?” you asked.

“What?” Her brow furrowed.

“After all this, do you still love me?” you asked.

“Does it matter?” she asked in return.

“Just answer the damn question.” You hadn’t expected to get angry but she jumped as you raised your voice.

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless.

“Good.”

Your hands landed on her hips, forcing her back against her desk. Her lips parted and a flush bloomed over her cheeks. Pushing up onto your toes, your lips ghosted over hers.

“That I did always love/I bring thee proof,” you murmured.

You kissed her then and her whimper was music to your ears. Her arms came up around you, hands pressing between your shoulder blades, keeping you pressed against her. Your tongue swept into her mouth, needing this more than you’d realised. You’d thought this was the end. Instead, warmth was blooming in your chest and you felt giddy as you kissed her deeper. You couldn’t get close enough to her.

She drew back, breath heaving, eyes still closed. You ran your fingertips along her lower lip. She pressed a kiss to them before her eyes slowly blinked open.

“I know you’re scared, and I know you think you’re not good at this, but I’m not letting you go without a fight. I love you, ADA Casey Novak,” you said.

“Just Casey,” she whispered, voice breaking, a tear slipping free.

You wiped it away, then the next and the one after that.

“I don’t deserve you,” she said.

“No, you don’t,” you said, sliding your fingers into her hair, “but lucky for you I’m pigheaded and I’m used to getting what I want. Sound familiar?”

Her chuckle was wet but she pinched your side until you laughed too. She lent forward, forehead pressing to yours. Your hands slid around to interlock at the small of her back.

“So will you pick up when I call you tonight?” you asked.

“I’ll do you one better.” She cupped both your cheeks, tipping your face up towards her, “I’ll give you my spare key and you can be waiting for me when I get home.”

You kissed her again, not able to help yourself. Possibilities tasted so much better when they were coming true.

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #law and order svu

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gilverrwrites · 1 day ago

Note

for some reason, I've been thinking on the aftercare of some of the guys.

like with roman, I feel like aftercare fully depends on your relationship with him. a difference between a sugar baby and a partner, y'know?

but with dick—dick, in my opinion, KING of aftercare, you know he would treat you right. and bruce, bruce absolutely would.

it's where roy, jason, tim I'm a little stumped on. cause I feel like, I know they would be good with aftercare. I'm just trying to think of what they would do. thoughts?

I feel like w so many nsfw stuff, I was thinking about the potential fluff afterwards.

🩷

I rarely use this blog to educate unless asked (you’re always free to ask me anything), but I feel a need to remind people that aftercare, just like any other stage of sex, is something that is different for all couples. No two people are the same and you should be discussing with your partners what you want/need/expect to feel loved and cared for in the same way you would discuss kinks and what not.

Tim specifically is a talk it out kind of guy. Like, not before you started sleeping together, but in the aftermath of your first tryst he lay beside you, panting, enjoying the afterglow for a few minutes until he asks “What now?”

Without guidance he airs on caution. He’ll clean you up, offer to fetch you food and drink, you can use his shower, or borrow his clothes. He’ll want to check on any potential abrasions (biting, spanking etc), and instead of asking you if want to be held he’ll just sort of lounge beside you with his arms open, like an open invitation.

He's dutiful, so ultimately whatever you ask him for he will provide, and he's very open about telling you what he expects in return.

Until you’ve talked about it, and I mean ‘you can trust me, I wont judge, I want you to be comfortable, you deserve to be looked after too’-talked, Jason is the one that needs to be nudged into aftercare. He doesn’t want to force anything on you, he doesn’t know how to talk about it anyway, and he really doesn’t want to seem needy by asking you to look after him. So, he just sort of lingers.

“You ok? Yeah? Good, good. Me? Yeah, I’m fine. No, I don’t need anything. Cool. Stay? No, yeah, I can stay if you want me too.”

He’ll let you cuddle up to him, he’ll watch your shows or read your book with you, but he’s like a deer, if you acknowledge him, he’ll run.

At least until he’s comfortable with you, until you've done the talking and have created a mutually trusting relationship. Until he’s in love with you. Then he’s got you and your aftercare needs committed to memory, move over Dick, there’s a new king in town.

Roy's ideal aftercare is more quality time than anything. He likes to know that you want to be around him, that it’s not just sex, but his own mind wanders. Roy likes to be tucked up, cuddled in bed with you while you’re both doing your own thing, scrolling your phones, reading, gaming, whatever.

However, if you need something more attentive, if you need to talk, or be pampered etc he’ll make every effort to account for that, just be prepared to have to remind him every now and again. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he's just easily distracted.

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darkwitchoferie · 2 days ago

Text

Train Ride - Chapter 8, Exhibitionism, Stress Relief, and Painting

A/N: First - sorry this took longer than I originally intended. That may continue as my personal shit has gotten a bit more complicated. Second - I lied – there’s another chapter now. So, there’s a total of 10 chapters, 3 of which happen after the original oneshot. This is another long one, y’all. But then, there’s three separate scenes in this one, so it’s not surprising. The next two chapters are the same – three scenes each.

Not specific to this fic – but when did we, collectively as a fanfic writing community, decide that Changbin calls his partner ‘bunny’ and Minho uses ‘kitten’? I’ve seen it in tons of fics. Like, not upset about it or even really questioning WHY we decided that, just wondering when it happened.

I just realized, on proofreading this, that there’s no Felix. At all. Damn. It’s alright, the next chapter starts with him.

Cw/tw: exhibitionism, group sex, unprotected vaginal and anal sex, oral (m & f receiving), facefucking, member x member action, a little breath play, featuring (a little) of Seungmin’s fondness for being manhandled by Changbin, cock warming, cum eating and sharing,

Wc: 5.7k

Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

~~ Exhibitionism ~~

Since the orgy that brought Jisung and Minho into the polycule, things had been going very well for you and the members. You had explained the pendent necklace Chan had given you and that, if they saw you wearing it, it was blanket permission to play with you. That was something every single one of them took advantage of whenever they could. Changbin, one of the three of your boyfriends who shared your exhibitionist kink, had also called you to the studio during a recording session. You’d enjoyed it a lot more than you might have expected. Not only the sex, but also watching whichever of your boyfriends was in the recording booth watch you and be unable to participate because he had to record. Jeongin, Felix, and Jisung had had to fully turned their backs in an effort to maintain their composure.

You also had scheduled date days with each of the boys, and they had them with each other as well. Frequently, you had additional dates that were with all of the boys, or just a few of them. But you all made sure to make time for one-on-one dates once a month. Sometimes they weren’t very long or got pushed back due to late or changing schedules, but that was something you were used to from having been with Chan for so long.

Usually, when that happened, whoever’s date had been pushed back, would want to have an apartment date, rather than going out. Apartment date was just the wording the nine of you had agreed on for an at-home date, usually your home. They were the more romantic dates, seeing as you and seven of your boyfriends couldn’t really be romantic publicly.

Yours and Minho’s date night had unfortunately been pushed back several times over three weeks, so you were both craving some romantic affection. Not that you hadn’t seen him at all in that time or that you two hadn’t been romantic, you had, you just hadn’t been able to have a date with him. So you weren’t surprised when Minho asked for your date with him to be an apartment date.

It was the middle of the day when Minho planned to come over. The eight of them had a day off, so he had no other commitments that would mean your date had to be in the evening. But, because you were both looking for a more romantic atmosphere, you’d pulled the curtains tight over your kitchen window and balcony door to darken your apartment, then lit a couple candles in the living room to lend everything a more romantic atmosphere.

While you were in your room changing into more comfortable lounge clothes, you heard the door open. You hurried out as soon as you were dressed to find Minho standing in the middle of your living room, looking around.

“How is it that there are eight of us, each with different wants and personalities, and you still somehow always know exactly what to do for us?” he asked softly, turning to look at you.

You grinned, pleased that you’d read the situation right. “I know my men,” you answered, shrugging a shoulder as if it were no big deal.

He strode up to you, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in to claim your lips in a soft kiss. “Thank you, kitten. This is just exactly what I needed today.”

In short order, the pair of you had spread out the snacks and drinks Minho had brought on your coffee table then cuddled on your couch, watching your favorite movie. He was wedged into the corner of your couch and you were cuddled half on top of him, thoroughly relaxed and enjoying your movie.

Lazily, mostly watching the movie, his hand had drifted from around your waist to groping your boobs over your tank top. His touch was light, with very little intention in his actions, mostly like he was playing with a fidget toy to keep his focus on the screen. You thought it was kind of funny, especially how he wasn’t the only one to treat your boobs that way. Chan, Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin all did as well. Hyunjin liked to tap on or trace designs on your belly, while Jisung and Felix were more fond of your thighs.

After the movie ended, you stretched out, arching enough to press your boob more firmly into Minho’s hand. Then you sighed and slumped back against him again. After another content moment, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw, then stood up and started clearing away the trash from your snacks. You saw him reach for his phone, but didn’t comment, not particularly caring who he was texting as long as he didn’t spend the rest of your date on it.

After tossing the trash into the trash can, you went to the refrigerator to grab more drinks. You squeaked in surprise when you felt Minho press up against your ass while you were bent over, looking in the fridge.

You stood up, pressing your ass more firmly against him and feeling him grow harder. “Something I can help you with, baby?” you tease.

“Mm, there might be,” he reached forward to grip your hips. You grinned as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your shoulder. You tilted your head over and slightly back to rest on his shoulder and give him full access to the side of your neck. You gripped his thigh, moaning, when he sucked a hickey into the side of your neck. “Mm,” he hummed against your skin. “I’m hungry kitten. Got anything I could eat?”

You knew what he wanted you to say, so instead you leaned down into the refrigerator again, making sure your ass was firmly against his hard on. “Let’s see,” you wiggled your hips a little. “There’s the left over Chinese from yesterday, kimchi, I could make ramen if you want.”

Tightening his grip on your hips, he pulled you away from the fridge. “Not what I’m hungry for.”

“Oh, did you wanna order pizza?” you asked, working to keep your voice as innocent as possible.

Rather than answer you, he quickly slid your lounge shorts and panties down your legs, flipped you around, and lifted you onto the counter beside the fridge. Your panties and shorts dropped off your ankles as soon as you were in the air. “Tease,” he accused, stepping between your legs and running two fingers up your folds, flicking your clit with the pads of those fingers.

“Oh, is that what you wanted? You should’ve said, baby.” He gave you an unimpressed glare as he crouched down to be face-level with your pussy. Your giggle at his glare was abruptly cut off into a moan when he immediately wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

Minho wrapped his arms around your thighs, well acquainted with your habit of squeezing peoples’ heads if they didn’t hold your thighs open. You threaded your fingers in his hair as he devoured your pussy, licking, sucking, and tongue fucking you just the way you loved. The build to your orgasm was steady, but fast, as Minho seemed intent on getting you to cum quickly. Your moans turned whiney as he repeatedly flicked his tongue over your clit, before wrapping his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth again.

You moaned, loud and long, curling around his head, as your orgasm rushed through you.

You leaned your head back against the cupboard, panting to catch your breath. “You know that the eight of us talk about you and any… fantasies you may share with us, right?”

“You know the eight of us talk about you and anything we think you’d enjoy, right?” You countered.

A small smile flashed across his face. “Channie was telling us all about the night you confessed to wanting this arrangement and what fantasies you’d admitted to at the time.”

“Hm. That explains why Bin didn’t shower after the gym on his way here last week.”

“Mm,” he hummed his agreement. “You did look so good riding his thigh.” It had become rather frequent that the nine of you sent sex photos and videos to the group chat. “And we all know he loves how messy you get.” At the time, Changbin had taken a photo of his thigh, shiny and slick with your arousal and cum.

You grinned. “I assume there’s a point?”

“There’s a balcony, actually,” he nodded his head in the direction of the curtains covering your balcony door.

“Minho, it’s the middle of the day!” You couldn’t deny though that the thought of what he was suggesting made your pussy clench.

“Kitten, you gonna tell me that doesn’t excite you more?” His mocking tone and the smirk on his face, not to mention the way his fingers danced up your inner thigh, told you that he knew exactly what you thought.

He tugged you off the counter, shepherding you toward the balcony door. He pulled your tank top up and off just as he pushed you through the open door and onto your balcony. You took a second to appreciate that your building was one of the ones that had walls separating the balconies rather than just fences. Sure, the potential of being caught was part of the thrill, but you didn’t want to jeopardize the guys’ careers and reputations. The walls and deep shadows created by them would protect Minho’s identity.

Minho joined you, having only slid his sweats down enough to pull his cock out, and crowded you against the railing. “You’ll have to be quiet, kitten. I’m not going to cover your mouth, and it’s not like you have a shirt to bite on.” Then he flipped you around and pressed against your back, forcing you to bend over the railing. Your belly rested on the top of the railing, leaving your head and tits to hang over the edge. He then grabbed both of your hands, holding them in a relaxed grip in one of his behind your lower back.

You felt him run his cock head up and down your slit a few times before he gripped one of your hips with his free hand and slammed into you. Not prepared for his speed, you didn’t have time to muffle the loud moan you let out. You quickly clenched your jaw shut as he immediately set a fast pace.

“Any one of those people down there could look up any time, kitten.” He was mostly hidden by the shadows of your balcony and every other word he spoke was punctuated with a harsh thrust of his hips. “What a view that would be, huh? You with your gorgeous tits bouncing over the railing.”

You whimpered, trying so hard to stay quiet. Your complex’s parking lot wasn’t exactly teeming with people, no matter what time of day, but it was the end of the work day, so many of your neighbors were coming home. and the thrill of any of them looking up and seeing you was setting you on edge almost as fast as Minho’s cock was. Your pussy clenched with Minho’s words and the images that put in your mind.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Someone down there looking up here to see you being fucked out in the open like this.” You screwed your eyes shut in an effort to focus on keeping quiet. Instead, doing so heightened your other senses so you clearly heard the cars not too far away on the road, felt the breeze through your hair and over your tits. Behind you, Minho chuckled. “Well, look at that, two someones have seen you.”

Your eyes flew open and you spotted Changbin and Seungmin looking up at you. Seungmin blew you a kiss while Changbin pulled out his phone and took either a couple photos or a short video. You whimpered, looking down at them watching you was bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. After a minute or so, the pair headed into the building. You turned your head to look back at Minho.

“I texted them,” he confirmed your half formed thought. “Thought I shouldn’t be the only one who gets to enjoy you out in the fresh air.”

You whimpered again, head dropping forward. The thought of three of your boyfriends using you out on the balcony, where anyone could look up and see you, had you curling against the railing and biting your bottom lip to keep quiet as you came.

“Aw, kitten, did that make you cum? Really?”

“What?”

“I told her I called you both so you could enjoy her in the fresh air too and she almost immediately came.”

“Pretty girl loves the thrill, don’t you?” Seungmin came to stand beside you, back against the railing.

You purposely clenched around Minho, feeling desperate to have him cum in you. With a groan, he pulled out of you and you felt his cum splash on your ass.

“No,” you whined.

“Poor kitten,” Minho teased, panting to catch his breath.

Changbin, judging by the fingers on your ass, stepped up behind you and swiped his fingers through the cum on your ass, gathering some up. He then reached forward and shoved his two fingers into your mouth. You moaned around his fingers, sucking Minho’s cum off them with the same enthusiasm as if it were his cock, not just Bin’s fingers. Bin thrust his fingers in your mouth a few times while you heard him unzipping his jeans with his other hand. Then his fingers were gone.

He interlaced his fingers with yours, keeping your hands pinned to your hips, as he thrust into you. Immediately he set a brutal pace, rocking you against the railing.

“I wonder, kitten, if we took you camping, would you let us fuck you in the woods?” Minho asked from somewhere behind you.

“Oh God,” Changbin groaned as you clenched around him. “Yeah, I think she would. I think she’d like that a lot, huh bunny?”

