#their ending is literally everything to me and is more intimate than anything ever

[muchmossymess]

hey, dont cry, queerplatonic jayce/viktor okay?

[arsonlookers]

VERY NEEDY IDOL! YAN! AVENTURINE

Suggestive below read at your own risk~

Imagine down bad yandere! idol adventurine really wanted to be treated like this by his manager Reader.

He has dreamed all night and all day daydreaming about being under you, and he is soooo down bad.

He doesn't care if he would be the top or the bottom in the relationship at all.

all he cares about is you and him together, being intimate, being lovely dovely with each other being able to love and be loved back, that's all inside his mind.

Imagine just how yandere! Adventurine would go down on his knees and begs you to just fuck him, even better if you made him pussy drunk at all. he will be ecstatic and even incoherently thank you non-stop

"ThaThank you~ ahhh~~ mmmnn~ ahh~ Thankyou~thank-thank you baby~ agghbabyy~ "

He will never let go of your leg unless you give him all he wants, and he will even shamelessly make a bet with your dignity on the line so if you either lose or win he will have an advantage one way or the other.

After all, he doesn't want to lose this chance to be able to fuck his sexy and lovely manager~

just push more against his d!ck he loves the feeling of your heels just pushing against his member and looking at you with his love-sick eyes. Don't ever lose eye contact with this man because he will grip harder on your leg if you look away even for a second.

"Look at me~ please just look at me~ "

He loves how soft your thighs are and how plush it is against his face, and even snuggles his cheeks against your thigh while keeping eye contact, he can smell your arousal because of how close he is to your private and he is just as turned on as you.

he will tease You about it but he is no better since you can clearly see his packing under your heels and even with your heels on you can feel how he is getting bigger than before which is not normal at all.

With your dirty mind, you start to imagine just how hard he can get and just how good he would feel inside you.

with lust-filled eyes, you just can't look away from his obsessed and lustful gaze.

Imagine after all this is happening it will end up from just pushing his member down by your heels to literally sitting on his face shamelessly putting more strength and griping on your sides to not lose the sensation of drowning in your juices and being faced against your pussy~

"Stay~ hmmm~ you taste so goood~ ahh~ mmm~"

Praises you just how you make him feel and loves how your juices never end.

He loves how it moves so fast from him begging to now eating you out was a dream for him. grips his hair please he loves how tight and sends electrics on his body. the pain is reminding him that this is real and not a dream.

That you are in front of his face eating you out and hearing your godly lovely moans and whimpers. He will forever cherish this moment and nonstop imagine this every moment of his life.

he is in your mercy so please give him more~

"Ahhh~ hmm~ more~ just mo-more~ stay like this ~ forever ahh~ you taste sofckingGoood~ahggghhh~~"

Its even better if not just this position you know~ he can do all and if possible he will do ALL with you~ He means it~

E.V.E.R.Y. S.I.N.G.L.E. P.O.S.I.T.I.O.N.

Until you pass out~ and even if you do pass out, don't really expect he will just stop ~ no honey~ he will continue even after that~

"you need something baby?"

don't really worry he does take good after care for you. you cant walk? he will serve you breakfast in bed

You want to go to the restroom, he will take you there

He will be at your beck and call. just call him anywhere, everytime, and anything he dont really care he will ditch everything in a matter if seconds. FOR. YOU.~

Art is not mine!!

[mrs-monaghan]

Tbh I'm a jikooker, but I find it incredibly difficult to fit a healthy long-term relationship into the same timeline as all of jimin's solo work. It's not the pronouns or taking one lyric very literally, its the entire thing, plus comments from him and his producers. To me, you'd have to do some serious olympic level mental gymnastics to make that make sense. I don't doubt that jikook have a special bond, I've definitely seen things between them that definitely look like sexual attraction to me and things that surpass friendship boundaries, but I can't in good faith say that they're together in some official long-term way if I actually listen to jimin and his work.

I've seen some jikookers think they broke up for a while, but I have to question if those people have ever been through a breakup because the little bit of distance/separation/awkwardness we did see from them during chapter 2 is nothing compared to the type of tension that would be there if a relationship that intimate and intertwined had separated, especially considering the dark feelings jimin was feeling. He wouldn't have been cutely commenting on jungkook's lives and jungkook wouldn't have been asking to hang-out or getting excited to see jimin in his comments.

