#the good news is I'm getting good enough at material making that I'm comfortable trying to troubleshoot why something isn't working :D

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 6, day 15

Two more materials tonight! Distressed copper and soap bubbles :)

I'm not sure why the soap bubbles are so green, but I'm using a newer version of Blender than the guy in the tutorial so I think how the nodes work is slightly different. It also affected the copper but I figured out how to work with that particular change. Couldn't figure out the deal with the bubbles though lol

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Adeuce + Onee-san!Yuu Headcanons

I THINK THEY’D BOTH BE INTO ONEE-SANS… cuz Ace is the bratty one that wants attention and Deuce is into being praised for his accomplishments 💀 Even worse if both of them are crushing on the same onee-san and butt heads every day about it.

Please note: due to the nature of the scenario, these headcanons could read as gendered (since “onee-san” means "big sister") even though I avoid the use of gendered pronouns for the reader/self insert in my writing and just generally allude to the concept of the "onee-san" trope (someone who is reliable, kind, and mature). Read at your own discretion.

Curiouser and Curiouser…

Ace is totally the type of guy that mercilessly teases the person he has a crush on, and that's really no different when it comes to you. He sees it like a challenge, to see how fast he can break you and get you cutely begging him to stop--but to his surprise, you hold your own and push back, scolding him for his attitude and lip. He blinks as you finish your lecture and turn to walk off, not registering the heat of his gaze following you.

The teasing continues regardless, of course. He doesn't let up on it, always coming up with some clever new excuse whenever you respond. With (fake) watery eyes, Ace will claim you're BULLYING your innocent little kouhai, don't you feel any shame or remorse? Oh, and he gets jealous if others tease you—because only he’s allowed to do that, got it?

He doesn't flinch at all when you scold him (In fact, he thinks it's kind of cute how you get all stern and pouty) Ace will taunt you and egg you on ("What're you gonna do, tell my mom?"). May or may not also include him cheekily sticking his tongue out at you.

The number one thing he makes fun of you about is your kindness. He often tells you that you're TOO nice, and that someday it may come back to bite you in the ass, or someone might try to take advantage of that kindness. "Luckily for you, I'm a nice guy too, so I wouldn't mess with you like that."

Ace is handsy. He'll casually lean on your shoulder or even rest his head on top of yours (if you're short enough for that kind of thing). It's fine between "just friends", right?

If you ignore him (or he feels like you're giving more attention to Grim or Deuce than to him), he gets all clingy, whining about how you next hang out anymore or why did you leave his text on read? Ace tries to invite you out as nonchalantly as he can (he doesn't want to come off as desperate).

"How about that burger place in town? What? Nooo, it's not a date, dummy! It’s just a joke. Unless…?" He typically phrases private outings with him as unserious, if only to keep a route of plausible deniability open for himself to escape with if you indicate you're not really into it.

Pesters you to come watch his basketball games. Constantly. When you do finally show up, he waves excitedly, winks, and tries to dedicate a shot to you in an attempt to look cool. (Unfortunately, the ball bounces off the rim and makes him look incredibly pathetic. Floyd gets a good laugh out of this.)

Every time Riddle collars him or punishes him with extra chores, Ace asks you to comfort him. He'll dramatically lean against you and lament how life has been SO unfair to him lately, so he'd for real appreciate a shoulder to cry on or maybe a lap to rest on right about now~

He pretends to not understand class material as an excuse to ask for "one-on-one" tutoring. Since you're sooo smart and kind, you'll definitely help him, won't you? As you're explaining how to solve this equation or the next, Ace is too busy staring at your profile to really pay attention. You ask if he gets it now, and it takes him a few seconds to snap back to reality and insist to you that he does, but juuust to make sure he gets it maybe you could explain it all again!

Whenever you pack a homemade lunch, Ace is the first to ask for a bite. Well, not ask but more like he announces he wants some before he steals a bite right off of your eating utensil. He'll then make some cheeky comment about how it's an indirect kiss. In return, he shares his own snacks (which suspiciously look like unbirthday party cakes he swiped from the fridge, but shhhh, don't tell Riddle!).

Every time Ace dresses up or buys some new article of clothing, he makes a show of wearing it. Like this guy will wear the luxury sunglasses Vil gifted him for his birthday INDOORS or on the back of his head hoping it'll bait you into noticing and then complimenting him.

Ace claims that you're "soooo obsessed with [him'" since you're always "chasing [him] like a lovesick puppy" and "looking for excuses to talk with [him]". In reality, you follow him around and talk with him to nag him and keep him in line, but Ace frames it a certain way because he's delusional to mess with you. "Geez, if you want me that badly, then just say so~"

You try your best to keep him out of trouble, but there are instances in which you end up roped into his shenanigans and both of you are punished for it. Detention isn't exactly a very romantic spot to be in, but Ace makes use of every moment of it to hog you for himself. "Hey, don't make that long face. It's not so bad—least you've got me here to keep you company."

He sometimes brings up his ex to complain about how needy she was (the irony of Ace saying that is not lost on you) and implicitly brag about how he has sooo much experience with dating. He'll then bring the attention to you. "I don't get it, what was she looking for in a guy? She said I was way too immature for her. How about you, Prefect? Do you get it? Immature guys... do you like that kind of thing?" Ace thinks he's slick but he ain't--

Unlike Ace, Deuce does his best to try and not cause trouble for you to clean up after. He also joins you in telling Ace off, to which Ace will call him a "goody two shoes" and accuse him of "sucking up to Prefect". Deuce adamantly denies it, but his frenemy's words still fluster him.

Deuce is very polite to you and even greets you with a bow. He sees you as someone deserving of respect because of how responsible you are—you're modelling the very thing he aspires to be someday! Your encouraging presence fills him with a drive and determination to be better.

Having someone like you around makes Deuce try really, really hard to demonstrate how mature he can be. He pulls off these herculean feats (like forcing himself to eat bell peppers without gagging or solving a basic arithmetic problem correctly in under 5 minutes). It’s all worth it when he sees that proud smile blooming on your face and hears the cheery “Good job!!” from you.

Deuce usually keeps a respectable distance (to keep things professional between peers!). However, he completely freezes up if any scenarios arise where you touch him—be it an accidental brush of your shoulder and his while you're walking to class together or you plucking a fallen leaf or petal out of his air. His face turns about as red as his dorm leader's and he hurriedly runs way ahead of you to cool off.

The worst of it is when you adjust your clothes for him (it puts you in very close proximity) or when you pat him on the head and shower him with praise. Deuce doesn't know how to react to receiving such earnest compliments, he just melts like putty in your hands, happily basking in the moment.

In spite of all of his efforts, his grades don't see much of an improvement. Seeing his frustration, you offer to tutor him, which Deuce graciously accepts. It doesn't occur to him until he's actually in that tutoring session that this is a private time for the two of you, and suddenly he's struggling to focus because wow, you're so close and your hand is centimeters away from his. Instead of thinking about math, he's thinking about what it would feel like to reach out and hold you. Stupid, stupid! he scolds himself. D-Don't think about weird things like that!

Deuce doesn't have a lot of pocket money, but he offers to share his food with you anyway. (He knows you're carefully budgeting your monthly allowance from the headmaster, so you can't afford to spend much on treats.) He'll break off half of his chocolate bar or dessert bread, but drinks are harder to share. His face burns at the suggestion of sharing a straw—isn't that technically an indirect kiss?—but he tries to pretend like he's not nervous (even as his hand trembles terribly as he accepts the juice carton from you to take a sip of his own).

There are times when you find him a little bruised and beat up, whether it’s the result of a brawl or an intense workout. Deuce will insist that he’s fine, but that doesn’t stop you from personally tending to him. He’s dead quiet as he watches you disinfect and bandage his injuries, heat climbing to his cheeks. When you ask if it hurts anymore, he softly replies “… No.” Not when you’re here with me.

Deuce frequently tells his mom about you when they speak over the phone. He says that you’re an amazing person with a big heart, rambling on and on about how you care about everyone and always support them. His mom listens for a while before laughing and telling Deuce he’s definitely got a crush and that she’d love to meet this person that has stolen her son’s heart. Of course, he gets embarrassed and claims she’s wrong, he just really admires you, that’s all!! (But a mother knows best…)

Deuce is easily flustered whenever you call him “cute”. He tends to keep his mouth shut and let you gush as you please, but one day he manages to find his voice and protests. "P-Please don't tease me like that, Prefect..." Deuce mutters, his gaze cutting to the ground. “I… I want you to see me as a man.” Someone you can rely on.

Deuce tells you that if you’re ever in need of help—or if people are giving you trouble—then all you have to do is call him. He’ll come running to your side, lend a hand, fend off the bullies, whatever you need. He knows he can depend on you, so he should also be the type of person you can depend on.

It’s hard for him to get a grip on his delinquent side if he feels like you’re in danger. That mixture of concern, protectiveness, and upset drives him wild—he doesn’t even realize he has relapsed until he has rushed over to check on you and notices the alarm set in your eyes. I’ve gone and done it again, he panics. They’re disappointed in me.

… But you embrace Deuce warmly, thanking him, peppering him with reassurances, inspecting him for any signs of harm. He’s flooded with relief, allowing himself to sink into your arms and breathe in your comforting smell.

Deuce appreciates it when you make time to go to his Track and Field Club meets and cheer him on. He sprints like the wind to see you at the finish line. You’re smiling, with a water bottle, a wet towel, and a snack in hand to reward him for his hard work. Deuce’s clubmates snicker and tease him about it, but he doesn’t let that get to him—he’s too busy riding the adrenaline high that is you.

He’s not shameless unlike Ace, who pretty much automatically clocks his feelings. Deuce struggles a lot with coming to terms with how he feels about you, wondering if he’s “good enough” to be near you, to like you in the capacity that he does, to push these emotions onto you. He kicks himself, calling it spineless and cowardly to not gather his courage and just blurt it out already—but he’s scared of breaching your friendship. “Hey, Is this okay…?” Is it okay for me to like you like this?

[writingroom21]

Husband?

Pairing: bf Rafe x fem reader

Summary: Seeing a new TikTok trend you try it out on you boyfriend Rafe

Warnings: None, fluff, established relationship

Wc: 660

Scrolling on TikTok you lay in the hammock in your backyard. It was a nice day out, not being too hot, enough to keep you comfortable as you lay still. Rafe is supposed to be coming over, his text stating the two of you need to go on a date. It was sweet how he tries to make time with you.

He was never good with relationships, usually just sticking to hooking up or having a short lived romance. There was no need to for him to have a girlfriend when he had plenty girls throwing themselves at him. That all changed once you came into the picture, kicking his world off its axis.

Once he saw you yelling at a boy that was hitting on you at his party he was hooked. He wanted to get to know you, needing to get a taste of the fire behind your eyes. You didn't make things easy for him, stringing him along for weeks before giving him the time of day. What was supposed to be a fun hookup for him turned into something deeper. He was obsessed never wanting to let you go, good thing you felt the same.

As you keep scrolling a TikTok of a couple catches your attention. They are sitting on a couch, the boyfriend watching tv as the girlfriend records them. "So I was just out with my husband and" "YOUR HUSBAND?" his outburst making you laugh as he blushes before kissing the girl. It was a cute video, it made you curious on how Rafe would react to you calling him your husband.

A text pings on your phone, covering the top of the video. Baby boy: I'm here pretty girl. The nickname heats your cheeks, still having the same effect on you as if it was the first time hearing it. You shoot back a text telling him you were coming.

Rafe's standing by the passenger door waiting for you, smiling once he sees you come around the corner, closing the backyard gate. You jog over to him, jumping into his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, placing a sweet his to his lips. "Well hello to you too gorgeous."

"Hi." you giggle, getting into the open door he held, buckling up as he closes it. He rounds the corner getting in, his hand finding its rightful place on your thigh. Your sundress giving his access to the exposed flesh, giving it a squeeze before pulling out the driveway.

"Where are we going." You ask looking out the window to feel the breeze on your face. "Thought we could go to that field we found and have a picnic." His head tilting to the back to show the basket and blanket in the backseat. "Sounds perfect." Conversation stalling as you both enjoy just being in the same space. Only breaking the silence to talk about your days.

Reaching the field you both exist the truck, grabbing the materials and finding a spot to set up. The food spread out along the blanket, wine being poured into the glassed he brought along. This was the perfect time to execute your plan.

You take your phone and open up TikTok, cuing the video, please the phone in front of you two. You start the video grabbing the glass Rafe is handing over to you. "Alright guys my husband decided to take me on this cute picnic date. Look at all of the things he brought." You look over at Rafe seeing the smile gracing his face

"Fuck yeah I am. About time you noticed." He responded, taking his family ring off, grabbing you hand to slide it on your thumb. It's the only finger that it will fit on. "Now everyone will know” lifting your hand he places a kiss on your ring finger. A promise that one day there'll be a ring there.

Yeah you would say that the trend was a success.

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

Alastor + apprentice!child!reader

A/n: this is some practice to get a footing in his character. (Also slight practice on husk as well.)

Reader is kinda scary but means well overall

Not proofread

Y/n ever elusive. Alastor would randomly mention your name in conversations. References your rampages and your sweetness in the same breath. But when anyone would try to quiz him on you further he would act like he didn't know what they were talking about. He might try to claim it's for privacy but it's pretty obvious he just likes messing with hotel members.

Charlie was especially sad that she might never get to meet you. If Alastor was to be believed you seemed really sweet! (And easy to rehabilitate *cough* *cough*) Also cool! You seemed to be an absolute powerhouse. After Al mentioned you Charlie got somewhat mopey. Until he mentioned you visiting the hotel, which piqued everyone's interest.

When you finally showed up, people's interest was at an all-time high. But now it was because the fabled y/n was a child. "It's a pleasure to be meeting everyone!" You were looking at Alastor but were speaking to the whole room. "I've heard so much about all of you!"

"They've also heard much about you too, dearie." Alastor bent at the waist down to your level. "You've become quite the hot topic here!"

As if to prove his point Charlie picked you up and spun you around almost hitting Alastor in the face. He glared at her but remained calm. "Welcome, welcome! Do you want to choose a room to stay in?"

"Sorry, but I'm not planning to stay."

"I know but just for the time being." Charlie clarified. To that, you nodded. Husk snapped his head toward The Radio Demon once both you and Charlie had left.

"Did you really stoop low enough to make a deal with a child?" He was just barely containing his anger. While he didn't particularly care for those he didn't know at least somewhat personally, taking a child's soul was a place he drew a thick line.

"Why of course not!" He said sounding offended but clearly, it was to mock Husk. "They are under my guidance purely by choice!" Vaggie and Husk both said some version of 'you're a liar' in unison. Alastor simply tsked as he walked away.

Niffty seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Was thas thay y/n?"

After the crew (excluding Husk) let out a yelp, Vaggie spoke, "Yep."

Niffty let out a villain-esque laugh, though that was just her usual laugh, "I've been meaning to talk to them since they scared off a group of bad boys~" She flashed her sharp teeth and held a knife. Angel grabbed the knife and her before she could get very far.

Back with you and Charlie Alastor materialized next to you and you waved at him.

"Hello, sir!" You saluted him as a joke.

"Hello to you too! Have you found a room?" You nodded and entered said room. Charlie looked at him, her face painted with a confused yet kind look.

"They're the one who hurt so many people? Are you kidding? They are so nice."

"You've never seen them in danger." Suddenly as if on queue an explosion was heard. You shot up from your surprisingly comfortable bed and ran downstairs. Pushing both Charlie and Alastor out of the way while also throwing a quick ‘sorry’ their way.

Once you got downstairs the bad boys that Niffty mentioned earlier were spouting something about you. Once they looked at you they pulled weapons out. You grew and your arms turned pitch black with a slight claw shape. With your new size, you were just big enough to grab them to the point of almost cracking bones. Almost.

"Leave." You said with a deep booming voice that came with the size. You threw them and they scrambled. Once they were gone you shrunk back down to your normal size. Niffty pouted and stamped her foot.

Once you turned everyone had varying looks of shock on their face except Niffty and of course, Alastor who was instead proud. "Congrats dear! Would you like some jambalaya?" You nodded.

As you were walking with him Husk grabbed your shoulder, "Um good job kid... If he ever offers you a deal, don't take it." He felt obliged to warn you. If Alastor's moral code was against recruiting kids, he probably would have pounced on the opportunity to take your soul once you were an adult.

You smiled, "I know I know. But what could I even gain out of any deal with him?" You laughed and walked back to Alastor. Huh. Well, you certainly were being tutored by Alastor.

A/n: Y/n got kinda of edgy at the end-

[elllisaaa]

Seokmin bf thoughts!??!! Plzzzzz 🥺

BF!SEOKMIN who is so fucking whipped for you, and so cute and sweet, you don't know what you did to get so lucky.

i have to start by talking about his smile because he just has such a pretty smile, i would die for that smile. and even if he has that beautiful smile, seokmin's number one goal in life is to make you laugh and be happy. he's always ready to do some stupid things if it gets you to smile or giggle, and you never spend a day by his side without breaking down in laughter at least one time. seokmin is very caring and attentive to your every need. for example, he's always asking you about how your day went and he wants every little detail, even the ones you consider useless. he loves it when you share everything with him, and he gets so involved in every story or drama you tell him about - he remembers everything and he needs updates. seokmin will do the same though, telling you all about some dramas that happen behind the scenes. it's not rare for the both of you to gossip all night, and you're like two best friends who are talking about the same people over and over and finishing the session by "but who are we to judge them ?". seokmin is both your bestie and your boyfriend, and you love him for that.

"by the way babe, how did yooha's date go ?" - "it's a long story, sit down." - "oh my god, tell me all about it, i'm all ears !"

cuddles, cuddles and cuddles. so many cuddles because he needs to feel close to you all the time. he always seek your touch and your presence by his side. he especially loves it when you fall asleep when you're laying on his chest, and he might have some photos because you're just too cute. seokmin also loves to fall asleep on your chest sometimes - he gives a lot of love, but he needs to be loved too and just wants to be in your arms and feel your hands caress his back up and down to help him relax. his hugs are very soothing, and everytime you're not doing well, you know you just need to ask him to fall into his arms. seokmin takes pride into knowing that he's your safe place, and everytime you come to him, he feels like he did his job as your boyfriend. he texts you a lot throughout the day, to check in on you and update you on what happened to him. but the most important thing is the boyfriend material photos he sends you everyday. you lose your mind every time and when he finds out you keep a folder of these photos, he genuinely tears up. he lends you his clothes very often, his heart melting when he comes home to see you wearing his hoodie, all cozy on the couch. that only entices him into cuddling with you immediately, and you welcome him with open arms.