“Hm, out in the woods, huh? Bet you wouldn’t have to be quiet out there, pretty girl.” Seungmin’s fingers danced up your spine with his words. His fingers continued over your shoulder until he reached your boob. You felt him press against your side, his hard cock against your side, to get a better angle for him to grope your tit. He pinched and rolled your nipple and you squirmed and writhed, trying so hard not to make any noise that you could feel tears gathering.

“I’ll have to see what we can do to set that up,” Minho mused. Distantly, you wondered if he was teasing you or if he were serious.

It didn’t matter to your imagination though, because now all you could imagine was your hands pressed against a tree while Changbin fucked you like he was doing now and you were free to make all the noises that you were desperately holding back.

“Pretty, are you crying?” Seungmin asked, concerned. You violently shook your head, negating the concern rather than denying the tears that finally started to drip from your eyes. “Ah,” he said, understanding. “Feels so good and you can’t make any noise, huh?” You nodded.

Changbin, still holding your hand, slid his hand around your hip and quickly found your clit. You kept your fingers attached to his hand, knowing he didn’t like for you to touch yourself with him, unless he could watch. His thumb rubbed quick, firm circles against your clit. “C’mon bunny. Just let go for me,” he leaned over you, pressing kisses to your back. Within just a few more strokes, your back arched, pressing your tits forward more over the railing, as you came around Bin’s cock. “Good bunny,” he praised, causing you to shiver as he chased his own high, building you up to another.

Changbin’s hips stilled and you felt his warm cum flood your insides. You locked your jaw against the whimper that wanted to come out as he pulled out of you.

Taking his place behind you, Seungmin rubbed a soothing hand over your back, letting you catch your breath for just a moment, before slamming into you. You clutched the railing, Seungmin having not restrained your hands at all. You had the brief thought to cover your mouth, but that was quickly dashed.

“Keep them right there, pretty girl, or I’ll stop.” You whimpered, purposely clenching around his cock as if to keep him in your body.

Behind you, Seungmin stilled. Before you could find your voice for a complaint, Changbin said, “Just a minute, bunny. Just let me get him ready.”

Your head dropped forward – you loved watching Changbin fuck Seungmin as he was usually rougher with the younger man than he was with you, because Seungmin liked it that way. You loved the way Seungmin’s eyes would roll back in his head as Changbin took complete charge of him, roughly moving him to whatever position the older man wanted, even wrapping his hand or arm around the younger man’s neck.

After just a couple minutes, you felt Seungmin press harder into you and heard the low moan that meant Changbin was pressing into him. You didn’t have to wait long for Bin to start thrusting into him, setting a brutal pace, and causing Minnie to fuck you at the same pace. You bit the inside of your lip, trying to keep your moans as quiet as possible, though you could still hear the muffled noises you made.

You didn’t have to look to be able to tell Bin had his hand wrapped around Minnie’s neck, providing just the right amount of pressure to make breathing difficult. You could hear it in the gasps coming from Seungmin. You felt like Bin’s hand was wrapped around your neck, dizzy with pleasure from being used by your boyfriends just the way you liked it.

“Doing okay, kitten?” Minho came to stand beside you, back to the railing. You did your best to nod, but it was difficult with the way Changbin’s thrusts were rocking you through Seungmin. “Good. So good to us, letting us have you whenever we want. However we want,” Minho smiled down at you, the gentle tone of voice and feel of his fingertips running over your shoulder and part way down your side completely at odds with everything else you were feeling.

His fingers skated down your back, wrapping around your hip until he pressed his first two fingers firmly against your clit. He didn’t move them at first, just keeping a firm pressure there while the rocking from Changbin’s thrusts provided a little motion. Then he started tapping on the bundle of nerves, timing it with Changbin’s thrusts.

Seungmin came first, dropping his head back against Changbin with a low groan as he came, adding his load to the one already in you. Changbin sped up, chasing his own high again and causing little whimpers of overstimulation to come from the man between the two of you. Minho focused on your clit, switching to rub little circles into the bundle of nerves until you came with a short scream, mostly muffled by your lips being tightly pressed together. Lost in your own orgasm, you missed when Changbin came but knew he had because he was still.

Carefully, Changbin tugged Seungmin back, pulling him out of you with a whimper from you both.

“C’mere,” Minho tugged you off the railing to face him and, still keeping you bent over, used his thumb to open your mouth and shove his cock in. After a few, deep thrusts, he was coming down your throat.

Exhausted, legs feeling like jelly, you dropped down onto one of the lounge chairs you kept on the balcony. You knew in a minute you’d have to get up for the usual aftercare routine of drink/food/bath, but right now you couldn’t be bothered to care about it.

~~ Stress Relief ~~

You’d had to go into the office for your once-a-month mandatory meeting. You hated those meetings, 99% of everything they talked about was either something you’d already handled via email, or could be handled via email. You were pretty sure it was your bosses way of controlling their staff.

After the meeting, you went straight to Chan and Jeongin’s apartment. You couldn’t remember for sure, without checking the calendar you all used, but you were pretty sure that one of them had a solo schedule today and the other didn’t. Hopefully, one of them would be there. If not, you’d post a nude into the group chat to get someone to come help relieve the aggravation caused by work.

Once in their apartment, the sounds you heard pulled you to Chan’s bedroom. You pushed open the door to see Chan on his back, Jisung bouncing on his cock. For just a minute, you stood and watched them – Chan clutching Ji’s hips, while Ji’s leaky cock bounced with every bounce of his hips.

“Mm, you look so good riding on him, Sungie,” you commented, strolling up to the bed as you shed your work clothes. Jisung’s rhythm faltered as he caught sight of you. “Oh, don’t stop on my account,” you reassured, ridding yourself of the last of your clothes then running a soothing hand down his spine.

Thanks to his anxiety, Jisung still occasionally had moments where he worried what you or one of the other guys thought when you walked in on him and someone else. Like now. At your reassurance though, he smiled and started rolling his hips faster. Chan groaned, tightening his hold on his hips before finding his voice and turning to you.

“Hey baby girl. Didn’t realize you were coming over.” Chan smiled up at you.

“Mm-hm. Had that stupid could’ve-been-an-email meeting today. Need some stress relief.”

“Happy to help, love. Come have a seat.” He winked, blowing you a kiss. He knew, as did the others, that stress relief mostly meant you wanted to be eaten out. Sometimes, if it was really stressful, you’d want to be fucked too. But a mouth on your pussy was the best stress relief for you.

You bent over him to kiss him quickly, before doing exactly as he asked. You climbed up onto the bed and straddled his face, facing Jisung, slowly lowering yourself until he got too impatient, grabbed your hips, and pulled you down onto his mouth. You and Jisung let out matching moans as he did.

“So it was a – oh – a shit day at work?” Ji asked.

“Oh God,” you moaned out as Chan fucked his tongue up into you. “Who cares?” You felt the rumble of Chan’s chuckle against you at your answer. You reached down, hands resting on Chan’s pecs as he continued to lap at you. On a harsh suck of your clit, your elbows gave out. You caught yourself before falling completely, but now found yourself face to tip with Jisung’s bouncing dick.

When you wrapped your lips around him, you were more than pleased to learn that every time he raised up on Chan’s dick, the movement pushed his own dick into your mouth. You shifted around to make yourself more comfortable, keeping your cunt pressed against Chan’s mouth while Jisung thrust into your mouth.

“Oh God,” he moaned, reaching down to tangle one hand in your hair and brace his other hand on Chan’s abs beside your head. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as he struggled to keep his rhythm. Chan obviously noticed as he planted his feet on the bed and started thrusting up into the younger man, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth at the same time. Jisung whined, tightening his hold on your hair.

You were so focused on watching Jisung come apart, that you were only vaguely aware of your own orgasm building. So it took you a little by surprise when you felt that coil snap and you bucked your hips against Chan’s mouth, moans muffled by Jisung’s cock. Watching you cum seemed to be just enough for Jisung who followed right behind you, some of his cum splashing on your lips and chin because of the way Chan was thrusting into him.

He tugged you up, off his softening cock and, while Chan kept thrusting up into him, licked his own cum off your lips and chin. Then he leaned in and captured your lips in a surprisingly sweet kiss that was interrupted when he moaned into your mouth as Chan came in him.

The three of you relaxed, shifting around to lay cuddled together, Jisung in the middle. “You okay, baby girl?”

You knew he was actually asking if you wanted or needed to cum again, but that had been the perfect amount of stress relief for you. “Mm, I’m good, love.” You stretched a little then wrapped your arms more firmly around Ji, who had his face buried against Chan’s chest.

After a while, the three of you got up, cleaned up, and went out to the kitchen to figure out what you wanted for dinner.

~~ Painting ~~

You wondered, briefly, if you’d ever be able to deny any of your boyfriends anything they asked. Seungmin had accused you of having all of them wrapped around your fingers, but you wondered if he realized that they all had you just as wrapped around theirs. Currently, Jeongin was sitting cross-legged on Hyunjin’s bed with you in his lap, on his cock, your nipple in his mouth, and your back slightly arched back, fingers tangled in Innie’s hair. Meanwhile, Hyunjin sat at his easel, sketching the two of you.

He’d asked you the day before to draw you. He’d done so several times now, each apartment having at least one nude portrait of you. They ranged from very classy, tasteful nudes, to you playing with yourself. But then you’d arrived at his and Changbin’s apartment to find Jeongin waiting for you as well and that was when Hyunjin said this portrait was going to be different than the others.

He wanted to do what he called an active painting. You weren’t sure if that was the proper term, or just the term Hyunjin used when he wanted to paint something that would normally be in motion. Like Felix jogging, you masturbating, or, in this case, you and Innie having sex. Now, normally this wouldn’t be a problem for you. You loved cock warming any of your boyfriends. But Jeongin was taking full advantage of the situation you were in to torment you.

You whimpered, wiggling your hips when he flicked his tongue over the nipple he had in his mouth.

“Princess, need you to hold still,” Hyunjin commented. You felt Innie smirk against you before schooling his expression back into the adoring look up at you Hyunjin had asked him for. You just knew the pair of them were tormenting you on purpose.

“You two suck,” you complained.

“Well, yes,” the ‘I-thought-that-was-obvious’ tone coupled with his smirk told you Hyunjin had decided to go for the innuendo rather than the actual complaint you made. You glared at him and his smirk widened to a grin.

For the next several minutes, Innie held still, not sucking on your nipple or licking it, or subtly rolling his hips, so you were able to relax. Or at least, relax as much as you could with the way Hyunjin had you arch your back.

Then Jeongin decided to ‘resettle’ himself which involved him shifting around and harshly thrusting up into you. Just one thrust, barely enough for any real stimulation. You whimpered again, this time getting your revenge by tugging on his hair that you held in your hand. Innie moaned then retaliated with a quick nip to your nipple.

“Do you two mind? I’m trying to create art here.”

“He started it!”

“Did not! I just needed to shift a little.”

“You didn’t! Or at least, you didn’t need to thrust into me when you did!”

“How was I supposed to not though?”

“You’re supposed to hold still so Hyune gets a good painting of us. Tell me you don’t want a painting of us, like this, in your bedroom?”

“It’s going in your room, actually, Princess.”

“Really?” Excited, you turned to look at Hyunjin.

“Stop wiggling,” Innie complained. You ignored him.

“Yep. Suppose I could get a print made for Innie’s room,” he looked at the sketch contemplatively. “And mine, for that matter. But this one is meant for you.” Then he looked back at the pair of you. “But in order to do any of that, I need you two to hold still.”

The pair of you resettled in the positions Hyunjin had asked you for. And this time you stayed there for a longer stretch of time than before.

Then you felt Innie’s hand, the one hidden from Hyunjin’s view, slowly sliding up your thigh. You subtly tightened your hold on his hair as a warning, that he fully ignored. Or took as encouragement, who knew with the way his mind worked. You tried to stay still as Jeongin ran his fingers along you pussy where you were stretched around him, gathering as much of your arousal as he could. But when he pressed those fingers to your clit, flicking in a quick up and down motion, you couldn’t hold back your moans. You pressed down more firmly into his lap and clenched around him.

You heard Hyunjin sigh and set down his pencil but barely registered that he’d stood up. He moved behind you to grab something else then sat back at his easel. “Jeongin, stop. Just for a minute.” Innie did as he was asked and you heard Hyunjin’s camera shutter click several times.

You turned and glared at him as he set his camera down. “What?”

“You could’ve done that before, Hyune!”

“Yeah, probably. But I wanted as much of it as possible to be… real. Capturing it from a camera isn’t the same.” Innie chuckled, the motion causing you to bounce slightly on his cock. Now that you didn’t need to hold still, you rocked your hips down into his lap. He quickly resumed his motions against your clit and copied those flicks with his tongue against your nipple.

Between your rocking, Innie’s hands and tongue, and how long you’d been sitting on his cock, you felt your orgasm building quickly. Then Hyunjin stepped up beside the two of you and claimed your mouth in a sloppy kiss. The tension in your belly snapped and Hyunjin swallowed your moans as you came on Jeongin’s cock.

Hyunjin pulled away from you so you could catch your breath. He ran his thumb over your cheek, then trailed his fingers down the side of your neck and over the side of your boob. Jeongin detached from your nipple and Hyune leaned in to claim his lips, tilting the younger man’s head and tangling his fingers with yours in his hair.

You moaned watching them, rocking your hips faster. You loved watching your boyfriends enjoy each other, especially this close up.

As Hyunjin pulled away, you saw him raise an eyebrow in silent question to Jeongin, who nodded. Hyune made quick work of unzipping and dropping his jeans and boxers, kicking them away, then tossed his shirt off to join them.

Innie dropped his jaw, tongue lolling out over his front teeth. You moaned as Hyunjin tapped the head of his cock on Innie’s tongue a couple times before guiding it into his mouth. Keeping his grip on your hand and therefore Jeongin’s hair, Hyunjin shallowly thrusted into the younger man’s mouth.

You’d been somewhat surprised, particularly with his initial mild reluctance with Chan, how much Jeongin enjoyed sucking cock. He enjoyed it as much as you did, moaning around whoever’s dick was in his mouth the whole time. You loved times like this, where he was sucking someone off while fucking you because it made his hips kick into you just a little more forcefully.

Hyunjin kept his one hand in Jeongin’s hair while the other snaked down to reach your tits and pinch, roll, flick, and generally tease one nipple then the other. Jeongin’s grip on your hips tightened in response to your moans at Hyunjin’s actions.

You leaned forward slightly, licking the side of Hyunjin’s cock where it disappeared between Innie’s lips. Innie whimpered when his grip forced you to speed up and you started clenching around him as a response.

“God, you two look gorgeous.” Hyunjin’s voice came out breathy. Very carefully, you gently bit Jeongin’s bottom lip, pulling another of his whimpers that you loved from deep in his throat. You soothed the bite, licking his lip, then turned your attention back to licking the part of Hyune’s cock that you could.

It wasn’t too much longer before you felt your orgasm starting to crest. You knew Jeongin was close too, with the way he was trying to thrust up into you but unable to get much purchase to do it as much as he wanted. You tossed your head back with a long moan, arching your back far enough that your boobs hit Jeongin’s cheek, as you felt the wave of your orgasm crash through you.

You stilled on Jeongin, still clenching rhythmically around him. That was enough to push him over the edge, Hyunjin following right behind him. As soon as Hyunjin pulled away, Jeongin turned to you and claimed your mouth in a sloppy kiss, pushing Hyune’s cum into your mouth which you greedily swallowed.

By the time Changbin got home from a writing session with Jisung and Chan, the three of you were curled together, asleep, in Hyunjin’s bed.

Several weeks later, Hyunjin presented you with the framed painting of you and Jeongin, as well as one of the final sketches. You decided to hang it in your living room for everyone to enjoy.

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Taglist: @skzficpriv @strayk1ds143 @vegetablesarefuntables @imagine-all-the-imagines @yeetmylifeu @wolfo2027 @vampkennedy @writhingwrecked @xxeiraxx

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan x reader #skz x reader #han jisung x reader #seungmin x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #minho x reader #yang jeongin x reader #felix x reader #skz ot8 x reader

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coffeegnomee · 3 days ago

Note

What exactly are the lifesteal cycles? What does that mean?