Idk, I'm sure someone could twist everything a certain way and only take certain things at face-value and then make everything else abstract, etc. to make the case that they are together, but I don't really see it. You look at face-off, alone, and just his general dark feelings during Face, then look at the creation of Muse and how him and his producers said he couldn't relate to the love-dovey beginning songs, which is how they ended up making Who (despite the fact that jikookers try to distance him from the song since he doesn't have writing credits even though he sat in the recording room telling them what he wanted and saying it felt like reading his diary). I think jimin could have very well gone through a pretty awful breakup along with the inner turmoil he was going through post-covid, but I don't think it was with jungkook if he did. I still enjoy jikook's bond either way at the end of the day, but yeah I don't really get how anyone can take an honest look at jimin's work and his words and think he was in a long-term healthy love-of-his-life relationship during that time or into chapter 2.

Not trying to change your opinion or anything, honestly I don't really see it discussed much in jikooker spaces (besides bad-faith stuff like tkkers stirring up shit over pronouns in lyrics which is just dumb) and when it is, some jikookers are pretty pick-and-choose about what they deem to be true to jimin's feelings and what isn't. Which I get being nuanced, but sometimes it does feel like a "well this fits my beliefs so clearly this is true to jimin and this doesn't so it means nothing because he didn't write it" or whatever. I honestly get annoyed with the bad-faith arguers because it prevents being able to have actual discussions about some of this stuff in our little jikooker corner of tumblr. Like "he said her, he's clearly straight! he danced with a girl, straight!" stfu.

I don't have much to say to you anon. Not really. Not anything that hasn't been said anyway. Which you've seen and decided its jkkrs doing mental gymnastics. "I'm a Jikooker but..." its never a great way to start a sentence. It just gives major insecure jkkr vibes which i just 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬 you either believe in them or you don't. There is no if, and or buts.

I will leave you with this; over the years, antis and (insecure) jkkrs alike have always found a way to conclude Jkk aren't as close anymore or they broke up or some other bullshit. But what happens everytime Jikook resurface and we see them together again?

NOTHING HAS CHANGED!!!

Nothing ever changes with these 2! They come back closer, more in sync, happier, more in love and their relationship more established than ever. This happens every👏🏽damn👏🏽time👏🏽 Everytime!

Then the insecure jkkrs will be like "jkk is real" again.

And then we will go without content for a while and once again we are back here with the jkk aren't as close argument. Once again. It is an exhausting cycle that I refuse to be a part of.

You can try and nit pick various reasons as to why Jikook aren't in an established rlship, but I will chose to focus on reasons why they are definitely 130000000% in a relationship. Like the fact that they are enlisted together rn, the fact that they could have done AYS with other members but chose eo. Or the fact that Jimin wrote his name on JK's chest with sunscreen and I dont even want to imagine how he did that. What position they were in that would justify people calling them brothers 😂

You do you anon. I'mma just be over here enjoying Jimin promote the hell out of his favourite JK song.

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Look at him so proud of his man 🥺🥺

[torialefay]

6 with CHANGBIN…… 😩

One Hell of a Workout 💣

boyfriend!changbin x horny!fem!reader smut

✨ synopsis: your & your boyfriend's sleep schedule is fucked up, which in turn means your gym schedule is also fucked up. late night workout sessions may end up not being so bad 👀

✨ wc: ~2k

✨ warnings: smut ahead- minors DNI; cursing; unprotected sex, public sex

• you knew you shouldn't, but you couldn't help it. changbin just looked too fucking good.

• you'd gone to the gym with him superrr late. not because you were particularly dedicated, but because it is currently only 5 PM in the country you just got back from... and seeing his arms and shoulders as he worked out was never a bad sight.

• something about the smell of him and the way his little curls stuck to his head once he started to sweat got you riled up more than anything else in the world.

• as you were finishing your squat reps, you couldn't help but to watch the contour of the muscles in his back out of the corner of your eye. you were the only person bin would workout in front of without a shirt on. and god, the way he looked at the end of his lat pulldowns... let's just say you were starting to get wet, and not from the sweat.

• you weren't quite sure what it was. why you were so horny all of a sudden. you'd usually never be this side tracked about him. BUT with bin having shows every night recently, he didn't always have the time, energy, or opportunity to be intimate with you... and this was the result. too much pent up desire.

