#the red outline worked out tho

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Fourteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is readying herself for the ball. Hot Daddy Fin™️ opens up to her a little and shares some worrying truths (and then some). Azriel and Reader reunite, body and soul.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: Adult content, 18+, NSFW, minors dni.

Tried my best with this part but sorry if it's a bit iffy! This girlie is ill as FUCK. Still hope you enjoy, tho, loves!

“You know, I have to admit, I was dubious at first.”

Mor is knelt at your feet, and you think this might be the closest you ever come to having a goddess on her knees before you. A strange part of you wants her to snap out and sink her teeth into your thigh, leave a bright red mark on the skin — but alas, her attention is fully on the hem of your gown.

“My uncle, love him though I do, is a calculated bastard.” She pushes to her feet, straightening out the fabric. “But I think he actually enjoys your company.”

“He does.” Roza pitches in from her place on the couch. “I know Fin. Y/N has him eating out of the palm of her hand.”

Though she smiles, her tone is laced with clear concern. Not because she cares about Fin, but because she cares about you. Doesn’t want you to forget that this is the High Lord of the Night Court you’re meddling with.

“Males are vapid and predictable, every last one of them.” You shrug your tense shoulders. “Throw them a few pretty smiles and they’ll do anything for you.”

Mor steps back, a low whistle leaving her. “Forget the males. I’ll do anything for you.”

Her eyes rake over your gown. So do Roza’s. And you…you want to crawl out of your skin and hide.

You’ve never owned a beautiful gown like this, never been able to afford one. The couple of dresses you do keep amongst your clothes are plain ones that just about do for special occasions. What hangs off your body now is…a work of art.

Almost feels like sacrilege for the beautiful fabric to touch your marred skin.

It’s sheer, showing off more than you’ve ever before dared to, and yet there’s a modesty, an elegance, to the many whorls and swirls made up entirely of little blue jewels and pearls and beads. It gives the gown a weight that makes it cling to you, and it outlines a body that…that quite frankly, you’d never considered beautiful until this very moment.

A body that commands the garment, and not the other way round. That makes you feel like far more than just another mistreated, unfavoured Illyrian female that will one day be lost to history.

This gown makes you think: I do not need the wings I have spent my life longing for.

It makes you think: There is nothing more beautiful than a good spirit and soul, and I have both.

It makes you think: Never again will anyone — friend or family or foe — make you feel less than worthy. Less than deserving. Less than strong.

You have always had strength. And this dress somehow amplifies it. Will amplify it to a room full of people who will see, through that sheer fabric, your scars, your lack of wings, and they may pity you, or not pity you at all, or may even laugh.

But you will still be beautiful.

Movement has you realising that tears have blurred your eyes. You swipe them away, and Mor is smiling at you, and Roza looks like she’s a little choked up, too.

“You are so godsdamned gorgeous.” Mor says earnestly. “Every last inch of you.”

Indeed, you glance over your shoulder at the mirror behind you, your gaze immediately finding your scars sitting brutal and undeniable beneath the sheer fabric. You don’t hurriedly force your gaze away like you have done your whole life, don’t try to avoid them.

You just…look. Look at what has been a part of you for so long, now.

“…Mor?” Roza says quietly. “Can you…give Y/N and I a moment?”

“Of course.” Mor agrees. “Time for me to find a snack.”

The stunning blonde squeezes your hand as she strolls past, and as she leaves the room, the door is pulled shut behind her.

Roza rises from her seat, making her way over to you. And as she stops before you, her hands move up to cup your face.

“Did you know,” she murmurs, “that I’ve always thought you were one of the prettiest females in all of Windhaven?” A soft scoff leaves you, but before you can glance down, she’s holding your face firmly. “I mean that — even when Azriel brought you to the cottage that very first time, and you were covered in dirt and mud, your hair all knotted, a leaf or two in there — you thanked me for feeding you, and you gave me a smile that was just like…sunshine. Such a rare thing in Windhaven. I remember thinking, this girl deserves to smile like that, always.”

A single tear spills down your cheek, and Roza wipes it away. She definitely looks like she might start bawling, too — a rare thing for her.

“I know you were never given much of a chance to feel worthy.” She whispers. “Your mother abandoning you…your father taking your wings…they were the two people who were supposed to love you more than anyone, and they broke you and left you broken.”

“You put me back together.” A lump in your throat fractures your words. “You and Rhys and Azriel and Cassian. Your love—”

“My little dove, you put yourself back together. We just loved you through it. I just want you to know that…I just want you to remember, the next time you feel worthless, that you are beautiful, and you have always been beautiful. You’re strong, and spirited, and determined. You have a resolve like no other I have ever seen, and you can do anything — which is why I know you will achieve whatever it is you’re planning with Fin.”

Only then does your gaze drop. “I only wish to appeal myself to him enough that he’ll value my opinion — that this Fenlaros business cannot go ahead. But I still feel awful…he’s your mate.”

“Gods, in the loosest definition, Y/N.” Her hands move to yours, then, liking them together. “Believe me when I say that if it weren’t for my children, I’d never see that male again. I think you know that I do not hold him in high regard.”

“I do know. But I respect you and care about you more than anyone in the world. And if you feel even a shred of discomfort about what I’m doing, I’ll stop. I’ll find another way—”

“The only discomfort I feel,” she squeezes your hands gently, “is at the thought of any harm coming to you. But I’ll feel that way through everything you do in life, because I love you. I also feel awe, because you’re brave and brilliant, and you’re doing what’s right. What I will teach this little girl,” she places your hands on her swollen belly, “to do — to stand up against what is wrong, and do so without a lick of shame.”

“I’ll protect her with my life, you know — the babe. I’ll love her unconditionally.”

“And she will love you, my dove, just as I do. So,” she steps back, eyes your dress again. A smile curves her lips. “Do whatever it is you have to do, Y/N, to change Fin’s mind — you have my full support. I only ask three things of you.”

Your expression softens. Anything — you’d do anything for her. “Of course, Roz.”

“First, don’t get caught with your scheming.” She says. “And second — you may feel like murdering Fin. Gods, believe me, I get it. But please do refrain. He’s my children’s father, after all, and Rhys isn’t ready to be High Lord just yet.”

You breathe a laugh, dipping your chin. “No murder. Got it. And the third thing?”

Roza steps up to you, her fingers finding the beautiful, jewelled material that clings to you like a second skin. She smiles.

“Go to that ball,” her fierce eyes meet yours, “and show everybody there that your father didn’t take one bit of beauty away from you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You pace the length of your room. Back and forth, back and forth. You’re restless tonight.

Day after day is swept behind you like the snow that blankets the mountains. Time is a racing thing. Starfall is fast approaching, and thus, so is the ball. But you still feel as though you can’t get a good read on Fin’s thoughts.

No matter how many dinners you share with him, how many walks through the city streets you take together, the shows you watch in the Rainbow…he does not offer you the candidness with which he spoke through that very first conversation in his study. Any attempts to talk about Tathaln, about Fenlaros, are promptly diverted. He wants to talk about you — wants to know you.

It feels like the opportunity to stop this shit show in its tracks is slipping through your fingers, and you can’t grab hold of it, pull it back.

So instead of sleeping, you think, and you pace, and you—

Gods, you just want to see Azriel.

How much space, you wonder, is enough space? You have respected his needs, have kept to Velaris, given him time to confront his innermost thoughts and feelings. But you don’t know how long he needs, and right now…right now, all you want is to see him. Look into his eyes. Hear that soft, quiet voice telling you that everything will be okay.

You need to know if he’s made a decision about Fenlaros. You’ve tried not to think about it, not to dwell on the possibility that he could choose to run from his feelings over embracing them. But the longer the silence stretches on…the more you find that hole in your heart gaping, threatening to swallow you whole.

You pace more and more, up and down in time to the ticking of the clock. It’s a wonder you haven’t worn a track through the carpet. You don’t know why you’re suddenly so antsy, but perhaps if you could just talk to Az, some of your worries could be allayed—

Before your thoughts can catch up with your body, you’re tearing through the drawers in the desk, scrambling for paper, a pen. Practically throw yourself into the chair. A letter — a letter will do the trick—

But you don’t know what to write.

You stare at the blank parchment like the words will simply appear by your willing. They don’t.

A love letter? No, no, not a love letter. Just a letter to…to remind him that you are still here. That you are reason to stay in Windhaven, and you think you could be reason enough.

Azriel… you picture him as you crawl his name. His honey-golden eyes and his silken hair. The sharp bone structure that could slice through paper, the full lips. The memory of how those lips feel is fading, and you want — need — it back. Your pen pauses, hovers at the parchment, and those lips are all you can think of, the urgency with which you crave them.

Azriel, you write again, I want to see you. I need you, too—

A soft knock lands on the door, and the pen clatters against the desk where you drop it.

The clock has just timed three in the morning — the knock is an unexpected obtrusion in the dead of night. One that makes you anxious.

But a second knock comes, and you shove the parchment and pen back into the drawer, scrambling to your feet. Perhaps it’s Roza — the more the pregnancy progresses, it’s not unusual for her to wake up in the night with need for something. You hurry over and tug it open.

Fin stands on the other side, looking…unkempt. His hair is mussed, like he’s been dragging his fingers through it. The first few buttons on his shirt have been undone, and a glimpse of a fine, chiselled chest peeks out. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He looks as though he hasn’t been to bed.

He drinks in the sight of you in your nightgown, bathed in the room’s glow. He swallows. “Forgive me, I…I saw your light on. Thought you might be having trouble sleeping again.”

You incline your head. “I was.” You admit. “…And you?”

“Too much in my head to even attempt it.”

You’re not sure what to reply with, how to help. Fin watches you closely like…like he needs to. Like gazing at you brings him comfort.

You are treading a very, very dangerous path. But you shift on your feet and ask him, “Would you like to come in?”

A tiny nudge of a smile pulls one side of his mouth up. “I was actually wondering if you’d allow me to take you somewhere.”

Your eyes widen a little. The surprise isn’t for show, and it seems to please him. “Right now?”

“The City of Starlight doesn’t sleep. Ever.”

A fact you’ve learned all too well during your stay here. There’s always some sort of activity, something going on that sends a constant pulsing through the city streets. For some reason, you hadn’t imagined Fin to be a participant in the night life.

“It’s somewhere I go when I can’t sleep.” He explains, as though you’ve spoken your thoughts loud and clear. “I think you’d like it. And from one insomniac to another, I…I would be honoured to share it with you.”

How can you possibly say no to that? For all Fin is mysterious, for all he keeps his cards tightly pressed against his chest, you truly believe that he finds a strange sort of solidarity in this one affliction that burdens you both. You may have wildly different reasons for pacing your room at night — and you’re not sure he’ll ever tell you his — but when the world is too quiet and thoughts are too loud…there’s comfort in knowing that somebody else is staring down those early hours, also.

It almost makes him seem…normal.

And perhaps that’s why you offer him a dazzling smile that isn’t entirely disingenuous. “From one insomniac to another,” you say, “I’d love to come with you.

The way his eyes light up makes you wonder if you’ve played your role, appealed yourself to him, a little too well. “Then I’ll wait here while you get dressed.”

You incline your head. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He waits patiently as you change from your nightgown into warm clothes that will shield you from the freezing night air. With no indication of where you might be going, a sweater and breeches and boots seems like the safest bet. You sweep your hair out of your face and shrug the weariness from your bones. When you emerge from the room, Fin’s gaze traces you like you’ve donned an evening gown and not the thickest layers you could fine.

“I find you so very intriguing.” He comments unexpectedly, and you’re not sure what he means.

You plaster a smile on your face, all the same. “Where are we going, Lord of the Night?”

Heat stokes his hickory eyes, and he looks as though he’s actually trying to tamp down on a broad smile. “It’s a surprise.”

You hold a hand out. He takes it. “Then surprise me.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

 “Tilt your head up.” The instruction comes from close behind you. Near enough that a warm breath tickles the back of your neck. You dutifully obey. “Now, open your eyes.”

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, cautiously. What you’re met with has your next breath catching in your throat.

A dome of starlight arcs high above you. The twinkling jewels in the sky feel almost close enough to reach out and touch, and they shine brilliantly through the glass roof, an occasional transient one cartwheeling its way past in pursuit of another place.

You can only stare. Gape. Your feet move forward a couple of steps, but your face remains tilted upwards.

You were in this building only a couple of evenings before, but it had been so packed, then, so filled with music and chatter and laughter and activity, that you hadn’t noticed what sat above your head. You’d been far too enamoured with the performers, their poetic verses and fluid dances, the tragic climax that had brought you to tears.

Now, the largest theatre in Velaris’s rainbow is empty and bathed in darkness, broken only by silvery moonlight. You and Fin are the only two here. And standing on the gargantuan stage, a mass of empty, folded seats staring back at you, you have the perfect view of the night sky that gives a performance all of its own above you.

There are soft footsteps, and Fin is also stepping forward, stopping at your side. “In over nine centuries, I’ve never tired of that sight,”

You shake your head, a little dazed. You’re lost for words. “I can see why.”

“There is so much unexpected, so much chaos and burden, in being High Lord. But no matter what I may face, what choices I make, and what reactions they receive…there will always be the night sky and its stars.”

Only then do you remove your gaze from the domed glass ceiling — to drink him in and wonder how many layers deep his true heart lies. This male who is as cunning and cruel as he is handsome and charming. How many dimensions does he have that you’ve never stopped to consider?

“I know it doesn’t exactly support the imagine of a calculated High Lord who shouldn’t be crossed.” Fin says, staring had at the surface of the stage whilst a wry smile graces his lips. “Sneaking off to an empty theatre in the dead of night when sleep evades me. But I find…peace here.”

You eye the ginormous building around you, dipped in shimmering moonlight and the shadows of twinkling stars. All those empty seats, the vacant orchestra pit, the stage that has trapped so many beautiful voices and words, guided so many dances and echoed so much beautiful music. There’s a haunting loneliness to the desolation. And you can’t help wondering if…if Fin relates to that, somehow.

When you snap out of your thoughts, you find he’s moved again. Now, he sits on the very edge of the stage, legs hanging down and palms bracing him. He stares out at the rows and rows of red velvet seats, not one of them disturbed by a spectator.

You’re moving before you tell yourself to. Sitting at his side and tucking your legs beneath you. You spend a short time in still silence, but the heaviness of the High Lord’s thoughts seems to spread to every corner of the building.

“When you brought me here the other night,” you angle yourself towards him, “it was my first time in a theatre — ever. I never saw a show before.”

A very slight frown pinches Fin’s features.  He seems to consider that. “One of my flaws, Y/N, I have to admit, is that I often forget that there’s a world outside of my privilege. That people lack where I never will.” He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “Roza was right to take Rhysand to Windhaven. He’s grown with a humility that I very much do not have.”