I have no idea why the cycles are so hard to describe but like literally idk. they just are. they're like the sun and the sky. like the tides coming in and out. the seasons returning year after year. they come wether you want them to or not. poems can be written about them and never scratch the surface.

there will always be those who feel the cycles beating like a drum in their hearts, and they will always fight to preserve it. if nobody cared or if nobody liked the cycles, lifesteal would cease to be lifesteal.

there are two cycles. the small scale cycle of if you kill someone you gain an heart and if you die you loose a heart. and the large scale of the world ending at the end of each season.

it's too easy to say the small scale cycle is simply a cycle of revenge. it's not that. it can be that but that's not what it is. it's more the cycle of story. if you have a story thread you can pull on, the cycles encourage you to pull on it. and the cycles encourage that to be violent or a troll or an instigation. something to continue the back and forth of story threads.

the large scale cycle is that everyone starts the season fresh and clean, but then the players ruin it. murdering and greifing and killing and dying. the heart economy gets so bad some have near 100 hearts while others have only the max craftable. all this murder and bloodshed and alliances and betrayals and a mid season plot has dictated who cares the most this season and has set the stage for the end game. but it's not about the players not deserving the server because they are too violent. it's actually the opposite of that. it's bigger than that.

in the end one person or group rises from the bloodshed to end this server. by total destruction, removing all the revive resources, getting op, or banning everyone. this is the cycle. it must end. and it must end in war. everything must be destroyed or all the players banned.

the world enders fight to save the server by destroying it. if nobody cared about this final cycle, lifesteal would cease to be lifesteal. s5 nearly saw its destruction. one side thought they could end it in peace and expected to win. but if they won without a fight this would have been anathema for the server. unnatural. if lifesteal ever ends in peace that will be the end of lifesteal.

it must end in a bitter battle, fought for by the world enders, fought against by the resistance. the players prove they deserve the server by caring enough to show up and die. you fight for what you believe in, even if there's no hope.

in the finale you encounter your deepest self. what you are willing to do, how much you're willing to fight back against what you think is evil. you get a measure of who you are. what your limits are. and you get pushed past them. you learn the meaning of fighting for what you believe in, the true meaning. tested by all the resistance the world enders can push upon you. and they learn themselves to. for the same reason.

i think this is why it takes a full, start to end, season for a new member to understand lifesteal. they must begin innocent and safe, no more or less prepared than the best pvper. then the cycles press against them, start showing them how they really react to things, what they're willing to do, how much effort they're really going to put into it.

but during the season there's the ebb and flow of lore, sometimes it's the craziest best week of your life and then there's a month in between. parrot or bacon said that about the cycles actually. like the cycle is that ebb and flow.

but in the finale it's also a week(ish) but there is no continuation after. everything you've said and done all season comes together. you have to put your money where your mouth is. no more talking, no more threats, no more saying you'll do this if they do that. Whatever ending you want you have to fight tooth and nail for and there's no do overs, no second chances. and suddenly you know who you are.

and the next season everything is different.

#lifesteal #asks #gnome rambles

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0zeeraa0bloodmoon0 · 2 days ago

Text

so before i watched nosferatu 2024 i was slightly "spoiled". thats ok. the movie has been put for a few weeks and im not the type of person to whine about spoilers when i didn't make an effort to avoid them. not to mention its a remake of a really old movie.

basically what i heard was that nosferatu is a story about childhood sexual trauma. i was like "ok. a bit of a cliche and over used theme. like 80% of non slasher horror films are about childhood trauma. but this is based on a really old film so ill give it a pass."

what i got from those spoilers is that the point of the story is that Ellen was sexually abused as a child. i also heard some people mention her father so i assumed it was by him.

then i watched the movie i got to the scene where she talks about her childhood and her father to Thomas and it made me think "this is it. this is the scene where she tells him about being sexually abused by her father".

she talked about him neglecting her and her feeling lonely which made me think that she might confess to being the one who initiated the sexual acts. this actually got my hopes up because that would have been much more interesting than her being a passive victim. and if Orlok was a metaphor/symbol of her trauma as i have come to expect and believe frim the "spoilers", than this would explain her love hate fear shame relationship with him. if shes the one who initiated it then that would make sense right?

but then however, the scene passed, and there was no mention of trauma beyond her mother's death and her father's neglect. i was like "ok. in a later scene then. for sure." but the movie ended, and i was left confused...

it made me wonder "who the hell were those people talking about?? who abused ellen as a child??" but then it hit me....

THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT FUCKING ORLOK

i could barely hold back a groan when i realized because seriously??? come on!

idk about you guys but i never really thought about Orlok as a person, with morality. to me he was always a symbol, a metaphor for something greater. not just some "creepy old guy who grooms Ellen and is a metaphor for other creepy old guys who groom people i guess?" the way so many people claim him to be. Orlok isn't just some dude who can groom people. hes an idea.

i hate this interpretation of the movie so much. because not only is it over done. not only is it overly simplistic. not only is it an insult to my and other people who think more deeply about this movie's intelligence.

but its also THE. MOST BORING. INTERPRETATION. that you could possibly come up with for this movie.

like its one thing that these people love feeling morally superior when they go on their little keyboard-warrior rants about how anyone who disagrees with this movie being about childhood trauma and god forbid they dare call it a romance are all disgusting, evil and sould be locked up and share a psychological profile with ted bundy (?????)

but they do all this, for an interpretation so painfully boring

just go watch a mervel movie or something jesus

(this post was made in a rush so its not the most eloquent expression of my thoughts, that would take hours to write, but i hope i got the point across anyway)

#nosferatu 2024 #nosferatu #count orlok #ellen hutter #thomas hutter #ellen x orlok

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acerathia · 2 days ago

Text

equanimity || Li Shen | Zayne

Summary:

This was supposed to be a simple job: support Dr. Zayne with today's endeavor. But it all got ruined when a Wanderer burst in, leading to him overusing his Evol, and there's just one thing you can do about it.

Wordcount: 3.5k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Li Shen | Reader / Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI!! pwp, aphrosidiacs/sex pollen (by accident lol), making out, handjob, blowjob, overstimulation, slight sadism and masochism (implied), reader being a service bottom, nipple licking and sucking, stripping, riding him o7, cockwarming, and as always, love hehe

Note:

something possessed me, idk man, is this anything? whoops, sorry for anything and everything atp klsdflkjsd

The hospital is familiar, the scent of sanitizer penetrating the air, with a flight floral undertone due to the plants scattered here and there. With sure steps, you make your way to the office you have visited countless times, and will continue to visit countless times, even if your own condition were to disappear someday. That is because your main reason for this visit isn’t a cure or treatment, it’s one person: Zayne.

It’s been some time since the last time you have seen him face to face, both of your schedules irregular and unpredictable, making it more difficult to plan for a date. Even now, your visit isn’t a personal one, but one assigned to you by your job. Well, volunteered for it. There’s no way you would have missed seeing him in any capacity. Maybe surprise him a little bit with your sudden appearance.

With a knock, you wait until his calm voice allows you to enter, just then do you practically burst into the room, a wide grin pulling on your lips. “Dr. Zayne, your protection has arrived!”

His gaze is already locked on you, and he raises his eyebrows. “And I assume that might be you, yes?”

With a couple steps, you’re standing in front of him, tempted to sit down on his table to be even closer to him, only restrained by the reminder that you’re technically on the clock.

“Well, isn’t it obvious? I am a hunter after all,” you nod, puffing your chest slightly with pride.

A barely noticeable smile tugs on the corners of his lips. “Then, Miss Hunter, I will be under your care.”

Just as these words leave his lips, the ground begins to rumble, bringing you out of balance, barely staying on your feet with his support, hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You hunter’s watch makes the all-too-familiar sound and you brace yourself.

“A Wanderer!” you shout to him, moments before the door bursts in splinters, revealing the creature which has been seeking chaos and destruction.

Yet, it hadn’t expected you and Zayne to be there. With a flick of his wrist, the Wanderer is stuck to the ground. You prepared yourself to finish it, when it shot something out of its body. Ready to be hit, you started retaliating, but you didn’t expect for a body to shield you from its attack. You curse as you feel his body slightly slump against yours and before you could take care of him, you defeated the Wanderer with a powerful shot.

Filled with panic, you help Zayne back into his seat, looking him all over, yet not seeing any fatal wound. Only his skin seems to be incredibly cold, too cold. Putting your hand directly onto his skin, you try to use your own Evol to help him regulate his ice. But it didn’t help. He’s still unbelievably cool to the touch.

This doesn’t help ease your worries, so you try to think of a way to get his temperature to a normal level while helping him get home, because there’s no way you’re taking care of him in his dusty and almost destroyed office. You did notify a nurse beforehand, and while he did give you a weird look on your way out, he only nodded and noted it.

Luckily, Zayne doesn’t live far away, so getting him into his place turns out to be easier than expected. But despite the effort he has put in, he could not overcome the cold slowly encroaching on him, making his limbs stiffen up, fingers covered in dark ice.

Carefully, you slip him onto the worn couch, fingers rubbing his cheeks to get some colors back into them. Nervously, you lick your lips. There’s a thought swirling through your mind, a perfect way to warm him up, yet it feels wrong to try it before you run out of choices. So, you caress his eyebrows, sighing as he leans closer to your skin.

“Should we try to warm you up with a nice bath?” you murmur, grasping at straw. Your Evol has never betrayed you like this before, your resonance with him has always been something you could trust. Until now. Now, when the coldness is swallowing him, it’s turning its head away from you.

Zayne clasps your hand in his, his eyes slightly hazy, yet clear enough to make eye contact with you. “I don’t need a bath. What I need is you.”

His cold fingers run over your arm, to grab your hip and to pull you to him, and you could not put up any resistance against him, his words making your brain freeze for a moment. That’s how you end up straddling him, hip to hip, his breath against your neck. And you’re starting to feel more conscious of him on you, against you.

His lips kiss your skin, making you shiver. His graceful fingers gradually slip underneath your shirt, the tips of his fingers eliciting another shiver and goosebumps spread over your back. They fan out slowly, trying to touch you as much as he can, steadying themselves pressed against your lower ribs.

The kisses he has been scattering like cold rain over your skin, lead over your jaw, until he stops with a final one on the corner of your lips.

“Share your warmth with me,” Zayne mutters before letting his lips dive towards yours, soft touches, coldness against your tongue, fog-like breath into your lungs, breathing you in, taking you for himself.

You sigh against him, slipping closer with each kiss, deepening your connection. Your hands stroke the back of his neck, slipping to his collar and slowly opening the buttons one by one. Taking your time in taking the usually put together doctor apart, one by one. With your fingertips, you graze his chest, already starting to take on a slight flush, leaving a faint trail over his abdomen, stopping at the waistband of his pants, creasing where his needs lie.

“Then, let me be your caretaker for the day,” you whisper against his lips, moments before you open his pants, letting your hand slowly slip inside.

A small wet spot has spread over his boxers, and the thought that the usually restrained Dr. Zayne desires you so, makes your insides warm and needy. And you want to see how strong his restraint in truth actually is. So, all you do is caress the outline of his length over the cloth, enjoying the twitch it elicits out of him.

Swallowing his moan with your mouth, you continue to kiss him, giving him your feelings on a platter, thawing him bit by bit, sucking on his tongue and exploring his mouth, showing him how much you desire and want him, how much you love him, allowing him to swallow you whole if needed.

Although, he doesn’t do that just yet, he might take you up on that offer with a little more coaxing. That’s why you carefully slip your fingers into his boxers, leaving a warm trail along his v-line until they meet his length. And even there, you only let the tips of them caress him, spreading your warmth over him, taking care of him slowly and delicately. Your thumb touches his tip in slow circles, spreading the wetness over him. Only when you feel him tremble against you, your name escaping his mouth in small pants, do you finally let your hand fully grasp him.

Maybe you’re even indulging yourself a bit, slow strokes with barely any friction or pressure, feather-light touches moving up and down. Yet, these wisps of warmth are more than enough to get him worked up, tension growing in his upper body as he grasps your hips for something, anything to ground him. His grip is tight, but careful to not leave any traces behind, to not hurt you. But you did want to experience him lose control, slipping slightly, leaving you with marks only he can give you and no one else.

So, you adjust your grasp around him, more pressure as the pace of your strokes begins to speed up with each jerk of your wrist. At this, you feel his hands clutching you with more intensity, holding onto you almost like Zayne is making sure that you’re still there, that your gentle touches, your warmth against his cold skin is not merely a dream pulled out of the depth of his conscious, something that can’t just slip between his fingers if he tries to reach you.

Murmuring your name over and over again, a constant reminder that you’re safe and with him, that you’re close to him, an incantation of your existence, of your blessings upon him. His lips were hovering over your skin, pants hot against it, and even with the rising tension, his teeth never meet your flesh, never indulge himself in your taste. You wonder if you could coax that out of him, too, someday.

The mere imagination of his teeth digging into you makes your insides flutter and your hand move faster. And instead of feeling his mouth against your skin, you can’t help but dig your own incisors into his shoulder, sucking and lapping at the spot, taking good care of him.

And it doesn’t take long until the tension in his body reaches a high, releasing with a silent snap, hips stuttering against your hand as he empties himself. His fingers dig into the softness of your hips, a dull ache, but satisfactory nonetheless.

While Zayne slumps against you, you pull out your hand to lick him off of you, making sure it’s visible to him, even holding eye contact as your tongue darts out to taste and enjoy him. Only then do you press your forehead against his, trying to gauge his temperature. Despite your work, he only has warmed up ever so slightly, still not enough, though. You bite your lips in thought, your nails softly scratching against his scalp as you think how you should get his temperature further up. And you suppose you could just continue as you did.

So, with him being limp in your arms, it turns out to be a rather easy task to push him onto his back, his body pliable and soft, just for you. For now, you keep your place on his hips as you lean down to catch his open lips with yours, pushing your tongue against his to tease him, to play with him. His hand finds the back of your neck and he presses you impossibly closer to deepen the kiss, to taste your soul and your love. You let your tongue press against his, pushing and pulling, a dance between ancient lovers.

Breathless, you separate yourself from him, a string of saliva still connecting you, the taste of him lingering on your tongue. One look at him, sharp lines, yet eyes as soft as a meadow underneath the play of the wind, makes your veins run hot, and you immediately press your open mouth against the column of his throat, teasing the skin with your teeth, but careful to not leave marks in places where other people might discern them. Just when you dive below that line, do you allow yourself to mark him, to scatter yourself all over him, bites and kisses and shades of blue. And you can’t help but lick at his nipples, biting on them until you let your mouth suck on one of them while your hand pinches the other, twisting and rubbing.

Just taking care of him this way evokes a reaction in him, his length already hard, pressing against your lower torso, beckoning you to take care of it again, to show Zayne desire and want over and over again.

With a last lick over his nipple, you let off of it, your mouth continuing to wander over his abdomen, taking care to litter him in your affection. Until you reach the mess that is his lower body, remains from your touches spreading over his clothes, belt unbuckled, yet covered in a way that feels more provoking than mere nakedness; someone so used to have control over his own desires, being turned into a mess with a couple of moves, clothes disheveled, and if you look up to him, mussy hair and hazy gaze.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his shorts and you slowly pull them down, his cock immediately pulling itself free, hard, leaking, and oh-so beautiful. You hear him say your name, but instead of answering, you look up to him, holding his eyes in yours as you press a kiss on the tip, letting the tip of your tongue dart out to lick him, tasting his precum.

Before you even think of taking care of him properly, you begin to spread kisses over his shaft, fluttering touches, accompanied by the wetness of your tongue. Only once you reach the base, do you fully stick out your tongue, flattening it to lap over his whole length, feeling the veins over its surface and the way he twitches. And once again, you’re met with his glistening tip, and this time, you carefully take it into your mouth, letting it rest between your lips, letting him feel your wet mouth against himself, before you hollow out your cheeks, gently sucking on it, your tongue darting over his slit.