"it feels good to be home… i never want you to let me go, i'm too comfortable."

seokmin loves to try new places with you - be that cafés, restaurants, bakeries or even libraries. anything that the both of you love, you're going to go together and review it like you're professionals even if you're not. you both have a lot of fun during these hangouts. he also has gifted you a little box filled with tickets that you can give him anytime you want, and that means that he has to take you out on a date. seokmin literally has a list in his phone with everything he wants to do with you ready, and he always keeps the location you’re going to secret until the last minute. he never fails to tell you how pretty he thinks you are all the time, but when you dress up for a night out, he's even more extra. whenever you're stepping out of your bedroom in an outfit a little fancier than usual, he's the type to fake passing out because of how gorgeous you look. it never fails to make you laugh and it's seokmin's way of reminding you that he's not ashamed to show to the world how obsessed with you he is.

"wait, i need a second." - "seokmin, please, just tell me if it looks good or not." - "baby, i don't think good is strong enough, i need to create a new word to describe how beautiful you are."

BF!SEOKMIN who's whipped for you and your body and the way you make him feel, he just wants to make you feel as good as possible.

seokmin's only goal is to pleasure you as much as you want, and he does that perfectly. foreplay is on a whole different level with him - it's an art. sometimes he doesn't even need to push his cock into you for the both of you to feel satisfied. if he could die in between your thighs, he would, and once he gets a taste of you, he doesn't stop until you're a trembling mess and that his whole face is covered in your juices. seokmin also loves mutual masturbation, having his fingers deep inside of your cunt and your hand stroking his cock up and down while you're sitting on his thighs and making out with him is his definition of heaven. another form of foreplay that he likes is when you're riding his thigh, because let's be honest, he has such pretty thighs, it would be a crime not to use them. seeing you come undone on top of him is literally driving him crazy.

"that's so hot baby, you're so fucking hot, i could cum just looking at you…"

he's constantly complimenting you and your body, how sexy you are and how good you're making him feel. but seokmin also needs to hear that he's doing good for you too, it gets him going when you're calling him your good boy. you want to edge him even if he's so sensitive and that he doesn't think he can handle it ? he'll let you. you want him to keep fucking you after he's came already ? he'll do it. whatever it takes for you to tell him he's doing good, he will do it. seokmin actually loves how dominant you become whenever he asks you if he's doing well. suddenly, you become much more assertive and teasing, and it's so attractive for some reasons. the way you're telling him what to do and if he can cum or not is making him dizzy most days, and he craves your praise. even when he's the one on top, you're sometimes taking control and he lets you because he wants to please you.

"am i doing good ? please, tell me that i've been good…"

seokmin is obsessed with your whole body but your breast is something he can never get enough of. he encourages you to wear tops or dresses with deep cleavages only because it gives him a better view of your pretty tits. when you're wearing pretty lace bras that squish your boobs together just for him, he cannot resist the urge to bury his face in between them. your chest is constantly covered in bite marks and hickeys because seokmin just needs to have his mouth on them whenever he sees them. so naturally he would go crazy if you ever let him fuck your tits. the moment you push your boobs together to squeeze his dick in between them, he's going cross-eyed and he cannot stop moaning the whole time. the way you even let him cover your chest and face in his cum has him ready to go again even if he just orgasmed. generally, he prefers to cum on your chest anyway, pulling out just in time to let you stroke his dick and help him shoot his load onto your pretty tits.

"can i cum on your boobs pretty please ? fuck ! you look so beautiful like this, all mine."

[megamindsecretlair]

Could you do a one shot with mob boss Tyrone?

A/N: My sweet Anon, you asked for one and I present to you seven. Why am I like this?

Blackbird, Part 1: Lust

Pairing: Mob Boss!Fontaine x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, angst, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word and non-inclusive language. Minor OC backstory.

Summary: You are a dancer trying to make it in a world not built for your body type. Fontaine is a gangster trying to rise through the ranks of a prominent gang. Will love truly conquer all?

Word Count: 10,810k

Part 2

Interested in a Blackbird playlist? I'm not the greatest at curating songs but these remind me of these two. I may add or remove songs at my discretion.

A/N: Listen, I know. I couldn't get this idea out of my head and just kept writing. I'm trying something new here, so any feedback is welcome! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90 @harmshake @sageispunk @ciaqui @ms-angiealsina @satoruya @hopefulromantic1 @itsbackwoodsbby

Moodboard by the sweestes person ever, planetblaque 🥹🥹🥹

You looked at your watch on your delicate wrist. Night chased the afternoon out of the sky, taking over in their delicate push and pull. Night was safer for confessions. For reflection. 

The sun’s rays slanted through the blinds and you blinked against the bitter light. “My apologies, would you like me to close them?” Your lawyer, Mr. Gates, asked you. 

“Please,” you said. You sighed and adjusted your neat teal dress across your knees. There was nothing to fix, but you supposed you were nervous. After all these years, you thought that you would carry these secrets to the grave. Everything was different now. 

Mr. Gates moved to the window and shut the blinds more fully, draping you in the safe comfort of his office. Mr. Gates had been part of the family for years now, a profession he took seriously. It was refreshing to speak to someone who couldn’t be bought. Who would never fold, not even under threat of death. 

The office had been cleared especially for you, per your request. People liked to gossip. Busybodies, your grandmother called them. The only sound was the low hum of the AC blowing cool air into the room and Mr. Gates shuffling around. 

He finally sat down at his desk, the chair creaking under his weight. He pulled out a small recorder and showed it to you, the exact model you requested. You dipped your chin in acknowledgement. He took out a notebook, new and clean of any writing. You hoped he had enough pens. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

You adjusted your dress once more, running your hands along the fine, silken material. You licked your lips and looked back up at him. “I don’t wanna die without marking the occasion first,” you said with a clipped smile. 

Each day it drew closer to the date, you got used to the idea of dying. You had a good run. It could have been better. But you weren’t one to be greedy. 

Mr. Gates smiled softly, perhaps a little sad. It was nice to know someone would miss you. There would be one person on this earth who’d care if you were gone. That was something. 

Mr. Gates wrote down something on his notepad and pressed a button on the recorder. He cleared his throat and introduced himself, the date, and the time. He asked you to state your name for the record. 

“...of sound mind and body do declare this to be read as my last will and testament.” 

“Goddammit!” You yelled. Your fists thumped against the rough wood of the door as it finished slamming into your face. The asshole on the other side was just as faceless as the long stream of dance companies that tossed you out on your ass. There were plenty more, sure, but this one had been reputable. Fair. 

They took one look at your raggedy dance clothes, worn from too many times around the washer. At your hair, styled high above your head in braids they didn’t understand but were obsessed with. You didn’t have the time or the money to go to a salon. Just once, you’d like someone else to bother with your thick hair and its maintenance. You couldn’t be bothered. 

You’d shave it all off but you didn’t want to deal with the mean and hurtful comments about you looking like a boy. Your knuckles were just getting over being bruised and tender from the last mu’fucka that tried to talk out the side of their neck. 

“Asshole!” You screamed. It was open auditions. Open. Auditions. That meant that anyone could come in and try their hand. You had killed the routine. You only needed to watch something once to get it down. To feel it move through your body like a live wire and your muscles respond. To mimic it to near perfection and add your spin on it. Nothing fancy, just an extra oomph that these companies seemed to lack. 

You had waited to the side with the other girls, all wispy, wafer thin girls who took one look at your curves and deemed you less than. A joke. That you couldn’t possibly move your body like they could.

One had the audacity to allude to that, calling it doing you a favor. Next thing you knew, your fist was flying and she was crying foul, blood running down her aristocratic nose. You just gave her a little more character, honest.

You cursed under your breath and moved away from the building. To hell with them. You shifted your dance bag over your shoulder and walked backwards. The marquee above the door announced an upcoming performance. Below it, there was the name of the headliner, Gabriella Greywood. 

One day, and one day soon, your name would be up there. In bright lights. And no amount of racist, fatphobic fucks were going to stop you. 

You turned and headed down the street, running head first into a person, solidly built by the feel of them. 

“My bad, sweetheart,” a deep, rumbling voice greeted you. 

Your mouth was already fixing to give him hell for not watching where he was going and that you were nobody’s “sweetheart”. The words dried on your tongue as you looked up into a deep set of brown eyes that crinkled a bit in the corner when he smiled. 

He had a low fade and short beard, shaved close to his strong jaw. Pretty, long eyelashes that fanned across his cheeks whenever he blinked. He smirked, checking you out while you ogled him. 

“S’okay,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He took in your tights and oversized gray sweatshirt. 

“You heading inside?” He asked. 

“Away from it. Those fucks wouldn’t know talent if it bit them in the ass,” you said.

The man chuckled and nodded, like he liked your honesty. Your words. “Fuck ‘em,” he said, gifting you with another smirk. You wondered what he’d look like when he really smiled. When he let it take up his whole face. 

Too bad you didn’t have time for men. You may be behind most of your friends in that department. Their heads were full of getting married and popping out babies while they were still young. Like they were checking off boxes handed down to them through the generations. Grow up, learn just enough, get married, pop out babies, and then your real life starts once they are grown up with babies of their own. Fuuuck that.

“Where you headed then?” He asked. A noise to his left made you look up and see an entire other man standing next to him. He was a bit taller, broader around the shoulders, with a narrow face and a mischievous look in his eye.

“Home, I guess. Until I find the next studio giving out auditions,” you said. Your attention was solely fixated on the man in front of you. His friend grinned and moved away, lighting up a joint. He put a foot on top of a fire hydrant and pretended to ignore you both. 

“Let me give you a ride,” he said. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. He was magnetic. Like he commanded attention whether you wanted to give it or not. 

You giggled, stomach doing tiny flips. “I don’t know you,” you said, giving him a hint of the attitude you’re famous for. None of this, giggly, braid around your finger nonsense. 

“Get to know me. Let me take you to Scarlet Lounge,” he said. His voice was smooth. Too smooth. 

You crossed your arms and tilted your head. “That’s a gangster bar,” you said. 

“What you got against gangstas?” He asked.

“They’re mean, amoral, kill for no reason, run drugs, and turn out little girls. They’re nothing but bad news,” you said.

“Damn, amoral. That’s a big one,” he said. He chuckled and licked his lips, calling attention to his mouth once more. Your body heated instantly, wanting to know what they taste like. What they feel like on your skin. What his hands would feel like on your skin. 

“Not all gangstas are the same. Maybe some just wanna get over in a life hellbent on kicking them in the teeth,” he said. He put his hands in his pockets and you finally noticed what he was wearing. Simple jeans and a black hoodie, faded from too many washes like your clothes. You felt a sudden kinship with him, an understanding passed between you in being in similar situations. Just two mu’fuckas trying to make it.

“Are you saying you’re a gangsta?” You asked.

“If I say yes, you gon’ hold it against me?” Oh, he was dangerous. Absolutely dangerous. 

You had gone on entire tirades about the level of crime in LA. It was insidious. The dangerous, hopeless underbelly that all kids from the hood grew up with was like a giant dome that prevented anyone from truly getting out. Truly making something of yourself. You either joined a gang, married into a gang, or rode the struggle bus ‘till God called you home.  

You could leave. You could find some area where the people would treat you like a freak or like you didn’t belong but you would be safe. None of them would look like you. Or understand you. Change had to start in the hood. There had to be hope some-fucking-where.

“Probably,” you said. 

He smirked and shook his head. “Cold game. What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

You should walk away. There was no way you could entertain someone like him. No way. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, unwilling to walk away from him or this moment. The more you looked at him, the more you felt connected to him. That each minute you spent in his presence, you felt tiny stitches being woven in between you.  

“I’ll tell you what gangsta boy. We bump into each other again and I’ll tell you my name,” you said. You turned on the balls of your feet, walking backwards away from him.

“You gon’ do me like that? Forreal?” He asked. The corner of his gorgeous mouth lifted higher. It was almost worth staying to see if you could get a real smile out of him. 

“Byeee,” you sang. You giggled, heading towards the train station. You turned around and gave your hips a little extra swish. 

“I’m Fontaine!” He called after you. It took all of your strength not to turn back around. You waved your fingers high in the air but kept walking. You didn’t really think you’d bump into him again. You couldn’t afford the distraction even if you did. You’d head back home to your shitty apartment that you shared with your best friend and regroup. 

You needed to keep your eyes on the prize. You had a future to secure. And it did not involve pretty corner boys who talked smooth.

You finished doing your makeup in the vanity, touching up the bright red lipstick one more time and checked over your outfit. Muted music and cheers reached you into the backroom, from the set before yours. 

Other dancers were touching up their outfits as well, skimpy little things that barely qualified as a costume. The leotards were black with thin stripes, sparkly silver edges that dug into your groin and under your arms. The designer, an evil little bitch with too much hair and a permanent sour expression, thought she was so damn important. Half the time, it was clear that she thought she was too good to design clothes en masse for a dance club. 

You wore fishnet stockings like the others, black leather heeled boots, and a tiny black hat in your hair. You had sparkly glitter dusted across your cheeks so that your eyes would pop. Not that anyone would see you. You were relegated to the back in every single fucking number. 

Everyone here had the same dream as you. It just came down to who was hungrier. Who was going to stick it out. You had been dancing your whole life and you’d be damned to let some wide-eyed, bushy tail ho from Minnesota steal your dream. You’d put in the work, you’d put in your dues, and soon, you’d be headlining your own show. Working with top directors and choreographers. Maybe even get into dancing on TV.

“One minute!” One of the stagehands called into the room. Kimmy approached you and looked at you in the mirror. 

“Another day?” She asked.

“Another dollar,” you said back. 

You both grinned and stood up, heading out of the dressing room and into the chaos backstage. Stagehands moved in a dance all their own, carefully moving around each other with headsets squawking with directions you couldn’t hear. Coordinating the lights and music, curtains, and set decorations. 

The previous music was coming to a close, ending on a loud roaring beat that you felt down to your toes. Adrenaline thumped through you. Despite whatever else you went through, this made sense. This was the time that your mind finally shut up. That your focus on your dreams drifted to the back and all you had to do was feel the music. The euphoria that came with losing all sense of identity while dancing.

You stood on the stairs on the left side of the stage, too far away to see the current set; you’d seen the performance so many times you had it memorized. The group before you had done a circus themed dance, full of contortionists, flips, and tumbles. The performers worked hard to make it look so seamless, you were in awe every time. 

They were due to exit on the right, to not interrupt your group. Their song ended, the curtains closing and claps echoing throughout the club. You were shuffled on stage, getting into position in the far back. Haters. Whatever. 

Stagehands used pulleys to change the scenery behind you, to an alleyway facade. There was a fake brick wall beside you getting rolled in. The announcer, the sleazeball Rusty, was on stage and getting everyone pumped up. 

You looked at Kimmy and made a face and she giggled, waving you off. The music for your number started to play, a slow and sexy jam. You were supposed to be a lady mafia, punishing men in a cold dark alley. 

Once the curtains were open and the spotlight hit you in the face, you were gone. There was only the part you played, filling in the background while the lead dazzled the audience. You told yourself not to care, but deep down you did. It was disheartening to know that in your heart of hearts, you were more talented. You were a better dancer. You just refused to suck Rusty’s dick to get to the top. 

So you focused on the music, on the dance, and executed it flawlessly. You were in the back now, but you weren’t going to stay there. You didn’t see the audience, you didn’t see the idiots at the bar, and you didn’t see any of the VIPs in the back, scoping out the dancers to see which ones they wanted to bring to the private backrooms for a “dance”. 

You didn’t play that shit. You were too spiteful, too hateful, too outspoken. And you’d continue to do so. You had to take a pay cut to not be involved with that shit. It was illegal and unfair, but it beat spreading your legs for dirty cops and gangstas. 

As you danced, your mind was partially split between what you were doing and the man you met the other day. Fontaine. You couldn’t stop saying his name. It rolled so well off of the tongue. Fontaaaine. 

You nearly missed a step and mentally slapped yourself. You focused on the dance, lots of gyrating and popping your hips. Lots of slow glides down to the floor and rolling your back. Invisible prop assistants threw you all fake uzis and you ended the dance facing away from the crowd. You jerked your hand to pretend like you were shooting a gun into the alleyway while a group of male dancers pretended to die.

The crowd cheered behind you but your mind was already beating yourself up. Already going over what you could have done better. It’d help if your performances were recorded but for the “privacy of its patrons”, Rusty wouldn’t let anyone record inside. Phones had to be off or silent and there were plenty of bouncers willing to break expensive phones to ensure everyone’s “safety”. 

Among the last to leave the stage, you turned to walk back to the dressing room. It didn’t feel like thirty minutes went by. You were sweating buckets though. Fat little droplets soaking your leotard and dripping from your temples. 

“Aye!” You turned to the sound. “Over here!” 

You knew better than to follow some strange sound around backstage, but the voice sounded familiar. Like warm caramel. You looked towards the front, where a bouncer stood to ensure that no one slipped past the curtain. 

“Over here!” You walked towards the darkened back, following the sound. There stood Fontaine, standing behind a storage door. He smirked when he saw you. 

“What are you doing back here?” You rushed over to him, pushing him into the storage room. You looked for people behind you. This area was where dancers left so it was hardly used for anything else. There were old decorations here, forgotten sets that needed to be stripped and repainted. 

Fontaine’s callused hands pulled you into the storage room. Somehow, he found the lone lamp that worked and the soft light filled the room. It was junky. Full of chairs, tables, tablecloths. The overflow supplies. 

“You said if we bumped into each other again, you’d tell me your name,” he said. 

“This isn’t bumping into each other,” you pointed out. Your hands were still around his arms and his hands had relocated your hips. 

“Sheeit, this is better,” he said. 

You shook your head. “What are you doing here, gangsta boy?” You asked.

“Tell me your name first,” he said. He cocked his head to the side, letting you get a glimpse of his dark eyes. 

A deal was a deal, you guessed. You told him your name and he rolled it around his tongue like cotton candy. “I like that, suits you,” he said.

“Your turn,” you said.

“Scarlets run this place, you ain’t know?” He asked.

“You work for Porter Sommer?” You asked. Porter Sommer was a ruthless drug kingpin that ran all of South Central. There wasn’t shit that went down in the hood that he didn’t have a fat little finger in. You’d only seen him once and it was enough to turn your stomach. He had dead eyes like a shark. 

“He ain’t all that, I swear,” Fontaine said, shaking his head. “He the only nigga that give back ‘round here.”

“Give back? He got kids doing drugs in the parking lot before their parents pick them up. He shake niggas down for every last nickel they got,” you said. 

“That ain’t us. That’s that bitch Shayne,” Fontaine said. He shook his head. “I ain’t come here for all that. I saw you on stage and I had to tell you that you were amazing.”

Now that you knew who he worked for, you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue dealing with him. You hadn’t given much thought to which side of the street he fell on. The Crips and the Bloods thought they were the top bosses in LA, aggressively defending square blocks they didn't own.

Porter Sommer and Shayne Blandford were the real OGs. They actually bought up the houses and stores on the blocks, doing their hardest to outbid each other at every opportunity. They both preyed on the weak and didn’t care who got caught in their crossfires. 