You snort softly. “I spend a lot of time with your son, My Lord. I assure you he’s just as capable of arrogance. I’ve kicked his ass a good few times because of it.”

A quiet laugh rasps from him. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.” He pauses, and then his elbow is gently nudging you. “I told you, anyway — it’s Fin. I consider us to be friends. Don’t you?”

In some ways, you really do. Ans what a lying, using, devious little friend you are.

Especially as you scoot closer to him. And you’re softening your features and staring openly at him.

You don’t miss the way his gaze falls to your lips.

“I do.” You say, and he lifts his eyes to yours again. “And as your friend, I’d like to know what weighs so heavily on your mind tonight.”

His mile falters. And you don’t want to lose him, to let the moment slip away from you. You quickly grab his hand before he can tense up.

“I want you to talk to me…” You make your voice soft as butter, sweet as honey. “I like talking to you, Fin.”

There’s a beat. A tense one. And then his body is loosening, relaxing, his eyes becoming infinitely warmer.

His hand wraps around yours, the pad of his thumb tracing your nail. “I like talking to you, too.” He admits, and pauses again. “…War is…a great likelihood, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to go still, then, to tense up. Icy cold surprise bolts through you. That…isn’t what you were expecting.

“War?” You breathe, your mind already conjuring images of your friends on a battlefield. “With whom? When?”

“I do not know when. It could be in a year’s time; it could be in a decade. That all depends on how long it takes for humans to rise up and rally against our kind.”

“Humans?”

“There has been more and more pushback, in recent years, from humans. Humans who are enslaved by our kind and are sick of it. More and more of them are beginning to stand up against it, to protest how they’re forced to live. They’re willing to go to war over it. I don’t know when or where, but they will. In years to come, they will.”

“As they should.” You sit up straight. Perhaps it’s the wrong thing to say, but you don’t care. “They should revolt. I think it’s barbarous, the way our kind treat them. Their purpose is not to serve us. They have just as much right to live freely as we do.”

You mean it, mean it with your whole heart. You know what it’s like to be used for somebody’s personal gain, what it’s like to have freedom always lurking just out of reach. And you’ve heard about the treatment of enslaved humans. Most would rather die that live under the cruelty of their fae masters. That the practice hasn’t been outlawed utterly sickens you.

Fin says nothing for a while. His hand continues to hold yours. His eyes drink you down with a muted intensity. Like this is the first time he’s ever really taken you in.

“I agree.” He murmurs, much to your surprise. “And when war comes — and it will, and I’m preparing for it — when war comes, I will fight alongside the humans. To liberate them.”

You look at him, then — a male who has lived for almost a millennia, but doesn’t look a day over forty. Who is so universally feared, who carries a reputation for things you can’t even bear to consider. You will not fool yourself into believing that the darkness hides an inner light, or that the cruelty is a front. He is not soft and he is not kind.

But perhaps he’s not totally bad, either. That he would put himself in the firing line for the liberation of innocent humans…it has to speak somewhat to his character.

It almost makes you regret your scheming, your manipulating.

Before you can muster a response, the High Lord is leaning closer. Your body tenses as his face stops inches away from yours.

“You need not be afraid of me, Y/N.” He whispers. “I find you…magnificent. I like that you don’t filter yourself in front of me, that you’re not afraid to speak your true thoughts and feelings.  You…you are an asset. Worth so much more than you’ve ever been given credit for.”

Your gaze dips, cheeks burning at the compliment. “I don’t know about that—”

“I mean it.” His finger hooks under your chin, soothing the skin there. “Magnificent.” He repeats, and he’s leaning in closer, closer, until his lips are coasting your flushed cheek. The kiss he presses there is cold in contrast, but you have no chance to react as his mouth brushes its way to the shell of your ear and lingers there. “Absolutely brilliant. And do you know what?”

“…What?”

“After the ball is over,” his breath tickles your ear, “I’m going to bring you back here, to this stage. And those stars above our heads will watch as I strip you bare and fuck you hard enough to shake the building.”

It takes every morsel of your resolve not to start at the words. You release a shaky breath — one that makes you seem eager, responsive. It’s convincing enough that you don’t think you’d be out of place up here on this stage.

Thankfully, you don’t have to drag words from your spinning thoughts. Fin lets go, and he pulls back, rising to his feet.

“But until then,” he holds a hand out for you, “there is much to be done. Starting with you and I getting a good night’s sleep.”

You wear a mild smile as you allow him to pull you up. “A girl can dream.”

“And so can a High Lord.”

You don’t say much else to each other as he tugs you close and spirits you back to his palace. You are both pensive, and you are both tired.

But when he bids you goodnight outside your bedroom and strolls off to his own, sleep seems further away than ever. You’re thinking too much at once. Humans. War. Fin. Azriel.

You still desperately want to see Az, talk to him.

You dig back into the drawer, meaning to retrieve the letter you’d started to write.

But your hand merely knocks against wood, and the letter is gone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You’re tempted — to write another letter, or note, or…whatever. You don’t even know what became of the first, unfinished one, whether it made its way to Azriel or not.

But days pass, and you…you begin to lose your nerve a little. Perhaps it’s better to live in ignorance for as long as possible than know, either way, what Azriel is thinking. Choosing. Can’t help feeling that the more time pedals on without a word…the worse the outcome will be.

Distractions help. But tonight, it would seem, there are none. And it’s strange, because everything around you is bathed in luxury, in excellence, but you find yourself missing the stripped back simplicity of Windhaven. The crumbling cottages, the mead hall, the rough-and-tumble way of life. There’s always something happening in that harrowing place, something to keep you occupied. As you stare down an evening in a huge, mostly empty palace, you’re actually struck by your longing for it. Both Roza and Fin are busy. Mor is away. Only the mountains and the distant sounds of the city are your companions tonight.

And once again, your thoughts take you to Azriel.

You think maybe this need for him is getting out of hand. And maybe it’s just the sugar-sweet things that Fin has been speaking into your ear, the knowledge that deep down, there’s only one person you want to make such promises to you—

No. It’s not just that. Not just a pathetic influence of suggestive words. It’s a need.

You need Azriel.

Your closest friend. Your safety blanket. The male who saved you and brought you into the fold of a loving, supportive unit. You stared down awkward adolescence together, faced such trying times by each other’s sides.

And you need him.

Your heart, your body, your skin, is hot and heavy with it. Restless. Like the craving is pulling you apart from the inside.

You need to do something, anything, to occupy yourself; take a late-night stroll, read a book. Anything to stop you from staring at the ceiling and being eaten alive by the fire that scorches your veins.

You’re so desperate to get moving that you don’t bother to grab a jacket — just shove your feet into your shoes. A spring mildness has blanketed the city, anyway. You’ll be fine. You just need to move—

But you yank your bedroom door open, and Azriel is on the other side.

His beauty punches you straight in the gut.

He’s a vision, stood there in casual clothing, a note — your note — clutched in his hand. He takes in the sight of you just as hurriedly.

“What are you doing here,” you breathe.

He opens his mouth. Closes it. His eyes rove you again, and he swallows. “I got your note.” He answers. “I wanted to see you, too, and…the High Lord summoned Rhys, Cass and I here…to warn us to be on our best behaviour at the ball.”

You can’t say anything. Can’t speak. You just gawk like a godsdamned fool.

A strange concoction of a frown and a laugh comes from Az. “I…snuck away after…to come here—”

Before you even know what you’re doing, your hand is bunching in the front of Azriel’s shirt, and you’re dragging him into the room with all your strength. He looks bewildered as you shove the door shut behind him.

“Az, have you lost your mind?” You round on him. “If Fin knew you’d come to my room—”

“He isn’t here.” He cuts you off. “Cass went straight back to Windhaven, and Rhys knew I wanted to see you, so…he’s currently having quality family time with Roza and his father in the city.”

There’s a lot to unpack. But all your mind wants to zero in on is that one little sentence — Rhys knew I wanted to see you.

Pathetic, how your entire stomach flips.

“…You call him Fin?”

It takes a moment for your mind to catch up enough to understand Azriel’s question.

“We’ve been living under the same roof.” You shrug slowly. “I…guess he got tired of me using his title.”

Az stares at you, assessing. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, but you fidget under the intensity of his gaze.

“What is it?” You ask him.

“I’m worried about you. I know he’s taking you to the ball. I don’t want you playing his games.”

You purse your lips. “…That why you snuck here to my room, Az? To give me a warning—”

“I came here because you said you wanted to see me, and I want to see you, too.”

So open — for him. So straightforward that for a beat, you’re not sure how to react.

But then you’re moving, and so is he, and your bodies slam together in a tight, long-awaited embrace. Feeling his arms wrap around you is…everything. Everything you’ve missed and longed for. Everything you will ever long for. Whatever happens…Azriel is the only thing you’ll need, when all is said and done.

And that’s why you’re suddenly crying, clinging to him.

On instinct, Azriel’s arms tighten around you. He moves a hand up to cradle the back of your head, and he whispers, “Y/N…”

“Please don’t leave Windhaven.” The words choke out of you. “Please, Az, just…don’t go to Fenlaros. Please—”

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Tears and all, you do. You remain as close to him as you possibly can as you lift your head to meet his eyes.

You don’t know how you know, but you do — from that one, heavy stare, you can tell that things have changed. That he has changed. He looks like the same, stunning male that you’ve always admired, but something else sits on his face.

Emotion.

Determination.

Fire.

He opens his mouth. Takes a slow, shuddering breath that you feel through every inch of your body. And then he says, with utter clarity, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You almost break all over again. But he keeps talking, keeps sharing.

“I love you. No — I’m in love with you. I love you more than I can put into words. I want you and only you, and I’m not leaving you. The only reason I would ever walk out of that camp is if you were by my side, and we were leaving together.”

You are…weightless. Boneless. Held up only by Azriel’s arms. A tear rolls down your cheek, and you allow it to fall to the carpet.

“My handling of my feelings,” Az stares down at you, “has been one huge fuck up. I loved you long before you offer to let me practice intimacy on you. Experiencing those things with you…the things you made me feel…only brought those feelings to the surface. And instead of facing them as I should have done, I hid behind Kaeda to avoid them. But it was never about Kaeda. It was always you. It will always be you. And I’m scared, Y/N, I’m fucking terrified. But I’m done running. Done hiding.”

Silence sweeps into the room on swift wings, and you are suddenly incapable of thought, and of somehow turning it into words. Without Azriel’s voice to distract you, you’re aware of the tremors that wrack through his body. As though this is the scariest thing in the world to him, and he’s trying to hold strong against it.

It probably is.

He studies you closely. Croaks out, “Please say something.”

And perhaps it’s giving him the wrong impression entirely, but you’re stepping out of his arms and putting space between you. You just…need to gather your thoughts. To remember how to speak.

“I…” You blink. “I handled it badly, too.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“I made selfish choices. I…I acted out of jealousy because I wanted you, but you and Kaeda were…”

He shakes his head resolutely. “What I told you before was true. I never touched Kaeda like that. Even before I found out about all that Fenlaros shit, I think I knew that I wouldn’t. That I couldn’t.”

A fact that breaks your heart. Your eyes fill with tears again. “But I still did. Cass and I—”

“Cassian was there for you when I should have been, and I had no right — none — to react the way that I did. If anyone did anything wrong that night, it was me. But what you and Cass did…it does not matter. Not one bit.”

You’re pivoting on the spot, turning your back to him, before you can crumble entirely. He really means it. Really does not hate you for the choice you made, even though it hurt him.

“Y/N,” Az’s voice shakes behind you. “Please…look at me.”

Now you’re confronted with the situation, part of you wants to run — to hide.

But Az is being open. Honest. No matter how hard, how terrifying it is for him…he’s here. He’s trying.

And so you’ll try, too. And you think you might be shaking just as much as he is as you turn back to him.

The two of you stare at each other. Feel the situation out with your gazes alone.

Azriel is the one to break the extended silence.

“You said you need me.” He eyes you. He’s visibly trembling all over, and it has nothing to do with the chill in the room. Trembling like he’s trying to hold himself together against the weight of the situation.

“…Yes.” You swallow. “I do, Az…I think I’ve always needed you.”

“So show me.”

You pause. Blink, your eyes blown wide. “What?”

“Show me how you need me.” He steps closer, and though he’s shaking, he outreaches a hand and find yours. “Show me how to give you what you need.”

Your fingers brush his, and you’re forcing a lump down your throat. Drinking him in. He…he’s exquisite. “You mean…”

“I mean,” the gap is closed between your bodies, and his heat is reaching you, “I don’t want to practice. I want it all…everything…with you. I want you to take me. Only you—”

You’re surging forward with so much pent-up need that when your lips collide with Azriel’s, it almost knocks you both to the floor.

But Azriel’s arms are banding around you, and he’s a pillar against you, kissing you back with just as much heat.

You don’t know which of you makes what move. Your hands are all over him, and his are all over you, and he’s walking you backwards and groaning as the kiss deepens.

You find the hem of his tunic, dip your hands under, fingertips skating warm skin that shudders beneath your touch. “Can I take this off?” You murmur, and he swallows your words greedily.

“All of it — take it all.”

And so you do. There is no method to it. You’re a woman starved and crazed as you tear at his clothing, not caring about where it ends up, so long as it’s no longer on him. More and more tan skin is exposed, more muscles, more scars. And when he kicks out of his boots and breeches and his underwear is the only remaining barrier, you’re reaching for him, for the hardness that’s pushing through the dark grey fabric and taunting you.

But Azriel reaches out an arm to gently stop you. His hand brushes your cheek, and his eyes are pure hunger as he says, “Your turn.”

And it hits you just then that up in until this point, Azriel has never seen you naked — in this capacity, anyway. There have been plenty of non-sexual circumstances over the years in which you’ve gotten a glimpse of each other, but not like this. Even when he began practicing on you, you never took your clothes off.

And you’re fucking nervous. Even more so under the press of his gaze. He looks like he may combust as you slowly move your hands to your shirt and tug the front laces loose. You pull the hem out from where it was tucked into your breeches.

The fabric parts enough that it more or less slides off you and pools on the floor. You do not meet the heavy stare that watches you so closely. You may lose your nerve if you do.

But when the last few items of clothing are off and kicked away from you, and you’re left entirely bare, you hear a sharp intake of breath. Curiosity gets the better of you. You lift your gaze and resist the urge to fold your arms over your chest.

Azriel is staring at you like…like nobody ever has before.

Like you are the rare rays of sunlight that break through the grey landscape of Windhaven. Like the world around you was forged from your own two hands.

Like you’re beautiful, and worthy, and unruined.

“…What is it?” You clear your throat, shifting on the spot.

Azriel shakes out of a daze and takes a single step closer to you. “You are…” His throat bobs, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You almost laugh. Almost. But something stops you.

The sincerity in his tone, his eyes. The realisation that he truly means that.