His hand grabs your hair in reflex and you feel the slightest sting, more than you could have anticipated from the careful Dr. Zayne. Feeling the need for more, you slowly move your head, taking him bit by bit, feeling him fill your mouth with each passing push. Sometimes you take your time to caress him properly, to take care of every part of him, bopping your head as your tongue works him, loves him. And with each stroke, each caress, each movement of yours, the tug grows in strength ever so slightly, his hips stuttering against yours, restrained, yet out of control, seeking more, more and more of you.

And then you reach the base, and you wished you could nuzzle yourself closer to him, yet all you can do is rub your forehead against his pelvis, before you slowly pull back, only to repeat everything again, just faster, teasing him more and more, and the exposed parts caressed by the tips of your fingers, never allowing him to have a bit of rest. Until the tension in Zayne is palpable, shivers running down your neck and when push comes shove, as he pushes his hips closer to your mouth before everything in him releases, his control slipping as he allows himself to relieve himself in your mouth, your name on his lips, a groan and a prayer.

Even while he continuously climaxes, you don’t let up, your lips around his tip as you suck and lick, prolonging his high, coaxing more and more out of him, allowing him to indulge himself in you. Not stopping, steadily keeping your pace, your tongue flat against him, feeling him twitch against your mouth once again.

But you let up, standing up, and let your eyes travel over the sight in front of you. His pants hanging around his knees, his usually creaseless button-up shirt rumpled, framing his tensing torso. His mouth agape, and his eyes, his eyes dark and filled with want, looking at you, desiring you, glowing like ice under the sun.

You can’t help but lick your lips, watching as his eyes focus on them. This simple movement brings an idea to fruition. You tilt your head slightly, showing the column of your throat, raising your hand to let your fingertips glide over the skin, free of any spots, for now. And you let them wander until your palm meets your breast, and you spread your fingers around the curve of your body, all while keeping your eyes on him, watching his every reaction.

His gaze follows your every move, his body tensing as the blood rushes lower and lower. His chest rising and falling in deep breaths, as if he’s still trying to get himself under control, after everything. You bite your lip to suppress a grin, feeling the thrill of your own control over him, making your own desires fluctuate.

Slowly, your palm caresses your lower torso, until you reach the hem of your shirt. And with a fluid motion do you rid yourself of the piece of cloth hiding you from his intense gaze. You excessively stretch as you do so, showing him everything you want to give him. You imagine hearing Zayne pant and swallow, just at the sight of you and without preamble your fingers find the waistband of your pants. With the tips of your fingers, you unbutton it and grab the zipper, slowly pulling it down, letting him hear every click. Until the fabric falls to the ground with a little shimmying of your hips.

For a moment, you sway your body under his stare, feeling the way it travels up and down, trying to freeze every frame in time. But even your patience has its limits, especially with all his reactions pulling desire into your gut, stoking the flame with each twitch, with each gasp, with each slow blink. That’s why you return to straddle him after allowing him a good look, pressing your hips against his, feeling his precum stain your underwear, mixing with your own wetness.

You lean over Zayne and give him a small kiss on the corners of his lips, savoring the sight in front of you, pupils blown wide and lust and love filling them. And you kiss him, slow, careful, tasting him and devouring him, as much as he devours and tastes and loves you. Softness meets softness. Tongue caressing tongue.

Until you move your hips against his, drawing the movement out, feeling his length slide over the barrier between you, so close, yet not enough, friction to get you going, but not filling like he would. His moans reverberate in you, and you swallow them greedily, picking up the pace bit by bit.

And something snaps, barely audible, but enough. Just enough for Zayne to slide your panties to the side, fingers spreading you open, pressing against your clit. You gasp, shuddering at the sudden coldness against your hot core. The same breath gets stuck in your throat, as you feel his tip meet your entrance, pushing into you without any warning.

You moan his name and clutch at his shoulders, as he ruts deeper and deeper into you, filling you, satisfying you, making you whole. His hands on your hips, fingers digging as he presses you closer to him, until your pelvis meets his. He stays like this for a moment, his breath hot against your neck, lips meeting skin, caring for one sensitive spot, kissing and licking, his teeth barely grazing you, ever.

Once you grow needy, you can’t help but grind yourself against his, seeking some friction against his fingers. Noticing your needs, he moves his fingers over your clit, slowly, in pace with the way he thrusts in you. Careful, languid, almost like he wants to draw it out, like he wants to feel you for as long as possible. Like he wants to regain some control over himself. You can’t have that. So, you push against him, moving at your own pace, all while you sink your teeth into his shoulder, at the same time you press yourself into him, sinking and taking him fully.

A barely suppressed groan escapes him, and his movements against you grow erratic, as erratic as they can be for someone like him, yet his fingers never let up, caressing you, taking such good care of your clit. Every thrust of his hip against yours hits the spot inside you, and he knows exactly how to fire you up, how to wind you up, each touch calculated for your own benefit.

Until you unravel over his fingers, with him inside you, clenching around his length as you moan his name against his warm skin, your thighs tightening around his hips, pulling him infinitely closer to you. And the mere feeling of satisfaction of your climax brings him to his own high, spilling inside of you, throbbing and twitching, your name falling from his lips over and over again.

You slump against him, snuggling to his warmth, thawed by your efforts and love, keeping him inside you, desiring to be as close to him as possible. He, too, wants to keep you close to him, winding his arms carefully around you and whispering your name and endless confessions of love and adoration. Something only meant for your ears and your ears only. You let your fingernails scratch softly at his back, murmuring your own commitment, vowing to love him, only him, to keep your eyes towards him, promising to stay by his side as he does by yours. Binding and forever.

#li shen x reader #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x reader #ru writes

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keigh0e · 8 hours ago

Text

Touch ↬ Caleb

Summary: You have been dating Caleb for quite a while now and you’ve had enough of him not touching you with his metal arm, so you give some not-so-gentle encouragement

Word Count: 5.9k

Triggers: smutty smut and the usual language you can always expect from me

Author Note: Meowdy .₊̣̇.ಇ/ᐠˬ ͜ ˬ ᐟ\∫.₊̣̇. Hope you’re all doing well! I finished the new stories for Love and Deepspace last night and now I’ve got Caleb brainrot, so you must suffer with me I’m afraid. This hasn’t been checked so apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes. I’d appreciate any feedback!

You were an open book to Caleb and had been for years.

Every twitch in your lips was a poem to him, every laugh his new favourite song, every tear a sonnet that pressed more weight on his soul than his evol ever could.

He’d do anything for you. No, the man was determined, he would do everything for you. Everything, it seemed, but touch you with his metal arm. There would be accidental grazes here and there, but he made a vow to himself the first night he held you after returning, that he wouldn’t let his darkness touch you.

That arm was the physical manifestation of everything wrong with him. Even though it had been years and he’d learnt how to make use of the mechanism, learnt how to make it one of his greatest weapons in battle, that’s all it could ever be to him. He wouldn’t put a knife against your throat, so he wouldn’t dare even try to hold your hand with the very thing that had taken him away from you in the first place. Now you were back with him, back in his arms.

Now he was back with you, back in the light, he refused to let the shadows of his past consume anymore than they had.

Caleb thought he was pretty good at hiding things from you. He didn’t enjoy lying to you and made an avid effort to avoid creating any more after all the Farfleet drama that had originally reunited you, then torn you apart again.

This sweet man didn’t think you carried his same brand of obsession. He didn’t know that you watched him just as intensely, noting every smile, every wince, every breath.

There was a reason you two were so perfect for each other, after all.

He had no idea that you’d caught on pretty quickly to the fact that he’d constantly do things so as to avoid touching you with his right arm.

It hadn’t been obvious at first, not until you’d caught him reprogramming the faulty appendage one night. He’d been so raw that night. Maybe it was because he was so tired and recovering, but you’d seen it clear as day, the kind of look that didn’t belong on a man like Caleb, shame.

It had broken your heart all over again.

You’d done everything you could think of to wipe that look off his face that night, you’d made him hold you, you’d taken his hand, pressed a thousand kisses to each fingertip and you would have pressed a thousand more if he’d let you. But as per usual, Caleb had pushed his own feelings aside to concentrate on yours, he’d started making lightheaded jokes the second he saw tears appear in the corner of your eyes.

Though it didn't sit right with you, you let him change the subject, thinking maybe that was what he needed. But as time passed, you began to realise how big of a mistake you’d made by allowing him to shove the topic under the metaphorical rug.

To an outsider they might not notice how he favours you walking on his left side so he can hold your hand with his. If you ever stand on the right side, the most touch you’ll get from him is his arm wrapped around your shoulder. You’d barely be able to feel the weight of him, like a layer was over you, keeping him from actually touching you with his metal arm.

He’d make you sit on his left side whenever you cuddled up on the couch, or ate together at a table. As though he was trying to keep you as far away as possible.

He was sly about it, as was Caleb’s way. If you ever touched his right arm, he’d smoothly grab your hand with his left, bringing the hand to his lips and distracting you in all the ways he knew how because, as mentioned previously, the man knew every chapter in your book. Specifically the ‘how to arouse them with one look’ chapter. He’d clearly revised over that one many many times.

Last night was the final straw for you.

He’d been showering when you arrived at his home and you didn’t think twice about getting in the shower with him.

To your shock, his arm was uncovered, not hidden under fake skin so no one but you and him knew about his little secret. He had a couple of scratches over his chest so you guessed he must have gotten hurt and had to fix his arm again.

You let out a titter, hating the idea of Caleb taking care of his own wounds, sitting alone in the dark like that last time. He’d never let you do that, so it was unfair he expected you to leave him like that as well.

Feeling your heart swell, you reached out, dragging your fingers down his arm. The usual cold steel was warm beneath the stream of water from the showerhead. You heard Caleb suck in a harsh breath, one that told you he was uncomfortable, but it just pushed you more.

You pressed a lip against his metal shoulder before nuzzling at it with your cheek. Perhaps it was too much, but you wanted him to see what you really thought of this limb Caleb seemed to be too scared to touch you with. You wanted him to know you did not share that same fear, therefore he shouldn’t either.

His head turned towards you and your eyes connected, you were stunned at the emotions in his violet gaze. The pain tore at your insides and the shame gouged out your insides. He was so beautiful, so whole, but in that moment, you saw how he truly felt.

You saw the hatred. Not at you. He could never hate you. So you knew that was all aimed at himself, at the appendage you were currently hugging to your body, practically holding it hostage.

“Caleb,” you whispered, having to swallow as tidal waves of words tried to spill out. You wanted to call him stupid for thinking you could ever fear him, even just one small part of him. You wanted to tell him he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, that he had always been the pinnacle of attractiveness for you, you’d come to this realisation as a hormonal teenager and that hadn’t changed now that you were both adults, that hadn’t changed now that one particular part of him had been replaced.

You wanted to demand he touch you back, to grip your breasts in those cold steel hands, to pull on your nipples with his fingers, to strum at your clit and play your body anyway he wanted because you trusted him, all of him.

But before any of those words could come out, Caleb had blinked away his shame. He shook his head before gently tugging at his arm. You tightened your grip on instinct.

Reaching out, he pressed his other hand against your cheek, stroking your skin with his, ever-so-brave with that touch whilst his other arm layed like dead weight in your hold. “I was just finishing up, you finish your shower and I’ll go cook us some food.”

He wasn’t even going to talk about it, was just going to move on, just acted like everything was normal.

With a press of his lips against your forehead, he pulled his arm out of your hold and exited the shower, leaving you all alone with your thoughts, with your sadness, with your rage.

Caleb always told you that were his, always made sure you knew that every part of your body belonged to him. Why was this not the same for you?

Why did he get to keep a certain part of himself away from you?

For your protection? No, that was ridiculous, you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Caleb’s arms were the safest place in the world for you.

As you finished your shower, scoffing every ten seconds at the nerve of your boyfriend, a plot began to load up inside your mind.

You’d play the dutiful girlfriend tonight, the innocent friend who didn’t push too far, who laughed and smiled, who gave and didn’t demand too much. That was clearly what Caleb needed tonight and you wouldn’t push him more than he’d already been pushed by whatever fight he’d had.

But after that, you were through with this game.

Morning light slipped through the cracks in the blind, illuminating your partner who was spread out like a starfish on the bed with you on top of him, his left arm wrapped around you, holding you to his chest like you were his favourite stuffie.

You’d woken up a few seconds ago and had just watched him, your plan that you’d prepared for the night before helping get you wide awake as the excitement began to gurgle at the bottom of your stomach.

After double checking that he was definitely asleep, you reached out towards your bedside table, sliding out the top drawer so you could reach in and retrieve the handcuffs you’d snuck in there last night when Caleb had been getting in his pajamas.

You kept your movements slow, not wanting to jar your partner awake.

Reaching out, you wrapped one of the hand cuffs around the headboard. That was step one of your plan complete.

Looking down at Caleb, a sleeping beauty in his very own right, you couldn’t help but reach out and smooth a finger between his eyebrows. Even asleep, he seemed to be worried about something.

Leaning you down, you pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then his cheek. Then his lips.

As you sprinkled these little kisses, you felt something nudge against your thigh. Step two had been achieved and it was just as easy as you’d thought it would be. Even without Caleb fully awake, you could always count on one part of hiM being wide awake for you whenever you needed it.

“What are you up to, pip-squeak?” Your boyfriend grumbled, his voice all sorts of rough from sleep that your thighs automatically pressed together in reaction. You pressed another kiss to his lips, pleased when you felt him pressed back.

Reaching down with one hand, you began to rub at his dick through his boxers. Damn, you really hadn’t been wrong about him always being wide awake for you down there at least. He was already hard, the heat melting through the fabric into your hand. It was enough to make you dizzy. Luckily, you were a trainer hunter, so even the very tempting prize between his legs wouldn’t be able to pull you away from your plan of action.

Satisfaction rolled through you as he gasped at your unsuspecting touch, his hips canting slightly, trying to force more pressure from your hand onto him.

“I just wanted to wish you a good morning,” you whispered as you moved your lips over to his ear, letting your tongue trace his jawline before tugging gently on his earlobe with your teeth. All the while you slipped your hands under his boxers, touching flesh to flesh, which had him letting out the dirtiest moan.

You almost moaned back yourself. It wasn’t often you had Caleb this out of control, this raw. It was a heady feeling you could get addicted to.

And exactly what you’d been hoping for. He began to move his hips more, desperate to get a feel of your hand which you kept just above his cock, not making the move to grab it more firmly just yet.

Whilst his focus was completely taken with trying to achieve that satisfaction only you could give him, you slid your other hand down his left arm, joining your hands together and then easily moving his arm above his head. He didn’t seem to care what you were doing, his only thoughts on getting you to touch him more firmly.

You did notice that his right arm, his metal arm, was still away from you. His fingers were curled up in the mattress, and you couldn’t tell if he was gripping it because of the feelings you were gifting him, or because he was doing all he could to keep from gripping you.

The sight of his metal arm stretched out away from you cemented the plan in your mind and kept you from getting distracted, even as the most delicious whine escaped him.

You pulled your hand out of his boxers and locked the handcuff around his arm as quickly as possible, your partner didn’t seem to even notice until the click echoed in the room, still bucking his hips slightly.

His eyes finally opened, though they remained half-lidded, revealing violet rings wrapped around blown pupils. “What are you doing?” He asked, panting.

“I want to play a game, baby,” you explained in your most playful voice whilst positioning yourself better around him. “Won’t you play with me?”

You’d moved so you were laid on top of him, your hips above his crotch. The covers had been pushed back revealing his solid, naked, chest whilst you were still wearing your silk nightgown. You’d purposely worn his favourite, just to add another level of resistance. Plus, the shoulder straps might as well have been paid actors as they slipped down your arms on accident, allowing the tops of your breasts to be revealed.

He’d certainly noticed as his eyes went to your globes first, then they went down to your crotch which hovered just above his, the barest of space keeping you from settling down on his cock. Then, eventually, his eyes flicked up to glance at the handcuff you’d wrapped around his wrist. He gave a tug, as though to confirm that, yes, they really were handcuffs. Then after no time at all, his eyes returned to you, carrying with them a glare that had your playful nature purring even more.