Fontaine looked at you with such admiration though. Like he saw you. Like you weren’t just another dancer on stage. That he saw you with the same lights shining on you that you pictured in your head. 

You stepped away from him to try to get some clarity. Obviously, touching him and getting that close to him was addling your brain. You were seriously thinking about entertaining a bad boy. One of the worst.

“What do you do for Porter then?” You asked. You crossed your arms. 

Fontaine sighed and leaned back against an old desk. It wobbled under his weight and he looked down at it but then turned his attention back to you. “Do it matter? You gon’ judge me for it anyway,” he said.

“I’m not judging that you’re a corner boy. I’m judging that you work for Porter. That man is…scary,” you said.

“He a’ight,” Fontaine said with a shrug. “And I ain’t no corner boy no mo. Ya boy moved up and shit,” he said. He smirked and you could see him puffing his chest out. You giggled. He looked so proud of that fact. 

You wanted to keep up your defenses against him. You wanted to walk out of the room and tell him to get lost. You could not get your head turned out by a gangsta. You didn’t have the heart for that kind of life. Why did you have to meet someone like him and he was bad news? 

“Moved up how?” You asked. 

“Protection services,” he said and waggled his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes playfully and couldn’t fight the grin that ran across your face. Whether he was outside or in this dingy ass room, he carried the same level of magnetism. Charisma. 

“I cannot with you,” you said. 

Fontaine stood up and slowly walked over to you. He had a mean ass lean to it that caused your stomach to flip in response. He was the total package, both in looks and wit. But, but, but. 

He stood before you and clasped his hands behind his back. “I feel something. And I know you feel something too. I’d like to get to know you, sweetheart. Let me change your mind about gangstas,” he said.

“I don’t pay attention to words, gangsta boy. Your world is dangerous,” you said. 

“You watch too many movies. Real gangstas talk and shit,” he said. He smirked and swayed from side to side. He was hypnotic. You swayed with him like he casted a spell on your body. Each word he spoke wove magic through your veins. 

“Oh, really? Bunch of backroom deals and offers people can’t refuse?” You asked. You began to back towards the door. The only way to survive Fontaine was to escape. To remove yourself from the situation. With his voice and the way he spun words, he’d be liable to talk you right off of the City Hall building. 

“Let me find out you like gangsta movies and you just giving me a hard time,” he said. He looked at you and slowly began to approach you. You had nowhere left to go. Your back was against the door. 

“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time,” you said. You moved your hand behind you until your hand touched the cool metal of the doorknob. Fontaine’s mouth twitched but it wasn’t a smile. Dammit, you wanted to see him smile. 

His minty breath fanned across your face as he leaned closer. You bit your lip. “I’on know if you heard me, but I’m in the protection game now. You don’t have to worry about anything ever again, I’m gon’ give you the world,” he said.

You smiled, letting his words fill up your head like fresh, doughy clouds after a storm. Plenty of people talked a good game. There was a long line of disappointing men who talked and talked but never backed it up. Starting with your daddy. Fontaine’s voice had the deep rumble of conviction behind it. He meant every single word. And you had no doubt that he could back it up. 

But, but, but.

“I can’t be bought, Fontaine. I never asked for the world,” you said. 

“I know. I’m gon’ give it to you anyway. With a matching moon,” he said. 

You dropped your eyes from his intense gaze. The light didn’t quite reach this far, so you two practically stood in shadow. He blended into the shadow. Welcomed it. Like he lived and breathed in it. 

“I’m a man of action. And I’ll prove it.” He dropped his head and kissed you. Electricity zapped your lips. His kiss was languid. Slow. Tongue already working its way inside your mouth like it owned it. Your hands came around his neck to pull him closer. 

The kiss was intense, disconcerting. He knew exactly what to do too, alternating kisses and little nibbles. Your wet lips smacked against his and your pussy throbbed. He pushed you into the door, hands gripping onto your hips like he was holding on for dear life. 

If he was magnetic before, it paled in comparison to touching him. Feeling him. You felt him everywhere. Each kiss sucked you further down into the shadows with him and you never wanted to taste the light again.

You paused here and took a deep breath. Mr. Gates cleared his throat and paused the recorder. “Do you want to skip this part?” He asked.

So kind. Mr. Gates was always so kind. He was a rare breed compared to all the men in your life. Especially when compared to Fontaine. However, Fontaine had no equal. There was no one who came close. 

That first kiss ought to have been where you drew the line. You knew better than to sit in storage rooms with strange men and let them kiss you. Let them feel on your booty. Just remembering it, brought heat to your cheeks and to your core. You felt the ghost of Fontaine’s hands on your legs, on your hips. That playful smirk tickling your neck.

You shook your head. “I just need a minute. I-I need him to know that it was always real for me. That I went into it with both eyes open,” you said. 

Mr. Gates nodded and got up, leaving his office for a moment. Your mind wandered, thinking back to those early days. From bumping into Fontaine to everything that followed after. Like the Hand of God tripped you over Fontaine’s feet so that you would meet. Would know. So that you would know each other and know what it was like to love with your entire body. 

Moments later, you collected yourself. Mr. Gates seemed to know exactly when. He came back into the office without any prodding from you. You smiled at his kind, grandfatherly face. He had white hair sticking out the sides of his head. You bet he was a player when he was younger. 

“Would you like to continue?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “Yes, where was I? Um…so, Fontaine did exactly that. He proved with more than his words that we had something songs got written about…”

Fontaine attended every performance every night you worked. You were still in the background and he looked at you as if the spotlight was on you. He didn’t help your ego at all. 

After every night, he’d somehow sneak backstage with a single red rose to tell you that you were the best dancer up there. He stole kisses after each one too. At this point, you didn’t know why you were still resisting him. You weren’t some prude waiting for a man to drop to one knee; you didn’t believe in that shit. 

There was something a little hot about making him sweat it out. Something a little erotic about heavy petting and making out and living in the moment spent with your lips colliding and tongues exploring. With his hands around your ass and your hand rubbing him over his jeans. 

You hadn’t had many occasions to lust after someone. Sometimes guys made you crane your neck, but you had a single minded focus that saw you through your shitty childhood, through your awkward teenage years, through screaming matches, and slammed doors. You got what you needed from guys, the only things they were really good for, and you left them high and dry. You left them while spit flew from their mouths as they called you bitches, hos, and anything else their little brains could think of.

Funny how once you treated boys how they treated you, you were suddenly the devil incarnate. 

But you lusted. Every dip of Fontaine’s hips made your body respond in kind. Like he had a direct line to your pussy and constantly tugged on it to drive you crazy. He knew the effect he had on you too. 

He always made sure to blow you a kiss while you were on stage. When he smirked, he liked to look at you out of the corner of his eyes. He made sure to grab your ass while making out, squeezing them like trying to get juice from a lemon. Oh and when he got to rubbing his stubble along your neck, your eyes would roll back and he’d tell you to quit being so cute before he dicked you down. 

Fontaine made you hot and bothered. In more ways than one. As much as you were interested in him, you still hated what he had to do to survive. You understood the game, but it didn’t mean you had to love it. 

When you weren’t on stage and you were taking your break, waiting for the next set, you would sneak out to the front of the house so that you could see the performances, see what worked and what didn’t. Sometimes you’d grab a drink and wait for Fontaine to sneak away to kiss you. 

And sometimes you’d see him heading to the private rooms, escorting your fellow dancers and whichever powerful men wanted to use them for the night. Rusty was always there with a grin on his face and dollar signs in his eyes. It was disgusting. 

Rusty never touched anyone but your best friend Kimmy. He took one look at her and fell ass over teakettle for your sweet friend who had a kid to look after. On top of paying her a little more, Rusty rented an apartment for Kimmy and her kid. She didn’t think anything of the little bargain. One man was better than a revolving door. 

Sometimes anger boiled in your veins at the mere thought. You wanted to burn this place to the ground. It was true that you chose to come here, night after night. However, dancing was the only thing that kept the anger at bay. Well, that wasn’t entirely true anymore. 

As Fontaine walked around the tables on his way to you, you found unexpectedly that his presence tamed the wildness of your anger. It wasn’t completely gone. The slightest thing would set you off. Until you bubbled over like a volcanic eruption, burning everything and everyone in your path. You weren’t like that with Fontaine. You didn’t want to be like that with Fontaine. And all it took was a few dozen roses and sweet stolen kisses. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. He was starting to grow his hair out. Since he moved to protection, he started dressing a little fancier. Dickies instead of jeans, plain T-shirts instead of whatever graphic tee caught his fancy. 

Fontaine dressed all in black did things to your libido that wasn’t fit for mixed company. The short sleeved black tee seemed like he bought a size down on purpose, to emphasize his muscles. 

“Hey you,” you said. 

“Isaac was telling me about the Fair. We should go,” he said. 

“The Fair? What we gonna do there?” You asked. 

“I’on know. Fair shit,” he said, that damn smirk. You were going to get him to smile if it was going to be the last thing you did on this earth. 

“You gon’ win me a teddy bear?” The question popped out before you could think about it and snatch it right back. You wished you could swallow the words, unring the bell, and ask him something different. Something that wasn’t a little too close to home. You always wanted someone to win you a teddy bear from one of those Fair games, carry it around for you. 

But that shit was for other, softer girls and men who actually gave a damn. For TV movies and shows with people who didn’t look like you. 

“I’m gon’ win the biggest one. So Friday night?” He asked. 

“Friday night,” you agreed, little butterflies taking flight in your stomach. 

“It’s a date sweetheart,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you watched his generous backside as he went back to the backrooms, making sure your friends were safe. As much as they could be. 

When he approached the door, Issac came out of it looking self satisfied. The corner of your mouth lifted in a grimace. Isaac was attractive but something was throwing you off about him. Whether it was his vibe or the oily way he looked at everybody, Fontaine included, you made a mental note to get the full story behind them.

It was obvious that they were close and did next to everything together. Issac said something to Fontaine who shook his head but bumped fists with Isaac. It’d have to be none of your business for now. 

Friday night rolled around and Fontaine was punctual in his champagne colored 90s Cadillac. You didn’t know much about cars, but you knew enough to appreciate the craftsmanship and that Fontaine lovingly took care of it.

It was shined to gleaming, silver chrome glinting from the streetlamps. Night was fast approaching and you had a long drive to Pomona, to the Fairgrounds. It was the first time in his car and you had to admit, you were a little nervous. 

Fontaine got out of the car and you had to whistle at him. He wore black jeans, black boots, and a red flannel buttoned up. The top two buttons were out, giving you a peek of a black tank underneath. He wore his signature jacket, the same one he wore when you met. You had half a mind to say fuck the Fair and invite him inside. 

“I know where yo nasty ass mind is at,” he said as he came around to the street to greet you with a kiss on your cheek. He handed you a single red rose.

“What you talkin’ ‘bout?” You asked.

“I know I look good,” he said. He smirked and stepped out, showing you his outfit. He dusted invisible lint from the front of his shirt and you laughed. 

“You really do look good,” you said. 

“But you look good enough to lick on,” he said. He bit his lip and eyed your outfit, a spaghetti strap dress with a modestly low neckline and blue and red ombre colors. It started out royal blue at the top until it began to lighten around the hips, turning into a jam red at the bottom. 

“And you call me nasty,” you said. You tapped his shoulder and his cheeks puffed up. You half thought you were going to get a smile but he stopped himself at the last minute. 

“Just telling the truth. Matter of fact, you look too damn good. I’on wanna spend the night catching bodies behind yo cute ass,” he said.

“Shut up!” You giggled. Fontaine said the cutest shit sometimes. Threatening murder behind you was not sexy, but when it dropped from his lips it was. It was a type of possession you didn’t think you craved, but you did. You wanted to belong to him in every sense of the word. 

Fontaine escorted you into the street and opened the door for you. You slid inside his car, smoothing your dress over the leather seats. It smelled clean, like some type of mountain scent laced with the particular smell of weed. Fontaine closed the door and walked around the front, climbing in himself. 

Low, thumping hip hop music was on in his car and you looked at him. This was different. He was different. And you only wanted to see where the night took you. 

As Fontaine got onto the 10 freeway, he got comfortable and leaned back in his seat. The seat was further back still and you got the sense that it stayed a little too far back on purpose. He kept his left hand on the wheel and dropped his other hand to your knee. 

You looked at it and it felt right. His hand was warm across your knee and you sunk into the seat, placing your hand over his. The corner of his mouth lifted as you began to speak and get to know each other beyond just his kisses. 

“How long you think you gon’ be a gangsta?” You asked.

“Damn girl. Not even gon’ ask me what my favorite color is?” He asked. The red lights from the cars in front of you lit up his face and you found that red suited him well. The starkness of the color played across his features in a way that made him seem timeless. 

“I already know what yo favorite color is,” you said.

“What?” He asked. He rubbed this thumb across your knee and you lost the ability to think for a minute. 

Everybody Loves the Sunshine played on his stereo and you shook your thoughts loose finally. “It’s purple,” you said.

Fontaine chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, you been paying attention to a nigga, huh?” He asked. 

“Whatever, Fontaine,” you said.

“Love it when you say my name. You draw it out and shit,” he said. 

“I do not! Just answer my question!” 

Fontaine was silent for a moment, weaving in and out of crazy LA traffic. Every year it got worse and worse. To the point that you almost didn’t want to leave the house most days. It was why you started taking the train more. It sucked, but it beat dealing with the mu’fuckas that continued to flock here chasing their paper dreams. 

“I’on know how to do anything else. That 9-5 ain’t me,” he finally said, his voice smooth and low. “I need to know if that’s ever going to be a problem. If you can ever accept that this is the life I’m in.”

He slanted his eyes towards you. This was the most serious you’d ever seen him. And Fontaine was a pretty serious person more often than not. He got this look in his eyes, like he saw the world burning before him and didn’t want to bother grabbing a bucket of water to help. Like he liked it. 

“I won’t promise to never speak on it. I’m…scared to lose you,” you said. You were surprised it was true. You made him sweat for a month, turning down his date ideas just to see what he would do. Testing him, you supposed. If he was in it for you or for what you had between your legs. Usually you could tell the difference with perfect accuracy.

When it came to Fontaine, nothing was certain. And you didn’t know if that scared you to the point of attraction, or turned you on to the point of fear. 

Fontaine squeezed your knee. “You don’t gotta worry about that, sweetheart. It’s me and you,” he said.

Me and you. Those three little words planted themselves inside you, taking root and growing vines around your bones. Sprouting leaves in your lungs and stretched towards your brain, filling it with the oxygen you needed to breathe. Three little words. The wonder of it brought unexpected tears to your eyes. 

You grinned at Fontaine. For the rest of the car ride, you got to know more about him. More about his little brother who was killed and why he joined the Scarlets. Why he took up a gun and was never putting it down again.

It made more sense in context. The circumstances were always fucked in the hood. And the tender heart you tried so hard to guard against all evil only broke more for Fontaine. He told you about how his mother retreated into herself. Only got herself together long enough to fake the funk at work and then disappeared into her room. 

With mounting bills and not wanting to live off anyone, Fontaine did what any other Black male did in his situation. He grew up. 

You told him about your toxic childhood. How your parents alternated between fighting and fucking. That when your dad was lost to the drink, he’d look at you like you were a stranger. And when he sobered up, he looked at you like you were a princess atop a castle. You never knew which side you were going to wake up to.

You told him about your mother and how she always seemed to be jealous of you. Like there was some aspect about how she raised you that she didn’t like. That it was your fault for taking her instruction to heart and not giving a fuck about what anyone said. You wanted something, you went after it. 

There was no love in your house so you got out when you were 17 and never looked back. Fuck them. You didn’t want to stay in that house anyway. 

Reaching the Fairgrounds, you and Fontaine turned to lighter subjects. How or why you got into dancing. Your favorite dancer was Debbie Allen. You wanted to be her so badly that you studied every move she ever made. That you went for ballet because that was where she started. 

She was able to get into TV but that wasn’t really where you wanted to be. Maybe when you got older and your knees started to rebel. For right now, you just wanted to dance. To be free. 

You held hands with Fontaine, talking and laughing while you pulled each other around the Fairgrounds. You’d only been once, when you were younger, and hadn’t bothered since then. 

There were rides and the sizzling smells of meat that made your mouth water. Desserts, weird food combinations like a Krispy Kreme donut burger, and the sounds of children’s laughter. The ground was littered with wrappers, coupons, and papers. 

Fontaine paid for your play cards, dropping a wad of money that made your eyes bug out. He kissed your cheek and told you to go nuts. Anything you wanted to do or try. There was no limit. You told him that he was crazy. 

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. You grinned and dragged him everywhere. On the ferris wheel, on the spinning ride, and on the zero gravity one until your stomach hurt so badly that you had to sit down. Your head spun painfully and Fontaine rubbed your hand while you giggled about it.

You went into the funhouse with its crazy mirrors. Fontaine only had one request, that you go on the haunted ride with him. You were determined to stay far away from it. You hated the feeling of being scared. He peppered your cheeks with kisses until you relented and got on with him.

You suspected that was his plan all along. To have you clutch onto him for dear life. He chuckled at your theatrics but didn’t make you feel bad.

“Come on, girl, I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and pulled you into the safe embrace of his arms. You giggled. You was gon’ have his babies if he kept doing cute shit like this. 

After that ride, you settled on Pink’s for dinner. The smoke from the truck was whipped into the sky by a bitter breeze. You should have brought a jacket. You forgot how fucking cold it got at night out here. 

Without saying a word, Fontaine made you wear his jacket. You attempted to tell him that it was okay, if nothing else yo mama ain’t raise no bitch, but he refused to take it back. “I’m hot anyway,” he said. 

You grinned, looking up at him. He winked at you and ordered you food. You ate and laughed and talked about nothing in particular. Shit you found on TV. Movies you happened across. Books you’ve read. Music you listened to. 

You yawned and leaned your head against him after another round of rides and dessert. A huge funnel cake topped with ice cream and chocolate drizzle. Fontaine had to help you finish it in the end.

“You gon’ have to roll me out of here after all this,” you said, licking your spoon for every wayward swipe of chocolate and smacking your lips with a loud pop. When Fontaine didn’t say anything, you turned towards him. His gaze was fixed on your mouth. 

“Fontaine?” You asked. 

He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you closer. He licked the corner of your mouth and you moaned, feeling his hot tongue on your cold face. He hummed in the back of his throat. 

“Delicious,” he said. 

He pulled back with a smirk, rubbed your chin, and pulled back. Your whole body heated. Cascading down your body in waves. You rubbed your thighs together, wetness starting to pool in your panties. 

“We got a little more to spend before we dip. Let’s get you that teddy bear,” he said.

“I was just joking about that,” you said. You gulped around the tension. So thick, it stuck in your throat. 

“I wasn’t,” he said. He stood up from the bench and held out his hand. You took it, hand fitting his like a glove. He threw out the plate you finished up and tucked you into his side while he walked.