Your eyes travel from his face, down his sculpted chest and stomach. The firm, toned legs and what sits beneath him. You’ve seen plenty of his body naked. But…not all at once.

You think the air might be punched from your lungs.

He’s hard as a rock — from looking at you. The tip of his cock is already leaking moisture. His wings flare proudly at his back.

“So beautiful.” He cups your jaw, guiding your eyes back up to his.

There’s nothing else you can say, in that moment, than the words that tumble from your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Emotion crosses his face, and both hands are gripping your cheeks. He kisses you deeply; so deeply that it steals your breath.

And then he pulls away, and he’s repeating his earlier words, his forehead pressed to yours. “Show me — show me what you need. No games, just…you and me.”

No games, indeed. You cannot wait any longer.

You rise on the tips of your toes and claim his mouth with yours, and you’re guiding him back, back, until his legs are hitting the bed and he’s gladly falling onto it. He sprawls out, watching as you climb over him. As your hand caresses his stomach and moves down.

And when your fingertips brush the head of his cock, a deep, delicious noises rumbles in his throat.

You mop the moisture up with your palm, using it to slick the length of him and slide your hand up and down. He hisses between his teeth, hips jerking, hands bunching within the covers on your bed.

“No games,” he repeats through gritted teeth. “This is about both of us.”

And you know that, and you’re not patient enough, anyway, for foreplay right now.

It dawns on you that there will plenty of time for that.

He is not leaving Windhaven — not leaving you.

You will have experiences together beyond this one night.

And with that very fact warming your heart and making it set to burst, you place your legs either side of his body and stare down at him. His cock brushes against your centre, and he can feel how wet you already are for him. His eyes travel down.

You watch, and you ask him, quietly, “You’re sure about this?”

His gaze flicks up immediately. “I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.” He reaches out a trembling hand and brushes a strand of hair out of your face. “That doesn’t mean I’m not nervous — gods, I really fucking am. So scared. I just…want to do it right. To be good for you.”

The sentiment almost brings tears to your eyes. “You couldn’t do it wrong if you tried, Az. Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.” He sits up a little — angles himself closer to you. “And I love you with my whole heart, too.”

And that’s all either of you need, isn’t it? Love and trust. The need that exits between you. Everything that is just…yours and Azriel’s relationship in its entirety.

Your eyes remain locked with his as you gently reach down and position his cock at your entrance. He breathes shakily. Doesn’t look away from you once.

Not as you slide down onto him just a little. You pause at the first feel of your walls stretching to accommodate him. A pleasured frown furrows his brow. A moment passes, two, and then you slide down further.

More and more. Sinking onto him. Pausing. Adjusting. With every inch of his huge length that disappears inside you, you feel like every one of your nerve endings is struck by lightning. Azriel’s head lolls back, and he makes a soft noise.

“You’re okay?” You check, hovering over him.

“You feel—” He chokes on his words. “Fuck.”

It’s the encouragement you need to sink the rest of the way onto him. The last few inches slide into you quick, thanks to the slickness that soaks your folds, and then he’s pushed into the hilt and hitting a spot so deep inside you that you can’t stifle the noise that breaks from your throat.

“Did I hurt you?” Azriel gasps, and you can only shake your head. He seems to study your face for confirmation, before he’s pushing up to kiss you.

And you kiss him back. For a moment, that’s all either of you do.

But when he’s losing himself in your mouth, his tongue dancing around yours, seemingly distracted by your kiss…only then do you lift your hips and sink down onto him again. And then you’re falling into a slow, steady rhythm.

Azriel is gasping again, his mouth moving from yours to press kisses to your jaw, your neck, your collarbones — your breasts. As you rock slowly against him, the walls of your pussy squeezing him, coaxing him, he buries his face into your chest and explores you, lips and tongue paying attention to your nipples, teeth grazing with a gentleness that’s almost heartbreaking.

“So beautiful.” He whispers, and the hands that are sitting on your hips travel up your back — up to the scars that live in the place of your stolen wings. “Gods, Y/N, you’re everything.”

You moan, rocking harder on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You just…want to hold him to you, to feel him against you. It’s like it all comes crashing down on you that he very easily could have left.

But he didn’t. He won’t. He is here and so are you. He is yours and you are his.

“Talk to me,” you breathe, raking your nails down his arms. “Tell me how you feel.”

“So good — feels so good with you wrapped around me.”

“Yeah?” You lean down, brush a kiss to his lips. “You like being inside me?”

“There is — fuck — there is no one, Y/N, that I want to do this with, besides you.” His mouth slants over yours, and he whispers two words — take me — before he’s giving himself to your kiss.

He’s so big, so deep. And the blood in your veins feels like molten lava as the pace picks up, as his trembling begins to subside, and he grows more confident. His groans are loud, and his hands roam over your body before finally landing on your hips. Fingertips dig into your flesh with a dizzying bite, and he’s rocking you, encouraging you to take him. To fuck him.

This is not practice. This is two bolts of lighting striking in the same place. The friction between your bodies is perfect, like nothing else you’ve ever felt. The pleasure may just finish you yet. It’s electric. Addictive. You want to feel like this forever, with him.

And more pleasure floods you as in one swift move, he flips you over — takes you entirely by surprise. You’re landing on your back, and he’s hovering over you. He stills as he stares down at you.

“This is perfect.” He says, dipping down to kiss you again. It makes him move inside you suddenly, and the different angle has you both gasping into each other’s mouths. “Gods.”

“Fuck me, Az.” You moan. “Just like that.”

What starts out slow quickly builds in pace. The roll of Azriel’s hips become thrusts — and the moans, the cries, the words that leave you, all guide them to be deeper, harder. You think you could stay like this forever, with him buried inside of you, wringing pleasure from every corner of your body. It snakes through your veins and zips up your spine, and when his hand travels down and his fingers find your clit, you fucking explode.

You cry out, bucking up from the bed as your orgasm hits you full force. Azriel fucks you through it, and his groans are growing louder, more desperate, as the walls of your cunt clench around him. He breathes out a fractured, desperate noise, leaning down to brush his lips over yours as he fucks into you harder.

“I can’t last much longer.” He chokes around his pleasure, pressing quick, nipping kisses to your mouth. “I can’t—”

“Come for me.” You gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “Come inside me.”

The noise that your words coax from him is downright sinful. He grabs your hips in his hands, slants his mouth over yours. He slams into you again, again, again, and then he’s roaring his pleasure with enough force to shake the bed, and you feel every rope of come that he spills into you.

You’re trembling. Or maybe that’s him. Or both of you. Both slick with sweat, and both shaking, and both unable to hold yourselves up any longer.

Azriel collapses beside you, his body still tangled with yours. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his heavy breaths heating your skin. You sink a trembling hand into the strands of his hair.

“That was—” His voice hitches, “I can’t…can’t put it into words.”

Neither can you. It’s all you can do to nod as you catch your breath.

“Thank you.” A kiss is pressed against your neck. Another. Az’s arm drapes over your chest, and he moves his mouth to yours. “Thank you.”

Still void of words, you settle on kissing him. Deep. Slow. Unhurried. Your hand cups his cheek, and your tongue strokes into his mouth. Lays out a litany of sentiments that you’re currently incapable of verbalising.

It feels like you kiss each other forever. But then you’re pulling back, pressing your foreheads together. And you stare into Azriel’s eyes as you tell him once again, “I love you.”

Emotion floods his eyes, and he holds you as close to him as he possible can, murmuring onto your mouth, “I love you, too. I think I always have.”

You know you always have. You tuck yourself into his side, content to feel his skin against yours. The rest of the world floats away. There is nothing and no one but you and him. Your Azriel.

Your eyes are growing heavy when he brushes his lips against your forehead, and he whispers the words you’ve needed to hear for so, so long.

“Whatever happens, Y/N,” another kiss joins the first, “you and I will face it together.”

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[sstargirln]

bunny

fratboy!rafe x fem!reader

TW: smut MDNI, p in v, oral (m recieving), finger(s) in v, alcohol, weed, kinda age gap, non-con/dubcon (at first!), not proof-read

word count: 1540 words

¡! ❞ a/n: bro this is long sorry and it's actually lowk really filthy .... have fun tho!

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your white flip-flops click!ed against the marble floor as you made your way out of your room and down the stairs to the backyard of your sorority house.

as a freshman at the first party delta eta was hosting for the year, you had been instructed to dress up and look pretty for when the frat boys arrived.

"first impressions are really important," one of the sophomore girls had told you, "you need to look really good so you earn a reputation for being pretty."

you had taken the advice to heart, taking hours to perfect your look. your flawlessly curled hair lay neatly across your shoulders, complete with a little bow clipped onto the side. your pink bikini was one of the most revealing ones you owned, with a top that barely contained your tits. you wore a sheer white skirt over the thong bottom.

just as you made your way through the foyer, the doorbell rang. through the blurry panes of glass on either side of the door, you could see the outlines of a big group of guys standing outside. nervously, you looked around the foyer for someone else to open the door, but the room was empty - all of the girls were outside setting up the backyard. you totter over to the door, taking a deep breath as you swing it open.

at the front of this throng of people stood a tall brunette guy, black polo unbuttoned so the collar hung loosely around his neck. he looked exactly like every frat boy you had ever pictured - hat placed backwards on his head, crooked smirk plastered across his face, and a six-pack of beer dangling from his hands. "hey gorgeous," he said, eyes slowly raking over your figure as he stood in the doorway. "you gonna let us in?"

✮✮✮

the party was at full swing now, and the smell of weed, beer, and cologne filled the air as you stumbled through the backyard. you sat down at one of the tables. as you tried to compose yourself, a guy sat right next to you, hand immediately travelling to your bare thigh. "hey there," said a familiar voice. you looked up at the man and smiled. it was the one from the door, though his shirt was nowhere to be found. a joint swayed between his fingers, clearly the reason why his eyes were low and red. he saw you look down at it and smiled lazily. "want a hit?"

"i'm good," you responded. "thanks though." the guy nodded and brought the joint up to his lips, taking a long inhale and then a long exhale.

"i'm rafe," he said as his fingers began to rub circles on your thigh.

you hummed in response to the motion. "y/n."

"beautiful name. you a junior?" rafe asked, taking another long drag of his joint.

you shook your head slightly. " 'm a freshman."

rafe's eyebrows lifted in surprise and he let out a low whistle. "shittt. you're just a baby, huh?"

"i guess so."

rafe's low eyes bore into you, hand travelling higher and higher up your thigh. "well then y/n, lemme show you how we do things around here," he whispered, hiking your sheer skirt up and slipping his hand up your bikini bottoms. you let out a yelp of surprise and glanced around the yard. no one was really paying attention to the two of you, but that didn't seem to matter to rafe as he eased two fingers into you. you squealed again, hand reaching up to grab rafes wrist. "want me to stop, bunny?" he cooed, fingers beginning to pump in and out of you. you shook your head quickly, eyes closing as pleasure overtook you. rafes expert fingers continued to work inside of you, and you bit back a moan as he hit your sweet spot over and over again. just as you felt as if you were about to release all over his hand, he pulled his fingers out, making you buck your hips and shiver with need.

"rafe," you exhaled. "what the fuck."

"shhh," he said as you looked up at him with desperate eyes. "d'you have a room here?"

you nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. you snaked your way through the people in the yard, guiding him into the foyer and up the stairs. when you finally reached your room, rafe grabbed you by the waist and kissed you hard. "fuck, rafe," you groaned as he planted kisses down your neck, biting and sucking as he got lower. he pushed your against one of the posts on your bed, mouth reaching your breasts. his hands roamed back down to your bottoms and he pulled them off with a crooked finger. you reciprocated the action, unbuckling his shorts and letting them drop to the floor. rafe looked up at you hungrily, lips still roaming over your chest.

"lay down, bunny," he rasped. as you dropped onto the bed, rafe came tumbling down with you, knee pressed in between your thighs. he ripped off your bikini top next, discarding it next to you. he locked his lips onto your nipple, tongue swirling and hand cupping your other breast. you shuddered as you began to get more and more stimulated, and you brought a hand down to your clit to satisfy yourself. "wait," rafe growled, using his free hand to grab your hands and pin them against the bed. he continued to nip and lick at your tits, dick straining against his boxers. finally, he was finished with your chest and he pulled off his boxers with one hand, letting his rock-hard cock spring up and out.

your eyes widened at the sight of it and you locked eyes with rafe's darkened ones, licking your lips. you wriggled out of his grip on your hands and pushed him against the bed. you immediately locked your lips around the head, making rafe grunt in surprise. you bobbed your head on his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip each time you made contact with it. rafe began to groan, panting heavily as you sucked him off sloppily. you looked up at him through your lashes and brought your hands up to grip the base, moving your palm at the same rhythm as your mouth. after a while of this slick movement on his cock, rafe threw his head back with a loud moan. "shit, y/n, 'm gonna cum. holy fucking shit, bunny, keep going," rafe panted, rocking his hips so his dick went farther and farther into your throat. "fuck. fuckkk, y/n." rafe moaned as he released himself into your beautiful mouth. you swallowed hard, taking every bit of his semen down your throat and gasping as you pulled your mouth off of him with a pop!

"bunny," he said, almost incoherently. "hop on top." your eyebrows furrowed as rafe's hands lifted you and sat you on his legs. he used his hand to jerk his now-soft dick a little, watching as it rose back up, all ready to go again. you gazed at him, a little confused, until you realised exactly what he wanted you to do. you spat on his dick, rubbing it all over in preparation for what you were about to do. you hoisted yourself over his cock, sinking onto it with a low moan. it was so big, so big that you didn't think it would go all the way in. you pushed down anyway and watched it disappear into you. you whimpered just from this feeling; how nicely his cock filled you up. rafe felt it too, and he groaned, grinding his hips into you. slowly, you began to lift your body to move on his dick.

up and down, up and down, until it felt so good it was mechanical, until you could barely think - your brain short-circuiting from his size inside you. your breasts bounced as you did, giving rafe a beautiful view. "ohmygod, rafe," you cried out, eyes closed, hands roaming over his abs, searching for a place to grip onto as you practically jumped on his dick.

"that's it, bunny," he husked. "keep on going, c'mon. almost there."

you felt your orgasm begin to unravel, and you announced it, loud. "fuckk rafe, i'm gonna cum! ohmygod," you screamed. it felt as if the earth had stopped spinning when you finally did, and your head exploded into pleasure, your body going limp on rafe's dick. you shuddered as rafe continued pounding into you, hands gripping your thighs to keep the warmth around his cock. finally, he came too, letting his cum erupt inside you (he silently prayed you were on the pill). you were so overwhelmed, so overstimulated, that when rafe pulled out you whimpered loudly, unable to take the fact that you were so empty in comparison to how full you had been minutes ago. rafe pressed a kiss on your hand as he moved you to lay down next to him. his hat still lay backwards on his head, and he adjusted it as he turned to face you. "good job, y/n," he purred, grabbing your face and kissing you. "you did so so good, bunny."