“What’s the game?” He questioned, cocking his head to the side.

Caleb was always in control, so you weren’t surprised to see him trying to grasp it back under his control even whilst you were holding him hostage. It was kind of hot, but no, you needed to stay strong and continue on with the plan.

One look at his arm which he’d somehow stretched even further away from you after you’d moved cemented this even further in your mind.

Gently, you laid more of your wait on top of him, pressing your slit against the hotness in his underwear. Satisfaction shivered up your body as you rolled your hips ever so gently, your clit pulsing in time with your movements.

He reacted exactly as you wanted to, barely able to hold onto his control, just like you. His lips parted and his eyes shut again, his head bent further into the pillow and it took everything in you not to go back down to bite at his neck.

Never one to make you do all the work, Caleb met your rolling hips with assertive thrusts of his own, working a gasp out of you as he followed your teasing movements with his demands. “The game, baby, what is it?”

“I need you to touch me,” you revealed in a gasp. Feeling drunk on power, you reached out with both hands, pressing them on the peaks of his chest. His nipples fell between your fingers and you couldn’t help but close them, pinching at his nips, earning an unexpected response as he growled.

You saw in your periphery as he lifted his metal arm, moving closer towards you before he seemed to tighten his fist and rested it back down on the bed.

Well, that just wouldn’t do, would it?

You took one hand off his chest, leaving one to continue playing with his nipples, and reached back into his underwear. You pulled out his cock, feeling the weight of it, hot and thick, resting in the palm of your hand as you pressed it to the very centre of your clothed slit.

You moaned out and bent your head back. That wasn’t part of the game, you just couldn’t help your reaction to him, not when he was so close.

“If you want me to touch you, then you have to take off the handcuffs, baby.” You could hear his teeth grinding whilst he spoke, and you knew in that moment he’d caught on, especially when he made a point to drag the metal arm back from where it had instinctively gone to.

You stopped all movement, still keeping his dick pressed against you, letting it twitch torturously against your clit. “You know that’s not the rules, touch me with your right arm Caleb.” He shook his head again. “Do it, baby, please.”

“Can’t.” He grunted out, tugging uselessly with his left arm. He was proving you right, you knew he couldn’t resist touching you, the same way you couldn’t resist touching him. He was just being stubborn, letting whatever silly worries he has control him. You just needed to push him more out of control.

You let go of his dick, watching it slap against his stomach, leaving a trail of pre-cum that you wouldn’t have minded licking up. Maybe later.

“Look at me,” you ordered as you slowly pushed up the silky nightgown revealing inch after inch of skin. You might not have been the most confident of people, but you were at least confident of Caleb’s feelings about your body. You weren’t disappointed when his eyes followed every movement, mouth agape and eyes drunk with lust. Once the outfit was off, you reached out to touch your breasts, shoving them together and pulling on your nipples. The pulsing between your legs was an earthquake, demanding you slip onto his cock and take what was yours, but you couldn’t do that yet. Not yet. “Please touch me Caleb, I need you, so badly.”

Another grunt came out of him as he tugged harder on his arm, more beast than man in that moment. He managed to sit up, managed to get his mouth so close to the peak of your breast but you pulled away at the last second, leaving mere inches between your tip and his lips. You felt his hot breath lavish your skin and a moan crested out of your mouth unbidden. This might have been your mission, but you were just on edge as he was.

Reaching out you wrapped your hand into his hair, tugging on the strands slightly until he raised his head and met your eyes once more. “Touch me with your hand Caleb.”

“You handcuffed it, baby.”

“You have two hands,” you countered teasingly, but the mere mention of his metal arm had his expression shutting down and his head shaking once again. “Please, you won’t hurt me.” You’d abandoned the husky voice you’d been using beforehand, matching his honesty with your own pleading version. “You won’t.”

His head fell onto your chest but there was nothing sexual about the touch, not with his shoulders sagging. “I wouldn’t, not on purpose, but-”

“But nothing,” you cut him off whilst running your fingers through his hair. “It is physically impossible for you to cause me physical harm, nothing I wouldn’t want anyway.”

He didn’t respond, but you didn’t think he was ignoring you. It was clear as day that he was going through a battle, and as his partner, you needed to join this fight. Tentatively you reached out for his metal arm that was still throttling the quilt in a tight grip, the moment your fingers pressed on the back of his hand those fingers opened up.

He wasn’t pulling away immediately, that was progress.

“If I lost my arm and got a prosthetic, would you think differently of me?”

“Of course not,” he lifted his head up immediately, abhorring the thought that you might ever doubt how much he cares for you.

“Would you not let me touch you with that arm? Would you fear it?” Your fingers snaked in his and you brought the hand closer until it was resting between your stomach and his chest. Again, he just shook his head. You could see his jaw working, teeth clenching. He saw your argument, and he couldn’t exactly refute that you were making sense. You brought the hand further up, beginning to press your fingers between each knuckle. “I do not think differently of you because of your prosthetic. I will let you touch me, wherever, with your hands. I do not fear you, I love you, every inch inside and out.”

Like an animal bearing its neck to a predator, you unravelled his fingers before placing his palm around your throat.

His eyes watched every movement intensely, spellbound, and you watched second by second as that doubt grew dimmer and dimmer. Something else began to sparkle in his eyes, something familiar, the same something that was pulsing between your legs.

“My baby needs me to touch her?” He spoke so softly, you felt yourself melt a little bit more. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment. “Show me where, baby, show me where and let me take care of you.”

Your skin was practically vibrating, his gentle dominance petting you into submission, a place only Caleb could get you to fall into. Because you only trusted Caleb to this extent. Trusted all of him.

Grabbing his hand once more, you lowered it down, letting his fingers trail over your breasts. Whilst that felt good, you needed him somewhere else far more. You let him give your nipple one small tug before pushing his arm back down further, as you got to the spot between your legs, you released him, showing him that you trusted him to take care of you exactly the way you needed.

He didn’t disappoint. His metal things were cold, the change in temperature a sharp change to the heat coming from your body, you couldn’t help but coo as he slipped them further into your wetness.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he hummed, “so wet and needy for me, I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“It’s okay.” Your hips moved forward automatically as the tips of his fingers pressed against your clit, touching you exactly where you needed to feed that demanding pulse between your legs. He went slow at first, beginning to speed up as he leant forward once more and captured your nipples in his mouth. You hadn’t even realised you’d moved closer to him. You moaned out again, the satisfaction of his touch only making your body demanding for more. “Please.”

“You want to cum baby?” His fingers moved with expert precision, his thumb taking the place of his fingers as they went exploring. One finger slipped inside of you, stealing all air from you before a second one joined it, air gasping out of you with your moans. “You want to cum for me, yeah?” He asked again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted out as his fingers plunged deeper into you, reaching a spot that had lights dancing behind your closed eyelids. Then, he froze, his fingers still inside of you.

Opening your eyes, you were met with your boyfriend wearing an expression that was oh-so-deliciously Caleb. His eyes were alight with mischief, a smirk on his lips that you wanted to kiss over and over again. Gone was the man afraid to touch you with his hand.

“Prove it,” he whispered out huskily, “make a mess on my fingers, pretty girl.”

He was asking you to prove a lot more than how much you wanted to cum on his fingers, which was a lot. Thankfully, you were up for the challenge. You began to move your hips, using his hand to get yourself off. All the while, you maintained eye contact. Letting him see how you fell apart at his touch.

“Keep going,” he encouraged, leaning forward once more to press kisses against your breast. When you fell even closer against him, desperate to feel all of him, he used this as an advantage to lick across your collarbone before biting down on the spot where your neck and shoulder met. “Good girl, keep going. Make a mess for me.” He groaned out.

“Do you hear that?” He whispered, not wanting to speak out the schlick that escaped every time you pushed his fingers back in your body. You were definitely soaking the bed, but you found it hard to care about anything other than just how good he felt. “So lewd, baby, but you just can’t help yourself can you?”

You shook your head, whining as you struggled to get out a word.

“Can’t help yourself, need all of me, my dirty girl,” his breath was coming out with pants, his eyes laser focused now on where his fingers pushed into you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m yours baby, all fucking yours.” With those last couple of words he gave you everything, pushing his fingers in and out of you at a rabid pace, satisfaction rolling through him like a tsunami as he watched your wetness coat his entire hand, falling onto his lap where his cock stood at attention, hard and twitching, waiting for a chance to get in your hole.

“Fuck, Caleb!” You held onto his shoulders, worried you’d collapse on him as your hip thrusts became messy. All sensuality was lost, just an all-consuming need to cum. Caleb would provide, he always would. He’d always give you everything you needed.

Every kiss against your neck, every growl that escaped him, was his solid vow that that would never change.

“Cum for me pretty girl, give me what’s mine, give me it.” He hadn’t even finished before you were coming apart on his fingers. Your moans were cut off as a wave of pleasure rocked your body so harshly that you collapsed fully on top of him, body shaking with the aftershocks of the glorious orgasm he’d just gifted you.

Caleb watched unblinkingly, taking in every shudder, every breath you made. Taking note of everything so he could never forget this moment, could never forget how easily he’d played with your body, with the one part of his he’d never believed could be used for such soft things.

He pulled his arm out, wrapping his arm around your waist so he could keep you close. He saw his arm, witnessed his fingers splayed out on your back, so large they took up the entire middle and then some. He might not be able to feel you from his fingers, but he wasn’t scared, for the first time since he’d gotten that forsaken arm, he wasn’t afraid. He knew how you felt, how soft and how strong your body was against his.

A giggle broke out of you after a few more seconds of heavy breathing, your mind catching up with what you’d done, and what Caleb had finally done.

You lifted your head up, looking into his violet eyes with the biggest smile on your face. “I told you, you could never hurt me.” You said each word with such utter confidence that Caleb was left speechless. Instinct was running the show for him, and for the first time ever, he wasn’t forcing himself to play safe. You were right, he could never hurt you, his instinct was only ever to protect you, to keep you safe, to make you happy.

And he was only halfway through with that last part.

He pulled his metal hand back from around your waist, slipping the fingers into his mouth and sucking on each digit that had been inside you.

Once he was done, he brought the fingers up to your mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and like the good girl you were, you did as he said. You let him push his cold metal fingers into your mouth, let him explore the inside of your mouth with those digits.

“Is this what you wanted all along, baby girl?” He asked. “Wanted to unravel me?”

He took his fingers out of your mouth, letting you answer his question. “I wanted you to see you the way I see you.”

He cocked his head to the side, “and how’s that?”

You leaned forward, letting your lips rest against his as you spoke your next words. “Completely and utterly mine.”

The next couple of things that happened, occured within the blink of an eye.

His metal hand reached up to the handcuff, snapping it with ease and releasing his other hand. Both hands wrapped around your body as he spun the two of you around until he was on top, his waist pressing against the apex of your thighs. His cock rutting once, twice, against your clit which in turn had your hip stuttering with the overstimulation. His left hand, warm and soft, pressed down on your hip, keeping you in place, whilst his other rested against your throat, the fingers curling and pressing down on your pulse points. Not hard enough to cut off air, just hard enough for you to be incapable of ignoring their presence.

Despite the rough way he’d handled you, he followed up these actions by pressing three gentle kisses against your lips. “Always.” Another kiss. Far more demanding, teeth grazing. “Always have been.” His tongue plunged into your mouth, dancing across yours before he sucked it into his mouth. Another barely contained growl escaped him as he rutted against you more.

You just couldn’t help yourself. You’d got him to the very edge of control, and you wanted to see him lose it.

Pulling back you bit down hard on his lip, gathering what little attention he had left which wasn’t completely taken by the wet warmth cradling his cock.

“Prove it.” A demand, no, a challenge. The final stab at his control that pulled forth the beast.

Both hands moved beneath your thighs, pushing them against your chest so your pussy was completely open to him. Glistening under the few rays of sunlight that peaked into the room, as though trying to glimpse at the display of ravenous lust you were putting on. Caleb could understand why, you’d never looked so beautiful to him, spread open and soaking down your thighs, your hole twitching as though begging to be filled.

His poor baby. You didn’t need to beg anymore.

With ease he placed his dick against your hole, slipping in with barely any force because of how slick you were.

Home. That’s what your pussy felt like to him.

The both of you groaned out, a cacophony of moans that he could listen to for days on end without ever growing sick of the tune.

“I’ll prove it to you, pretty girl.” His voice was rough and hoarse as it fell from his lips, though he wasn’t sure anymore if it was from being tired, or because of all the moans he’d let escape. “You’ll never doubt me again, never doubt that your mine.” Each word was followed with a deep thrust, his cock reaching places you never knew existed until he’d explored them.

He fell on top of you, surrounding you. You couldn’t see anything but him. Feel anything but him. Hear, smell, taste anything but him.

His thrusts turned harder, quicker, every stab of his cock a lightning bolt to your senses.

You lost yourself, mouth opening with silent cries as your eyes stared unfocused on his face. Any time you closed them, he’d respond with a harsher, sharper, thrust of his hips. Even without words, he was in complete control of you.

“You need this, need me,” he told you in between grunts. You could only nod. Too drunk on the pleasure to tell him that he needed you too. He knew. He knew he needed you more, that’s why he was never going to let you go. “You need to cum all over this cock, need to make a mess, give it to me, pretty girl.”

Your legs were pressed so deep into your chest you weren’t sure if you were breathing, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was his thick cock dragging in and out of your pussy. Pulling pleasure from you with each thrust.

“Give it to me, and I’ll give you my cum.” He promised, and oh, your pussy clenched tightly around him, liking the sound of that far too much. An almost sinister laugh came from your boyfriend as he felt it too. “Oh,” he hummed, apparently just as surprised as you were by that reaction. His thrusts slowed, but they seemed to turn longer, somehow going deeper than ever before. “You want my cum baby? Want me to fill you up until your overflowing with my seed?”

When you moaned in response, he knew he had his answer.

“Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to give you all my cummies? Fill you up? Give you my babies?” Another clench had him slamming down into you. “Want that too pretty girl. Want to see you full of me, knowing you’re filled with me, knowing everything who sees you will know what I did to your dirty little pussy.”

“Fuck.” Both hands wrapped around your thighs tightened to the point of bruising, but that was exactly what he wanted, to mark you in every possible way. And he could, because he was in control. “Fucking take it, pretty girl. Fuck, good girl. Good fucking girl.”

His words were drowned out by each slam of his hips against yours. You knew you’d be hurting later but you were past the point of caring, you wanted every single thing he’d just promised you.

Through heaving breaths, you managed to squeak out a hoarse ‘please’ and that was his undoing. His thrusts stuttered until he pressed as far into you as possible and then you felt your insides being flooded.

It almost felt unreal, there was so much. You felt every corner of your insides being covered and then the knot inside you released with him, your pussy tightening almost instinctively around him, trying to keep his essence inside of you.

“Good girl,” he continued to praise, throwing out little phrases of admiration as you both rode out your orgasms.

Then, when the final wave crested and fled, he released your legs from his hold. His hands stayed steady, controlling how they fell around him, making sure you didn’t move too quickly just in case. His fingers caressed your soft skin, massaging at your thighs where most of the strain had been.

He moved so most of his weight wasn’t on you but he was still hovering over you. Pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he left his lips to rest there as he mumbled out an almost reverent, “thank you.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! I’ve been thinking about doing a part two where Caleb gets revenge and handcuffs the reader, let me know if you’d be interested.

#love and deepspace #love and deep space #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #caleb love and deepspace #caleb lads #caleb x mc #caleb smut #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb x y/n #lads caleb #lads sylus #lads

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admirableadmiranda · 2 days ago

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Hii! I hope you are having a good day! I have a question concerning Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s righteousness. Also I think this might also be a hot take? Many people have said that Wangxian are the only morally upright people in the novel, but in Lan Wangji’s case that's only when he matured yes?

I'm not trying to say Lan Wangji is not righteous, he is! He is better than most of the cultivators in the gentry, that's how he got his title after all. I'm just confused because I have seen people claiming that he is just as good as Wei Wuxian (before Wei Wuxian's death).