• after clearing your weights and getting a drink of water, you watched changbin as he laid down to start his bench press. the way his arms bulged just by angling them up to grab the bar was so yummy that you couldn't stand it.

• "want me to spot, babe?" you asked, trying to sound as non-chalant as possible.

• "i don't know how much you'll be able to help if i get crushed, but sure why not," he said, chuckling to himself.

• you bit your lip as you walked over, about to situate yourself over top of him.

• swinging your leg over his hips, it took everything in you not to sit down and straddle him.

• "good?" he asked.

• "you're good. you got this!" he'd already done his warming up, so he was moving onto something a bit more challenging.

• as he removed the bar and began to pump his arms up, you helped him count. "1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... 7... 8... 9... 10."

• "aghh," he let out a deep breath, moving the bar back onto the rack.

• "well, this is a pretty sight," he said, moving his head down to look at you over top of him.

• 'this i can work with,' you thought.

• you smirked at him before lowering your pelvis, letting yourself rest right on top of his hips. you were hoping the contact would work in your favor.

• "babyyy, come on now," he said, throwing his head back in a tiny giggle. he definitely thought you were joking.

• "what's the matter?" you asked, big eyed, moving your hands down to rest on the sides of his torso, tight from the extra core exercises he'd been doing lately.

• "you know you can't be doing this. come on, you've gotta stand back up," he said smiling up at you. he was about to shake his head laughing in disbelief.

• "but why?" you teased, letting your hands trail further inwards and run gently up and down his abdomen.

• "why?!" he moved his head to look left and right. "because we are literally in the gym right now! in public!"

• you smiled playfully as you ever so slightly began to move your hips up and down on him. just the tiniest bit to gage his reaction.

• "technically," you started, "this is a *private gym... and who else is gonna be here at 3 in the morning?"

• when you sensed no hesitancy on his side, you let yourself grind a little harder, making full contact with what you could now feel as his bulge. you wanted to go slowly. to make sure that every last centimeter of him felt you.

• "ah fuck," he smiled while exhaling loudly. "you're not gonna make this easy, are you?"

• "if you realllly don't want it," you let your hands wander to his chest, massaging into him, "then say it and i'll stop."

• you couldn't help the smile on your face. knowing that he was putty underneath you. hoping he'd just give in already. hoping you could give each other what you knew you both desperately needed.

• bin didn't say anything. he just shut his eyes, looking like he was concentrating on some imaginary thing in his head.

• when he held that position and didn't go on to say anything, you took it as your cue to stop. you slowly brought your hands back to yourself and halted your hips from rocking on him.

• "i'm sorry binnie, i don't know what got into me," you mumbled, now feeling embarrassed at the ordeal, your own boyfriend not able to look at you. you slowly began to stand back up just over top of him.

• before you could think another thought, changbin's hands gripped hard on your hips, pushing you back down on him.

• "i didn't say to stop," he mumbled lowly, as if the words were coming from deep within his chest. it wasn't anger in his voice. it was more of a... whine? a plea? ... something that made you horny.

• with a victorious smile on your face, you reveled in his actions, taking this opportunity to get what you desperately needed.

• "feels that good, huh?" you toyed with him a bit before starting to pick up speed again, grinding back and forth over his clothed cock.

• "hush," he said, covering his smile with his hands. he felt like there was no way this was really happening to him right now. no way that this was his reality.

• you took your time, slowly and sweetly grinding on him until you felt your clit begin to throb. all of the sensation had built up, leaving it swollen and exposed to your underwear, steadily and deliciously.

• "oh fuck," you moaned, throwing your head back and savoring the way that changbin's hard shaft fit so perfectly between your lips, massaging you without even trying.

• as you heard light moans escaping changbin's mouth, you quickly slid down him slightly so you could palm him through his shorts. his cock was rock solid, and as you stroked up and down, he began to wince. as bad as he wanted to cover it up, you knew he was getting overly worked up.

• "i wanna take these off," you pleaded, pulling on the waistband of his shorts and boxers.

• toying around with them for a bit, you slowly pulled up and shimmied them down until they were around changbin's ankle, leaving him exposed.

• as you stood, you took the opportunity to slide your pants down, taking one leg out and then the other so you could throw the clothing on the floor beside you.