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¡! ❞ © niya-writesshit 2024

[meat-fr]

Color Guide for matching Festival Genes + Primal Eyes

Now i want to say this is not meant to be some definitive guide. These are just my attempts at matching colors as closely as i could find with what's available on the color wheel currently. Some of which were quite tricky to find a good match for (or is maybe not even the best use for the gene, looking at you Crystalline...). Will list the colors used for the scries above, but I'll also have some notes for some other similar matches or other color ideas. Overall, this was just a fun little project to work on as the genes released, and maybe some will find some use from it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Light: Sanddollar (Flaxen is a very close 2nd, if you want a very slight warmer color. Banana could also pass, but i find it a little too dark compared to the eyes)

Lightning: Robin (This one's tricky since the color IS the lightning rather than the outline, but Robin is bright enough to give the illusion of being white with a matching blue outline. Aqua is a close 2nd, but again is a little to dark in comparison)

Fire: Sunshine (Saffron if you want darker, more orange fire. Marigold if you want a lighter, more yellow fire. Sunshine is the middle ground of these two. All 3 of these match very closely, so up to your personal preference here)

Arcane: Bubblegum (Matching to the little runes. If you want to match to the eyes themselves, Orchid is the closest match without being too dark in color)

Plague: Vermilion (Berry if you want something less egregiously bright. But i do think Vermilion is technically a closer color match, tho both are very close. If you want a color flipped match, Chartreuse matches the colors pretty well, or Crocodile is you want a similar pallet but less bright (and also has a slight bit more red to it's accents). Bonus color: while it doesn't really match the eyes, Red has a very good Plague-y vibe, if you're a fan of the red+green aesthetic)

Earth: Pumpkin (This one has been the most difficult one to match with all the colors going on with both the eyes and genes. But it leads to a bunch of potential options that just kinda almost match. Ultimately tho there's not really a perfect match for these, just go by your own preference. Ginger matches close for a solid color match. For multi-toned picks, some other good options are Caramel, Peach, Ivory, Seafoam, and Cream. Sadly there's not really any colors that adds more pink secondary tones. (also as an added bonus for these: if you want to match with the geode currency used for the festival: teal, ultramarine, and splash are some good picks)

Ice: Eggplant (Indigo if you want just a very slight more saturation, but ultimately the two are nearly indistinguishable from each other. if you want some really dark blue ice in the same hue, Sapphire works well. If you want a lighter ice color: Sky, Periwinkle, Twilight, and Storm are the closest without going just full on white)

Shadow: Grape (Royal or Violet for a more subdued color, tho i find them a little too bright. The strong highlights on this gene make it tricky to match perfectly, especially when we don't have many darker purples as is. But at the same time, you really can't go too wrong with most of the purple range with this gene, it's just a matter of preference)

Wind: Peridot (Not much to say about this one. This color is incredibly spot on. I guess, if you want something a little darker, Pear matches the darker tips of the eyes)

Water: Cornflower (The whole Lapis-to-Sky range works here, for varying degrees of saturation and brightness, but i think overall Cornflower has the best balance out of all of them? (it looks the closest on adult dragons at least). Idk, this one's really tricky too xP And i am once again painfully reminded that we don't really have any good super vibrant colors in the sky blue range T___T All the closest colors are either too green or too faded. Also as a bonus option: If you want a foamy look, Ice and Pistachio work really well for this)

Nature: Orca (I initially thought Peridot would win this one, but then Orca came out of nowhere. Peridot's still another good option tho, the flowers are just a little more on the green side than the ones on the eyes (but they do match with the actual 'eye' part of the eyes). Also for a bonus color, Pearl also looks really nice paired with nature eyes, even tho it does have a lot of purple in the vines. the leaves and flowers still match really well. And as far as i can find, there's not really a good way to match the vines to the vines of the eyes, since that parts seems to stick to darker colors and browns)

[bredstick]

Artist! Male reader x Architect! Kaveh

You draw Kaveh as one of your frienchgirls~

NSFW! SoftDom!Kaveh x Sub!Reader

During these 3 months of dating Kaveh, he has already grown accustomed to you asking him if he could pose for you, show you his pretty delicate hands, and in general his face. He was your official muse.

But he wasn't thinking ahead of time, what else you'd like him to show you to fulfill your, specifically said, anatomy knowledge.

When you came to Kaveh's place stressed from work, all you wanted to do is lay in your lover's arms all night. But you also wanted to ask the big question that you weren't sure when the right time would be for it, but you were impatient. "Would you please undress for me?" sounds a bit perverted, while even telling him about you wanting to draw his body makes you quite concerned that he'd be creeped out by the idea. But you were ready to risk it all, Kaveh is understanding and it wouldn't be a problem, would it?

When you made up your mind, you opened the bedroom door and upon seeing those bright red eyes, there was no way nervousness wouldn't crawl through your body. You felt sweat forming in your clutched fist, your throat closing up as Kaveh looked at you with a gentle smile, happy you came to visit him. You see, he gave you another spare key so you can come to his place freely- it took a while to convince Al Haitham to trust you with the access to their home though.

You slowly walked over to him, trying to hide your nervousness by smiling back, sitting down on his bed and letting out a big sigh. Kaveh looked at you intently, sitting at his desk with many architectural blueprints, leaning back against his chair. "How are you? There seems to be something troubling you." He says in a soft tone, fiddling with his fingers.

"Ah, it's nothing! It's just been a very tiring day for me so far.." you look away, a slight blush coating your cheeks. You were always easy to read, Kaveh thought. Deciding to know more about the true intention of your actions, he stood up from his desk and stood right infront of you, his hands on his waist.

You look up at him, feeling even more nervous by the proximity of your bodies, unable to speak at all. The most you did with Kaveh in these past couple of months was hold hands and kiss, but nothing else other than supporting eachother's lives. You weren't sure how to take a more intimate approach.

"Tell me, it can't be that bad. I hope you're not keeping anything from me!" he says, slightly pouting while looking down at you. You looked down again, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, as you mumble out your question; "Can... can you help me out with anatomy practice...?" your voice was shaky as you spoke, looking at his feet. There was a moment of silence engulfing the room, making it seem like he hasn't said a word in hours until he softly spoke up;

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? I'll always help you with your practices, no matter how embarrassing the pose may be," he chuckled lightly, looking down at you with a slight blush on his cheeks. He kneeled down, looking into your eyes as he mumbled; "Just tell me what to do. If you need any part of my clothing removed, I'll do it." Kaveh was always the one who was passionate about art, why were you even nervous?

Your stomach has never had this many butterflies floating around, looking into his eyes excitingly as you gripped your sketchbook on the bed, smiling up at him as you opened up your sketchbook.

-

Kaveh is now sprawled against his white silk bedsheets, almost naked if it weren't for his boxers. He looked like sleeping beauty, his little stretchmarks across his hips glowing and his soft pecs and milky toned skin, not to mention his soft pinkish nipples begging to be touched, all on display for you and you only to draw every curve and outline of his body. Your mind was racing, looking at every inch of his body, praying to god that you can imprint it into your brain forever.

"Tell me when you're done, I've thought about a pose you might like." he told you while fiddling with his boxer strap. You were too busy drawing to realise how innapropriate that sounds, humming in concentration, sitting on the bed next to him.

When you were done, you looked up at him with a smile, turning your aketchbook around to show the drawing you were very much proud of- your innocent smile dropped when you locked eyes with his- his pupils blown wide as he looked at you, biting his lip anxiously.

Your heart started beating faster, immediately realising why he was looking at you like that. Your stomach was doing backflips, trying to control yourself. "...Why aren't you saying anything?" you mumble, blush spreading across your cheeks by the sudden silence.

Kaveh sat up close to you, kooking at the drawing closely. He blushes a deep shade of red, observing every pencil stroke carefully. "You're an excellent artist, the details are perfect- and you did it in such short time!! How long has it been? Twenty minutes??" I guess he snapped out of his previous mood, you thought, as you smiled at him thanking him for the compliments.

Suddenly he took your sketchbook out of your hands, carefully putting it on his nightstand. As your face contorted into confusion, he kissed you softly.

As you were opening your mouth in protest of you not processing it at all, he quickly shoved his tongue down your throat. The sounds of heavy breaths and soft moans filled his bedroom, as he slowly pushed you down, hovering over you, not breaking the heated kiss.

Once you fully processed the situation, heat started to spread across your body, knowing what Kaveh wants. This is the first time you'll do it together. It makes you a bit nervous, but you trust him.

As you two break the kiss for some air, he looks at you softly, holding your hand as he whispers; "Do you want to... take the next step? Tell me,.." he waited in anticipation, seeing you nod loosely, "Say it please, I want you to be completely sure." "Yes," you said quickly, the nervousness taking over you yet again.

-

Your loud moans were heard all across his room, biting your hand to shut yourself up as every part of your body was flushed in embarrassment, your legs spread wide open with Kaveh inbetween them, fingering you skillfully.

"You're taking 2 of my fingers so well dear," he looked down at your face, gripping one of your thighs, "Can you take three for me darling?" he says slowly, your dick twitching at his words, Kaveh rubbing your tip in a circular motion. You were so immersed in the pleasure that all you could do was say a couple of words mushed up together- he slowly added another finger, causing you to whimper softly, feeling more needy every dying second of the experience. At this point you didn't care how needy you sound, so all you were mumbling about was you needing him inside of you. Kaveh found this quite adorable, looking down at you with a smirk and kissing your neck, suddenly biting down and stroking your cock quicker.

"Puh-please!! Please- hnn.." you muffled out nonsense as a big wave of pleasure danced across your body, pulling Kaveh closer by hugging his hips with your legs, making his obvious erection rub against your ass as he whimpered slightly.

As he finally put it in, he waited for a moment waiting for your plea to start moving- eventually bottoming out and gripping your hips tightly. He kept thrusting fast then slow, trying to find a good rhythm- which you weren't even focused on. You were focused on his chest, going up and down as his pretty and soft looking nipples were encouraging you to touch them- to make them swollen.

Kaveh let out a loud gasp as he picked up his pace, your mouth working wonders on his left nipple and fondling with the other, occasionally letting out whimpers and moans yourself. This is heaven, you thought, arching your back and making him hit your prostate several times as you release his nipple- he hugs you tightly, burying his face into your neck letting out high pitched whines as his hips started to lose their pace, signalling that his orgasm is near.

You grip his blonde locks as tears start forming in your eyes, whining his name repeatedly as both of you came undone at the same time, your breaths rigid as he was still buried inside of you and holding you tight, not letting you go.

He props himself up on his elbows, looking at you with pure adoration;

"You're so incredibly divine," he exclaims, and starts thrusting into you again as you take a sharp breath from the overstimulation, gripping his forearms in protest. "I-I wanna ride you please- I wanna draw you from underneath me," you breathed out, making Kaveh slightly flustered as he pulled out of you, allowing you to go on top.

The whole night consisted of both of you trying out different positions, while you got the best anatomy practice drawings you'll ever need- maybe they can be used for the time your boyfriend is on a long trip away from you~

[dozenssporks]

if Vash worked in an office he's be so very against hustle culture, always shooing people away from their desks to get lunch, going up against management about ridiculous overtime demands, making sure scheduled vacation days are not cancelled last minute by the boss, weekends are sacred, and deadlines aren't impossible . . .

. . . before turning right around and working ten days on and doing overnights to meet deadlines so the rest of his team can go home and sleep and live their lives. Some days he's running on red bull but no one notices because he's always Like That

his coworkers catch on tho and deploy countermeasures. By that I mean they have a list of phone numbers to call based on urgency.

#1 is most useful when vash is planning to stay late or overnight. It summons a priest, of all things, who grabs vash by the collar while saying something along the lines of, 'c'mon spiky we're grabbing a beer'.

#2 Is for when vash has been working ten or more consecutive days without a break. It brings forth a tiny woman towering with righteous anger who lectures vash until he slithers out of his chair and follows her obediently to the exit whilst she outlines plans for a light walk to improve blood circulation and afterward drinking the sleepy-time tea milly sent with her

#3 is for only the most urgent situations when vash has worked so many overnights that his blood is 90% energy drinks, the tiny woman is out of town, and there are an uncountable number of empty doughnut boxes around his desk. This number summons vash's 'evil twin brother' who marches in, hits the power button on vash's computer, smacks him across the back of the head, forcibly picks him up and slings him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, giving the entire office the evil eye as he leaves. 'if they happens again,' he warns, 'I'm burning this whole place to the ground'.

[saintodo]

thots: clubbing with maki

♡ note: wrote this with my meat in my hand ... this isn't even that ns/fw tho

♡ pairing: zenin maki x gn reader

♡ word count: .6k

♡ tags: alcohol consumption, unclear relationship between maki and the reader (could be friends, could be something more) but they're not exclusive, maki and reader both like girls, build up / lead up to sex, lmk if i should tag anything else

oh now im thinking of going to the club with maki…

first thing you guys like to do when you get to the club is make a beeline for the bar. you both like to pregame a good amount beforehand, but it’s nice to sip on something throughout the night to keep the buzz going. maki likes something that actually tastes like liquor while you prefer something a little more on the sweeter side so it masks the taste of the alcohol. she pulls a face when you playfully offer her taste of your drink, full well knowing she hates how sweet your drinks typically are. you shrug, telling her to “suit herself” before taking a quick sip and dragging her towards the dance floor with your free hand.

maki follows you easily as you pull her to the outskirts of the crowd, bumping to the beat as you go. once you’re satisfied with where you are, you turn towards her, wrapping an arm around her neck as she places a hand on your hip. you make small comments here and there about the club between sips of your drink. it’s a struggle to make yourself heard over the loud music, but maki cranes her neck, nearly pressing her ear against your lips to listen to whatever you’re saying. she can’t hear much, but she nods along anyways.

when you mention that there’s a cute girl in your line of sight, maki perks up, skillfully turning you two so she can get a look at the person you’re talking about. her eyes scan the crowd, trying to pinpoint the person you’ve described for her. maki finally finds the girl you’re talking about - she’s dancing in the thick of the crowd with what looks like a group of her friends. maki leans in to murmur her agreement that “she is cute,” eyes appraising the girl in the crowd.

you pull back a bit, and maki easily recognizes the familiar gleam in your eyes - terribly excited and almost bordering on predatory. your smile is a little sharp around the edges when you suggest that you should move closer. maki shrugs and says “sure,” but she knows that your expression is probably reflected on her own.

you move your arm from the back of her neck to take her hand in yours as you begin to weave through the throng of people in the club. maki presses herself close to you, tossing glares at people who bump into you a little too roughly for her liking. it goes unnoticed by you, who offers apologies as you make your way closer to the pretty little thing you spotted earlier.

you turn towards maki again, slinging your arm around the back of her neck and pressing yourself closer to her than before. you start swaying your hips along to the music, in a way that even maki finds captivating. she knows this routine well enough to know that you want to put on a show, and she follows along. maki slips her hand into your back pocket, enjoying your little yelp when she gives your ass a quick squeeze, and draws you even nearer, to the point where you can feel the outline of harness she has on. the dildo that attaches itself to it sits snug in your shoulder bag, just waiting to be used.

when maki glances over your shoulder to look out at the crowd, she grins to herself. it looks like the little show you both put on worked because the cute girl you spotted earlier has her eyes glued to the point where your and maki’s lower halves are rubbing against each other. the girl finally lifts her head to meet maki’s gaze, looking startled and totally taken aback at being caught red-handed.

maki simply motions the girl over with a tilt of her head, and when the girl shyly makes her way over, maki knows that you both have trapped your prey for this evening.