In the middle of the grounds, there was a row of carnival games like ring toss and popping balloons. There was also a basketball hoop. Fontaine made a beeline for it, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. A staff member scanned the play card and loaded up the basketballs for Fontaine.

He tested the balls and soon, started sinking ball after ball. Your mouth dropped open. He could’ve been a basketball player with that lethal game! The staff member told you to pick out a small teddy bear. Fontaine stopped you. 

“One game is a small teddy bear, but three mediums is a big one right?” Fontaine asked.

The staff member, some pimply kid, popped his gum and nodded. Fontaine loaded up more games, winning each and every one until you had three medium ones and exchanged it for a giant fuzzy teddy bear. It was so big! You squealed when the staff member handed it to Fontaine. He chuckled at your reaction. 

You squeezed one of the arms and couldn’t help jumping up and down. You were happy to take the small teddy bear. But the fact that he kept going made your heart soar. “Worth it just to see your face,” he said. You kissed his cheek a hundred times and he finally smiled.

It felt like your world narrowed to that expression on his face. Watching his whole face light up and eyes crinkle. He had a wide smile that took up his whole face. His smile was infectious but you were too dumbstruck to smile back. 

“Come on,” you said. You grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

“Where we going?” He asked.

“I wanna remember tonight. And you better smile!” He chuckled while you pulled him to the nearest photobooth. You probably should have done this before winning the bear, but fuck it. Tonight had been nothing short of perfect and you wanted to capture this moment the best way you could think of. Like those shows and movies did. With something real. Not just something captured on your phone. 

You wanted it in your hands. You wanted to slide it into a binder so that you could look at it over and over while in class. Daydream about him in between lockers and free time. Glance at him from across the way on the courtyard. Dance with him at Homecoming. He made you feel young, like you were back in high school with your first crush. Fontaine was everything. Absolutely everything. 

The teddy did fit, and you scooted in first. Fontaine chuckled and sat down next to you. He swiped the card and it began to give you instructions. Fontaine was serious the first go around, mean mugging the camera. 

“Forreal this time!” You giggled. 

Fontaine sighed and rubbed his head. “A’ight, a’ight,” he said. He loaded it up once more. He kissed you in the first picture. Then you did a few silly ones. He tickled you for one of them. On the last one, you couldn’t think of what to do next. So you just looked at him. He looked at you. The camera flashed and you saw it reflected in his beautiful eyes. 

You continued staring at each other until the booth buzzed, wanting to know how many copies you wanted. You printed two and finally scooted out. Fontaine scooped up the two cards and you placed your head on his shoulder to look at them. 

“Thank you, Fontaine. For everything,” you said. He just…he had no fucking clue what tonight meant to you.

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart. You ain’t gotta thank me for this,” he said.

“Yes, I do. And I know just how to thank you,” you said. Your voice turned a little flirty and you lifted your head to look at him. He looked down at you and smirked. 

“Is that right?” He asked, licking his lips. 

“Yup. We better get back to my place before my roommate gets home,” you said. 

Fontaine took your hand and tugged you towards the entrance. You giggled the entire way, feeling giddy and light in a way you hadn’t in a really long time. Fontaine gave you that. Gave you that freeing feeling back. You thought you’d lost it when you accepted that your parents didn’t know how to love you. 

His Cadiallac sped down the open freeway, too late for the out of town mu’fuckas to fuck it up for everyone else. The windows were down and the wind rushed through the car with wild abandon. He drove safely, but fast towards your place, hand on your knee the whole way. 

The tension was back with a vengeance. Like you were both standing on top of a cliff somewhere ready to dive off. Heat pooled along with your arousal between your thighs and you couldn’t stop clenching them. 

Lust. Lust was a powerful thing. Detonating bombs in your core until you were practically drunk on them. Looking forward to them. Until there was only the dirty thoughts running through your mind and the feel of his callused hand on your knee. 

Fontaine managed to find a spot on your street. You were on the wrong side of Stocker, where you had to get to the spot faster than your neighbor. Fontaine got out first and then opened the door for you. He even grabbed the teddy for you so he didn’t have to come back outside for it. 

You pulled him into your crappy apartment that you shared with Kimmy. Considering Rusty was paying for it, it could have been worse. You still owed rent to him and had to clear out when he wanted to ditch his wife and come mess with Kimmy. She was out with her son and likely wouldn’t be back until sometime Sunday. You didn’t tell Fontaine this. You didn’t want him to think that you were plotting on him. 

But you were. You weren’t sure if he was the type to stay after sex, or once he got off, he was already looking for his pants. You wouldn’t really bring him upstairs if it was the latter. You got the feeling that he was a little clingy under that hard facade. 

You only turned on enough light to get across the living room and into your room. You turned on the lamp. Both of you were breathing heavily. Bodies preparing to experience an unparalleled pleasure. 

Fontaine gripped your hips and you giggled, accepting the kiss he laid on you. The ones before had been tame. He had been holding himself back. These were wilder. Crazier. Lips smashing into yours with a desperate plea to get closer and stay closer. 

He pushed his jacket off of your shoulders and you worked on the buttons of his flannel. He helped you pull it off of him and you licked your lips at your first real look at his body. At the tattoos down both sides of his arms. You didn’t have time to catalog them all, but you would eventually. You were going to lick and trace every single one of them.

He was thick in all the right places. A hard stomach and big arms. His stubble tickled your chin while he started to kiss your cheeks and your neck. You were a twisting mess of flailing arms and legs trying to get out of your sandals, his shoes, and his pants while working your way over to the bed.

You pushed him to sit on it and he bounced with a small chuckle. You dropped to your knees, tugging at the zipper of his jeans. “Yo, what you doin’? Ladies first,” he said.

You leaned up and kissed him. “I appreciate that, but I said I wanted to thank you proper,” you said. 

“Sheeit, don’t let me stop you then,” he said. He grinned, gifting you with another rare smile from him. It fueled your desire. 

You tore desperately at his pants and briefs, freeing his long, thick dick. You moaned at the sight of it. The tip already weeped, precum beading. You swiped your tongue at it and Fontaine moaned, rolling his neck. 

You continued to please him, licking him in certain spots trying to learn what turned him on. What made his dick twitch in your hands or his balls jerk. You wrapped your lips around his thick head and sucked him down. 

“Fuck! Just like that!” Fontaine groaned. His hands disappeared into your braids, tugging on it. You groaned around his dick and he hissed in return. You batted your eyes at him and sucked him for real this time. No more teasing. No more games. No more tests.

You drooled on his dick, growing wetter at the act. You could practically feel him inside you already, ruining you for any other man. You used both of your hands to please him where your mouth couldn’t reach. 

Sputtered words and soft commands filled your ears on top of you gulping him down. “Mm, suck that shit down, sweetheart,” he groaned.

That spurred you on, that you were doing a good job. You gripped his thighs and leaned up to take more of him. “Gah damn,” he said and licked his lips. 

You took him in deeper, as far as you were able without using your hands. You breathed where you could. The only thing that mattered was letting him know what this night meant to you. What he meant to you. 

You slurped on his dick, letting the spit lube up more of his dick for you to slide on him. His moans grew louder, fingers clutching your braids harder. “I’m finna bust,” he groaned.

You kept going. As if that was supposed to stop you? That was the goal! You wanted him to bust. You wanted to empty his balls into your mouth. You wanted to taste every ounce of his cum in the back of your throat.

He gasped and he was unleashing himself inside you, filling your mouth with him. You swallowed him down and moaned, arousal leaking from you. Pussy throbbing. 

Fontaine grabbed his dick and pulled him from your mouth, tapping the head against your lips. You kissed him and he smirked. “You a bad one, ain’t you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Oh? You a good girl?” He asked.

You nodded. He hummed, the low vibration sending signals down to your pussy. “Good girls get rewards don’t they?” 

You nodded, too struck dumb by him to say anything else. What was there to say? If you opened your mouth, all kinds of sticky, gooey, lovey dovey shit would fall out and you’d never been good at that. 

Fontaine stood up and helped you to stand, he kissed you, not caring that he just finished in your mouth. You loved a nasty nigga. He unzipped your dress and kissed your shoulders while it fell from your body.

He unhooked your strapless bra, freeing your titties and licking his lips at the look of you. “Like two little chocolate kisses for me,” he said. His lips descended on them, suckling each one and learning the shape and feel of them in his mouth. 

His hands worked your panties off, pushing them off your legs. He kissed on your chest as he laid you down and now it was his turn to get on his knees. His turn to push his head between your legs and suckle his way past your pussy lips. 

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. His tongue was a gift from the gods. Long and big, he flattened it against your pussy and moved his head in circles. Your breaths shuddered and your body twisted, legs shaking. 

He pulled the orgasm from you like it was his divine right and you screamed out, lungs burning with the effort. Fontaine kissed your thighs and your belly, wiping your essence off on you.

“Let me taste,” you begged. Fontaine chuckled and climbed up your body and kissed you, letting you taste just how wild he made you. You scratched up and down his chest and back, pulling him closer. 

“Let me feed you this dick,” he said.

“Feed it to me, baby,” you moaned.

He gifted you with another grin. Wide smile and crinkly eyes that you wanted to swim in. He pushed his jeans completely off and next went his black tank. He didn’t have any tattoos across his spacious chest and you ran your hands over him, learning every mole or scratch on him. 

He had a faint scar across his shoulder and you traced it with your thumb. You didn’t have time to ask him about it before his dick was pushing at your entrance.

You hissed and pushed on his chest. You were sure you were wet enough, but he was still massive. “Slow! Slow!” You cried.

He tilted his head and moved his hips, pushing deeper into you. Once the tip was in, he shoved all the way in with one hard thrust. You gasped, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he stretched you out with a bite of pain.

You slapped at his shoulder. “I said slow!” 

He chuckled and kissed you, trying to ease the sting. “I can’t help it. You so fuckin’ wet. I need you,” he moaned. He fed you long, deep strokes touching a deep, sweet place inside of you that might’ve been your soul. Like he wanted to write his name in the very fabric of you and never lose you. 

You gasped as he delivered these strokes, hissing when he hit that deep spot again and again. Your legs began to shake in earnest. “Mhm, don’t hold it, sweetheart. Let that shit go and lemme feel it.”

“Fon-tai–” you moaned.

“Shhh, I know you wanna call my name. I know you do. But all you gotta do is focus on that nut. Focus on my voice,” he asked.

He stretched you perfectly. And from how much arousal there was, it was staining your sheets. You were sliding up and down on his dick now, titties flapping from the strength of his strokes. 

He moaned, watching the expressions play out over your face. He cupped one of your titties, pushing down to hold you in place while he fucked you. “Mhm, doing so good, sweetheart. So good, focusing on you. Focusing on what I’m giving you.”

“Oh god, oh god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Shit, just like that baby. Grip it just like that,” he moaned. 

Your cries turned wild, keening, and loud while you gripped onto him and shook and twitched through your orgasm. He hummed while you did so. Satisfied with himself. 

“You-you didn’t…” 

“I know, turn over,” he said. His deep voice let you know that he wasn’t playing. Somehow, you found the strength to flip over. He smacked your ass, watching it jiggle.

He entered you once more and you cried out. You would never get used to his size. Never get used to him slamming and stroking inside of you. 

“Fuck!” You moaned. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. Hear how he knew exactly what you needed.

He gripped big chunks of your ass and used it like handles to slam you down on his dick, faster, and harder. Your elbows ached from trying to brace yourself against him. You slammed back, giving as much as you were taking.

“Ouue, that’s my good girl. You show me what you got,” he encouraged.

You continued to throw it back, craning your neck in time to see him throw his head back, surrendering to your pussy. It was enough to make you cry out, back bowing to another powerful, earth-shattering, world-altering orgasm. 

“Take that shit, baby,” he moaned and then finally climaxed, pumping you full of his delicious cum. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I need it, baby,” you moaned. 

“I know you do,” he grunted as his dick stopped pulsing. His cum leaked out of you as he pulled out. He spread your ass cheeks to watch. He slapped your ass when you were sure no more would come out. You were thoroughly stuffed like a twinkie. 

Fontaine left the room and you collapsed forward onto the bed, strength leaving you. A bit of nervousness crept in its place though. You wanted to ask him to stay. You wanted to roll over and be all sexy and enticing. As much game as you talked, sometimes you had moments where you couldn’t make your mouth move. 

Fontaine came back into the room with a warm rag to clean you off. You moaned and he rubbed your ass as he cleaned off your thighs as well. You sluggishly rolled over and smiled at him.

“You’re so damn cute,” he said. 

“You are,” you said and smiled.

“When yo roommate getting home?” He asked. 

You shrugged and looked away from him. “Um, I think she said she doing something this weekend,” you said. 

“So you gon’ be home alone?” He asked.

You shrugged again and played with the edge of a pillow. “Yeah, I think so.” 

The bed dipped as Fontaine sat down on it. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. You didn’t want to. You tried to fight him. But he only smirked and held on. You looked at him and he tilted his head.

“Do you want me to stay, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Only if you want to,” you said.

He shook his head and pecked your lips. “Be a good girl for me and tell me you want me to stay,” he said.

He smiled and you rolled your eyes. He got on your damn nerves. But you couldn’t quit him. 

“I want you to stay, please.”

He nodded and kissed you. Then he pulled you further onto the bed and tucked you under the covers. He defied any expectation you had of his gender. He really was killing it for anyone else. 

Though, as sweet as he was being, you knew that there would never be anyone else.

Me and you. 

You stopped here and wiped a runaway tear sliding down your cheek. You sniffled. You were both a couple of fools. Two fools in love. In a love that blinded you to anything else.

You should have told him to go. Should have told him that one night was all you could have. Even thinking that, your chest seized like your heart was being compressed under a massive weight. 

There was no you without Fontaine. And there was no Fontaine without you, you hoped.

Check out the Tyrone masterlist if you need more in your life! The Secret Tyrone Files

Graphics by saradika-graphics

[r0-boat]

Jing Yuan nsfw headcannons

Jing Yuan has a breeding Kink pass it on.

Cw: somnophilia, creampie, breeding kink, cockwarming, biting, pet play, praise kink

Gn!reader x Jing Yuan

I don't think Jing Yuan is the type to go fast or be rough; no, he takes his time; he cherishes every second with you taking his time, every touch of his fingers, tracing every curve, or gently kissing every part of your body. The only time he has ravaged you till you couldn't walk was when he gets highly pent up or can't shake his anger and comes storming into your room, wrapping his hand firmly around your throat and demanding you submit to him.

When he knows his day is just sitting in his office doing paperwork, he'll have you sit pretty in his lap, his fat cock stuffed deep inside of you, a hand underneath your shirt, idly rolling his thumb over your nipple while his pencil scratches at the paper. He doesn't mind if you square him now and then when in fact, he loves the feeling of his cock stretching you out every time you move. However, you better cease your misbehavior when he places a hand on your leg, this husky voice whispering in your ear, asking for your patience.

You're just so cute; The General can't help but shower you in praises when you're desperately grasping at the sheets, bracing yourself as you're about to cum on his cock.

『 " Yes, you're being so good today.~ Do you like when I'm deep inside you like this? Hehe~ your mews are so cute. Keep being a good pet, and I'll give you a nice reward, pretty thing."』

However, his biggest kinks are pet play and breeding. He'll have a nice collar made with the finest materials fitted right around your neck. He'll make sure it's snug, comfortable, yet strong. It at least has to be durable enough to take a few tugs.

His pet play kink was one of his more recent kinks, a deep feeling of desire that was unlocked within him; when he saw you gazing in the mirror inspecting the new choker you bought, his eyes widened when he saw the lace cloth around your neck. Somehow you looked more irresistible, a thought he never knew was even possible. But the proof was there the heat was beginning to pool in his loins, and his animalistic desire to stake his claim over you drove his feet forward, his smile sweet yet borderline predatory, his golden eyes focused on your nas as he stocks forward his hands caress your naked collarbone his fingers dancing across your delicate neck. You felt your lover's teeth graze against your earlobe.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

Jing Yuan doesn't prefer to pull out. He'd instead push you one final time to reach as deep as possible before filling you. He likes the feeling of your walls milking him dry. He's almost addicted to it, possibly even having your cock warm him after you both cum. Though he would never do this without your consent, of course, he'd always ask politely to cum inside you before you fills you up.

The idea of staking his claim on you with his cum never fails to arouse him deeply. One of his most favorite sights is his beloved pet laying in his bed, nesting in beddings of the finest silks, their tummy having a noticeable bump, and his favorite Ivory and gold collar around their neck.

Imagining your belly round and swollen with his child does things to him that he can't describe he would not mind having a kid of his own even though kids are quite... troublesome; he's sure he'll have something planned( perhaps even going overboard).

He whispers about how good he'll take care of you. He'll make sure all your weird little cravings and needs are met. And make sure you don't lift a finger. To worship your aching body every day that's overrun with hormones.

His absolute most favorite things in the world are being inside you and napping. And words cannot describe how happy you would be to wake up to your mouth worshiping his cock. A sleepy smile appears on his face as his hand gently pats your head. Jing Yuan will spread his legs and grab a fistful of your hair to prepare himself to move deeper into your mouth.

And he will give the same treatment to you. Consensual, of course. When he wakes up before you, Jing Yuan will touch and grind against your naked body. Preparing you for his cock to sink itself inside when he holds one of your legs up.

A sleepy Jing Yuan will wrap his arms around you, a hand dipping into your pajama bottoms, sliding them off. His hard cock nuzzles in between your thighs. You felt his stiff pulsating shaft barely rub against your sex. Before those hands continue to your hips lazily, he rolls his hips sucking air into his lungs. While his teeth sink into his bottom lip, your plush thighs feel amazing around his precum-slicked shaft. You are still peacefully sleeping; however, that only makes you more irresistible.

Jing Yuan's face would be buried into your shoulder, muffling his moans. Focus solely on how your wettening sex ground deliciously against his moving rhythmically against your body, trying desperately to listen to any of the slightest noises your bodies make together.

[stupidfuckingwindow]

Eyes // Ken

Summary: Ken's fears about you possibly leaving him finally boil over.

Word count: 822

Tw: Hurt w/ some comfort.

Ken loves you. He'd do anything for you, so long as you continue to give him attention and care about him. So long as you don't leave him alone.

He doesn't know what he'd do without you. Ken is frightened by just the thought of it, the thought that he just isn't worth the effort- That you will go, and he'll have no one anymore. He'd have to go back to Barbieland, where everything and everyone is perfect, and he'd have to be, too.

But he doesn't.. Ken doesn't want to go back. Surely, if Barbie- no, Barbara, he reminds himself- managed to make a life for herself in the real world and is thriving, then, he, in theory, should be able to do that too.

So why isn't he thriving like she is? Does Barbara secretly feel the way he does? And, if not, why does he have to feel this way? Is he just not good enough to feel adequate and in place here, too?

Why am I not good enough to feel happy, but she is?