If Lan Wangji really was as good as Wei Wuxian that time. Why didn't he put the same effort in helping the Wen remnants the same way Wei Wuxian did? Why didn't he go and confirm whether or not the Wen remnants really were being unjustly abused?

Wei Wuxian gave up his reputation, his clan, his comfort, and nearly everything to save the Wen remnants. And I'm sorry to say this (I'm not trying to hate, I'm just stating facts), Lan Wangji didn't.

My problem isn't with Lan Wangji (I adore him). My problem is people saying to say that Lan Wangji was as righteous as Wei Wuxian pre-Wei Wuxian death. Yes, Lan Wangji did try to help Wei Wuxian (defending Wei Wuxian several times in the cultivation meetings, and supporting Mianmian, helping Wen Ning when he was just awakened). But my problem is when people equate those actions to what Wei Wuxian did with the Wen remnants. Lan Wangji at that time did not put in the same effort to help the Wen remnants just as Wei Wuxian did. That's what I'm trying to say. Lan Wangji pre-Wei Wuxian was still maturing, he has some hesitationto help the Wen remnants back then, he was not as good as Wei Wuxian back then. BUT Lan Wangji IS as good as Wei Wuxian post-Wei Wuxian death. He learned from his mistakes, and acted with more conviction to do the right thing.

Also another question, what made Lan Wangji hesitate to help Wei Wuxian all that much in the past (Wen remnants case)? Was it because of his family and clan? Or was it some other factor? Was he hindered in some way?

What do you think about this?

Hi anon, I’m not really recovered enough to do meta, but you caught me in a good mood, so I’ll give you some answers anyway.

First off I think that take that literally only Wangxian are morally upright is a liiiiittle reductionist, because that erases for example Mianmian and the juniors and Wen Qing and Wen Ning and a-Qing and Xiao Xingchen, all of whom are people who we know to have strong morals and the fortitude to do the right thing in the face of loud opposition and societal disapproval. But also I think that while Lan Wangji’s morality is much more apparent in the present, it is consistently strong throughout the entire novel. He just doesn’t shout about it.

First off, given the Wen Remnants claim, Wei Wuxian leaves right from the banquet to go chase them down, which is something he can do without incurring greater societal rancor because he was not a guest at the banquet. Lan Wangji is a guest and both host and guests do have rules and expectations to follow that would make it much more difficult for him to chase after Wei Wuxian without bringing down ire upon the Lan too. Remember, at this time in the book, the Lan Clan is still rebuilding their home that was burnt down with the help of the Jin, they are not quite as free to do as they please as the Jiang are. By the time he would have been able to get there, Wei Wuxian would have already spirited away the Wen from Qiongqi Path, meaning there’d be nothing for him to see. In addition it’s not as if he’s doing nothing at the banquet, he speaks in defense of Wei Wuxian both against the Jin and his own family, which is not doing nothing by any means. He’s fighting on different battlegrounds because he and Wei Wuxian are in different positions.

As for your latter questions, I wonder if you’ve ever heard of the concept attacking on two fronts? Yes, Wei Wuxian sacrificed everything to protect the Wen and give them time, but for all of that sacrifice, it’s doing nothing to stop the roar of the mob. He is an imposing figure to be sure, but he is one man and they are many. In addition, he is mostly staying in one place and working on keeping them alive, meaning that while the Wen are safe, everyone else who is not a cultivator is still having to deal with the hypocrisy of the cultivation world alone, which is where Lan Wangji, who appears wherever chaos is and helps people with their problems however small they seem. In addition to that, he is also continually speaking out at meetings on Wei Wuxian and the Wens’ behalf, we see him do this at the same meeting as Mianmian leaving her clan and we know he spoke up other times from when he and Wen Ning chat on the boat. Just because he wasn’t there in the burial mounds doesn’t mean he wasn’t doing anything and his morality was more questionable, it means that he was fighting those battles on other fronts - fronts where Wei Wuxian could not go, where Lan Wangji does have more power because he is a clan heir, because he is Hanguang-jun, because he is someone noble and strong willed enough to stand up to the bloodthirsty mob again and again and keep shouting back.

Also anon, the reason why Lan Wangji hesitated to “help” Wei Wuxian that much in the past (which he doesn’t, he gets rebuffed by Wei Wuxian half the times when he tries to help and successfully gets to help the other times) comes mostly down to Phoenix Mountain, where he made a significant, grievous error and crossed lines he should not have crossed with Wei Wuxian and that is what shakes up his confidence in helping Wei Wuxian for a while. He’s ashamed of himself for acting the way he did and wronging Wei Wuxian in his actions and it is that dissonance between his wants to be moral and his wants with Wei Wuxian that rattle and force him to spend time rectifying things. He keeps his distance and is cautious and careful with Wei Wuxian because the last time he did what he wanted heedless of what Wei Wuxian wanted, he ended up pinning him to a tree while blindfolded and forcing a kiss on him. That isn’t something that he is taking lightly, and it is clear that it has shaken him to the core.

Really, what I would argue that the biggest difference in Lan Wangji pre and post thirteen years is where he’s just done with trying to win by the rules the cultivation world sets. He’s seen what happens when you follow those rules, how even when you stand up to them in the ways they claim to respect that their words mean nothing, and he won’t give them the benefit of the doubt any longer. Which is something that can only come with maturity and is also something that Wei Wuxian learned in that same time span, Wei Wuxian never turned the defenses he’d made for the Burial Mounds so that they would respond to Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng brought a siege on him.

The answer I have for you anon, is that they both have been equally moral in their youths and more so as adults because they are both learning and growing and developing that core within them as they grow. Be careful not to conflate sacrifice with morality, while it can indeed be a sign of great morals, it is not the only way such morals can be shown, and to suggest that Lan Wangji’s actions - helping others who still need his aid when the Wen are being taken care of by Wei Wuxian, speaking out on their defense, rescuing Wei Wuxian and taking him back to the burial mounds after the events of nightless city, and then surviving and living to save Wen Yuan and to raise him and other children so that they will not make the mistakes their elders did - are less moral because he gave up less than his life to do so is something that I find distasteful indeed.

#mdzs #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #asks #anon #anon asks

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heyyoungbloods · 1 day ago

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Buckle up, babes, because I'm about to talk about Valentino a lot.

I've been thinking about Val a lot since me and @starfallisle started writing "Go to Hell for the Company" and I have Opinions about him, because I actually ended up finding him a lot more interesting and fun to write than I expected.

First I'd like to draw attention to this post that @potionorchard wrote about Val and his emotional intelligence, because I definitely agree with it. To summarize it, Valentino is not exactly a smart guy, but he's very emotionally intelligent and knows how to play people based on their emotions and connections to him, which is likely a big factor in how he became an Overlord in the first place.

Valentino is a mean guy, but he's capable of being nice, being kind. He can give people what they want from him, if he thinks it's worth his time and effort to do so. I think a great example of the two major sides of Valentino are his relationship with Angel versus with Vox.

With Angel Dust: Val knows he doesn't have to try with Angel, because he's got him under contract. He doesn't have to put effort into Angel if he doesn't want to, so he's willing to let himself get fed up with Angel and lash out at him. He'll put on his sweeter side when it suits him, but it's not necessary. The Val that Angel knows is likely the Val most people know in the long term. But I think before he was chained down, Angel knew a whole different Valentino. A kind, sweet, maybe even loving Val.

With Vox: I think Vox is one of the few people Val doesn't see as below him, same with Velvette. They are his business partners after all. More than that, it's clear that Val and Vox have a relationship beyond business, and have had it for a while probably. With Vox, Val has to play the game a little more strategically. @potionorchard pointed this out in her post that when Val doesn't get the results of Vox's attention that he wanted, he immediately turns around and plays Vox, riling him up by mentioning Alastor and then teasing him about it. Val knew what he was doing for that whole exchange. But, outside of these kind of instances, I think it's easy to see that Val has genuine feelings of some kind for Vox. He keeps the photo of them, and the whole dance between him and Vox in the finale speaks for itself I think. Val doesn't have as tight a hold on his temper as he could (or maybe even wishes he did) but he reins it in for Vox when he knows it won't benefit him to use it, or redirects it as needed so Vox isn't the direct subject of it.

I think Valentino uses kindness and affection as a weapon. He knows emotions are powerful motivators and uses them as his primary tools for predation pre: contracts and with those he knows he can't overpower. This is a major factor behind how I choose to write Val in my RPs and fics, why I make him kind when he's trying to achieve long term results, and why he's overall nicer to Vox than anyone else in the day-to-day.

Val is mean, Val is abusive, but he has the capability of being good for the people he has genuine affection for. However, his handle on his temper isn't good enough, and he'll lash out at anyone when he gets worked up enough. I personally think Valentino has some kind of feelings for Angel, but because Angel is under contract and not his perceived equal, he doesn't make the effort to be what Angel would want him to be, the person that Vox gets more often than not. Val is selfish with Angel and puts his own needs and desires above Angel's unless he can figure out how to also benefit from them.

I think Valentino wants to love people, but he struggles with perception (ironic given his eyesight.) I think Val builds his idea of a person in his mind, and when they do something that goes against what he expects of them based on that idea, he reacts poorly. His selfishness battles against this deep down want-- a want that is often overtaken by lust and pride and is therefore easy to miss, even by him.

This post is getting pretty long so I will stop it here. tl;dr: I think Valentino is messy and complicated and I like him for that reason. Am I reading too much into him? Maybe! But he's more interesting this way, don't you think?

#valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #staticmoth #voxval #hazbin hotel valentino #valangel #mytexts

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lyricalt · 1 day ago

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Kind

Haha, I hope you don't mind I sort of had this in my backpocket and it was going to stay unfinished forever but your prompt pinged some words I was finally able to connect. So thanks!

sniperspy - rated explicit (very nsfw lol)

(open prompt post HERE)

+++

Sniper thanks his lucky stars Spy doesn’t expect dirty talk from him. He’s more than happy to let Spy do all the flirtatious innuendo and filthy comments. He’s willing to listen to it all. In fact, if Sniper makes a conscious effort to make the attempt himself, it usually doesn’t work. Spy is typically immune to whatever Sniper has to say (dirty or not), likely because he’s already heard everything in all his years of honeypot missions and the like. With the filthy shit Spy murmurs in his ear sometimes, Sniper is sure as hell he hasn’t even heard a quarter of it.

Either way, Sniper’s not much of a talker in bed, much like he isn’t much of one when not in bed, but especially when he’s about to get railed six ways to Sunday. He makes noise, sure, but nothing too coherent. Curses, mostly. Obvious demands. He ain’t dead silent. Spy seems to like it.

So Sniper’s just carrying on babbling nonsense while getting plowed silly on his back, too far gone to care what comes out of his mouth. He vaguely remembers gasping please, please (normal, polite) and don’t stop (honest demand, if not obvious in hindsight), want you (intimate, perhaps, but not scandalous), and then, of course, Spy’s name a couple of times.

Nothing out of the ordinary, except when Sniper is in the middle of gasping something unusually wordy, Spy suddenly tenses, lets out a short startled noise, and comes inside Sniper with such abruptness, it surprises them both.

Spy slips himself out, still breathing harshly against Sniper’s neck. There’s a slight shake to his arms as he tries to sit up with Sniper’s legs still wrapped around his waist. Sniper is more bummed about the loss in his bum, but it only takes Spy another moment to recover—he looks mortified, red from the neck and chest, and then that’s all the observation Sniper can gather before Spy quickly bends down and sucks him off until Sniper’s mind does the equivalent of dropping a loose cartridge of SMG bullets all over the floor.

No more words, this time Sniper just moans through his orgasm, almost overwhelmed by how fast it hits like a train. His cock has never been so thoroughly swallowed down and cleaned up with speed. He’s still shuddering when Spy lets off, and he shudders again when he sees that Spy has to swallow twice.

There’s an art to complimenting Spy. Say too much and he’s going to get a big head about it. Say too little and he’ll fish for an opinion. Say nothing and it’s even worse—he’ll not do it again and brush it off as something Sniper doesn’t want.

So, Sniper flops his legs back down from Spy’s waist and lets out a very precise, very articulate, “Ngh.”

Spy doesn't say anything for the moment. He stumbles from the bed, off to fetch the washrag while Sniper tries to figure out what the hell happened.

“That was fast,” Sniper says, since he knows it’s best to just pull the trigger on these things; Spy has a habit of getting all caught up in his head otherwise. “Got somewhere to be?”

It isn’t until Spy drops a damp cloth on his chest that Sniper sits up, letting it fall into his lap. He doesn’t pick it up. Instead, he sets his sights on Spy.

“...You’re quite the chattermouth in bed,” Spy says, offhand, but he won’t look at Sniper. There’s a flush still lingering across his chest and shoulders.

Sniper frowns. He’s sure he hasn’t said anything weird or off putting. Certainly nothing dirty since he’s no good at it, and nothing too saccharine or sweet that would embarrass them, but then again, Spy wouldn’t have blown his bloody load so fast if it’d been a turn off.

Sniper presses the washrag to his face, muttering, and tries to recall what he’d said. If anything, he’d like to use it again for leverage, but he’s thinking on it now and it’s nothing, absolutely nothing special. Just stuff about wanting, and wanting so badly in that desperate kind of sex-talk way. Honest, in-the-moment babble that Sniper can’t fake. Spy should be used to it, considering his past history.

Sniper lowers his hands slightly, peering over the top of the terrycloth at Spy.

“Ah-ha,” Sniper says. “‘I’m yours’, is that it?”

He might as well have shot Spy through the head with how accurate he hits the mark. Spy’s body language is perfectly composed, but what little Sniper can see of his face goes up in flames, near bright enough to show through the mask, really.

“A little more than that,” Spy says stiffly.

Sniper lets out a bark of laughter, not surprised in the least. Because, deep down under that cynical and wry exterior, he knows Spy’s a romantic at heart. What, being so invested in Scout’s troubles with Miss Pauling, knowing how to wine and dine, and the finer ins and outs of courting, Spy seems to have a keen eye for reading people’s hearts—motives, really—so Sniper supposes it’s not out of pocket for Spy to be partial to it himself. Sniper likens it to any other type of specialized mercenary skill.

And also, when it comes down to it, Spy has a streak of kindness a klick wide. He’s just good at hiding it in most cases. Sniper guesses he should be flattered he isn’t most cases.

Spy is starting to dress himself. It might not be a good idea to mention that it’s his own room he’s trying to escape from. Sniper lays himself back into Spy’s plush bed.

“No worries, Spy,” he says, shrugging. “You’re a sap. I know you like that kinda stuff. The sweet talkin’.”

Spy slowly looks at him. He sounds mildly affronted by the accusation. “Not usually.”

“Fine, just with me then.”

And now Spy looks less of a romantic and more like the proper murderer that he is. Sniper is surprised a knife isn’t buried into his throat yet.

Just in case, he holds one hand up and uses the other to wipe his bottom before Spy starts trying to switch the topic to clean sheets. “I ain't making fun. I think it’s sweet as, mate. You get your rocks off however you want.”

Spy sighs, embarrassed and exasperated, but he’s slowed down in trying to dress himself. “You make it sound like a fetish. It certainly isn’t.”

“Nah. I get that. You like me.” Sniper rolls on his side, propping himself up with one elbow and his cheek in the palm of his hand. “You like me heaps.”

“Careful. That might change.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Change into liking me more,” Sniper says breezily.

Spy buttons up his shirt, lightly stepping over Sniper’s clothes on the floor so that he can loom over him. He puts fingers around Sniper’s throat and at the first touch, Sniper finds himself easing back at the slightest pressure.

“You would not be able to handle me liking you more,” Spy says, deadpan. Only he could make something like that sound like a genuine threat. No kindness there at all.

And, since things tend to loop back in a circle with them, Sniper guesses it’s only fair when it’s his turn to feel a hot blush cross his face under Spy’s weighted stare.

When Spy’s fingers let up, Sniper drops back, covering his own face, and lets Spy finish dressing.