[snarky-art]

Worst couple you know

Figuring out some Eraklyon stuff rn

Info on some fashion and cultural notes as well as general outline for where Eraklyon is situationally at the start of my rewrite:)

Tl;dr tho: it’s a hellscape lol

Traditionally feminine clothes have rounder gems.

Traditionally masculine clothes have more angular cut gems.

Red is the color of power so the Emperor must always wear it.

Asymmetry is big in style right now and so are pearls. Jewel and pastel tones are the norm for high fashion and the wealthy with most of the nobility sticking only to jewel tones.

The orange gem present in Erendor’s crown and outfit is their most common jewel on their planet.

Lots of golden and coppery color ores and unique rock types there.

The green gem is cut into an octagon to represent the entire Magical Realm, green for the concept of life energy of other beings. Only the Emperor and next in line for the throne may wear green gems in that cut.

The orange color from their gem is claimed to be a sign The Great Dragon blessed them, and they are above the concept of life, that they are a power all their own. The diamond shape is to represent their rigidity in customs and categorization which they claim has lead them to their (once) great power and expanse over everything, the green octagon included as a sign that they reach to and claim power over all in the 8 realms, the rulers of a mighty empire that will one day encompass everything.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out and they only have direct rule of Dyamond and whatever planet I’m having Samara be from (might be Dyamond too, am unsure rn) and have an excellent alliance with Solaria through its Imperialist faction. That’s about it though. They’re considered a Pillar of The Magical Realm because of their industrial prowess but even that is being diminished in its qualifications as magical culture as a whole is redefining what that looks like and means and as other planets are finding more effective or enjoysnle methods for things in ways that aren’t relevant at all to how Eraklyon would go about it. Eraklyon is also trying to push production on mining up through overworking their people to an insane degree and demanding things get done faster and as a result are producing lower quality product. Their whole socioeconomic culture right now is just Late Stage Capitalist Hell Scape.

To top it off, even back when they were still an actively growing empire, Domino was actually trying to get them to stop with using The Great Dragon in the name of their conquests since Domino was starting to work on reparations for the horrors they’d committed in the past right before it fell.

After it’s fall, Eraklyon used that event as a propaganda to say it was proof they were meant to rule after all and that they would be the ones to show The Magical World what needed to be done. Insert an increase in power and claims over planets for about 200 years, and then a steady decline of power followed by a huge dip in the last 150 years.

Eraklyon is a grossly Patriarchal society that holds a lot of views that are directly anti egalitarian in every way it can be in a culture.

A man (very rigid binary structure too with sex and gender being treated as the same thing. Think our current irl world basically. Like our world, the people are getting more and more sick of it, especially since pretty much all the rest of The Magical Realm is like “that’s a really stupid thing to reinforce so harshly and punish people who don’t fit that construct.” More backlash and pushing for it to change from the public, which isn’t vibing with the elites since the government is already in such a precarious position in terms of its power) must rule. A bride must be taken from off planet as a way to strengthen their Empire.

Green is a color of conquest due to its association with The Magical Realm as a whole, so the Empress is always adorned in it since she is a conquest in and of itself. A selection of gems are also chosen by the council of the royal court that they deem suitable for the bride to choose as her identifier when she becomes Empress. Samara was only given green ones to choose from due to the desperate need to try and reinforce strength and power through conquest, which once again she as the bride is a symbol of. Their Empire is basically no more. They are grasping at straws and the bride being used as a propaganda piece is already the norm so it’s whatever they might as well ramp it up. They also tote her red hair as a way to show that The Dragon still favors them, sending her their way, the fire of It present and on display, and even redder than that of the last Queen of Domino. Samara is proof that they can conquer anything, even The Great Dragon, if the people remain loyal to The Crown and The Empire.

Along with The Eraklyon Empire being in ruin, empires themself are very few and overall wildly shunned by the general public, Eraklyon and Solaria being some of the last notable ones, and even then just barely one at all, still using the term as a way to pretend they are still formidable and far reaching in their power.

[gemharvest]

Okay hear me out (and I will forget I sent an ask in again 2 seconds later) RGB as crystal gems

PREFACING THIS ART WITH AN "I'm sorry I didn't lean more into the SU side of things" I am being so fr I don't wanna mess with trying to figure out more gem-like outfits for them so they're basically the same except with limited palettes and also gems. I don't think it's actually gonna matter to anyone but ANSJKNKDGJ if I don't open with that my brain will Explode. /lh

GO CRAZY GO STUPID AHHHHHH. GEMS. I'm going to have to put my bullet points under a read more just cuz I know I am about to fucking Go Off. grins

Girlfriend is a red diamond. Boyfriend is a peridot. Pico is a green spinel.

GIRLFRIEND:

Went with a diamond cuz of the status thing. I am almost worried it feels like too easy of a pull but I doonnn't care I think it'd be fun if she was a diamond. :) Red obviously because it's her color.

Playing off the status thing; ofc her parents would also be diamonds and so you can have the reasoning of "oh this isn't a high-rank gem" for them not liking Boyf. I mean if you need any reasoning aside from them just being unreasonable LOL but that's always there.

Placement on her chest because !! love !!!! That's also why it's a heart-shaped cut instead of a. Diamond shape.

My backup assignment for her would be a jasper because I think it'd suit her well to be any quartz, and with jasper you can get close to her reds !! The status thing is really what made me decide on a diamond tho.

As I type this I realize there are some vaaaguee similarities to Pink I could pull as extra reasoning but shruuuugs my brain is NOT in an analytical mood rn so I'll just let others chew on that for me.

This isn't really relevant to RGB but I wanna mention it: I think it'd be funny if the demon henchmen were rubies.

BOYFRIEND:

The biggest factor for me going peridot with him is the fact that a common headcanon for canon Peridot is that she's autistic and while I mostly work with ADHD Boyf myself (since that's the experience I can pull from personally)... I am a sucker for a good autistic/AuDHD read with him.

This man is short and Era 2 peridots are short. If I drew him SU style this guy would need limb enhancers. lol

Instead of a prohibition symbol his shirt has the outline of a star. I just find that neat. :)

He would sooooooo suck at a peridot's role but also iirc in canon he's a college drop out anyways so it cancels out. He's got that Greg Universe in him.

Honestly, I put his gem placement on the back of his hand bc I had no clue where else to put it. My secondary placement for it would be on his forehead bc it'd make me giggle with him being Dumb but canon Peridot already has the forehead placement so I didn't go ahead with that.

HE STOLE PICO'S GREEN SPOT. spritzing him with water like a naughty dog BAD BOYFRIEND.

PICO:

This is my little indulgent one I really. I really love canon Spinel. This is tangential but like I literally have 4 spinel OCs and then another 4 furry OCs with designs based on canon Spinel. The urge to make One Of Them a spinel was going to be there.

The juxtaposition of him being a gem with an entertainer role and also a hard-ass hitman makes me giggle. Idk I feel like if you already know canon Spinel then you can probably connect the dots as to why I'd imagine him as a spinel as well.

Heart cut because I find it cute and it matches GF. I think a spade shape could be fun too but idk I prefer just going with a heart. Placement on his upper back because. :) Because he can't easily shield it from damage that way. He has to be constantly aware of his surroundings, unless he wants to give someone the chance for an easy hit on him if they sneak up from behind. Little paranoia thing to fuck with him. I'm so nice to Pico !! :D

Bringing back the status thing with GF's parents; I can't help but giggle thinking abt them hiring him. Imagine you get recommended this really good hitman and you meet up and it's a fucking court jester. Fucking ego hit but DD needs the job done so he hires him anyways. AND THEN PICO DOESN'T EVEN CARRY OUT THE FUCKING HIT. Never hiring a clown off of Craigslist again. /JOKING

hits play on this and sits down with my head in my hands

OKAY BEFORE I'M DONE I WANNA MENTION: I made myself give them all gem assignments BUT I do think it would be fun if one of them was not a gem a la Greg and Rose. So I give you: regular canon demon GF and her two gem boyfriends. Takes a bow. (<- honestly might do something further with that for my own fun. teehee)

[zu8her]

✧･ﾟHands | Sakusa Kiyoomi — we all got a hand kink.

✧･ﾟtags— hand kink, dom!Sakusa, penetrative sex, consent, cum eating, foreplay

✧･ﾟnotes — I want to credit @tsukiboo as inspiration. They made a post about Tsukishima's hands that I could not get out of my head. In the end tho, I thought I would be best if it was Sakusa Kiyoomi ff. Anyway- I hope you enjoy this. Keep in mind I have not been writing for long so give me grace.

✧･ﾟ— word count: 2.3K

Taking a sip of her coffee, she sits next to him. Taking in the morning sun as it sneaks through the window, the calm of finally resting after working her ass of at work and the man in front of her, typing away at his laptop. Unfortunately, unlike her he didn't get off but works remote so he's always at home. That is her point of contention. Him being here but not actually being able to be here, with her. To actually spend time together. Instead she reminisces, her head flooded with memories of him.

With every passing memory she grins to herself and continues to survey him. His black strands still dishevelled because he did not feel the need to deal with it and y/n had already occupied the bathroom moisturising her scalp and combing out her afro.

She surveys him as he casually licks his lips, his puffy red nose that always accompany him when he wakes up and to his distaste overstays it's welcome.

But what instantly grabs her attention, is his arms. Inwardly, salivating as she gawks at them. At his rolled up grey sleeves that outline the slight tone of his muscles and reveal them. His hands decorated with veins and the ring she was hesitant to give him because she assumed that he 'wouldn't be into something like that'. Determined to prove to her that he was, that he actually loved the thoughtful gift, only taking it off to clean it or showering, always wearing the silver ring. She presses her thighs together as she thinks back to the sensation of him tracing the cold ring all over her body.

Her thought drift her to the start of their relationship. Before this started she knew he was not very fond of just anything/ anyone touching him. He is still slightly particular of hygiene. She noticed how he would tense every time any part of her body would so much as graze his. So, she stopped trying and became distant. He noticed, and made an effort to touch her more.

In the end, he ended up craving it, though he would not show it openly. His hands remember every one of her curves. To the extent where he feels the sensation tingle across his hands even when he is not touching her. He would close his eyes and let every part of her body, that he ran his hands across, drown his thoughts while grinding his hands together in an attempt to replicate the sensation.

She sits waiting to spend time with him. She sits spending time with him. Observing, his long slender fingers gracefully gliding across the keyboard. She sits patiently, ogling his hands, relieved that he is too busy completing his code to question her, giving her the opportunity to respectfully, observe his sculpted hands.

"Y/n," he calls as he continues to work at his code.

"Mmmh?" She mumbles, raising her eyes to meet his, still planted on his screen.

"Do you need anything?"

"No." She lies, cupping her cheek. "Actually," he raises his eyebrows. "Do you have a hand to spare?"

He immediately gives her his right hand. Typing with his left. She smiles, tracing her warm fingertips across his cold veins, comparing their hands by pressing them together.

"Baby, I kinda need my hand if you're done." She lets go. "I don't know why you like them so much."

"What?"

"My hands."

"No, I don't." She cheekily retorts.

"You've been staring at them again." She smiles in defeat. "I don't know," she steals his hand back, connecting it with hers. "Their just so..."

He removes his eyes from his screen looking down at her tilting his head. She mimics his movement with a grin. His mouth corner rises before falling and him returning to his computer. She mumbles something about getting breakfast ready to detract him from further questioning her as she continues to stare at his hands. The hands he loves wrapping around her thighs, torturously slow.

Those hands that make her think back to the times she'd tape his fingers for him before every match.

Sitting at a bench as wondering eyes walk by and she would nervously look up at them. "You're nervous" Her eyebrows knot as she glares at him. "I'm not- it's just- nevermind." She simply sighs and continues to tape his fingers. Gently twirling the sports tape around his fingers. He attentively watches her as she does so. Done, he gets up. He throws his jacket over her shoulders, looking down at her, his taped hands cupping her face, before regrouping with his team.

Getting up she retreats to the fridge. She could feel his eyes on her as she grabs some milk and cereal from the cabinets below. Taking a spool full of cereal she walks past him into the living room. She hops on the couch, taking another bite. Switching the TV on, she flips through before settling on a show she regularly, quite intentionally procrastinates watching to the end. She absentmindedly watches the show. Her eyes planted on the tv but mind preoccupied with his hands.

The hands that gently wraps around her throat. The hands that holds her waist and pulls her to him. The hands that holds hers. The hands that holds firmly as her hips as he fucks into her.

Hands. His hands, drown her thoughts. Those hands she wants caressing every part of her body. That's all she can think about. Her mind consumed with his large calloused hand. She groans in frustration slightly shifting picking up the remote to rewind. He looks over his shoulder before returning to his screen.

Hours later, she hears him finally shut his laptop and the shuffling of his slippers as he shuts the curtains before making his way toward her. Looking up from her phone, the sun had gone down. Lifting the comforter he sneaks next to her.

"Week's work is done." He gives a tired smile. "I'm all yours."

At the start of their relationship, he had noticed how she would stare at his hands. As he turned the page of the book he was reading, her staring down at him from the spectators seats as he practiced and him simply washing his hands. Her eyes would fixate on him and his so-called perfect hands. Always "observing" as she puts it.

Sakusa knew she liked his hands. Maybe it is because after he started to really get comfortable he became completely enamoured with her. Touching her. He grew addicted. Though it was beyond him why she liked his hands, the arrangement worked for them both. He most certainly used it for his pleasure and most importantly hers.

Turning to face her, he sneaks his hand onto her thighs. Smiling, when she faced him. “Very interesting show. Don’t you think?” “Yeah…”

He continues to rub as her soft thighs, placing emphasis on scars and dark marks by pressing softly and gently rubbing. Gliding his hands up and down. She attempted to pay attention to the TV but her eyes settled on his hand. Rubbing and squeezing, his large hands caressed her thick thighs. Her breath shortens with every caress. His hand inching closer to where she desperately wants his fingers to entertain.