Before he knows it, there are tears blotting out his vision, and Ken has to sit up from the bed you two share in order to rub at them. A whimper is choked out of him, and he presses his palms to his eyes, trying to bury his face in his hands.

Ken knows that it's okay to cry, but he hates it. Sometimes he hates not always being perfect and having all these complicated new thoughts and emotions that he didn't even know existed before this. You're always telling him you love him- that you'd never leave him alone. He knows that you won't. But.. But what if you do? There are just so many possibilities. What if he's just another annoying problem for you?

He sits there for a moment, crying in silence from within his lone company. Ken's breathing is shaky, and he mumbles out an incoherent string of words, attempting to comfort himself and failing. The more the tries, the worse it makes him feel.

Ken knows that he can't really do much of anything to help you out. He barely knows how to drive a car, much less pay bills. And you're always so far away all the time. He can't visit you at work because he doesn't know where you work, and that scares him, too. How can he make sure you're always safe if he can't always be with you?

Sure, you're always back home at the end of the day, but what if you don't come back? What if you're hurt, or scared, or..

Ken's tears pour faster at the thought, and his shoulders shake. By now, he's bawling his eyes out, breathing picking up as he silently panics. "Help," he whispers, to himself, voice breaking. It's a cry that sounds defeated, desperate and begging someone, anything just to hold and comfort him.

The jingling of keys at the front door makes his head snap upwards, towards the direction of the noise. Ken leaps up, already bolting out of your room to get to you. He's so quick in his hasty scramble towards the living room that he forgets to wipe his tears from his cheeks.

Ken nearly trips over himself and then some, fumbling over his own two feet.

Once he does get to you, his arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, face buried into your neck. "I was so scared," Ken admits, as another sob wracks his body. He pulls you closer to his chest, pressing you firmly to him. "So, so scared."

"I thought you were going to leave me! Please don't. Please. Please don't leave me. I don't want to go, I'll- I'm- I.. I'm terrified. I don't want you to go. I don't want to disappoint you. I can't drive a car, or work, and I can't even beach here, either. I don't.. I don't have anything to offer, and-" He interrupts himself with a loud, choked out cry.

His fingers dig into your clothes, balling the material up in his hands. "I'm such a mess. How can you want me?"

Ken slowly pulls away to look at you, his pretty, big blue eyes watering- Irritated and puffy. He sniffles, tears still pouring down his cheeks, and his lip wobbles. You reach out, cupping his warm face in your hands and wiping them away.

He leans into your touch, a heavy sigh leaving him. His eyes flutter shut, and Ken's breathing slows. A soft sniffle leaves him. He takes a minute to regain his breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. When he does speak again, his voice is quiet and it breaks.

His eyes open again, pretty blues landing on your face to just.. Look at you, remind himself that, yes, you are still here and that you came back to see him. "I missed you."

[corpsekiller]

𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 — 𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. dabi x genderneutral!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff, mentions of blood and death, pre!dabi dance

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. dabi finally opens up about his past and much to his surprise, you accept him as he is. even more you give him a choice of who he wants to be when he's with you.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i'm finally getting back into writing after a quite long hiatus and i couldn't be happier that my motivation and my inspiration is returning. i'm still pretty busy with my studies since my exams are coming up in a month or so, but i'll try my best to write whenever i find the time. so enjoy this fic, my loves <33

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.363 words

MASTERLIST

"What do you want me to call you?"

The question hits him like a train at full speed, crashes into his ribs, and punches the air out of his lungs until his head spins with the lack of oxygen. His fingers have gone numb around the cigarette he’s holding and although he thought he grew accustomed to the cold after years of living out in the streets, lurking in the shadows of dark alleys most citizens of that shithole avoid at night, his entire body shivers under the thin layer of his torn clothes. And yet, even as the wind lashes around him and seeps through the seams of his sleeves to lick over his scars, he makes a point of pretending he isn’t freezing to the bone.

You, on the other hand, seem to sink further into your sweater, hands buried in the thick material and legs pulled tightly to your chest to keep yourself warm — a pathetic huddle of clothes hunched against an old tree, desperately trying to make yourself as small as possible to press yourself further into the crevices for some sort of shelter. As he watches you from his spot a few feet away, he feels a sharp sting of guilt for bringing you all the way here, away from the liveliness of the city and the hope it holds despite the war that has been raging through the streets.

But he owes you this, he thinks as he shrugs off his coat and closes the distance between you, carefully draping it over your shivering figure. The small smile you give him in return makes his heart ache with an unknown feeling of warmth; he isn’t quite sure how to call it, this sense of comfort that washes over him whenever your eyes meet, but he knows it’s something akin to love. Perhaps that’s why you deserve to know what really happened to him all those years ago, he supposes, a confession of the trust he has in you.

It would've been easy to get rid of you here; he could've burned you to a crisp without a single witness, slashed your throat before your mouth could've opened to release a treacherous scream, or simply broken your neck to watch the light inside your eyes die slowly. No one would've known where you went if there’d be anyone who cared enough about you and your miserable life.

On that count, you’re both very similar.

There was no other place he felt safe enough to talk about his past, though — about the boy he was for his father and killed mercilessly when he learned he’d never be good enough to meet his expectations. It felt fitting to return to his own grave, deep in the woods, where his fire consumed every living thing in a haze of cerulean blue and left a wasteland of solitude between trees shedding thick layers of ash and soot.

He remembers the pain of the flames melting the flesh off his bones, how they swallowed him whole and spat out something far worse than any monster he could ever imagine — a demon in the shape of unbridled rage and hatred, clawing his way out of scorched earth with a new thirst for war in his eyes.

“Y’know, doll,” he finally speaks, crouching down in front of you to pull the heavy leather tighter around your body before he leans forward and gently cups your face, caressing the curve of your jaw with his thumb. Instantly, you nuzzle into the palm of his hand, chasing the warmth of his touch and smiling softly when he breathes out a low chuckle and presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

It’s strange to see how he’s capable of such tenderness when all he’s ever known was violence and anger — these very same hands that have murdered and tortured mercilessly before have grown soft in your presence. Even if he would want to, Dabi doubts he could ever hurt you. It sounds fuckin’ stupid, he notices now that he thinks about it, but you changed him. “I never thought I’d hear someone ask this question.”

And look, he didn’t expect you to stay. It wouldn’t have been a surprise to him if you’d jumped to your feet and made a run for it as soon as he revealed his past, his true identity to you, but instead, you stayed right where you’re sitting, wrapped in his coat that smells faintly like days without a proper shower, like cigarettes, like him.

Instead of leaving him, you stayed and listened patiently to every word that spilled past his lips like blood gushing out of an open wound — watched how the tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he recalled his father’s rage towards him, reached out for his hand to give him some sort of reassurance whenever his voice broke, encouraging him to continue despite the horror that seemed to grow in your eyes with every passing second.

And when he finally stopped talking, when the wound stopped bleeding for the first time in years, you gave him something he never had before: a choice of who he wants to be, regardless of the horrors he committed. and the blood that clings to his hands after so many lives he took just to quench his thirst for revenge.

And that—

That must be love, right?

The realization comes crashing down on him when you gently grab his wrist and pull him away from your cheek, instead lifting it to your lips to brush a kiss over his bruised knuckles as you repeat the question, softer, more careful this time. “So, what do you want me to call you?”

His eyes search yours in fervor. It’s a desperate attempt to find any doubts that you might not accept who he truly is, that this love you have for him was only a figment of his imagination. Maybe he’s just been so scared all this time to open up to you because he was waiting for you to realize he’s just not worth it, that he’s better suited for the edge of a knife driven between his ribs than any kindness, but your gaze holds nothing more than pure adoration for him.

“Touya,” he finally replies, his voice barely above a whisper now. “You can call me Touya, sweetheart.”

“Touya,” you repeat slowly, delicately forming every syllable of his name on the tip of your tongue. His breath hitches in his throat as he listens to you say it again and again, trying to grow accustomed to the unfamiliar ring of his real name — it sounds like a fuckin’ prayer falling from your lips and any resentment he ever felt for his old name seems to simmer down into reluctance.

With every whisper of his name, Dabi shuffles closer to you, until your face are only mere inches apart and he can feel your breath ghost over his parted lips. It’s addicting, to hear you say those two little syllables, and it buzzes through his veins like some sort of drug, like he's getting high on fucking heroin.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so present in his stupidly frail body, doesn’t think he’s ever felt this fuckin’ alive before until this very moment and when the corners of your mouth curl into a smirk and your tongue darts out to repeat his name once again, he knows you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.

He surges forward and crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss that coaxes a whimper out of you and Dabi swears he’s never felt like this before as he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip and hotly licks into your mouth, devouring you with everything you can offer. Your hands sink into his hair. A moan in the shape of his name escapes your throat and his stomach jumps into his chest because this—

This must be love, right? It has to be.

Because he never felt this fucking addicted to the sound of his name before until it fell from your lips.

[darlingicarus]

!! PHANTOM LIBERTY SPOILERS !!

this silverv scenario spoils the tower ending from phantom liberty, i'm twisting the ending in my own way, but the general pieces are still there from the ending in the game, do not read on if you don't want to be spoiled <3

when v first gets on the av, they refuse the sedative. johnny's confused, but lets it play out. v refuses any sort of treatment until they can talk with reed, face to face. it's important, they emphasize to the people on the av.

and it worked. as soon as v got assigned the medical room that would be theirs for the duration of the surgery, reed walked in.

and before reed could say anything, v spoke up first, their voice shaky, nervous. "reed, i want them to put johnny in his own body."

johnny materialized next to them, about to object, he's accepted his fate already —

but, v, not ready to talk to him just yet, speaks to reed again, "i know where his body is being held. you'd just need to retrieve it. it won't be easy, but —"

"okay. i'll do it." reed couldn't say no. not when v was looking at him with tear-filled eyes. v never directly told him how much johnny meant to them. he always had a feeling, but in this moment, he knew. they had a deeper connection.

he thought of so mi in that moment. reed still felt afraid that the decision he chose was the wrong one despite everyone around him saying he did the right thing. he let one friend down, but he wouldn't let v down.

"where's his body?"

—————————————

reed left after getting everything he needed. and that’s when johnny moved from his spot. he was leaning against the wall, aviators on, trying to process the conversation he was hearing. and now he sat beside v on the bed without his aviators and was just staring into v’s eyes.

“what’re you doing, v?”

“saving your life, johnny. and don’t tell me you’ve accepted your fate. i haven’t accepted it. i don’t think i could live without you, johnny.”

and johnny didn’t have a good enough response for them. all he could manage was reaching his hand and ghosting it over v’s. he couldn’t feel their hand, but if all works out… soon…

—————————————

johnny recovered first. v was still in their coma. reed already told him the bad news, that v could no longer use their combat cyberware.

"but is v going to be okay?"

"yes."

and that's all that mattered to him. johnny spent most of his time next to v. he would rub circles into their hand, hoping that in whatever dream like state they were in, they'd be able to feel some comfort from johnny's touch.

he messaged everyone on v’s phone that they would consider a friend. telling them that v was in coma and didn’t know when they would wake up. he didn’t respond to any follow up messages, but at least they know what happened to them now.

he talked to kerry on his own, though. he was headed out on tour soon, he even asked johnny to join. johnny said no. he couldn’t be away from v. they saved him and now he needed to be here and make sure they’d wake up with someone being there next to them.

kerry didn’t mind, though. from the way johnny would talk about v, it was clear how much he cared.

“promise me one thing, johnny.”

“what’s that?”

“keep in touch.”

“i will.”

the next day, johnny had a package arrive for him. it was his guitar with a note reading: something to keep you busy.

feeling his guitar with his own hands this time was strange, but a good strange. rather than pacing around the room, he played on his guitar, softer tunes so as not to disturb v.

the song he played most often was who wants to live forever. it’s the song he was thinking about during the ride in the av to langley.

while he was playing today, he swore he saw v’s fingers lift up. his eyes lingered on them for a second. nothing else changed. must’ve been a trick from his eyes, just waiting for something to change. wanting something to change.

—————————————

v could feel someone holding their hand. when their eyes finally opened, they saw johnny. he was sitting in a chair close to the bed, his head down on their bed. johnny’s hand loosely holding theirs.

before v had the heart to wake him up, they studied him. the real him, in his own body. despite being asleep, johnny’s face looked so tired and worn.

they squeezed johnny’s hand and instantly johnny’s eyes opened up.

“v, you’re awake!”

he quickly scooped them up into a hug, but still being gentle. they hugged for a while. v was still scared that all of this wasn’t real. they were actually hugging johnny and he wasn’t disappearing.

when they let go, johnny looked serious.

“we need to talk about some things.”

—————————————

so that’s why johnny looked really tired and why his hair seemed longer than what they remembered.

two years in a coma. most of their friends moved on.

it felt weird being back in night city too, especially now that they didn’t have the ability to use cyberware anymore, even getting it confirmed by vik.

they felt johnny’s hand clasp theirs.

“c’mon.”

he said he wanted to take them somewhere. v remembered instantly where they were: the oil fields.

he led them to the spot they talked before. this time, they sat next to each other. the etching from before, the js 2023, was between them.

“what’re we here for?”

“to say goodbye.”

johnny came here with one thing he mind. he wanted to put johnny silverhand, rockerboy turned terrorist, to rest. he wasn't that person anymore nor does he think he ever will be again.

johnny silverhand died in that tower. but, the johnny sitting at this gravesite didn't. he's alive and well and has new purpose in life: to be with the one he loves.

johnny never thought a quiet life would be something he ever wanted. but, as they drove away from the oil fields, he felt like a weight had lifted off his shoulders. he could be free to be happy. live under the radar as two unassuming people of night city.

and he is happy. and v's happy. and they're both alive. what more could he want? this is a blank slate for them and it's more than he could've ever hoped for.

[imperator-titus]

Ghost from the Past [Part 6]

In which I've finally concluded that yes I deserve a poly ship. When I get this to Ao3 eventually, I will try to make the Astarion/Gale aspect a little more prominent early on. I think it's time to add the Bloodweave tag? They be flirtin' this episode.

Also yes Eletha is kind of a messy bitch.

CW: Sexually explicit material, non-Canon compliant Poly!Gale

(Prev)[Part 5] (Next)[Part 7] [Master Post]

[Yes I'm using this slutty gif. Finally, planned smut. gif by cheekylittlepupp]

They were going to finally deal with the goblins and rescue the druid Halsin when the sky opened up with a vicious storm. Everyone preferred the comfort of their tents, except for Eletha. In just her small clothes, she wandered around the drowning camp with nary a bother. She took this time to bathe herself and Bonnet.

When she walked past Astarion’s tent, he stuck his head out of the flap and growled at her, “What is wrong with you? Get in here this instant!”

Eletha stood under the awning of his tent, rain dripping off her skin and what little hair she had. “What’s your problem? I’m not bothering you.”

“Just get in here,” he grumbled before disappearing into his tent once more. Rolling her eyes, she followed.

Muttering and grumbling some more in annoyance, Astarion convinced her to take off her wet clothes. He practically ripped them off of her when she didn’t move fast enough. Eletha complained, but complied with his wishes, like sitting still while he toweled her off. It occurred to them both that this was the first time in a very long time that he’d seen her completely naked. Well, except for the new moon, but that didn’t count. 

“I can dry myself, you know.”

“I doubt you can tell that you’re wet, so I don’t believe you.”

Astarion hesitated as he finished her hair and moved on to her back. He ran a finger along a rather prominent scar that went from shoulder to opposite hip. Putting on a smirk and a flirtatious tone, he said, “Aren’t you a proper adventurer? And I thought those scars on your face were just for show.”

Eletha hummed, distracted. Astarion wilted a little, disappointed that he failed to open a conversation with her.

On her neck, he found two faded marks. Clearly a vampire’s bite, but unlike his, they were neat, dainty, and close together. Whoever sank their fangs into Eletha’s neck had done so gently, perhaps intimately.

Astarion pressed his nose into the back of her neck, behind her ear where she kept her hair short. She made a small noise, a little startled, a bit excited. Taking in a deep breath, he groaned and sighed. The scent was somehow familiar and new, sparking something in the dark recesses of his memory. In a low voice he murmured, “You smell amazing.”

“That’s what happens when you bathe,” Eletha rebutted with a laugh, but he could tell her heart sped up and that the sound of his voice by her ear sent a thrill up her spine. “You know… it’s unlikely you’ll find much to feed on tonight, and tomorrow is a big day. You could have some of my blood. If you want.”

“You’re such a good friend, my dear.” 

Astarion smiled to himself against her hair. Her smell was intoxicating. After pressing a kiss to her neck, making her breath hitch, he very carefully sank his teeth into her flesh. As he drank, savoring the taste, he pressed her back to his chest and let his hands wander over her skin. When one brushed against her breast, she managed to smack it away. The other trailed down her abdomen, and he barely passed her belly button before she snatched that one away.

“Naughty boy,” Eletha chastised, humor mixing with the edge in her voice. Astarion took his fangs out of her neck and chuckled.

“Please forgive me. I couldn’t resist,” he purred as she turned around to face him, an invitation in his eyes. “Aren’t high elves supposed to be too imperious for things like dancing in the rain like some common druid?”

“Oh, you want me to be mean, is that it?” she asked, stopping the bleeding on her neck, eyebrows raised.

“I said imperious. Noble. You’re more cold than commanding,” Astarion teased, haughty and confident.

Eletha hardened her eyes. With just a thought, they became sharp and clear, like a predator’s. Her voice was clipped and serious, as if she was another person. “Is this what you want?”

Astarion leaned forward just a little bit, eyes alight with delight. “Oh, yeeees. I think I like this side of you.”

In a flash, Eletha’s hand was on his jaw, controlling his head, digging in just enough to make him uncomfortable. A small gasp of surprise and arousal escaped his lips. For a moment, she looked down on him as if he was some trifling irritant, unworthy of her attention but demanding it.

Then her eyes softened and a smile bloomed on her lips. Wiping away her blood from his chin, she laughed. It was a little shocking how easily she changed. “I think the rain has stopped.”

Astarion watched as she gathered up her wet clothes, not even bothering to put them back on. “You’re going to leave, just like that? I’m hurt.”

“Oh, Astarion, you started the game, I merely finished it.”

“I wouldn’t call the game finished yet,” Astarion insisted, regaining his composure, putting on his ‘I’m starving and you look like a perfect meal’ eyes.

“You should play this game with Gale, I bet it’d be fun,” she told him with a little girlish giggle, like they were two friends discussing their crushes. If either of them had any hair, they’d probably be braiding it. 

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Please, Gale is colder than you. I have to admit, he is quite handsome…”

“And powerful. Well, he was. And have you been to a wizard’s tower? It’s full of secrets and valuables and dangerous artifacts.” A wicked little grin started to show on his face and she tittered again. “Besides, Gale likes you.”

“Gale likes you, my dear.”