#sniperspy #bloody suit #promptfic #sniper x spy #tf2 #nonao3

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itstobias149 · 23 hours ago

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An annulled vow

Hello guys! I bring you a lore drop for my oc Marie! I hope you guys enjoy, now this does get a little dark and talks about some touchy subjects!

If divorce, or relationship issues trigger you, this might not be the post for you! This post explores Marie’s arranged marriage and how it failed.

Marie’s divorce from Eli marked the lowest point in her life. She had just lost the last connection to the life her parents had arranged for her, leaving her feeling directionless and utterly alone. She was still grieving the loss of her family, her home, and the version of herself she thought she was supposed to be.

Not long after the annulment, she met Little Mac at the WVBA gym. He was scrappy, determined, and just as lost in his own way as she was. Something about his resilience resonated with her. Taking him in gave her a sense of purpose, a chance to rebuild her life by helping someone else build theirs.

Mac became like the brother she never had, and in caring for him, she began to find herself again.

The Arrangement

Marie’s parents, traditional and deeply rooted in their Jewish faith, sought to secure her future by arranging her marriage at a young age. The groom, Eli, was from a respected family within their community. Eli was a few years older than Marie, confident, and ambitious, which her parents believed would make him a capable provider and protector.

Marie, dutiful and eager to honor her parents’ wishes, accepted the arrangement despite having little say in the matter. At the time, she trusted their judgment and hoped love would eventually grow between her and Eli.

The Marriage in its Early Years

The marriage began quietly, with Marie and Eli navigating the awkwardness of being young and unfamiliar with one another.

• Marie’s Perspective: She felt out of place, struggling to connect with Eli emotionally. She wanted to fulfill her role as a wife but felt overwhelmed by the expectations placed on her.

• Eli’s Perspective: Eli saw himself as the leader in the relationship, expecting Marie to adapt quickly to his lifestyle and ideals. While he provided for her financially and adhered to traditional customs, he lacked the emotional sensitivity Marie needed.

Despite the differences, they found moments of companionship. Marie admired Eli’s determination, and Eli appreciated Marie’s kindness and efforts to make their household run smoothly. However, intimacy remained a major point of contention.

The Cultural and Emotional Conflict

Marie’s discomfort with intimacy stemmed from a mix of her own personality, upbringing, and the suddenness of being thrust into a marital relationship. Eli, raised to believe in traditional gender roles, interpreted her hesitation as a rejection of him and his authority.

• Arguments: They began having disagreements, with Eli accusing Marie of dishonoring him and failing her duties as a wife. Marie, though quiet and non-confrontational, felt hurt and confused by his harshness.

• Grief Complicates Matters: After her parents’ deaths, Marie was left reeling. Eli’s attempts at support often came off as dismissive or impatient, further alienating her.

Moving to the U.S.

After her parents’ passing, Eli insisted they move to the United States for better opportunities. Marie followed him, hoping the change in environment would help mend their marriage. However, it only deepened the cracks:

• Eli’s Focus: Once in the U.S., Eli became consumed with securing his citizenship and building a new life. He began to see Marie less as a partner and more as a means to an end.

• Marie’s Loneliness: Away from her home and heritage, Marie felt isolated. She struggled to find her place in this new country, especially as Eli became increasingly distant.

The Breaking Point

Once Eli obtained his citizenship, he viewed their marriage as more of a hindrance than a partnership. He believed Marie’s discomfort with intimacy was a failure to uphold her role as a Jewish woman and a wife.

• Annulment: Eli requested an annulment, claiming the marriage was never consummated and therefore invalid. While Marie felt betrayed, part of her also felt relieved to be free from the pressure and emotional strain.

• Eli’s New Life: Eli remarried soon after, choosing someone he believed fit his vision of a “proper” wife.

Impact on Marie

• Self-Worth: Marie struggled with feelings of inadequacy, wondering if she had truly failed in her role or if the marriage was doomed from the start.

• Independence: Over time, Marie found strength in rebuilding her life independently, carving out her identity apart from the expectations imposed on her.

• New Relationships: The experience left her cautious about romantic relationships, though it also gave her a deeper understanding of people’s flaws and complexities.

The Argument:

Eli:

(Frustrated tone)

“Marie, I don’t understand you. I have given you everything—brought you here, given you a new life—and yet, you act like it’s never enough!”

Marie:

(Calm but defensive)

“I didn’t ask to come here, Eli. I followed you because I thought it’s what I was supposed to do. But you don’t see me, not really. You only see what you want me to be.”

Eli:

“What am I supposed to see? A wife who avoids her husband? Who can’t even—” (he stops himself, shaking his head) “You won’t even try to make this marriage work!”

Marie:

(Her voice tightens, trying to stay composed)

“I have tried. I’ve tried to be patient, to make this work, but you keep pushing me into something I’m not ready for. Do you think this is easy for me? Leaving my home, losing my parents, and now… feeling like I’m failing you every day?”

Eli:

(Angrily gestures)

“Do you hear yourself? Always making excuses. You think you’re the only one who’s had to sacrifice? I left my family too! I worked day and night to get us here, and what do I get in return? Coldness? Silence? A wife who won’t even share a bed with me?”

Marie:

(Her voice rises for the first time)

“Do you think yelling will fix this? That forcing me will change how I feel? I’m trying to figure out who I am in all of this, Eli. I’ve lost everything. And you—you’re only focused on what I can’t give you.”

Eli:

(Pauses, his anger simmering down into bitterness)

“Maybe that’s the problem. You don’t even know what it means to be a wife. You dishonor me, Marie. You dishonor our traditions, our faith. Do you think this is what your parents would have wanted?”

Marie:

(She freezes, his words cutting deeply. When she speaks, her voice is quiet but firm)

“My parents wanted me to be happy. Do you think they’d be proud of how you’ve treated me? Of how you only see me as your duty or your possession?”

Eli:

(Scoffs, turning away)

“You twist everything. I’ve done nothing but try to make this work, but maybe you’re right. Maybe you don’t belong here, or with me.”

Marie:

(Her voice breaks slightly, but she holds her ground)

“Maybe I don’t.”

Aftermath:

This argument could mark a turning point in their relationship. Eli’s words reflect his frustration and belief in traditional roles, while Marie’s responses reveal her growing awareness of her own needs and boundaries. Neither can truly understand the other, leading to the eventual collapse of their marriage.

Court House Moment

Marie and Eli sit almost side by side on a bench outside a New York City divorce court. The hallway is quiet except for the occasional sound of footsteps and the hum of muffled conversations. The tension between them is palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words.

Marie sits with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her posture stiff and defensive. Eli leans back against the bench, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his jaw set.

Eli:

(Breaking the silence, his voice low and tense)

“So, this is it.”

Marie:

(Doesn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the tiled floor)

“Yes. This is it.”

Eli:

(Scoffs slightly, shaking his head)

“I never thought it would end like this. Not here, in some… hallway, in a country that isn’t even ours.”

Marie:

(Finally looks at him, her voice measured but tired)

“I didn’t think it would end at all. But here we are.”

Eli:

(Turns to face her, his voice sharper now)

“Do you even care? Or is this what you wanted all along? To be free of me?”

Marie:

(Her expression hardens, though her voice remains calm)

“You think this is easy for me? That I wanted to throw away everything I’ve been through—everything we’ve been through—just to sit here and end it? I didn’t ask for this, Eli.”

Eli:

(Leaning forward, his tone bitter)

“No, you didn’t ask for it, but you made it impossible. You shut me out, Marie. You acted like I was the enemy, like I was some… burden.”

Marie:

(Her voice cracks slightly, but she keeps her composure)

“I shut you out because you never tried to understand me. You didn’t see how hard it was for me to leave everything behind—my home, my parents. I lost everything, Eli, and you… you just expected me to be okay.”

Eli:

(Softens for a moment, his voice quieter)

“I did try. Maybe not the way you wanted, but I tried. I wanted to give you a life here, to build something together. But you never let me in.”

Marie:

(Shaking her head, her voice laced with sorrow)

“Because you didn’t listen. Every time I told you how I felt, you made it about what I wasn’t doing for you. I couldn’t keep pretending I was fine when I wasn’t.”

Eli:

(Sits back, his shoulders slumping slightly)

“I thought we could fix it. That you’d come around eventually. But maybe… maybe we were just too different from the start.”

Marie:

(Glancing at him briefly, her voice soft but firm)

“Maybe we were.”

A Moment of Silence:

The quiet between them stretches out, not quite peaceful but no longer hostile. Both are lost in their own thoughts, the weight of their shared history hanging between them.

Eli:

(After a long pause, almost hesitant)

“Do you think your parents would have forgiven me? For how this turned out?”

Marie:

(Closes her eyes for a moment, her voice thoughtful and bittersweet)

“My parents believed in forgiveness. But they also believed in honesty. And the truth is, Eli, we both failed each other.”

Eli:

(Nods slowly, his gaze distant)

“Maybe we did.”

Marie:

(Standing up, smoothing her skirt as she prepares to walk into the courtroom)

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Eli. Truly.”

Eli:

(Looking up at her, a hint of regret in his eyes)

“You too, Marie.”

As they walk into the courtroom, side by side but worlds apart, both feel the weight of the finality. Though the pain of their marriage lingers, this moment marks the beginning of a new chapter for Marie, one where she can start to reclaim her identity and heal from the wounds of the past.

Marie’s Perspective:

Sitting across from a friend or perhaps a trusted confidant, Marie tries to explain her feelings, her hands trembling slightly as she speaks.

Marie:

(Quietly, staring down at her hands)

“I really did love him. Or… I tried to. I wanted to. But how do you love someone you barely know? I was so young when we got married—still a girl, really—and suddenly I was supposed to be a wife. To someone I’d only met a handful of times before our wedding.

“My parents arranged it, and I trusted them. I thought, ‘This is how it’s supposed to be. Love will come with time.’ And maybe it could have, if things had been different. But it all happened so fast.

“When we moved to America, I felt… untethered. I’d lost my parents, my home, everything I knew. And Eli… he didn’t understand. He thought bringing me here was enough, that I should be grateful. And I was, in some ways. But I was terrified. Terrified of this new country, of failing him, of failing myself.

“And then there was the intimacy. I—I wasn’t ready. He’d look at me like I was some puzzle he couldn’t figure out, like I was withholding something on purpose. But it wasn’t that. I was scared. Scared of him, of what it meant to really be his wife.

“I think part of me always hoped he’d slow down, that he’d take the time to really see me. To understand why I was struggling. But he didn’t. He just kept getting more frustrated, more distant.

“And now… now it’s over. I know he didn’t love me. Not really. I was just… convenient. A way for him to get here. And once he did, he didn’t need me anymore. But I loved him, even if it wasn’t enough. Even if it didn’t look the way he wanted it to. I did my best, but my best wasn’t what he wanted.”

(She pauses, wiping at her eyes before continuing, her voice steadier now.)

“I don’t hate him, though. I don’t think I ever could. But I hope… I hope he finds what he’s looking for. And I hope I do too.”

Eli’s Perspective:

Eli, now settled in a bar with a couple of friends, recounts his side of the story with a mix of bitterness and detachment, nursing a glass of whiskey as he speaks.

Eli:

(Leaning back in his chair, shrugging)

“Marie? Yeah, it didn’t work out. But honestly, it was never going to. She wasn’t cut out for this.

“Look, I did what I was supposed to do. I married her like my parents wanted, played the dutiful husband, brought her to America—America, the land of opportunity—and she just… what? Sat there, moping around, acting like I was some kind of monster for wanting a real marriage.

“She never really wanted to be with me. She made that pretty clear. Always an excuse, always something holding her back. She’d pull away every time I tried to get close, and I’m supposed to just… what? Wait around forever for her to figure it out? Nah. Life’s too short for that.

“Truth is, I was young and dumb too. I thought, ‘Hey, this’ll work out. She’ll settle down, we’ll make a life here.’ But she wasn’t interested in being my wife. Not the way I needed her to be.

“So, yeah, I ended it. Got the annulment, moved on. No hard feelings, but I’m not going to waste my time on someone who doesn’t even want me.

(He smirks, taking a sip of his drink.)

“Now? Now I’ve got options. I’m in America. I can find someone who gets it. Someone who knows how to make a man feel like a man. A real partner, you know? Or maybe a trophy wife. Whatever works.

(Laughing, he raises his glass in a mock toast.)

“Here’s to new beginnings.”

Marie’s failed marriage to Eli left deep scars that affect how she approaches relationships. The experience taught her to guard her heart fiercely, fearing vulnerability and the possibility of being seen as a burden or failure. She struggles with trust, believing that if she opens up, she’ll once again be discarded for not meeting someone else’s expectations.

Romantic Relationships:

Marie is hesitant to pursue romance, even when she feels a connection. Her fear of intimacy, shaped by Eli’s frustration and the pressure she felt to fulfill traditional roles, makes her wary of letting anyone get too close. She often second-guesses herself, wondering if she’s capable of being what someone else needs.

Even when she develops feelings for someone, she holds back. The idea that she might not be enough for someone terrifies her. Rather than risk rejection or heartbreak, she chooses to stay silent, convincing herself it’s better that way.

Friendships and Bonds:

Her past has made Marie deeply empathetic, especially toward people who are struggling. She gravitates toward those who are lost or broken, like Little Mac, because helping them gives her a sense of purpose and belonging. However, she often prioritizes others’ needs over her own, afraid of being seen as selfish or unworthy.

At the same time, Marie’s guarded nature can make it hard for her to fully open up to her friends. She keeps her pain and fears hidden, afraid of being judged or pitied.

Personal Growth:

Marie’s experiences have left her with lingering self-doubt, but they’ve also given her a quiet strength. She’s learning to set boundaries and recognize her own worth, though it’s a slow and ongoing process.

Her past marriage serves as a reminder of what she doesn’t want in a relationship—control, resentment, and unmet expectations. She longs for a partnership built on mutual respect, understanding, and acceptance, but she’s still learning how to believe she deserves it.

#punch out #oc #artwork #digital art #oc lore #sensitive #trigger warning

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astra-galaxie · 1 day ago

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Taking a Break

Hi everyone.

As you’ve probably guessed from the title, I am taking a break from the Criminal Case fandom. I’ll be gone for at least 2 weeks, maybe more if needed. While I’m gone, I will not be on any sites, at least not for CC-related reasons, updating any of my stories or posting new content on Tumblr. That means I won’t be checking notifications or even going on some platforms, and I will be leaving all the Discord servers I am in after posting this.

If you need to reach me (please don’t contact me about CC), I will occasionally check my direct messages on Discord.

2024 has so far been the worst year for my mental health, and to summarize how I feel in one sentence: I’m tired, and honestly, I have considered leaving CC more than once. I tried not to let my mental health affect my relationship with CC since it was like the light at the end of the tunnel for me. But with things calming down IRL, I’ve realized how straining CC was on my mental health and a person can only bend so much before they break, and I fear I will break if I do not step away…

I have been in the CC fandom for over 10 years, most of that time spent as a lurker and then as a writer who stayed in a little bubble isolated with my stories and rarely engaging with others. But over time, I came out of my bubble with the help of friends I made through CC and gained even more along the way. However, things have happened recently behind the scenes that are making me consider leaving the fandom, so it's time I take a break and focus on other things for a little while.

This is not goodbye forever. If you know me and my stories, you know my goal is to write every Criminal Case season from 1 to 8 (yes, I will be writing and hopefully improving City of Romance!). I’ve been at it for about 8 years, so I’m too far into things to give up!

But I have another goal, and no, I’m not referring to making headcanons for every CC character. It's to create a safe space for people to share their ideas, thoughts, and opinions without fearing ridicule. There is enough hate in the world, so why should I contribute to it when I can use my platform to be positive instead? It’s why, even when the idea might not be my cup of tea, or I might not understand parts of it, I still encourage people to pursue their ideas and focus on the good things. I hope people know that you can send me the craziest, crack-filled ideas (anonymously or not) and that I will do my best to give positive feedback.