Abruptly, his hand comes to a halt. Her eyes shoot forward at the TV screen. Removing, his hands on her thigh he brings it to her face. Placing it as the side of her cheek turning her head toward him. Her brown eyes settle on him with her chest softly rising and falling. Her cropped t-shirt outlining her chest delicately. Pulling the comforter off he stands staring down at her.

He stands awkwardly for a bit before gathering his words. “Would you like it if I- uhmm…?”

“Yes,” she jolts. Extending his hand he helps her get up.

The walk to their bedroom down the hall was tense as she tilted her head to glance at the man behind her. Entering the room, his scent with a hint of perfume hits her. She relaxes looking back as the door clicks closed. He walks her way, towering over her. He cups her chin his eyes darting across her face. “Sit on the bed and face the mirror.”

She crawls onto the bed staring at herself through the mirror. At her gown draped over her, then at him climbing behind her. Their eyes meet and she gives him a nod. Touching her shoulders, he pulls off her gown. She shivers as his fingers slide down her arms. Discarding it, he groans glancing back at the mirror. His eyes taking in her body.

Leaning forward he presses his chest against her back. She lays back relaxing into him as he cups her chest. He runs his hands over her shirt rubbing at her tits underneath. Her back slightly arches as she feels the silk fabric of her shirt press and slide across her nipples. Gasping as he brushes his thumb against them and gently pinching. Kissing along her neck as he gropes them. Toying with the hem of her shirt, he helps her pull it over her head, discarding it.

She sits on her knees, lifting a bit as he wraps his arm around her waist continuing his indulgence by cupping her tits once more. She desperately pulls for his right hand. “Want to keep going?” He whispers against her ear. She nobs. Staring into the mirror, she impatiently moves his hand to her panties. He rubs her through the fabric. She moans gripping his arm, watching him look down, his black hair falling forward, and his hand between her legs.

Pulling down her panties, he simply glides his fingers across her wet folds. She mewls as his fingers sink into her. He slides his fingers into her cunt as her wetness rolls down her thighs and drips onto the bed, staining his sheets. She tightens around his fingers pushing down into them in an effort to get more friction. She whines when he pulls out and latches his wet fingers onto her clit.

She breathes, feeling the warmth escape behind her. Watching him walk to his closet. “I bought you something.” Closing his closet he reveals a wand, similar to hers. “Get on your back, baby.”

On her back she watches him settle above her, between her legs. “You always use one of these when I’m not around.” Pressing the toy onto her clit, she shivers at the cold sensation. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. How you fuck yourself with this.” When he turns it on a silent gasp leaves her lips and she grips the sheets, an orgasm washing over her as he squeezes her hips.

He bucks his cock against her, rolling the wand onto her clit. His hand flexing as he pressing it down. Staring down at her as she comes undone once more. His indulgence continues holding firmly at her hip as she attempts to escape.

Only after cumming several times more does his hold loosen and the wand put aside. She lays beneath him dazed. Drool running down the side of her mouth, twitching. His fingers run across her cheek, her drool coating them. He moves forward, his hands at the side of her head and his crotch against her leaking cunt. He rolls his crotch onto her sensitive clit. Her hips jerk as he presses and grinds his bulge against her.

Getting up, he pulls off his pants. Her breath hitches as he wraps his hand around the base of his cock stroking. Rubbing her saliva all over his shaft. He captures his lower lip between his teeth but fails to prevent his moans from slipping out. “Fuck.” Her hand sneaks between her folds. Gripping her writs, he pins her stern stare.

Staring at herself through the mirror, she moans delightfully, as he holds her wrists and fucks her from the back, watching as his veins become more prominent as his grip tightens. As he pulls her back onto his cock with every thrust. Beads of sweat rolling down his face and his breath can be felt against her skin.

His mouth agape as he plunges into her cunt. He lets go of her wrists, bringing up his fingers into her mouth. She moans against them. Sucking as she tasted her cum. With his right hand, he rubbed her swollen clit purposefully sliding the ring down a bit to press against it. A feral moan rips through his throat as he feels her clench around cock.

The sound of skin connecting becoming more lewd with her cum coating his pelvis. He holds onto her as she cums with her griping his forearm. Pulling out, he cusses at the sensation and her cum running down his thighs onto the sheets.

Laying back against the headboard he watches her sink down onto his cock. She looks down at him. At his hands on her hips and his thumb rubbing at her stretch mark. She grinds into him. His tongue grazes his lips looking up at her throwing her head back on his cock. She lowers her eyes at him when one of his hands leave her hips and rubs at her clit.

She leans into him as he fucks up into her. Her nails digging into his shoulder as she cums. Gently laying her down he positions himself between her cunt. Restlessly, she watches as he fists his cock. Watching as his precum trickle down his hand and onto her. He glances down at her as she tries to close her legs with a grin planted on his face. He releases a raspy moan as his cum spurts on her stomach.

He releases his cock heavily breathing. He presses his cum-smeared cock against her wet cunt. Leaning forward his digits enter her mouth. Collapsing next to her he sighs, his breath still heavy. Rolling off his bed he enters the bathroom before returning with a wet clothe which he uses to clean his cum off. "I still don't get why you like my hands so much."

[kosmicdream]

The FATE of FEAST FOR A KING

.. and Nasty Red Dogs… 

And some other miscellaneous thoughts about comics, writing, and time.... AND ENDINGS...

============= 

As I’m approaching 10 years on FFAK and NRD is currently 5, I’ve been reflecting a lot on How far this journey with comics has taken me and how far I still have yet to go. For those unaware, my first webcomic was actually Eggshells, which started in 2011, but i only started posting pages publicly in 2013. It too is unfinished, but its planned for 7 chapters. (I’m currently working on chapter 5, which probably will come out early next year.) I have 9 ongoing comics I’m working on. NINE!! 3 of those are FFAK related. (FFAK, After Dinner Treat, and the prequel series “Help.”) It is so many comics though. And beyond that! I have two other stories I’ve been working on for the past few years in secret, one being Nice Blue Cats, which I might still draw as a comic someday.. As well as a series of “one shots” that is meant to be its own collection. Slugmom and “The Teacher & The Fairy” are part of these one shot collections. Which, uh, it was designed to help me practice writing short stories. Which TT&TF is now going to be three parts long, and roughly 300 pages. So I guess that’s short enough…? Ha.. laughs… Anyway, as I was saying.. Sometimes I’m sure, readers might wonder. “Do you ever feel overwhelmed, with so many projects Kosmic?” Yeah dude. I sure fucking do. I got 9 of them! That’s more than a full pokemon team of projects that are potentially a decade + of work. A couple of them already are a decade old/older at this point. (Praeymoon is actually one of my oldest-lasting projects, even tho its first chapter only finally released in 2023.. I first attempted to draw ch1 back in 2016, but was unable to finish it and scrapped the “full color” angle i was trying then. ) All my current ongoing comic projects are as follows: Feast for a King, Nasty Red Dogs, Eggshells, The Teacher & the Fairy, Replacer, The Eyes of Miasma, FFAK: After Dinner Treat, FFAK: Help, are all written. The only one which isnt fully written is Praeymoon, which I don’t mind because the way that story is organized is almost more of a sandbox-fantasy world of mini stories. I’ll be honest, if you havent heard of Replacer or The Eyes of Miasma, I don’t blame you- its not that i don’t like those stories. They just kind of are the “most neglected” comics yet I’m also kind of amazed they exist at all, like I DONT know how I found the time to draw over 100 pages for both of them. They also have fully written outlines and all things considered, are probably only going to be under 400-500 pages in length. But that’s still a decent amount of work there. Its been ten years since I more or less started making webcomics… and as I plan, and try to calculate all my projects for the next 10 years, my main priority at the moment is well.. Finishing all of these fucking stories one way or another. Its hard! I don’t know if I can as I put way too much on my plate. But at the same time like.. Whatever. I could easily drop most of them, if I felt inclined to - but I don’t. They are my library of work, and I’ve sort of made an artist oath to myself that I will see as many of them to the end as I can. I’m excited that three are very close to its end. (Nasty Red Dogs, The Teacher & the Fairy, and Eggshells.) After that well.. I’ll see what I can cross off my list next once I get there.. That’s still going to take years to get those done. But hopefully not too many. 

[Spoilers for potential LENGTHS of FFAK/NRD.. And other things.. I speak very transparently about writing and working on comics here AND including my thoughts on ENDINGS.. You’ve been warned]

I’m comfortable enough sharing that the fairy comic is 3 parts, Eggshells is 7 chapters, but when it comes to FFAK/NRD.. Its much harder to give an estimate, or if sharing those things will only be disappointing or annoying to hear about.. If you have ever been around me for more than 10 minutes, i am constantly talk about the “length left” on these projects a lot anyway. At night, i count them in my head. In the day, I write little lists as if I’ve forgotten the names of them.. They are MY LIST.

 But for those who do not know and wish to, NRD is likely going to end with 10 chapters. I have extended this in the past, so it could still change.. but it only really has gotten “longer” due to pacing of scenes rather than the actual content. And Honestly, it was paced out specifically to avoid this next chapter. Not that I didn’t want to draw it, its because i was Scared to do it.. Why? Because there’s cars I have to draw in it. And dogs. I have drawn those things before, at least once or twice. But I do not enjoy drawing cars or dogs. Dogs are okay now, but i hate that they have legs. Dont give me references, i have those. Its just how my brain is, with those fuckign legs and how there’s four of them. I know practice makes perfect. Or do-able. I have drawn amost 1000 pages of NRD, i dont remember how they bend and i’ve forgiven myself for knowing there’s just some things god cannot do, which is to give kosmic the ability to look at a dog leg and understand. Anyway. Because of this reason, somehow, finishing NRD with it only possibly being 4 more chapters, still feels harder than finishing ALL of FFAK - which (drumroll) might be .. only around 10 or 12 chapters left. Yes, you heard me- for the second AND third arc. 10 or 12 more. Will that also change? Probably!!!!!! Like, yes… its been 9 years and I’ve completed a lot more than just 10 chapters of comics in that time.. But wrapping up a story is way harder and I dont know what that’s like..yet! But i feel still confident that i will. I mean, i don’t really have any other choice than to experience it. I used to recoil and fall apart just emotionally contemplating finishing FFAK. my FUCKING baby. My joy. You mean that has to end?? NEVER. My attachment to it and the characters was incomparable to anything else I had done, and in my mind ever WILL make… (and that is still true.) But.. I’m okay with that now and I actually look forward to seeing how it could end up. Even if its bad! 

Its kind of weird to say, I just don’t really think it will be.. super good? Like.. it could be? I don’t know how readers will react. I dont even know how I feel about the whole thing.. I have felt so many feelings about this comic already, now I’m kind of.. Past it in a new stage. Zen like peace almost. There’s just.. so much that I wanted to PUT in FFAK and so much i could STILL put in. But I kind of just am okay with what i wrote, does that even make sense? The whole comic has felt like such a fluke to me, from the very start. And I managed to accidentally make so many great things in it I don’t actually understand sometimes. And my dreams for the comic has been nearly limitless. I couldn’t possibly contain all the feelings I’ve had over this story over the many years I have been making it, and all the incredible narrative outcomes I could see the characters going in.. the possibilities, the parallels.. The anime music videos..  I would NOT compare my writing style to GRRM, I haven’t read his books. but I can’t help but feel a bit like a weird baby version of him with the amount of cast members I have to push around and draw.. And I want to be clear. If FFAK was written as a book, it wouldn’t happen. I cannot write books. I do not think writing books is easier/faster than making comics, but sometimes it is hard to have to draw everyone. Point is, I understand the reality of a long-term comic project now, I have numbers and logs to prove it  and my range. And I’m fairly consistent, even in my low days. So.. in recent years my writing style has.. has changed to accommodate.. Those.. General Realities i’ve observed in myself. 

That’s why the second arc excites me. It has a lot of uhh, urgency that underlies it. You might have already noticed a change in the tone in chapter 16, which I’ve been working on for almost a year now. (I mean, I’ve been working on the written version for.. LOL.. much longer.) Maybe you haven’t! It could all just be from my own POV with how differently i feel that I delegate time to characters now. I did not start “writing” FFAK until chapter 10, and then i did not really start WRITING writing ffak until about.. Honestly, i want to say as late as 2019. It TOOK SO LONG you guys. I dont even know how many fucking thousands of pages of madness word documents I’ve got, with revision after revision and trying to list, contain, every possibly plotline… character backstory.. Blah blah blah.. Ive cut it down so much its impressive only to me. I don’t remember my lore anymore , and i love it. My readers probably know my lore better, and I don’t love it. Except when it benefits me. Then Its good. I would not describe myself as a RUTHLESS cut THROAT author, im actually too way sentimental to really let go of anyone. That’s why it took me so long to kill off Rock, but also because I wanted spoon to look really sexy and evil and that’s hard to do sometimes when I cant remember what half side he is. And when he was flipping around, I had to actually make a paper doll for him so i could TRY .. TRY to draw his arm on the correct side. Sometimes I didn’t. I just let it go if the drawing is good enough and i let it be a fun game for the readers to catch. But anyway, That’s why characters like Aeschylus are still around. Now that time has passed, I kind of regret it. Rome was right.. I dont need Aeschylus here and I’m mad he brought his friend Randall too. That being said, they’re some of my favorite characters in this arc even if they’re totally useless. In general, i have tried my best to not repeat all my writing sins and all my regrets of arc 1. I would not have been able to do this without the help of NRD to help get me to see that I can get attached and motivated to write new stories. When I hit my writing block in 2016/2017, it almost broke FFAK. FFAK still continued, but it also didn’t. But i was patient, and i worked through it.. And now I look forward to the ends of my comics, not because I want them to end but I’m very deeply excited for all the new opportunities my imagination to go to. I don’t know what that will be like. I don’t know how long it will still take me to get there, but I have it on [digital] paper and it does feel good to see that. Its affirming. I feel like i have a clear mission and I feel strong enough to really do it and commit to it. The second arc has barely started but in my heart I’ve made peace with the ending, whatever it might actually result as. 

Plus if I finish it and its so bad, I’m sure that will be inspiring in itself! People might actually write fanfics!! I think a lot of readers are NOT going to enjoy the ships, for one. The MEAN greedy part of me hopes they don’t. That’s the most ruthless part of my writing to me is the ship choices. Oh! My evil mind. I mean theres no possible way to please everyone, or even myself, but there is a possible way to displease a lot of people. Including myself. So that’s kind of the route I find myself drawn to. Why? Because it gets me out of the hole of like.. I dunno, being stuck. 