“Oh, yes, that’s why he found a bunch of books on vampirism and ancient artifacts that protect one from the sun. Because he likes me.”

“You’re having a laugh.”

“And the way you two chirp at each other like birds in spring? I have to keep you apart or I’ll get a headache. And he was very upset when you got excited about being beheaded. Personally, I’d like someone’s hands around my neck. But you have to do it in such a way that they don’t fight for air. You just stop the blood from going to their head and they just…” Eletha made a little gesture with her free hand and softly went ‘poof.’

“You’ve been drinking too much,” Astarion insisted, shaking his head.

“Okay, keep pining for my old used-up body that you’ve had before and deny yourself the powerful wizard that has done some inventive things with a goddess.” Astarion opened his mouth to argue with her, but she flitted out the tent as if propelled by faerie wings.

----

When Eletha stalked her prey, moving silently through the trees and grass, it was with reverence.

In the heat of battle, she kept her head, allowing Karlach or Lae’zel to swim in blood and gore while she managed the field.

In the goblin camp, she walked tall and her presence commanded the vile creatures to back away. Astarion saw it return, that regal severity in her eyes and words. The soul passed down to her through the ages had to be thirsting for this moment, to have lesser beings groveling at its feet and brought to heel with word or blade.

Half the night he worried that this day would end in chaotic bloodshed, a lot of it their own. He could hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel offer prayers to their respective goddesses. Karlach danced around in front of her tent out of nervousness, not gaiety, oblivious to his staring. Wyll tended to his blade and armor with fanatic fervor and offered Astarion a serious nod of camradic understanding. Gale practiced his spells for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in his life and when he met Astarion’s eyes, he smiled cockily.

Eletha had sat by the fire, staring into its flames, her bare knees crushed into the stones that surrounded it. For a while now, he considered her naive. Despite her age and experience, she still insisted on helping others with little reward. But unlike Wyll, she sometimes knew that people couldn’t be helped and served her own interests instead.

Then they were in that kennel. A proper kennel, not the one Cazador kept him in. Those little goblin children threw stones at that bear and it roared in pain and rage. Eletha’s ears twitched and somehow, he could hear her breath shudder for just a moment. The goblins giggled and clapped with glee and before anyone could say anything, Eletha’s elven longsword was wet with blood and little goblin heads rolled on the floor.

After that, Astarion didn’t think her so naive. Judging by the looks on the others’ faces when this small scrap was done, they all were recalculating their opinion of their leader.

As Eletha cleaned her blade, the cave bear reshaped into a man, the largest wood elf any of them had ever seen. He even rivaled Karlach in height and thickness. His body was soft, but not patriar soft. No, those hands could crush stones and lift ancient trees and his core was thick and sturdy, like a great oak resisting a storm.

“I would ask for your forgiveness for my appearance, but…” Halsin looked down at the headless bodies of the goblins. Everyone else was pointedly not looking at them.

“I’m all for believing any creature can overcome its nature, but I can’t abide animal cruelty,” Eletha explained, voice becoming a little humored as she spoke. Her severity melted away and she grinned at him, a hand on her chin as she appraised his appearance. “Bonnet is going to adore you. I’m almost disappointed that I don’t bring her to these sorts of things.”

“Haa, I’m sure I will enjoy making her acquaintance-”

“Bonnet is a bear, by the way,” Gale said helpfully. Shadowheart snorted, strangling a sudden laugh.

“Ah, that explains your rush to my rescue.” His attitude changed once he noticed that they were all infected with mindflayer tadpoles. After some discussion, they came to an understanding, but first thing was first.

The hunt was on.

After dispatching the goblins guarding the entrance to the kennel, Eletha stopped Astarion with a gentle touch on his arm. That harsh look was back, but there was a mischievous air to it. She pointed a finger up and he scanned the temple rafters for what she was indicating.

“What do you say? Shall we rain terror down on the Absolute’s idiots?”

Astarion gasped softly and touched a hand to his chest above his dead heart. “I think I’m falling for you all over again.”

----

This time, when Eletha aimed to put a dent in their alcohol stores, it was out of revelry and not a need to push back a deep dark sadness that threatened to crush her into dust. Gone was the icy chill, or the dour frown, or the knives in her eyes. 

She disturbed Gale’s peace with an offering of wine and a broad smile.

“What’s on your mind, Bhin?” she asked as she poured him a drink.

“It’s just… a beautiful night, don’t you think?” Eletha let him paint a picture for her of a normal night for him, fraught with wist.

“What’s Tara like?” she asked after he cleared up their misunderstanding.

“Astarion reminds me of her somewhat. The same sharp tongue. And sharp teeth,” Gale explained.

“Then I guess we’d get along.”

“As long as you don’t try to rub her belly. She hates that.” 

“But what if I want to rub your belly?” Eletha asked with a smile before putting the mouth of her bottle to her lips.

“I’m afraid I’ve experienced pleasures far more thrilling than tummy tickling,” Gale argued quite seriously before going on a small tangent about his celestial love life. Then it dawned on him. “Wait. You were flirting with me. For once, I think it is I who has had too much wine…”

“You know, Astarion doesn’t really like his belly rubbed either, but he does like having his ears gently touched and a nice stroke down the spine,” Eletha explained, demonstrating how one could pet either a cat or a certain elf.

“Are you trying to foist me onto another?” She smiled as she filled her pipe with something more fragrant than her usual tobacco. Gale didn’t think that what he said was humorous in any way, but Eletha often seemed amused by some private joke.

“Young ones should stick together. And a vampire seems like a half-step down to a normal person after a goddess, yes?” she asked after drawing in a bit of smoke. 

“Your logic is… interesting, to say the least.”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t blow up, you’ll live a long time, right? And I’m not exactly confident in my longevity, elf blood or no,” Eletha said before drinking some more.

“I believe I understand what you are trying to say.” Gale sipped his wine and Eletha refilled his glass. “I want to say this is disappointing… but I find it so… heartwarming, that you have so much concern for Astarion.”

“Don’t let him know,” she false-whispered, holding up her hand to hide her mouth and giving him a wink. More seriously, Eletha asked, “Can I paint you my own picture?”

“I wasn’t aware you had artistic pur- Oh. Yes, a story.” Gale chuckled under his breath. She wrapped her smile around her pipe, sparing him a witty remark that sparkled in her eyes. “Please. Speak to your heart’s content.”

“Despite being, well, him, Astarion was my only friend. In all honesty, he was the only one I could relate to or who could make me feel safe, even when he was getting us in trouble,” she told him fondly, building up her own wist. Then her smile fell and she took a drink. “Then one day, he was gone. And I thought I would never have a friend again. Never thought I could love someone or be loved.”

“Admirable that you haven’t chased him with a sharpened stick by now,” Gale said while she uncorked another bottle of wine for him.

“Anyway. I wandered for quite a while, alone. Sometimes I picked up an animal companion, but there was a lot of time where it was just me and the stars. Solitude felt good. I would meet people, but I might as well have been a construct, for all the care I afforded them. There was this village, it’s not there anymore. They grew the best apples. For decades I traded with this one fellow whenever I came through. We would share news, like what creatures had been seen lately, how the weather was shifting unexpectedly. He would offer me this delicious apple brandy, ‘recipe passed down for ten generations!’ he would boast. He let me set up my tent behind his house and his wife would insist on feeding me. When his children were little, they would play with whatever companion I had at the time. Then his grandchildren would play with them.

“Eventually, as most Aethen do, he died. The next time I came through, his son gave me one last bottle of the family brandy and thanked me for being his father’s friend. I didn’t even know we were friends.” Eletha toyed with her bottle and took a puff of her pipe, clearly trying to calm herself. “It was weird, how much it hurt. I hadn’t lost anything more important than a comfortable pair of boots since Astarion left.”

“A good pair of boots is hard to come by,” Gale said enthusiastically, happy to relate. He realized it probably wasn’t appropriate, given how Eletha seemed to be hovering on the edge of tears. Then she laughed and raised her bottle to his glass in cheers.

“The point being. After that, I was able to admit that sometimes, I was lonely. Little by little, I stopped being so cold. Actually learned people’s names. It still took me a while to realize when I was friends with someone.” Eletha looked over to Astarion, who was conversing, or rather flirting, with Halsin. A fond but sad smile graced her lips. “I look at him and I remember what it was like, being alone, afraid of the pain that comes with letting something in just to have it taken from you through no fault of your own. A human’s life is like the blink of an eye compared to mine, so what is an elf’s to an immortal? A single beat of a hummingbird’s heart?”

Gale was formulating a clever but sincere response when Eletha looked him in the eye so intensely that it made him stop.

“It must have been hard for you too,” she said bittersweetly. He looked down at his reflection in his wine. It was. It was hard for him. Then Eletha giggled. “There. Have I thrown you off my scent?”

Gale chuckled despite the lump traveling up his throat. “Honestly? No. You’ve only managed to become more interesting and complex.”

“Damn! I’ll have to find some way to become more repugnant.” With a sigh, Eletha stood. A wicked smirk tugged at her lips as she spied Astarion moving back to his tent. “I have some ideas. Please make sure Wyll doesn’t drink too much, I already warned him about the dangers of becoming me.”

“A drunken drowning would be quite the anticlimactic end for the Blade of Frontiers, I agree.” Gale watched as Eletha walked away and hooked arms with Astarion. It was strange, watching the two. They would throw on a different mask in the blink of an eye, become someone else to suit their needs or whims. Aside from them, the most duplicitous was Shadowheart, and even then, she was just guarded. People said he was hard to read sometimes, but Gale always felt like he was being honest when the situation didn’t necessitate secrecy.

It was sometimes hard to believe that they were ever in love. The rest of the time, it made perfect sense.

“Fancy taking a walk? Get away for a bit?” Eletha asked Astarion conspiratorially as her hand caught his elbow and snaked up his bicep. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise before putting on his own wicked grin.

“Oh? You want to go out into the woods, alone, with me? What will Gale think?”

“It’s a walk, darling. You look like you need to get out of here,” she answered, imitating him. He was flattered.

“Then lead the way.”

They walked quite a ways; Eletha smoking her pipe and Astarion taking sips of wine as they went. Eventually they came upon a hollow of trees illuminated by the brilliance of the moon.

“You know, I don’t know that I’ve had so much fun as when we were chasing each other across those rickety beams,” he told her with a practiced twirl of fondness as they found a suitable place to sit. Eletha chose to lean against a tree and he sat down beside her. “Even the cobwebs in my hair were worth it.”

“Rare to have fun instead of fighting for your life,” she pointed out lazily, soaking in the moon’s light.

“I would have changed my tune about you sooner if I’d known you could be so bloodthirsty,” Astarion purred, trailing a teasing finger along the back of her hand. “You were magnificent back there. Makes me wonder what other talents you’ve been hiding.”

Eletha sat up with a soft grunt. “Alright. You’ve caught me in a rare mood.”

“Oh?” Astarion was surprised for a moment. Last time they were in the woods together, just the taste of his lips made her sick. Well, that’s how he saw it, anyway. “A good fight has that effect on people, I just assumed you were immune.”

Eletha knelt in front of him, one knee on either side of his. She took a drink of his wine and some of it escaped in a little trickle from the corner of her mouth. Astarion reached up to sensually wipe it off and lick it off his fingers, maybe make a comment about her being as messy as him or just a generic postulation about how she tasted. Eletha smacked it away a little forcefully before running her fingers up the underside of his exposed forearm from elbow to wrist. 

Empty wine bottle tossed aside, she leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. Astarion lifted his face to capture her lips in a fervent kiss, but she dodge him. With her hot breath on his ear, she whispered, “When was the last time someone took care of you?”

Astarion had an answer for that: never. At least where vampire Astarion was concerned. Despite the fact that it was completely unsexy, he opened his mouth to answer what was clearly a rhetorical question.

Then her mouth was on his neck and a gasp escaped his lips in a cold puff. Her fingers, rough yet dextrous, teased his own before finding his belt. Astarion moaned as her hot tongue ran along the bottom of his ear. The moan turned into a desperate whine when she retreated.

Sitting back on his thighs, Eletha spared him only a passing glance before focusing on undoing the fastenings on his breeches. When he reached for her, this time aiming to pull up her shirt, she smacked him away once more. He tried again, not easily swayed, and she captured his hand, just to kiss and run her teeth along the inside of his wrist.

Readjusting, Eletha untucked his shirt. Lavishing his stomach with kisses, licks, and gentle scrapes of her teeth, she tugged down the waistband of his breeches. Astarion groaned in the back of his throat as she brushed her lips over his cock through his underwear. She left kisses from tip to base as she painstakingly pulled down the offending garment. He actually quivered as her tongue left a stripe of spit along its length.

Normally, Astarion wouldn’t let himself be so easily pleased. He’d fake this reaction, of course, and pepper in reactions that reflected what his mark desired most in him. Some wanted the commanding, debonair noble while others wanted a mewling plaything. But Eletha wasn’t a mark and she’d proven time and again that his body wasn’t the price for her protection.

It really was shocking to him how good it felt when he could let go of the performance. He had to fight against the innate instruction to turn off, just go through the motions. Astarion even tried to stop her so that it could be her ‘turn’ and he could show her how good he was, but she swatted him away. When he persisted, she laced their fingers together and just… held his hand. It felt almost as good as her lips and hand wrapped around his cock.

There was just a tiny worry in the back of his mind. Was she doing this just to please him? Were these just motions?

Then he noticed that her hand felt hotter. Her strokes became more insistent. He could feel the back of her throat and the filthy groan she made traveled down his cock. Gasping, Astarion bucked his hips just slightly and when she came up, moaning for air, strings of spit connecting them, he whined again. The look in her eyes was hungry and her lips smirked with pride. 

Thus began his undoing. With her left hand in his right, he laid his left hand gently on her head, following her rhythm with small rolls of his hips. Occasionally, unwilling to be done so soon, he would tug her hair just the slightest bit to pull her back and give his nerves a rest. She was relentless, swirling her tongue around him, groaning like a starving man eating at a king’s buffet.

Astarion felt a jolt of pleasure he’d never felt before and threw his head back with an unabashed moan. His hand had to leave her head, lest he push it down further in his blind ecstasy. Squeezing each other’s hand, Eletha took everything he had to give and made sure there would be no mess except for the wrinkles in their clothes and the disarray of their hair.

Boneless, Astarion watched her through hazy eyes as she made him modest and fixed her own clothing. He managed to offer her a husky chuckle and a half-cocky smile. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in some more fun?”

“That was fun enough for me, but thank you,” Eletha said politely, gathering up their discarded things.

“Why?” Astarion asked, maybe a bit too much like a plea. “Why do this for me?”

“Because I’m a little drunk, had some wizard’s weed, and well-”

Now that hollow far-away look came to her eyes. Eletha just… stared straight ahead, as if she could see something happening deep in the earth. 

“Eletha…?” Astarion’s bliss shifted into something akin to fear. He reached out hesitantly, debating the ramifications of touching her while in this state. “Lorelai.”

Eletha’s head snapped around, startling him. For a moment, with her body rigid, she seemed to be seeing someone else in his place. There was terror in her eyes. Then her shoulders relaxed and she was herself again. Smiling as if nothing had just happened, she said, “What’s a party without a little fun?”

“Right…” Astarion agreed, dragging out the syllable.

“I’m gonna try to get some sleep. You should hang out with Gale. He really misses his little tressym friend. Sounds like you would be a good replacement,” she explained cheerily as she got to her feet, dusted herself off, and marched back to camp.

Astarion was magically transported to Gale’s tent. Not really, but he couldn’t quite remember getting from the glade to camp and making the decision to sit down with Gale of all people.

“Are you alright, Astarion?” the man asked him, offering him a glass of wine.

“I’ve had the strangest experience.” Gale gave him a critical look-over. “With Eletha, I mean.”

“I’m not really the kiss-and-tell sort,” he told him only to receive a look that said ‘do you hear yourself?’ Ignoring it, he added, “It can be very easy to fall back into the arms of an old lover. I am sure it is… complicated.”

“Did your dear Mystra ever… tend to your… needs… and refuse reciprocation?” Astarion asked hesitantly, searching for the words that both conveyed his intention and couldn’t be misunderstood by Gale.

“Well, if I set aside the fact that our intimate affairs are not quite analogous to those shared between mortals-” Gale started rather academically and a little smugly. Then he actually thought about it and his face fell back into neutrality. “No. I wouldn’t say that was ever the case.”

“It’s a strange feeling,” Astarion remarked, still trying to untangle his thoughts. “Also. That may have been the best orgasm I’ve ever had, and now I’m disappointed that she went to bed.”

Gale cleared his throat. “I’m sure she has her reasons. As… elusive as they might seem.”

Astarion tilted his head and put on a smirk. “Fancy a go? Someone like you might be able to teach me a thing or two.”

Gale chuckled and raised a warding finger. “I’m afraid you will have no such luck with me, Astarion.”

Astarion pouted. “Come on. You’re not curious? All this time out in the wilderness and you don’t feel the least bit pent-up? I’m not some backwater farm girl looking for a tumble, you know.”

“Whether I have those feelings or not is irrelevant. Who knows what a sudden increase in excitement could do to the orb? A moment of destabilization when I’m unable to control it and we’re all dust.”

“That sounds very exciting, if I may say so,” Astarion purred, a hand finding Gale’s thigh under the table. Gale huffed as he moved it away, making Astarion laugh. “Ticklish, Gale? A mighty wizard defeated by just the brush of a hand?”

“Careful. The tadpole won’t protect you from this wizard’s magicks.” Astarion found Gale’s thigh again and managed to slide up a little before Gale moved away even further. “I know you’re having fun, and I don’t slight you for it, it is a bit amusing, but I am afraid you’ve come to the point where if you persist, I will consider it harrassment and be forced to retaliate most fiercely.”

Astarion sat back up, retrieving his hand from beneath the table. “I apologize, Gale. I thought I might convince you to loosen up a little.”

“Your apology is accepted. Perhaps under different circumstances, I would have taken you up on your offer.” Astarion picked up his wine glass and held it towards Gale’s. Curious, Gale held his up as well and Astarion clinked them together.

“Here’s to different circumstances, darling.”

[strwbmei]

Matchup Event

Matchup for: Anonymous

Matchups: Tingyun, Yae Miko, Serval

Contains: petplay, marking, biting, strap use, mentions of alcohol, blindfolding, ropeplay

A/N: I remember this person saying they were pretty busy when I reached out to them, so I hope I didn't finish this too late haha 😭😭 This was very fun to write, though!

Ask:

I'm 20 and a masc but I still like fem-ish things like painting my nails and dying my hair. I'm a short gremlin of a person that enjoys wearing punk jewelry and other punk accessories, I also like crafting, currently into woodcarving and making cosplay props. I just making stuff with my hands. I also like exercising and doing martial arts, These days, I've been into boxing style training bc I'm trying to build up and maintain arm muscle.

as for personality: I'm actually a pretty reserved person. Talking to strangers is not really my thing and I don't really go to social events like parties or whatever. However, I can be conversational through text and in person if it's with people I'm comfortable enough with. However, most of the time, I am shying away from social interaction. As for other things about my personality, I'm always prepared for stuff, as in I have bandaids, a swiss army knife, and roll of tape in my bag. Oh, and I blush easily. (like literally tomato red blush sometimes.)