I do give constructive feedback if people ask me to, but again, I’m no Goddess of Writing and Content Creation, so I would never expect people to take my words as gospel. I would never want people to feel they HAVE to change something in their creation just because I suggested it. I want people to be happy with THEIR work, just as I am with mine.

The biggest piece of advice I always give people when they ask for my help or opinion on their project(s) is to write about what makes you happy. While it is important to listen to feedback to learn what you can improve on, ultimately, YOU are the creator. YOU are putting in the time, effort and skills into the project, and if YOU are not happy with what you are creating, then you will lose interest in it. Create things you are happy and proud of. YOU are bringing your ideas to life and sharing them for others to enjoy, not the other way around.

You can never please everyone, but you can always please yourself.

But do NOT use that as an excuse to spam, rage bait, or terrorize others. Everyone is entitled to their likes and dislikes, but you should not force your opinions on others. If you see something you don’t like, just ignore/block it and keep scrolling. It takes much less time than writing a hate comment or making a call-out post. And while sometimes those are reasonably warranted, please still take the time to consider the repercussions of something before you post it and ask yourself: Is it really worth it?

If you’ve stuck with me this long, thank you for listening to my rambling.

Maybe it's naive or wishful thinking to hope people have learned from 2024 and will think before they post, but I hope at least some people will learn from their mistakes or those of others. I know I have learned from the mistakes I’ve made. I don’t think I’m perfect or anyone special because, at the end of the day, I’m just a writer who discovered a hobby for creating fanfiction when they were a teen and somehow gained a following of amazing fans and made fantastic friends along the way. I’m human and make mistakes, but it's from those mistakes that we grow and improve as people.

That said, I am signing off for now. My mental health is at rock bottom, and all I can focus on recently is negative. I keep thinking the worst of my writing and other content. All my mind has been telling me is that everything I make is terrible, and no one likes it. And while I know that is far from the truth, thanks to the amazing support and love I receive from all of you (shout out to everyone who keeps the CC fandom alive!) I must leave and stop focusing on everything before returning with a clear, more positive mindset.

I will see you all when I return. Will I not do anything CC related? Probably not, since you can take Astra out of CC, but you can't take CC out of Astra! But I will not be touching or even looking at my mainstream series while I’m gone, so don’t expect me to return with an update ready for it.

Thank you for listening.

Astra G.

#criminal case #sorry for tagging the main cc tag #astra speaks

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otomiyaa · 3 days ago

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Arranged Amusement

Rufus x Fem!Reader

[Fic Reupload] - Another old fic I got reminded of by AO3 comment. This one was written for @thelaughtercafe

Summary: You are about to get married to Rufus Shinra. For business, not love. While the two of you have been rather distant, something comes up that finally breaks the ice... (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 2.8K

Marriage. As the president of Shinra Electric Power Company it was only natural that Rufus was going to have an arranged marriage, full of benefits for both sides - though mostly his - rather than meet an elegant lady at the nearby club or at the park.

Not that Rufus would even visit the club or the park, so marriage for love was already at the bottom of his life goals by the time he was appointed to be Vice President of the company. It mattered not.

He chose his ideal woman purely strategically and from a business point of view, and that was how you came into his life.

As the daughter of the CEO of Enyo Marine Ltd., your marriage would award Shinra with the collaboration of Rufus’ deepest ambitions: besides space, they would now expand to both the surface and depths of the oceans.

Your engagement was made public a while ago and gave you some time to pre-invest in your future relationship. Rufus was determined to succeed his father in style, with a wedding of royal level and the attention he deserved.

However with the murder of his father, that succession was here rather soon and unexpected, and all of a sudden you would meet your fiancé a lot more often than ever as wedding arrangements were in progress for the both of you.

“There, signed. Now go make it happen~” Rufus chanted as he placed his signature hastily and sent his assistants out on errands again. You eyed him from your comfortable position on the sofa. A book was placed in your lap and you had barely exchanged a word with the man you felt quite neutral about.

Yes, you were about to marry him, but from the few, very few times you already spent together, you figured he was not a person you were going to love.

Not that you expected you would. Also for you, it was purely an arranged marriage for business benefits, and besides, the marriage came with wealth and luxury in tenfold.

While you never had a bad life at your family’s mansion, being cared for by Rufus and his staff was quite something else.

“I apologize. We finally meet again, and here I am. Busy with work, and our wedding,” he said, eyeing you from his desk.

“That’s alright,” was your short and indifferent reply. You already knew this was what your whole life was going to be like anyway, from this point on. It was already surprising you were both in the same room now for longer than thirty minutes.

A cold and icy silence was what filled the room for the next couple of minutes. That was until he was the one to break the silence.

“You know what? Perhaps it won’t be so bad for us to go out sometime. I can cancel the meeting of this afternoon,” Rufus said.

You raised your eyebrows. Oh? Go out? “Anywhere you would like to go?” he suggested. You were impressed by his efforts to get closer to you, but at the same time you understood that your marriage was getting rushed, so he most likely was trying to make this less awkward for everyone. Including the two of you.

“Where I would like to go...” you wondered out loud. You rubbed your foot with the other as you lounged comfortably on the sofa with your legs stretched.

“I know you are not familiar with our city’s cuisine, so perhapsー”

“ーa pedicure.”

“....What?”

You glanced at him and boldly said it again. “Where I would like to go.. I would like to go somewhere for a pedicure,” you said, clenching your book in your hands. You felt bad to interrupt him when he was talking more than ever before, but the surprised expression on his face was kind of worth it.

“Together?” he asked, squinting his eyes. You nodded.

“I have never been to a pedicure before,” you confessed. Not that you needed to, since you were not that spoiled you had other people take care of your body. However since coming here you kind of understood that common people would visit pedicures, even if they were not from a wealthy family.

“And it could be good for us. Before the wedding,” you said. Convenience. Not a bad idea if your feet were in great shape for the wedding, right? Rufus nodded slowly.

“If that is your wish, not a problem.”

You smirked. Although he was busy and seeing you rarely, ever since the start of your engagement you knew it was Rufus’ trait to pamper and spoil you rotten. It may not have been him personally, but he would always send his people after you to tend to you, to get you the most delicious meals, to deliver the most magnificent flowers, and to give you everything you wanted.

So this too, he could not refuse. You kind of expected him to send you by yourself after all, which you would not have minded. In fact, you were kind of hoping he was not coming along since a pedicure-date was kind of odd after all.

But in the end you did go together. Of course the selected pedicure was the best of the best, and they made you feel like royalty as they took care of your feet while you enjoyed the most delicious wine by Rufus’ side and discussed business with him. Well, this wasn’t so bad.

“Did you take a look at the guest list for the wedding?” Rufus asked. You nodded.

“I did. No remarks from my side.”

“Alright, I was considering whether we should invite your uncle.”

You frowned. “Rather not,” you muttered, but Rufus gave you a look.

“We are going to be a new family. It might not be so bad to restore ill family relations.”

You sighed. “I understand. However my thought was that ー hahahaha!” You jolted when the treatment on your feet started to tickle all of a sudden, and you quickly covered your mouth, sadly after that embarrassing burst of laughter already echoed through the room.

“......?” Rufus almost looked offended by your sudden outburst so you very quickly pointed at your foot that was being scrubbed right now.

“Ticklish!” you said. “Just.. a little ticklish, I apologize. That was rude of me,” you admitted, and the lady who was scrubbing your foot sent you an apologetic look.

“That is alright. So, your thought was?” he asked. Ah right.

“Actually, I was just thinking that my uncle - whahah!” you laughed again when it felt once again ticklish, and you gulped.

“.....I will think about it,” you said shyly when you felt his eyes on you. Meanwhile the poor lady apologized over and over for tickling you by accident.

It was your first pedicure after all, so you did not expect it to tickle this much. They were definitely not the last times you laughed suddenly into Rufus’ face, but with time he seemed to get used to it, and if you were not mistaken, you were sure you could spot a very subtle smile when you let out the most embarrassing giggle again.

“I am so sorry for being so ticklish,” you whispered at the woman who felt just as ashamed and guitly for making you laugh.

“T-that is alright, it happens!” she replied. You blushed like crazy to see the way Rufus smirked at you.

“Well, that was interesting,” he said as you both finally headed out.

“.....” There was only little you could say to that, but fortunately Rufus did not mention it again. He quickly moved on to other topics, and soon you were home again, and you stepped out of your shoes and enjoyed how soft and smooth your feet felt.

You sat down on the couch and felt your silky smooth sole with your finger, and you wiggled your toes. Well that was just a luxury.

“You are staying?” you asked in surprise when Rufus sent out one of his assistants to get you both a pot of tea.

“I am,” he said, approaching you with firm steps. “There is something I would like to check,” he said, sitting down by your side, and you were too slow to react when he gently took your ankle and pulled your foot in his lap.

“Check wh-whahahah! Hey- hahah! T-that tickles, hehey!” you giggled when his fingers fluttered against your bare sole. He stared at you with a serious expression but there was this slight tug at his lips as he took in your reactions.

“I thought so. You really are rather ticklish,” he observed with much interest. Your eyes widened and you threw your head back when he tightened the grip on your ankle while his fingers scribbled at the ball of your foot.

“O-obviously haha! Now quihihit ihihit!” you giggled, but Rufus was surprisingly persistent.

“Usually you are quite the serious type. I have not heard you laugh like this before,” he said.

!!! He was the serious type! You just.... went along with the vibe! You tried to tell him something along those lines, but Rufus brushed the soft skin of your sole with both thumbs and lightly fluttered his fingertips against the surrounding area.

“HAh-I gehehet ihihit! Ahahalright, stahahap!” you giggled.

“Get what?” he asked. What a tease! Who would have thought.

“J-just ー Nahaha not thehehere!” you laughed when his curious fingers moved towards your toes where he scribbled lightly at the sensitive skin. If a pedicure already tickled by accident, then this was just... torture.

“Rufuhus! Plehehease hahaha!” You turned and twisted, but your foot couldn’t go anywhere. Rufus was tickling the ticklish areas curiously and tried different and various spots, but all resulted in the same hysterical laughter, though sometimes louder, and sometimes pitchier.

He was silent while he tickled you, watching you with those piercing eyes. And then finally he stopped. He released your foot which you quickly pulled back, and you gasped for breath.

“I did not perceive you to be the ticklish type,” he said. You blushed and glared at him.

“I did not perceive you to be the tickly type. What was that for?” you panted. Rufus looked at you with a cocky smirk and he shrugged.

“It is nice to see you lose your composure. I have to admit, I was never tickled before. It was amusing to see what it could result in.”

You looked at him and were still flustered by the sudden tickle attack, but you also felt motivated to tease him back. Your serious facade was dropping hard along with your lost dignity, and you slowly moved towards him.

“You... have never been tickled before?” you asked. He shook his head.

“Would you like to try?”

Oh. The way he looked at you when he said that... You must admit, you did feel a little tingle in your chest right there.

“...... Yes,” you whispered, moving closer towards him. He stayed in place, and for a moment you really thought this was going to be the moment. Your moment. Tickle Rufus, for real? Watch and hear his laugh as he did to yours?

That was nothing more than a little fantasy in your mind it seemed. You let out a cry in shock when Rufus grabbed you right before you could reach for him. You saw a flash of the ceiling very quickly as you were pushed on your back on the couch, then Rufus came into your sight, looking smug, cocky and a little bit.. tempting. You gulped.

“Y-you said Iー”

“I said you could try. Try, and you failed. So....” Rufus hummed, and he lowered his hands.

“So now, I will try some of this,” he said calmly, sliding his hands down your torso until they stopped at your sides. There, he dug in slightly, and you jerked at the sudden ticklish sensation.

“HAh-! N-noho!” you yelped, but Rufus already started to tickle you just as relentlessly as he did to that single foot of yours, except now it was your sides and he was leaning right above you, with perfect view all over your most embarrassing facial expressions and with your pitchy laughter closer to his ears. You couldn’t stop blushing. So embarrassing!

“Does that tickle?” he asked. The menace.

“Hahahaha! Y-yes nohohow stohohop!” you laughed. There went your perfect image. His perfect calm, composed and professional wife-to-be. You were literally barking in his face, all because of some silly tickling. You couldn’t believe this was happening!

“How about this?” He squeezed your ribs and you twitched, attempting to turn to the side, but he moved you back and pinned you down while he continued to explore the ticklish spots on your ribcage.

“Hehehehe! It tickles- ahhh ahaha! Nohoho!” you squealed. He just kept tickling you. Your laughter was only increasing, not decreasing, and it went from bad to worse when he managed to gather your grabby hands into one of his.

“These are in my way,” he muttered, and he pinned them above your head, leaving your torso completely exposed. You stared at him in surprise and smiled nervously.

“Mercy,” you whispered. He nodded slowly.

“Mercy, yes yes. Later,” he said, and he brought his hand to your exposed your armpit and poked the area experimentally.

“HYEah!” you shrieked. The smirk that appeared on his face was a demon’s alright.

“Found a good spot,” he said before he started to dance his fingers around the sensitive area of your armpit.

“HAHAha! Nohohoho not thehehere! Hehehe R-Rufus ahah! I cahahan’t!”

“You can, I am sure of it. Ah yes, please place it over there,” Rufus said when his assistant entered again with the tea.

Your eyes widened in shock as you suddenly had a temporary spectator, but Rufus kept you busy with more and more laughter by continuing the armpit tickling without pause. When he released your arms, you thought it was to grant you mercy, but it was only so he could tickle both armpits while you clamped your arms down and howled.

“Hahahahahaha!” Something merciless and sadistic started existing in this moment and you felt nervous that Rufus was so determined to tickle you to death. How much more did he need to humiliate you?

“Pleh-plehehease! HEhee!” you shrieked when his wiggling fingers aimed for your stomach next. He poked at the spot and dug into your belly, nodding when he seemingly approved with your response to them.

“Cahahan’t breheheathe! Rufus-hehehe!” you begged when he even moved his fingers under your shirt where they wiggled against your bare skin. You squirmed weakly and shook your head.

Earth to Rufus? He was so into it that he barely seemed to notice your reactions, except when you sobbed loudly because of crying and laughing at the same time.

“O-oh!” He raised his hands all of a sudden. “I apologize.”

You had never seen him look so guilty before. You wheezed tiredly and pulled your shirt back down.

“Are you.. crying?”

You couldn’t help but giggle, both from the remaining tingling feeling on your body and his funny reaction.

“Tears from laughing too much is a thing, Rufus. And as I can see, tickle monsters are real too. Pffff." You sat straight and recovered from the relentless tickle attack.

“....I got carried away,” he admitted. You nodded.

“You did. I-it’s alright, just.. a breather or two wouldn’t be so bad next time.” You gulped when you realized you said ‘next time’ and you quickly looked away, blushing like crazy.

The vibe suddenly felt so much different than before the pedicure and tickle torture. You sighed and covered your chest, feeling the way your heart was racing. He did not seem appalled by your hysterical laughter either, which gave you such a nice feeling of relief.

“So... It’s an arranged marriage, but we can have some fun this way, right? We can arrange our own amusement,” Rufus said, making you tingle even more. He really said this? You looked at him and rolled your eyes fondly.

“Arranged amusement, heh, really? Well what I would like to arrange next is for me to tickle you,” you said. Now Rufus was busy again all of a sudden as he straightened his clothes and got up.

“Perhaps another time. There are some things I need to do,” he said in a hurry. You smirked. He had never been tickled before but his reaction made him appear a little flustered. Were you really flirting with your fiancé?

“Rufus?” you said, and he turned around again. After all this you saw him in a new light, and you smiled.

“I did have fun,” you said. Rufus’ gaze softened and he nodded.

“So did I,” he admitted politely. He then left and it was amusing that after you got tickled to death, he was the one to leave the room, completely flustered. You chuckled. This marriage could get interesting after all...

#reupload #FFVII #FVII remake #rufus shinra #x reader #rufus x reader #rufus x fem!reader #tickling #tickle fic #Final Fantasy VII #otomiya!writes

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