I used to write out a lot of big posts but over the years, I’ve kinda stopped. Mostly bc they were honestly really repetitive..or about lore that didn’t truly matter too much… That hasn’t really changed. This post is more or less “im still working on it, everyone! Just hang tight! Wow it’ll be a crazy wild ride” but it also is something I wanted to write to myself as words of encouragement. This has been a tough year. Like so tough that its hard to think about. But its very nice to feel like, i guess, my drive for my stories hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, i really feel like i’ve gone through the mourning and ego death of “not being able to write a thing how you want” and now I’ve made total peace with it. Its just gonna be what it is, and I like that actually. When my life is tough, my comics at the moment serve as a place of hope for me - and assurance that I can survive through tough years. That’s the message they have ultimately given me, finished or not. And… I honestly don’t think of FFAK or NRD as my masterpieces or anything, but i know they might very well be the only stories people will know of when they think of me. If they think of me! So I wanna do a complete job with those. Rest assured, it’ll get there. I cant make big promises about all the comics I work on… even the bonus comics for FFAK, but at least those main two are my main priorities. That has not changed. THE FIRE is still in me. Even if FFAK took a like.. Mental.. 5 year hiatus its back baby. 

I’m about 30 pages in to my 50 page script for chapter 16, so I guess it’ll be around 300-400 pages more before its done. Things are picking up speed! So it could be less. I am also preparing for the monster that is the 7th nasty red dogs chapter. I cannot stress ENOUGH that this next chapter, I have put off since chapter 4. Yes, I’ve actually buffed the story out to be longer than it intended, just to avoid drawing it. I even put a horse guy in there, I never draw horses because those ALSO have legs but they’re worse than dog legs. And, its not that i didn’t want to draw this part of the comic! But I didn’t think i could do it. It intimidated me. It still does, but, I’m gonna do it already. I know chapters 8-10 will be hard too but like…eh… I know in my heart its gonna really be about 7 for me. It always has been about 7 to me.. 2024 will be a big year for my comics for sure, just because of that alone I think. Not only will I have chapter 16 done, as the first step of the 2nd arc and a new adventure of my apocalyptic wormy drama, I’ll be facing my fears of the dog variety. Its TIME. 

I’m so happy people have stuck around for my work, or shared it with others, even if they’re a strange mess. Its interesting to see, who comes and goes. I still enjoy refreshing my comments every morning when I wake up, and right before I go to bed. Its comforting.

My closing thoughts on this. I don’t HATE the ending of FFAK. I… like it! Its an ending. But I LOVE the ending to NRD. i think that ones legit good, i hope. With FFAK, part of me kinda hopes that turning up the pressure on myself of proceeding anyway will help the story. I don’t really know, or expect the ending to change though LOL…. Maybe i’ll come up with something better, but it will be too late so I cant do it or something, and then we can ALL write fanfics together of something else. Then sometimes I think about GUNNM and how the first ending was retconned but then last order was like? Basically the first ending again? I dont know actually, its hard to remember. THATS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN BTW. Also the ending is not everyone dies, even though that ending is fun and tempting. I didn’t do it, because end of evangelion already exists and its got a great song to go along with it too. YES it is also tempting to have someone go “WELL That was A FEAST.. For a KING” as the like final line, but I.. it wont wont. I prommy i take the ending seriously.

The reason I wanted to write all this, with webcomics, I think in general too people are so scared about writing their big comics that take 328523895235 years and the ending being bad. I see so many webcomics just, kinda die before the finale.. Which I totally understand, But I just.. Wanna show everyone that its much better and much more satisfying to just write the ending even if its a fucking disaster LOL. Because ultimately, its a webcomic. I don’t even know how to spell but people read mine! And so.. If theres anything I feel like i can promise and deliver to the world of the internet/my readers, is this big fucking disaster mess.. But it will end someday! And I’ll miss it. I hope readers will too, when that day comes (?) in probably another… 10 years…. idk.... BUT UNTIL THEN.. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of chapter 16!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-Kosmic Dream

[temporaryrose200]

Hello sweetie! How are you? Firstly, let me tell you that your blog aesthetic is simply ✨awesome✨

I'd like to request headcannons/oneshot (whatever you prefer) with William J. Moriarty, having a relaxing bath with his fem! s/o.

Thank you very much, have a good day

(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

✩Lavender✩

✟pairing: William James Moriarty x Fem Reader

✟genre: Fluff

✟warning: No use of Y/N, Not proof read

✟One-Short

✟fandom: Moriarty The Patriot

✟a/n:Hello I’m doing really good and thank you! I really love Renaissance paintings and just aesthetically pleasing blogs:) Anyway sorry, this took sooooo long. I’ve just had no will to write things much for the past few months. This request tho was really fun to write after months of writer’s block. Hope you enjoy<3

Hearing the door creek open, William looked up from his paperwork, watching as he saw your head peek out from behind the wooden door. Upon entering William’s office, you strolled over to where your husband sat. “And what can I do for my lovely wife?” your husband questioned with one of his charming smiles that would make any woman swoon over him.

William had been very busy these past few weeks, from going to social events, working at the university, and his other job…So after growing tired of waiting for your husband to finally be available, you took matters into your own hands.

Placing both your hands upon William’s shoulders you began slowly massaging. Feeling how tense the man in front of you was, a pout makes its way on your face. “My dear, you’re so tense” you gasped, placing a hand over your ‘frown’. “Why don’t you take a break?”

Gazing down at the unfinished paperwork, William thought for a moment. It couldn’t be so bad taking a small break and anyway, how could he say no to his darling Wife? Not when you’re staring at him with your doe eyes. “I suppose I could take a small break,” William muttered but it was loud enough for you to hear it. Joy overtook your body and you couldn’t help but let out a squeal of excitement.

Wrapping an arm around your husband’s neck, you couldn’t help but pepper kisses on his cheek. William sat there with a pleasant smile, marvelling at the affection. Moving towards the blonde man’s ear, he could feel the outline of a smirk against his skin. “How about we have a bath” you suggested.

With a raised eyebrow William turned to you, a viable smile making its way on his lips. “We?” Your husband repeated, seeing if he heard what you said was right. Once William saw you nod to his question he stood up from his comfy leather chair. “Well then” William started, clapping his hands together, your husband giving you one of his closed eye smiles. “Lead the way my dear.” You didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing William’s arm, you lead the man down the corridors of the manor towards the bathroom, that you had set up only 5 minutes ago.

Opening the door, William was met with the relaxing scent of lavender. Feeling the stress of the day being washed away and replaced with tranquility. Scented candles flickered in the corners of the room and scarlet rose floated in the warm watered tub. Guiding William into the bathroom, shutting the door while doing so, you strolled over to a bucket. Hearing the sound of rattling of ice, William knew exactly what was going to be inside the mystery bucket. Spinning around to face your husband, you held two empty wine glasses and the bucket with an wine bottle sticking out. Picking up the bottle, William began observing it. “45 year old red wine, good choice my dear” he smiled, handing you back the wine.

It was finally time to get undressed and unwind in the sweet scented bath.

[the-painted-siren]

hello hello hails!! i’m here to ask about your wips >:D

(in particular, “astronomia? i’ll kick your astronomia” bc space and “kai’s letters” bc i loved reading through them in your efing outline)

Hello Key!!! It’s nice to see you <3

Astronmia is a one-shot I’ve been putting off completing for years that is sadly not connected at all to the concept of space (tho I would like to write a space au sometime). The title refers to the song Astronomia by Vicetone and Tony Igy bc it mostly references the tone of the fic, which is meant to be comedic with tones of sincerity and longing

It’s a post crystallized story that I can describe best as Lloyd and Garmadon shenanigans. I’d say this excerpt describes it pretty well:

“I’m not cheating--“

“You’re cheating.”

“How can I cheat at being an Oni?”

“I don’t know but you’re still doing it.”

“My dad? Admit to not knowing something?” Lloyd puts his hands up to his head in feigned shock as he grins the most shit-eating grin Garmadon’s ever seen. “Hold up, lemme get my phone out, I’m gonna need to record you saying that to my face.”

“In your dreams, child--“

“No, in my dreams you’re a good dad.”

As for Kai’s letters, if you know, you know (Key lol) and if you don’t know, well—

Kai’s letters refers to a section of a big WIP I’m working on called Every Flower in the Garden—EFING for short—which covers the period of time between the Merge and DR. Kai’s letters serve as a plot device to tell time between each chapter.

It’s slower going than usual, especially since I’m writing out of order, but I like this section so far.

“The world has gotten so much bigger in such a short time. There’s mountains where there hadn’t been previously and villages with people I’ve never seen before. A good chunk of Ninjago City looks like it’s been ripped clean off the map while the rest of it got smushed into somewhere else. The people there seem nice, though. There’s still food vendors. One of them was selling those red bean fish cakes you like so much. I’ll have to bring you one when I come back.”

[olderthannetfic]

I'm the anon who sent the ask about finding it hard to trust former antis.

jmtorres says the following in the notes: "certainly not everyone has a responsibility to be friends with ex-antis, but if ex-antis get treated shitty for their former beliefs, will they have motivation to stick to their new community or will they think about going back to their old community?"

This gets at the heart of the issue: if a reformed anti is at risk of sliding back into their earlier pattern of harassment and fearmongering, I don't see why anyone needs to accommodate them unduly and centre their needs over those of their victims and the community at large. ContraPoints talked about something similar in a recent video that addresses the transphobia of Megan Phelps-Roper, a former spokesperson for the Westboro Baptist Church who went on to become one of their loudest critics. I'm not saying antis are exactly like bigots, only that there are parallels. And I'm not sure why people are assuming that exercising caution is going to be super-obvious and make the ex-anti feel bad. It's more like a private rule for me, something that makes my fandom experience a little better, like keeping difficult and unstable people at arm's length. I also assume that most people won't publicize that they used to be antis out of embarrassment, so privacy works both ways.

Also, there totally are things that ex-antis do that strike me as red flags. One thing is seeking authority by organizing community events, with all the gatekeeping that entails, immediately after their "conversion" or whatever. It's fine to be suspicious in that situation. Why is a former bully so keen to jump into a leadership role?

--

I think the trouble here is that "anti" covers everyone from active harassers to dumb 14-year-olds who parroted certain kinds of widespread "Porn Bad Tho" ideas before growing the fuck up.

I think it's hard to unlearn really heinous behavior but not especially difficult to get over dumb ideas once you have exposure to counterarguments.

For my own social life, I find that people who've dipped a toe in the anti pool are usually not ready to be on my level where at some social gathering, my friend is like "Ew, how can you ship Wen Ning. He's full of holes. It would all just... ooze out." and then I make this face

😀😀😀

while she goes "No. No. NO." and I outline the plot of my future epic.

Having swum in those waters recently usually makes people awkward around the uninhibited. Others not being embarrassed embarrasses them. So I won't end up being buddies, but I wouldn't assume they're going to backslide all that much.

[seventeenpins]

west

prologue

pairing: Joel Miller x nb!character

word count: 2.7k

genre: period western/horror

summary: Dakota Territory, 1879. Joel Miller, a widower, lives on the outskirts of Deadwood with his brother and daughter. After travelling north from Texas two years earlier, they've put down roots in the community. Tommy came for the gold rush, and Joel came to keep an eye on Tommy. The end of the world arrives piece by piece, and then all at once.

warnings: glaring historical inaccuracies, canon typical violence, allusions to a suicide attempt, essentially just the opening of the show/game but set in 1879 with some bits adjusted, the horrors of being a person in the 1800s, nb love interest is essentially a reader self-insert but is named (tho won't appear till the next chapter), it will be a slowwwww burn.

a/n: Ok, a funny thing that didn't come up in my research till I was ninety percent thru the outline and halfway thru the chapter but had independently decided on 1879 as the setting -- Deadwood actually burned down on September 26, 1879. Figured it was serendipitous. Happy Birthday, Joel! 🫠

The day the world ended, the sun rose bright across the valley. Autumn was just starting to emerge and dust motes appeared suspended in the bright sunbeams, forested wilderness surrounding the town of Deadwood. The leaves weren't changed, not fully, but here and there you could find a red tree amongst the green ones, and you knew they'd follow soon.

Joel was exhausted. His head ached. His bones ached. He could already feel the stiffness in his muscles from yesterday's work, and today would be no better.

The first few cries of the rooster hadn't done so much as stir him, but now as morning truly broke, he could smell mouth-watering aromas wafting up from below, heard the bustling in his kitchen and his belly rumbled, waking him up right quick.

He scrunched his face up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and went over to the basin to splash cool water on his face. He stared at his reflection in his glass. Another year older. Another strand of silver in his hair. Thirty six. He'd made it to thirty six.

He pulled a shirt from his drawer and frowned. It was soft, cotton, and one of his favorites, but he was sure this one was torn at the shoulder, left to waste away in the oft forgotten mending basket. He shook it out and peered at it–sure enough, it had been torn, but now it was mended with fine, careful stitches.

Sarah. It must've been.

That girl was busy herself, but it warmed him, that she'd taken the time to mend her old pa's shirts without him ever having to ask.

He dresses quickly, tucking in his mended shirt, buttoning his trousers, adjusting his suspenders. He wasn't a vain man, but he takes pride in his work, and his mama always told him "It ain't about vanity, Joel. You take yourself and your appearance serious, others will too."

He grew up with little, but his mama was an accomplished seamstress. Her mending was impeccable, and any time she found a discarded bit of fabric, she'd bring it back to life and make it twice as pretty as she found it. Joel reckoned she was the best dressed woman in all of Texas. She collected issues of Good Housekeeping and Harper's, taking account of all the latest fashions. She built corsets and cages and all the ladies would flock to her to do them up just as pretty.

Joel combed back his hair. Stared in the mirror for just a moment longer, lost in his memories. Nodded, and stepped downstairs.

"Pa!" Sarah grinned at him as he entered the kitchen, "Lookin' mighty fine this morning."

She pulled him in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you, baby girl," he grinned back, "You makin' us breakfast?"

"Yep!" She nods, and hands him a plate. Drop biscuits, a little burnt, swimming in gravy, a cup of wild berries on the side, and a hot cup of coffee.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the spiraling tendrils of coffee vapour and let out a delighted hum. "You spoil me, kiddo."

"'Course," she nodded, and took a big bite of her own biscuit.

"Uncle Tommy home?" Joel asked, and Sarah shook her head, a couple of biscuit crumbs scattering around her, "Nah, he went out early today. Said he wanted to get done with his work early so he can celebrate your birthday."

Joel raised an eyebrow. "Celebrate my birthday?" he scoffs, "Stop by the saloon or lose all his money at cards and still make it on time to dinner is more like it."

He took one last gulp of his coffee and placed the mug down.

"We'll have a nice night," Sarah assured him, "An' I told Uncle Tommy he best be here in time for supper or else. And I'm makin' you a cake."

"Okay, baby. You'd best be off to school, now. I'll get these dishes taken care of."

"You sure?" She asked.

"Positive."

Sarah nodded, pulled off her apron, tossed a few of her favorite books in her satchel and tore out the door.