Requesting for SFW and NSFW.

SFW: no specific scenarios in mind but I do like cuddling, people playing with my hair, and playful biting my partner or partners. My love language is physical touch and I'm a gift giver/maker. also my friends call me "house husband material" whatever that means, just bc I can clean and cook. in terms of dates, the arcade or watching a movie are my go-to but staying home to chill and cuddle is just as good. If we are going to dinner or something, I will be insistent that I'll pay for the meal.

NSFW: (GN - ok with wearing strap-on or having a dick) I'm a switch top, so I can either be dominant top or a service top , that's into biting, marking, blindfolding, ropeplay and petplay. I'm ok with receiving or giving/being the dom or sub with any of those kinks. I love tits and thighs so do with that information what you will. My main kinks as a dom is marking and overstimulating my partner and my main kink as a sub is petplay (puppy) and being used. note: I'm really not into being called daddy or master or whatever, I prefer a pet name like baby or babe or just my name/nickname.

For Fandoms, I'm mostly into Genshin & HSR. As for any characters I don't what to get matches up with: Sparkle, Cocolia, La Signora.

Tingyun

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ She'd love painting nails with you! Tingyun would gladly let you paint her nails (she'd show them off at the office with pride the next day); if you let her, she'll be happy to paint yours too! She was so excited to find out you also liked one of her favorite activities, she accidentally bought a whole new set of nail tech tools...

: ̗̀➛ Tingyun loves how much of a gentlewoman you are. Even if she's (probably) in a better place financially, you always make sure to spoil her and make her feel like she's the most special girl in the world. And she is, because she's with you!

: ̗̀➛ If you bite, she bites back. Of course, she only means to match your playfulness, but as a foxian, her teeth can hurt. Tingyun makes sure to be careful, of course, but there's only so much her self-control can do against her primal instincts to clamp down on her prey. You've had a few incidents because of this. She's very very apologetic and cuddly afterward, though—sort of like when you step on your pet and immediately rush to hug them.

: ̗̀➛ Tingyun feels so relaxed being in a relationship with you because of how reliable you are. To her, there's nothing better than coming home to her living space already cleaned up and the scent of a freshly cooked meal made by her lover. Gone are the days when Tingyun had to rely on takeout for most of her meals.

: ̗̀➛ She WILL absolutely gawk at your muscles whenever you work out or practice martial arts. Tingyun doesn't even try to hide it, either. She believes that she (and only she) has the right to your muscles as your girlfriend, and you can bet that she'll make use of that privilege as much as she can.

: ̗̀➛ Putting how hot you are aside, Tingyun is glad to see her partner being physically active and indulging in their hobbies. She's proud of you for actively pursuing a healthy lifestyle. Because of that, and also because she enjoys seeing you all flustered, Tingyun loves rewarding your efforts with a kiss or two.

"I'm home," You announce to an empty apartment. Force of habit, you reckon. You'd gotten used to Tingyun greeting you when she was on leave. Didn't she say she had one more day left, though?

You set down your things and hear faint classical music playing as you step into the living room. "Tingyun?" You call out. No response. Seems like the sound is coming from the dining room.

Cautiously, you open the door and peek inside. The space is dimly lit with candles, and you smell the vague scent of food and your favorite flowers. How did she even get this set up so quickly?

Tingyun, whom you're assuming is the perpetrator, sits alone at one end of the dining table, wearing a formal dress with a satisfied grin on her face. "Come and have a seat." She says, getting up to pull the seat out for you.

This all feels very new. You're usually the one to do these things for Tingyun, but being on the receiving end of it is... not bad at all.

There is a feast on the table, more than enough to feed the both of you. She was careful to choose food that was still just as tasty no matter how much time had passed while managing to cater to both your tastes.

"So... you come here often?" Tingyun winks before taking a sip of white wine. You chuckle at her corny and overused pickup line. "Tingyun, we're already dating."

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Tingyun has always had more... "crude" tastes than what you'd expect from a woman of her status and caliber. Not that you ever minded, of course. One of her biggest fantasies is you using your strength to manhandle her body into any position you like. The thought of being all helpless like that has Tingyun gushing.

: ̗̀➛ A muzzle is definitely required for you two, though. Aside from the fact that both of you are into petplay, you bite. A lot. Tingyun somehow manages to bite more. This could be attributed to her Foxian instincts, but she says she'd be very possessive over her partner either way.

: ̗̀➛ Even though Tingyun is often the bottom between you two in bed, she makes sure to switch it up once in a while because she thinks that it's unfair how it's always her who's on the receiving side of pleasure/always trying out new things. Seeing you get all flustered and embarrassed when you're usually dominant is definitely a treat.

: ̗̀➛ Tingyun can be both dominant and submissive, but she prefers the latter. She's more of a pillow princess because she loves to be spoiled and pampered, but she doesn't mind putting in the work to make you feel good.

: ̗̀➛ One thing about her is that she has trouble not marking you up excessively. Tingyun can't help it! She gets the insatiable urge to bite or claw at any exposed skin she sees, and she wants you to mark her as yours just as much. It's a hassle to try to find outfits that cover them up, but thankfully, Tingyun is an expert at using makeup to fulfill the same job.

"A-aren't you being a bit cruel?" Tingyun remarks, the grin of faux calmness on her lips faltering. Her arms and legs are bound by red ropes as you're holding a vibrator over her clit.

"Mm, but you like it, don't you?" You reply. She whimpers in response, not only to your words but also to you pressing the vibrator down.

Tingyun almost feels numb, having orgasmed four times already. You made her count. And it seems like a fifth is already on its way. "Gonna c-cum..." Tingyun whines.

Her body feels like it's going to shut down if it orgasms one more time, but her mind chases after that pleasure as if it's addicted.

You smirk, pleased with how she chases after the vibrator despite how she's mumbling about how she "can't take anymore."

"Go ahead, let it out."

As soon as you speak, Tingyun bucks her hips into the air and squirts her fluids all over the sheets. "So good for me..." You sigh, rewarding the sly fox with a kiss.

Her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm as she catches her breath before speaking. "Five..." You hold the vibrator against her clit again, earning a surprised mewl. "Good, you remembered."

"Think you can go for seven?"

Yae Miko

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say teasing you is her favorite thing to do. You just look so cool and composed in the eyes of others, but only Miko can see how a few careful words and well-placed touches can turn you into a stuttering mess. She can't get enough of you.

: ̗̀➛ Miko thinks your sense of fashion is really interesting. Even when she's traveled through most of Teyvat, she's never quite seen anyone else who dresses the same way. Miko likes it—it all feels very "you," and very unique at the same time.

: ̗̀➛ She's also a biter, but she has a lot more control over herself. Miko teases that she might not be able to pull her teeth out once they sink in, but you know she'd never hurt you on purpose. Miko only bites hard enough to leave a small mark.

: ̗̀➛ She loves it whenever you compliment her! Not that Miko doesn't get complimented by others often, but it always feels so fake, like they're just trying to get on her good side. You're different, though—she acts like she's not affected, but a simple thing like you saying she smells good is enough for her to smile from ear to ear.

: ̗̀➛ Miko is actually very accommodating of your boundaries. If you're uncomfortable with something, just don't do it. You don't have to go to those parties or social gatherings if you don't want to. Just relax and let her handle the rest. Besides, wouldn't you much rather spend that time with your lovely partner?

Hearing the alarm ring from your phone, you try your best to open your heavy eyelids.

You really don't want to get up today, and the pink kitsune form your girlfriend has taken as she lays asleep on your chest is only partly why.

Thankfully, Miko is a bit of a heavy sleeper (perhaps even more so in this state,) so the alarm didn't stir her awake. As soon as you try to get up, though, she transforms back into a human and pulls you back onto the bed.

So... Miko doesn't get affected by any sort of alarm whenever she's sleeping, but if you try to move away, she'll immediately wake up to cling onto you? Note taken. One of her many peculiarities, you suppose. You don't mind since it's cute.

"5 more hours..." Miko groans, half awake. "Sorry Miko, but I really don't have a choice." You sigh. If only you could stay like this forever, in her loving embrace.

Miko opens her eyes upon hearing your words. "Says who?" Before you could ask her what she meant, she spoke up again. "A few phone calls and I could wipe you off the grid for at least a few months," Miko grins, her canines shining with a proud glint.

She speaks as if she's joking, but you know that she's actually capable of what she promises. Miko has her connections, after all.

"That's... way too extreme." You chuckle. "I guess a day or two wouldn't hurt. Just this once." You mumble the last part. You should take more advantage of her authority, or so she says, but for now, Miko would be glad to have you all to herself even if just for a few days.

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Miko can be either submissive or dominant depending on her mood, but she's often dominant with you. Something about getting you who's oh, so calm and put together pinned under her has her sense of pride soaring.

: ̗̀➛ She'll be very happy to put you in your place if you ever act up. Not to say that Miko wants to cause you actual discomfort, but there are just some days when she wants to see you beg for her mercy. You displeasing her is only an excuse for her to indulge in these desires.

: ̗̀➛ On the other hand, Miko annoys you (affectionately) on a daily basis. She's definitely the type to rile you up on purpose, especially in public. She'd whisper all of the filthy things she wants you to do to her as you're talking to someone else, just waiting for you to snap.

: ̗̀➛ A specific turn-on that Miko has (and won't ever admit to you) is when you leave marks along her thighs before eating her out. Your eyes are just so attractive when you gaze at her like that. You might be looking up at Miko, but she can feel who's really in charge.

: ̗̀➛ No matter who's dominant or submissive, she'll mock you either way. It's the little things like keeping her facial expressions mostly the same and turning away when you lean in to kiss her. Don't take it personally. It's as much of a challenge for Miko as it is for you; it's just her way of trying to get you to go rougher than usual.

Serval

"That's a good pet. Such a good pup you are, aren't you?" Miko says in between deep breaths, pleased with how eagerly you're eating her out.

She doesn't even have to say anything and you already know what'll make her feel good. That's what Miko likes about you.

You want to please her, more and more. Even if you aren't feeling any pleasure yourself, you're desperate to make Miko cum as many times as possible.

As if to prove a point, she pulls you away by a leash connected to your collar. It's hot pink leather, with her name engraved in gold lettering. It's a perfect fit for you, she thinks to herself as you whine in response to her action.

There is nothing on your mind except being able to taste her as much as possible. "Miko... why?" She hums as she fiddles with the leash in her hand, her legs crossed as you're kneeling in front of her dripping sex. So close, yet so far.

"Would you do anything for me?" Miko asks nonchalantly, not even bothering to look at you or answer your question. Still, you nod fervently. Her canines flash in a proud grin before she lays on her back so you're on top of her.

"Then fuck me, hard."

╰┈➤ SFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Serval is really good at dying hair. How do you think she gets that one blue strand perfect all the time? She'll be happy to dye yours or at the very least suggest products/colors! Serval thinks the whole experience is really comforting and helps with expressing yourself, so she wants to share it with you if you'd let her.

: ̗̀➛ Also, she had a friend crush on you for the longest time before you met. Everything about you like the way you dressed and carried yourself was so cool, Serval couldn't resist wanting to get to know you better! These feelings were platonic at first, but she slowly fell in love with you as time passed.

: ̗̀➛ Serval tries not to let the loneliness get to her, but it's just too much to bear sometimes. Her siblings are always away, and even her bandmates are busy in the Silvermane Guards—which is why she thinks it's perfect that physical touch is one of the ways you express affection. Belobog can get cold even with all the heaters, so who can blame Serval for finding the warmth of your skin comforting against hers?

: ̗̀➛ The fact that you make cosplay props is so cool to Serval! She'd be so happy if you'd let her help. Serval is very creative with her ideas and always ends up going over the top when she's particularly motivated. I mean, who else would think of using mini electromagnetic fields just to make a halo float? Much less actually try to execute it...

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Serval is one built on a strong foundation of mutual trust, compromise, and common interests. A few disagreements here and there are unavoidable, but you can rest assured that Serval would never trade what she has with you for anything.

Today is a day that Serval is especially looking forward to. She's always happy to spend any time with you, but this time, you keep the location of your date a secret. You know better than anyone else how much Serval likes surprises and discovering new things, after all.

Which is why you brought her to your favorite arcade.

The entrance is conspicuous; merely a metal door at the end of a narrow alleyway. Even Serval couldn't help but raise an eyebrow;she knows better than to judge a book by its cover, though.

You could see her eyes sparkle with curiosity and awe as soon as you opened the door. The neon lights, soft music, sleek designs, and unusual-looking machines were an alien sight to her up until now. You knew this would be the perfect date the second Serval mentioned she'd never been to an arcade, and you were right. It helps that this arcade in particular is full of introverts who mind their own business, so you don't have to worry about social interaction.

Immediately, she rushes towards one of the claw machines, attracted by the pile of cute narwhal plushies. You smile at her enthusiasm. Taking a few coins from your wallet, you hand them to her. "All you have to do is insert a coin here and then move the crane above where you want it to grab." You explain. Serval listens to your words intently, but it's obvious that she's eager to give it a try herself.

She inserts the coin, moves the crane, brings it down, and... no luck. "What?? That was right on the dot, though!" Serval pouts. It was perfectly aligned with the plushie, but she lacked the experience to know how weak the cranes were. You pat her on the back as consolation. "The blue narwhal, right?" You insert the coin, jumping at the opportunity to show off to your girlfriend. Serval nods.

She watches how you move the crane, face almost pressed directly against the cold glass. Serval can't help but tilt her head, seeing how off it was from the plushie. The crane clamps down perfectly around the narwhal's horn, and you present the plushie to her with a smug grin. "Here." Serval's eyes light up as she holds the plush for the first time. "It's so fluffy!" She exclaims before pulling you into a quick hug as thanks. "You're the best!"

Before your heart can recover from the sudden physical affection, Serval rushes towards another arcade game. You quickly follow after her. At this rate, you won't be surprised if Serval ends up developing a gaming addiction and starts building her own machines...

╰┈➤ NSFW ;

: ̗̀➛ Serval is a switch through and through. She wants to pin you down and make you feel good just as much as she wants to submit to your every whim.

: ̗̀➛ Serval doesn't have any extreme kinks, but she tries a lot of new things on herself on the regular. Mostly toys and the like, some of which she's even created herself. Serval likes being able to choose what materials it'll be made out of and the overall customizability. She'll even make you one if you ask!

: ̗̀➛ That said, Serval's finger game is godly. The years she spent playing the guitar and doing precise work as a mechanic wasn't for nothing. You won't find anyone else in Belobog with more nimble fingers.

: ̗̀➛ Serval loves putting on a show for you. Things like leaning over the table to show off her cleavage is light work; when she's feeling bold, she'll even masturbate and moan your name while you're at home. Bonus points if you peek through the door as she does, she'll definitely wink at you before continuing as if no one is watching her.

: ̗̀➛ Serval is very into blindfolding, mostly being on the receiving side. She loves the thrill of not knowing what you'll do to her next. It's a shame you won't be able to see those pretty eyes of hers, but it's worth it to see her writhing under your touch.

"Tongue, fingers, pussy, or strap?" You ask the woman in front of you. Her eyes are covered with a black blindfold and her wrists are bound with the fabric of your shirt.

"Surprise me." Serval replies, already rubbing her thighs together in anticipation. She's not very good at being subtle. Cute. In truth, you weren't expecting her to choose.

The high of diving headfirst into the unknown is too much for someone as inquisitive as Serval to pass up. You appreciate that she trusts you as much as to leave herself fully vulnerable like this.

Serval's ears perk up as she hears you open a bottle, presumably lube, and spread it all over something. The loss of sight has amplified the rest of her senses.

You wonder if that also applies to how much pleasure she feels. It'd make for an interesting research topic, knowing Serval.

Your hands roam all over her, from her collarbones to her breasts, to the small of her back, and lastly to her thighs. The slight coldness of the lube makes her arch her back and wriggle against her constraints every time you touch her.

Finally, you ease the tip of your strap-on into her folds. Serval bites her lips to prevent a moan from escaping, recognizing the shape. You're wearing her favorite glass dildo, and you can see how her walls stretch to accommodate you.

Serval is glad that her job doesn't need her to move around because she definitely won't be able to walk properly for the next few days.

[cornyonmains]

Finished The Eclipse. I honestly feel like I had the right instinct to tune it out the first time, but I do think it's interesting in that you can really see the baby steps GMMTV was taking to grow up a little bit.

You can really look at The Eclipse and see a show where it's clear GMMTV really diminished its potential with a lot of its own standards, and to their credit, I think they stood back and took a hard enough look at it, the BL environment in general, and how absolutely hard fans were calling out their bullshit and decided to get real with Only Friends.

The Only Friends cast is heavily indicative of this being the case. GMMTV was gunning for elevated talent that knew how to play ball, and Neo, First, and Khao were all shining stars in The Eclipse, that blasted their scene partners out of the water. Force and Book are intensely unique, as they've always been shafted with bad scripts and sexually repressed directors, despite the fact they came into the game with a lot more professionalism and comfort with the material they were handling. The director didn't wind up sobbing in the corner because they refused to move their mouths when they kissed. They're also a much more 'modern' ship, that doesn't default on yaoi contrasts and that weird seme/uke binary. After the success of KinnPorsche, and popularity of MileApo, I think GMMTV finally saw the potential in this pairing. About time.

But the casting is very indicative of GMMTV kind of telling fans, "We've been listening, we hear you, and we're making changes." Only Friends corrects a lot of complaints the fandom has been having.

Adults, for example, don't have much in this genre. Part of the reason The Eclipse fell short for me is it's just another damn coming of age drama. Great for the baby gays, but the adults are over it. GMMTV gave us Neo eating Mark's ass like groceries then getting godless with Force in the backseat of a car, and I'll live 10 years on that alone.

The plot contrivances they have to cook up to keep everyone from doing anything but doing a cutaway kiss with no tongue in the final episode is no more, people are fucking nasty, so now there's room for actual plot, which is hilariously ironic. But also, it's not, because I mean the desire women have for horny softcore erotica with good plots and high production value is not unknown.

Queer women and bisexuals have been complaining about a lack of representation. At the core of these yaoi tropes is a world where bisexuality has no meaningful distinction from being gay, which is really annoying, because bisexuals have a much different experience in the queer community, and that's not reflected in a world where X amount of interpersonal communication can magically turn anyone gay. Queer women just don't exist in BL. Women are all straight virgins trying to steal your man. Only Friends has lesbians. Actual FDA approved lesbians. Are they fucking nasty? No, but it's something. We are allowed to exist in the world of Only Friends and that's HUGE.