Joel went off for his work. Only two years they'd been in the Black Hills, Joel, Sarah and Tommy, but they'd made a nice little home. They came up after Sarah's mama passed, and Tommy heard about the gold rush. He insisted it was all because of the rush he wanted to come, but Sarah always suspected he came because he knew Joel would follow, and her pa needed a change of scenery. He'd almost faded into a ghost himself, sitting round their empty old house, nearly lost in memories. Grief had a way of consuming him.

So they'd traveled North, left Texas behind for good, and made a new life for themselves.

The schoolhouse had been around since before the Millers arrived in Deadwood, but there hadn't been a teacher till Spring of this year. Joel was glad Sarah finally had a chance for a proper education. Smart as a whip, that one, and hungry for knowledge. He couldn't wait to see what she was gonna do.

There weren't a lot of kids, or even that many women in the community outside of the brothels, but the Millers had established themselves. Tommy was something of a wild card, getting into bar fights more often than Joel would prefer, but he'd never gotten on the wrong side of a quick draw, and he had enough charm he managed to get out of most of the trouble he found himself in. And Joel–Joel was reliable. Whether he was fixing someone's step, or making sure to haul that extra meat back after a hunt to ensure one of Sarah's friends would have enough to eat, he could be depended on.

The day the world ended, Joel saddled up Delphine, his dapple grey, and mounted her, tools packed neatly in her panniers. Today, he'd be working on repairs at the general store. They rode from their home at the outskirts towards town.

As he approached, he slowed to a walk. Something felt off, like there was a tension about to snap. But no one was bleeding, and some days on the frontier that felt like a high enough bar to clear.

Along Main Street, he could hear strained voices.

"The telegraphs stopped coming-" He heard one man say.

"Problem with the wire?" Another asked.

The first man shook his head. "Naw, had some of my guys inspect it. Everything should be workin'. It just- it ain't."

"How long's it been going on?"

"Been five days now. Never seen it like this before."

"Ain't seen any coaches for weeks now, too. It's like the route just stopped altogether. Don't know how to get word to my folks back east about the new baby if we've got no mail and no telegraphs."

The day the world ended, Joel made it home by sunset, just in time to find Sarah plating up their dinner.

"Good day?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, got lots done. Next time you go by the general store, you'll see a door that swings smoothly on its hinges and brand new windowpanes."

"That's great, Pa!" she smiled. It warmed her to see his pride in his work.

"Uncle Tommy home yet?" Joel asked.

"No," Sarah frowned, "Thought he'd be back a couple hours ago, too. Guess you're right."

"Reckon he's lost track of time. Though- Huh, I didn't see him at the saloon when I rode by."

"There's always the cathouse?" Sarah suggested, and Joel snorted and shook his head. It wasn't an impossibility.

"Well-," Sarah paused, "There'll be cake waiting for him, but at least have your supper before it gets cold."

"Thank you baby," Joel smiled, took his plate from her, and dug in.

The night felt heavy, something in the atmosphere pressing like a weight through the world. All the food was eaten (besides a small plate left for Tommy) and the cake was cut, when the gunshots started outside.

Sarah started and Joel bolted upright, swinging around to grab the rifle by the door without a second thought.

"What's happening?" she asked.

Joel shook his head, crouching down by the window, pushing the curtains aside and peering through.

"I don't know, baby. Just stay calm, stay low. We're gonna be okay."

There was no one directly outside, but the gunshots continued, and the more Joel stared, the more he could see smoke rising from town.

"Looks like a fire," he told her, "Don't know what the shootin's about, though. And–" His eyes narrowed, heartbeat pounded. "We gotta block the door, baby, there's someone coming."

"Is it Uncle Tommy?" She asked, eyes wide and voice small.

"No, I don't think–" Joel had grabbed the heavy mahogany table by the legs and started tugging, but did a double take out the window. "Wait, you're right!"

It was Tommy, galloping towards their home on a mount Joel didn't recognize. Before Tommy was even a hundred feet away, Joel could hear him call out his name.

"Joel!" Tommy bellowed, "We gotta get outta here!"

Joel swung the door open and Tommy stumbled in.

"Somethin's happening," he wheezed, breaths coming quickly, panic etched across his face, running to the cabinet and filling his pack with ammo. A knife. Another revolver. "We gotta pack up anythin' we can't afford to lose. The town's on fire. There are these people, fuck, Joel, it's like they're the Devil's got 'em."

"Like the Devil's got 'em?" Joel asked, pulling two bags from pegs by the door. "The fuck you mean? You been on the shine again?" He turned to Sarah. "Start packin', baby. Clothes, medicine. Cash, too, you know the drawer?"

She nodded and ran upstairs, and Joel turned back to Tommy, fumbling through papers and photos, knowing he had no time for sentiment but couldn't bear to leave without trying to think of everything.

"They're fuckin' possessed," Tommy explained, "Won't listen to reason. It's a fuckin' mess in town. A few coaches came through today and there were men on it raving, saying some kinda devilry was coming through. They seemed crazy, so we just laughed. Didn't think much of it."

He shook his head and ran a palm down his face. That's when Joel noticed the blood on his sleeve.

"Jesus," Joel said, "You hurt?"

Tommy shook his head, confused, and then looked where Joel was looking and exhaled. "Naw," he exhaled, "That blood ain't mine."

"So what happened?"

"Well," Tommy continued, "An hour or so later we heard screaming. Turns out a couple folks who'd come in by train from down South a day or so ago, who weren't feelin' all that well, they'd been to the doctor and went crazy. Started twitchin'. Bitin'. Proper bitin' people. They got these things in their mouths, these weird fuckin' tendrils-"

Joel stared at him, a muscle in his jaw tensing.

"I know it sounds crazy, Joel, but something bad is fuckin' happening. Don't know what it is. All I know is people are tearing each other up. And we gotta get outta here."

Joel was silent a minute and then nodded, solemn.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "We're gonna get outta here."

"We are," Tommy agreed, "But we both know the only way out is through town, and it's a shit show right now."

"Fuck," Joel hissed and looked out the window again, "Looks like the whole town is on fire."

"It is," Tommy nodded, "But we can avoid Main Street. Go to the outside, and around to the thoroughfare."

"Fine." Then Joel called upstairs, "We gotta go, baby!"

Sarah re-emerged, two bags packed full. "I got clothes for both of us. Money. Few other things."

"Thank you, baby."

They saddled up their horses, Tommy on his stolen mare, Joel and Sarah on Delphine.

Joel hated this, hated that they had to pass through town to pass by Deadwood and across into the Black Hills, but they were at the edge of the gulch. No way to go but through.

Before they rode, Joel cupped the back of Sarah's head with one hand, closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He nearly didn't, worried her pa would be embarrassing her. But he did. For the rest of his life, he was always glad that he did.

As they rode through flames, they saw the foundations of the place they called home begin to crumble. It was chaos. It was worse than Joel ever could have imagined. The town was engulfed in madness, men eating one another toppled over onto the dusty ground. Smoke choked them and made their eyes water as they rode through with cloths pressed to their mouths, trying to avoid the worst of it. There were a few folks who had built barricades and stood beyond them, guns aimed, trying to take down the most violent of the possessed. It was horrifying, their friends, colleagues, and neighbors engaged in a fight to the death. It was wrong wrong wrong and by God it was the end of the world.

They saw the younger Adlers torn to pieces, and the elder running on all fours as she tried to rip apart someone else.

"Hold onto me, baby," Joel said, pulling her in in an attempt to shield her from the bodies. She'd already gotten a glimpse and couldn't help but stare, and she stared for a moment before she felt nauseous. Then, she screwed up her eyes and held on tight.

They saw Jimmy's place in flames. The baker's. The saloon. There were women running from the brothel, still rouged and bright as they aimed their guns at the monsters around them.

Through side paths and shortcuts, down alleyways and in the gaps between houses, they rode desperately through Deadwood. The buildings Joel had helped erect and the repairs he'd completed in the past few years had given him an intricate knowledge of the settlement. They rode fast and sure, evading the devils that clutched at the air, reaching for their ankles as they rode by.

Makeshift barricades had been put up all along the outskirts of town. Each way they turned, there was no way through. They rode back and forth, crisscrossing the streets as they tried their best to pull away from the writhing bodies in the dirt.

It wasn't till they passed the very last buildings down Main Street, right by the edge of town, that they slowed.

The sheriff lay dead, a bullet right between his eyes, bleeding out on the dusty street corner. A circuit rider loomed ahead of him on his mount, hands resting on his shotgun that, slung over his shoulder. Blood drenched his forearms, spattered against his coat, so soaked it shone visible even against the heavy wool. There was a fear in his eyes, a terror that unsettled them.

When he saw the Millers, he straightened and raised the weapon.

"Preacher, let us through," Tommy said, and the homilist darted his eyes between the men.

"Can't let anyone past," the man said, "This here's the reckoning. No one's gonna escape the inevitable."

Tommy raised his revolver. "I ain't askin' again. Let us through."

The preacher steadied his shaking hands and aimed his shotgun "But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up-"

It's hard to say who fired first.

In a split second, two gunshots rang out, fragmented echos of one another. The preacher fell. So did Joel and Sarah.

The bullet grazed through Joel's side, and he clutched at his abdomen, holding the wound.

"Joel-!" Tommy cried as he flung himself from his mount, the preacher dead and already forgotten.

Joel rolled over and crawled towards where Sarah lay. The bullet that had gone through Joel pierced her belly and she shook, blood spurting and pooling from the wound.

He tried to apply pressure, tried to slow the bleeding, but her screams and sobs stilled him.

"I'm sorry, baby," he cried, and she shook, eyes darting around, trying to focus and failing.

"Pa-," she croaked.

"It's okay, baby girl," he lied, "You're gonna be okay."

She exhaled in a final gurgling puff, blood spattering across her perfect face, and Joel howled.

She was gone, he knew it, but still he cradled her.

Tommy stroked her hair and wiped the blood off her cheek. Joel pressed his head to her chest and wept, horrible strangled heaves caught in each exhale.

The day the world ended, Joel's world ended, too.

They carried her body with them for miles, Joel holding her close even as he felt her begin to cool and stiffen. Time escaped them as they rode, and around sunrise, they found a creek with wildflowers blanketing the banks. A small herd of pronghorns leaped along the water.

Tommy dug a hole and Joel told her stories, rocking her back and forth in his arms. All the ones he could remember, that she loved so much when she was little. Told her to rest easy now, baby.

They lowered her into the ground, and Joel wept. Tommy assembled a small cairn at the head of her grave. Joel looked down at his mended shirt and realised it was ruined with blood. The last gift from his daughter, and he'd ruined it.

Joel embraced Tommy. Held his brother close and told him he loved him. Muttered something about needing a moment to himself and wandered off.

The day his world ended, Joel tried to follow her into the darkness. A gunshot rang out, echoing through the hills.

Tommy ran to the sound and found him, crumpled but very much alive. He held his big brother close, cloth pressed hard to his bleeding temple, brushing away his streaming tears as he cried himself, terrified to lose all of his remaining family in a single day.

The day the world ended, the last two Millers were covered in blood and filth and tears. All they had was each other, their horror and their fear.

[cryptidclaw]

Ive been thinking about my Clan Gen Challenge characters a lot... so heres two redesigns/redraws for my fave fucked up twins <3

Im working on planning out lore and stuff for these guys stories rn, and Im planning on eventually making a blog for them but Im proud of these refs so I wanted to post them!

A bit of info for their story tho... their group (clan) is now called The Hawthorns, they live in a California inspired territory, specifically they live in caves! Leaders are now called Monarchs, and I'm thinking I will call Deputies Vices tho I may change that...

They also live in a post apocalypse like RoC but there are absolutely no humans like how it is in Guardians of Ga'Hoole!

Also Swanheart's eye patch was crafted from the fabric of a human sleep mask hehe, i thought it looked cute and cool !

...

[Image 1 ID: a digital drawing of Monarch Spiderweb, a warriors inspired oc. She is walking with her left side showing, and she has a smug smile with squinted evil eyes. She is a long furred black cat, her fur fluffs up around the upper parts of her legs, and below that her legs are darker and short furred. She has blue eyes with red pupils and eyelashes and she has red scars going across her face, chest and back. Above her is written "Monarch Spiderweb" in red, and next to that is a front view of har face, a view of her paw with her claws unsheathed and her red paw pads showing, and a close up of her mouth open, which is red inside./End ID]

[Image 2 ID: a digital drawing of Vice Swanheart, a warriors inspired oc. he is walking with her left side showing, and he has has a scared expression on his face, and has a navy blue eye patch with a white outline of a closed eye on it covering his left eye. he is a long furred white cat, his fur fluffs up around the upper parts of his legs, and below that his legs are light gray and short furred. he has blue eyes and pink scars going over his chest and left leg. The scars in his chest go across a light gray heart marking. Above him is written "Vice Swanheart" in blue, and next to that is a close up of his eye patch, two front views of his face, one with the eye patch, and the other without, showing his eye covered in pink scars and the eye droopy and blind, a view of his paw with his claws unsheathed and his pink paw pads showing, and a close up of his mouth open, which is pink inside./End ID]

[wildernessuntothemselves]

i LOVE the gyu's size debate so much 🥺🥺 i knew my baby was big since i first saw the pool video even tho i don't think he is AS big as the picture where that moa drew the outlines of his bulge lol that must have been an optical illusion pretty boy shy because of the size of his pretty dick but you reassure him by wanting to have him on your hands all the time, sucking him off whenever you two are watching a movie or smt. the feeling of his cock getting hard, his sights and moans as his body relaxes under your touch, trying to slowing get all of him into your mouth ugh i need to please my little baby all the time <3

boys with big dicks who don't know how to use them are a kink of mine if that exists lmao though honestly i feel like moas overestimate how big he is but whatever for the sake of this imagine he has a big dick

he didn't have much look in his sex life because he's so big he always hurts the girls he's with so he was very anxious to let you see it. now you had thought at first that he must be small and that's why he won't show it to you but he very clumsily and shyly told you "no... it's... it's too big."

you burst out laughing, thinking he's fucking with you but his red face and evasive eyes told you he wasn't joking.

"come on, gyu, it can't be THAT big. show me, baby."

and so you coax him into pulling his pants down and WOW he is big and as you stare at him and hold him in your hand he gets even bigger, the weight of him heavy on your palm. but that's okay you're up for the challenge and you know you can take him

problem is the dumb baby doesn't know how to fuck properly because his past gfs would always stop the sex as it was too painful and so he doesn't know what to really do once you work up to being able to take his cock

and so you lay him down and ride him, murmuring to him about how helpless he is and what a dumb baby he is that he can't even fuck you properly and the poor pup tries to hide his face behind his hands but you won't even give him that reprieve, pinning his hands down next to his head as you ride him and watch him cry