People have been complaining about the cringe. Only Friends removed that and replaced it rage provoking stupidity by the characters, and I approve of that.

Anyways, analysis is what I do for a living. TV is well within the ballpark. So while I'm only basing my thoughts on what I've observed and not cold hard numbers, there's only so much insight I can provide, but it's insight backed by years of experience. With Only Friends posting absolute numbers, we can expect to see some structural changes at GMMTV on the horizon, because this is going to create growth. Probably even stimulate a search for new actors to get on their roster, since they have a lot of actors that won't be able to deliver going into the new era. I also think this is going to help them land sponsorships from atypical brands, which is BIG. Mile getting Maserati on board for KinnPorsche is part of what allowed it to exist in an elevated form.

I also think the success is going to result in a shake-up with the quality of writers they hire, because that's at the core of a lot of issues in BL. They adapt these novels from these absolutely unhinged lunatics, these lunatics have WAY too much creative power despite the fact they're low brow porn writers, and it kills the quality of a finished product. America doesn't do that. Directors have the power to elevate material, and that's important. GMMTV got a proper writer for Only Friends, and it paid off in a big way. Mame is one of the names I hate in BL the most. Her goo-goo gaga shit is creepy, I hate it, it makes queer people look bad, and I'm hoping writers like Jojo just drive her out of the scene.

Anyways, I'm going to end things here. I just wanted to share some random thoughts I had.

[soursvgar]

could i please request mammon with a reader who has extreme anxiety, so at first they just followed him around like a duckling would its mother and always looked to him out of everyone for help with things?

~generally, theyre just obviously most comfortable with him and favor him most because of it; being more expressive and stuff around him while being more on the reserved, shy side with the rest of his brothers. id just imagine him pretending to be annoyed but secretly enjoying the attention lolol!

"It is the fear of the unknown that makes you stick to what's familiar, a sense of home in a foreign place."

Mammon x gn! reader (ft. Leviachan)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Home is a place for your heart to rest at ease, and in the depths of the devildom— it simply could not. It is quite the peculiar opportunity you were given, living among creatures who are different from you, and allegedly, stay protected. Perhaps even too good to be a real opportunity, but who can blame the human for fearing for their life? It is in fact, a constant worry for the fragile, feeble human race. It isn't a surprise that you had latched onto the nearest, closest form of a warm human connection you could've achieved in the short time upon your arrival.

Mammon is not like the others. Maybe it’s his withstanding patience, or maybe it’s the deep, intent gaze he's wearing every time you express even an inkling of fear, focusing on validating your emotions while simultaneously, assuring you of your guaranteed safety. With him by your side, you had almost forgotten of your whereabouts, and the creatures lurking around the corners, possibly just waiting for a moment you're alone. For this reason, letting him venture on his own, away from your vicinity, is something you are too afraid to do.

"Human, I told you to stop following me. It's too annoying, I have things to get to- places to be. I can't have ya on my arm all day like a lost puppy." Mammon mutters, shaking his head as you request to accompany him on his schedules. "Why don't ya go play with Levi or something?" He suggests, regretting it almost instantly when he notices your eyes drooping with dejection. However, this is a teaching moment for him, as he expects the rest of his brothers to protect you as well, and to develop some sort of a connection, or a sense of responsibility, at the very least. And with a heavy heart, he leaves.

You're unsure of what you're supposed to do; should you wait in your room, alone? Or is that a bit too- pathetic? You didn't want to use this word, but that is indeed the way you feel. You look down the dim hallway, wondering if you should take up on Mammon's suggestion. After all, he is in fact trying to help, right? And you should, eventually, step out of your shell, because it could be fun- maybe. Your legs are trembling as they lead you right outside the door of Leviathan's room, shaky fingers curl before they make contact with the cold, coated material.

"What is it?" The reply is immediate, flustering you as it sounds querulous enough to make you want to back away. Before you do, however, the door swings open, revealing an impatient looking demon- but his expression changes once he figures who's behind the door. "O-Oh, it's you. I thought it was one of my annoying brothers bothering me while I'm testing one of my new games." Say something, come on. You try to urge yourself, but the sounds just barely come out. "U-Um..." You stutter, hoping Levi doesn't shut the door in your face for taking too long to form a sentence.

"Do you... want to come in?" He offers, widening the gap between the door and it's frame as he gestures for you to enter. You thank him quietly and settle inside, the blue tint giving the room a strangely relaxing aura. "You like it? The colors?" Levi questions shyly, noticing your gaze being fixated on the decor.

It's a slightly awkward encounter to say the least, but if you already had to pick a brother to interact with while forcing yourself out of a crippling social anxiety, Levi is most likely a safe beginner's level choice as he's probably just as sheepish as you, if not more. Moreover, as soon as you start engaging with his hobbies, he does a big chunk of the talking, helping you ease into the situation and making you more comfortable around him by the minute. Perhaps Mammon knew what he was saying.

Time passes rather quickly. Engrossed in the flashing images on the screen, neither you or Levi pay attention when the door creaks open; at least not until an audible sigh is heaved, tearing your eyes away from the game the two of you bickered about. "You really are here..." Mammon breathes in relief. Was he... worried about you? No, it can't be, can it? "Not like I care! Or anything..." He quickly adds. "But I figured I'd find you in your room... waiting." Lowering his tone in the last word, he avoids your eyes.

"I was playing games with Levi!" You approach Mammon, full of glee. He offers a content smile and instinctively reaches to ruffle your hair before retracting his hand back, cheeks tinted at his sudden gesture. "Excuse me? It wasn't just games, it was THE game. Exuberant story telling with a cutthroat plot projected in the latest high definition graphics aspects, the animation is so good it feels like the characters are trying to murder us in real life!!" Leviathan intervenes, thankfully cutting through your blundering interaction with Mammon.

Later that night, Mammon finds yet another silly excuse in order to be let inside your room; sprawled on your bed, he watches as you prepare your backpack for the next day. "Did you have fun with Levi?" He blurts out, causing you to avert your gaze back to him and nod in agreement. "But not too much fun, right?" He raises an eyebrow, seating up from his previous position. "What are you talking about?" You chuckle, accompanying him on the bed as you take a seat next to him.

"Ya know I only rejected you so that you can be closer with the rest of my brothers, right? You need to be bustin' it with other demons here so that ya'll can have fun even when I'm not around. But... I mean, you can't get too comfy with them, ya feel? You're still my human, even if its burdensome to take care of ya-" He pauses, waiting for a reaction from you, but only to be met with silence on your part. "Okay... it's actually not that burdensome- or at all. I like havin' you around and I wouldn't mind if you were hangin' with me all day- but I'm doing this for you! You should show all these peeps what you got, y'know?" Mammon gently tugs on your sheets as he speaks, purposely looking away from you. He twitches at the abrupt sensation of your weight on his shoulder, glancing back at you to realize you are laying your head on him. "I know, you were looking out for me."

He grins, encircling his arm around you to pull you closer. "I'll always look out for you, human."

[balkanradfem]

Fixing pants with overly-tight waistband

So, I accidentally found some warm winter pants in a box under my bed! I was extremely happy to find them because I've been out in freezing temperatures in jeans, my legs getting red and irritated from the cold. However, these pants I found, there's something interesting about them; they've got their waistband completely cut off.

I have no memory of cutting that off, but I'm 100% sure it was me, because I know what my line of thinking was. The waistband was too tight, and the pants were high-waisted, so I thought, hey, I just need to cut off this tight part and then the pants will be wearable. And then, after I cut if off, I found out, that no, you can't just cut off the piece of pants that keeps them on your body. They slide off. So after that bold move I just abandoned them in a box. I had no confidence that I could fix them, but this has changed! I am not any better at sewing than I was back then, but my confidence is through the roof, I believe I can not only fix this but make them the most comfortable pair of pants I own.

I rummaged around to find some materials I could use for a new waistband, and I was purposefully picking materials that are very stretchy, soft and warm. I want a soft stretchy waistband! I ended up being specifically drawn to these 2 black sleeves; they're from a sweater, super warm and stretchy, and also durable. I also found an elastic that I ripped out of some sweatpants in the past because it was too tight.

I decided to make the elastic longer by adding a piece of cotton fabric in the middle, and I sewed that together, I feel like it doesn't matter if there's some normal cloth in there. It won't be visible anyway.Now, to make those sleeves into a waistband. I figured out I could do it without cutting them into pieces of fabric; they're already sewn into tubes. So instead I cut them to be the same length as my elastic, and sewed them together into one long tube (I made a mistake at first and flipped one sleeve on the wrong side. But I redid it and now they're good).

Now my long tube can hold the elastic in it! But then I decided, wait, I would prefer if I just folded those tubes into a new, doubly thicker tube, because I really want as many warm layers as possible on my hips (don't wanna get cold). So the tube is folded, and elastic is placed in.

So now I needed to sew these sleeves into a new tube, with the elastic inside, and I figured, hey, I could just sew them onto the pants at the same time, so I don't have to sew that part multiple times.

I lined up the tube with the pants, and you can see I very haphazardly just sewed them on with a normal running stitch; I was mostly doing that to try it out, and see how it would look like all put together. I then sewed the elastic together in a circle, and closed the tubes together as well. The waistband at this point was shorter in length than the cut off hem of the pants, so I was lightly scrunching the pants while sewing, to match the length, knowing once I put them on this will not be visible and even out. Then I tried them on, and while it looked okay, my running stitch came apart, and the waistband separated!

You can see here how half of the waistband is off. I was so focused on scrunching the pants I forgot to make the stitch adjusted to the stretchy fabric.

I know sewing machines have a special stitch that is used on stretchy fabric so the stitch itself is stretchy, but I never found out how to do something like that by hand, and I was at that point, in a room with no internet so I wasn't gonna find out. Instead, I invented my own little stitch that would do a good-enough job. In the second picture you can see how every few stitches, there's thread just going around the edge, that was my trick. This way, when I'm stretching the waistband, instead of the thread breaking, it will pull from these areas where I've wrapped it around, because it's a bit more loose in there and can be tightened without breaking. I've also sewn it in 4 sections, so its not one continuous thread going through the same waistband.

Once I did that, I was mostly done! Here's the pants mended and how they look on me.

I've converted them into sweatpant-like garment, which, yes, good. But! I was wrong about one thing. That elastic, even though I added some length on it, was still too tight, making me feel uncomfortable and tight. So. I opened up the waistband again. Pulled the elastic out. Stitched it back, and tried it on. And decided to keep it like that. This fix didn't need an elastic, I was just paranoid that my new waistband wouldn't hold without one – but it was stretchy and firm enough to hold without any issues! They look just the same as with the elastic in them. I've since worn them outside and they're great!

This entire fix maybe took an hour and now I have comfortable pants to wear all winter. 10/10 recommend trying it out.

Also this is not an official way how to fix a waistband, I've done it before by just adding extra fabric to the waistband that was already there, and it's a lot less work, however... this works too. If you've.. chaotically cut the whole waistband off. Completely salvageable.

[nottoofondofgaypeople]

You should make a long post about Laurance

You are so lucky I got that Vylad ask before this... Ohhh boy

Full stop, this post is probably going to be one of the longest things I post on this Nether forsaken website. Laurance has been a comfort character since I first watched this series years ago in spite of all the bull shit Jesson put him through. I have many many many thoughts on him, and none of them will be organized.

I'm fairly confident that this post will get into some very unhinged territories, I cannot be normal about this man

I feel like this should go without saying, but all of the headcanons I have dumped onto Laurance on my main blog apply to this rewrite. Including this one which you have definitely all seen, and all Shadow Knight headcanons are also canon here.

But let's talk about this rewrite specifically. Because when Laurance comes back from the Nether, and he confesses his love, the mother fucker does it! He actually gets Irena to say she at least feels something towards him! It isn't much, but she doesn't get all awkward when he says that he loves her, and she's supremely gentle with him while helping him with his recovery. This really quickly turns into romance and the two are effectively dating shortly after.

Yeah Laurance's eyes aren't magically fucking cured to perfection, that's stupid an abelist.

Actually, because I want peak recovery arc material out of this rewrite Laurance is going to get to spend a lot of time learning how to fight with this new form. His body has been pretty significantly altered from the process of undeath and also the torture. I'm so for real when I say Laurance has so many scars, just so many of them, 18 million scars all over his everything. He already had some from being a stupid fucking child, but these ones are a lot uhm... bigger.

Laurance has to adjust to the new symptoms of his body. A lot of them are slow, appearing over time. The first major thing Laurance notices is that when he stops thinking of breathing for long enough, he just stops breathing. Shadow Knights don't need to breathe, so their body doesn't naturally do it. But Laurance never fully died, so he kind of does need to breathe?? And this is just where it starts.

I think the doll symptoms start kicking in a lot slower than I initially thought of. There's still the first time that it happens, but then it doesn't happen as often. Maybe once or twice, but the next time Laurance really deals with that is during the Season 1 finale (but it isn't Garroth that knocks him out (but that's a whole post unto itself)). Going into Season 2 though, it gets worse and worse. As the Shadow King has more influence over the Overworld, the calling gets stronger and stronger.

More often than not the calling manifests as a whisper in the back of Laurance's mind, something that sends a tingle down his spine and not in a good way. His blood runs hot, and he can feel his body pulled to Irena. Like his blood is tied to her life force and constantly trying to bring her to it. And any time he's around her, that voice gets louder, starts multiplying as he fights it, all of them demanding him to kill, to do it, to free himself of the burden, to gain eternal life.

Laurance doesn't want eternal life though!! He never has!! He wants to fall in love and start a family and grow old with his partners!!

Okay so going into Laurance's childhood a bit, I've said it before and I'll say it again, Laurance is the mcd equivalent of a theater kid and yet somehow fumbled in choosing his class and ended up as a fighter instead of a bard, the goof. He picked up the Lyre when he was a teenager, mostly because his father bought one and expressed an interest in teaching Laurance how to play, and he was all over that.

He stops playing it when he goes to the guard academy cause they just don't have instruments there (which is a crime), but he does still spend a lot of time remembering songs and finger placements, mans is doing whatever he can to make sure he doesn't fall out of practice. When Laurance comes back to Meteli as an official guard he celebrates by having a party in the town and finally getting to play his beloved lyre again.

He doesn't play it as much when he's a guard, but he always tries to stay in practice. And he won't let any blindness get in the way either, his muscle memory is so on point he barely needs his eyes unless he's reading sheet music, which is usually right in front of him.

I could seriously go into a whole character analysis of comparing Laurance to Orpheus, specifically from Hadestown, like I really want to, but I'll restrain myself to just the general myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Laurance really thought he could walk into hell and defy the gods. He really thought he could just do that. And even when he was faced with punishment, when Orpheus was forced to stay in the Underworld in her place, he endured it all for her. And actually this is so funky the roles are kind of reversed. Because Irena is the one who can't turn around to look at Laurance when they're running out of hell. If she does, she will die. That is guaranteed. Eurydice has always acted in the assurance of her survival. Unlike Orpheus in the same position, she can manage to not turn her head.

Hhhhhhg Laarmau as Orpheus and Eurydice is literally everything to me you don't understand.

And yes Laurance being Orpheus coded is why I gave him a Lyre, I won't even deny that. Like, c'mon, Laurance very earnestly trying to earn Irena's affection and saying "I also play the lyre" and Irena snarking back "A liar and a player too? I've met too many men like you." I'm--

Stay focused!! This is not the Hadestown post!!

What if Laurance was like obscenely physically affectionate? Like he's so so so physical, he loves having a point of contact with someone at all times. It doesn't have to be anything big either. He just likes wrapping his arm around Garroth's shoulder, or having Irena play with his hair. It was something important before the Shadow Knight transformation, and he only needed it more as time went on. The feeling of his lovers heartbeat reminds him he's alive.

And other people touching him reminds Laurance he still has this body. In spite of all the Shadow Kings control, he has control of his own body in this moment and he is using that control to show love and care and that matters to him more than anything. He likes holding hands, putting his hands on people, having other people do the same, even the smallest amount of affection is enough for him to selfishly crave more.

Laury likes singing a lot. His voice got a little deeper after the Shadow Knight thing because his vocal chords got just a little shredded in the Nether, but he still loves singing and singing with his friends and lovers. Laurance singing some sappy love song to Garroth who is just completely smitten, or singing some silly little campfire song to boost Cadenza's mood when she's having a bad day.

THE TABLE BIT!! I simply adore the table bit!! All of it! And it's even better in my rewrite cause even if the dialogue and the scene plays out almost exactly the same, they're in love while doing this silly bit!! Such fucking dorks I want to throw them against concrete.

Thinking about Laurance and Ungrith. Laurance finding this wyvern in the forest while exploring one day and befriending it almost instantly because Laurance is just a very kind person. Even if Ungrith isn't allowed to be with his brethren, it's okay because this weird fuckin kid is really entertaining and a genuinely great friend. I know it isn't possible but a scene where Laurance, Garroth, and their wyvern childhood friends get to hang out and talk would probably fix all my problems.

Raven doesn't literally anyone but Garroth touch him, but when Irena tells him about Ungrith, he's willing to let Laurance pet his scales or whatever you do to show affection to a flying lizard. It's not the same, but it's better than nothing.

Laurance's favorite place to kiss other people is on the cheeks, but his favorite spot to be kissed is the forehead. I think that he doesn't admit this to people, rather lets them figure it out. Both Garroth and Irena figure out Laurance likes kissing their cheeks a lot, like he does it constantly, especially because Garroth has freckles and Laurance is determined to kiss every single one of them.

Garroth is the one who learns about Laurance's affinity for forehead kisses cause he's only like two inches taller than Laurance, but that difference matters a lot to both of them. And Garroth can tell very easily from the way Laurance always loves looking up at him with those big doe eyes. Once he tells Irena this, she starts asking Laurance to bend over or kneel in front of her so she can kiss his forehead very tenderly.

Because I made Garrancemau polycule real in my rewrite, Laurance's calling latched onto Irena, but man oh man, it tempts him with Garroth sometimes. He fights so hard to protect Irena partially because if she dies by someone else's hands, he knows it'll latch onto Garroth. And sometimes the calling urges him towards it anyway, considering it'll work. A calling is best answered by the death of a lord, but the death of another guard isn't always a bad thing.

Every time Laurance runs from his lovers to fight the calling he feels so cold without them. Like if he bothers to try sleeping while on his own it just feels so cold. So empty. It doesn't feel right to try to sleep without Irena in his arms and Garroth snuggled up behind him and a blanket over the three of them.

I think Laurance cries a lot. He doesn't really have hang ups about showing his emotional side until he's a shadow knight, and even after, he only tries to hide his anger. He never hides his anguish, his sadness, his absolute misery as a result of the nightmare he was forced to live through. Laurance's crying is so loud, so wretched, almost agonizing for him. It forces his entire body to shake and tremble, sobs being wrung out of him almost forcefully.

I want. him. to be okay. and happy. and I know he won't be. Aughfhhg.