• changbin propped himself up by leaning his elbows on the bench. his eyes now full of light and wonder, he took in the sight of your lower body now unclothed for him in the middle of the gym. his safe haven and safe space... now absolutely stained with lustful thoughts.

• throwing yourself back onto him, you straddled his lap for a bit, letting his tip get covered in your juices. you felt your breath hitch just a bit as you rubbed up and down just the right spot.

• when you were satisfied with your plan, you quickly lifted your hips up and guided him to your entrance. in one swift motion, you removed your hand from his cock and instead left it to rest on his stomach.

• you felt yourself relax around him as you sank down, devouring every last centimeter.

• changbin sucked his teeth in slightly at the feeling of his dick pushing inside you, relaxing once he was fully in and you were finally stretched around him.

• you knew you had plenty of time, and you wanted to enjoy every last, tiny inch of movement between you two.

• as you angled your body forward, you moved both hands up until they were pressing into changbin's chest.

• you let yourself lean into the luscious rhythm you had before, slowly grinding forward and backward around him.

• as you went, you slowly built up your pace. you didn't mean for it to happen already, but with each movement of your hips, your clit began to pulse, begging for more.

• as you rocked back and forth, back and forth, you heard a few disgruntled moans from changbin, encouraging you to keep going.

• you threw your head back in pleasure as you started violently thrusting yourself up on him, the sensation becoming too great for you to bear.

• faster, faster, faster, chasing that sweet realesse until "fuckkkkkkkk" was all you could say.

• you immediately started twitching around changbin as you rode out your high, his hands coming around to stabilize your ass and hold you down on him until you were completely finished.

• trying to catch your breath, you leaned down onto your arms, closer to changbin's chest. your body was so exhausted, you weren't sure what to do next.

• but changbin had his own plans. before you knew what was happening, his arms had wrapped around you completely, pulling your face and stomach flat onto him as he began to violently buck his hips up and thrust inside of you.

• and jesus christ did it feel good.

• deep, guttural moans flew out of his mouth with each sharp thrust, with the sound of skin slapping following right after. the pace was quickly becoming too much to handle.

• cursing under his breath, changbin easily wrapped his hands into your hair and pulled, arching your back for him and letting him get a good look at your face.

• you moaned out as you focused on all of him. the feeling of his tip hitting your cervix repeatedly. the aggression on his face while looking at you. the one hand that was now urgently squeezing your ass, definitely leaving bruises behind.

• he was just too fucking good.

• "this what you wanted baby?!" changbin spat as you quivered over top of him.

• "ahh fuck," he bit down, focusing his eyes on your face and the way your tits bounced every time he pounded into you.

• as his thrusts got harder and sloppier, you knew he was close. with one final yank of your hair, he pulled you all the way back to arch your ass just perfectly for him. he loved the sight of you losing your breath over it.

• one, two, three more thrusts, and "oh fuck. oh fuck. aghhhhh fuckkkkk," he moaned out as he came, letting go of your hair and letting your body fall lifeless on top of him as he continued to fuck into you and ride out his high.

• like his own little rag doll, he used you until he absolutely couldn't stand it anymore. he was completely drained and overstimulated.

• you both laid there for a few seconds, panting heavily to catch your breath. laying on top of him, you heard his heart beat continuing to slow in his chest as he rested and regained his conscience.

• once you'd both calmed down, you finally got the chance to get words out.

• "that was too fucking good, binnie," you smiled, going up to peck him on the lips.

• "that was one hell of a workout," he laughed, beginning to sit up now. you, still seated in his lap, got a perfect view of his face and sweaty curls as he rested now on his tailbone.

• "seeeee," you teased, "we should do it again sometime." you coyly smiled.

• "you might just talk me into it," changbin said, leaning his forehead on yours.

• you both sat in solidarity for a moment, just admiring one another before changbin broke the peace. "i love you and all, but we've gotta put our pants back on." he looked down at the haphazardly strewn clothes around him.

• "and we should probably wipe this thing down about 5 times before we leave," you giggled before standing up.

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

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[commander-rahrah]

Here's my idea that I would love to hear your opinion! Just to let you know this is quite self-indulgent XD What if GN!Reader knew that he was trying to use them from the start? They knew because they're quite familiar with people only talking to them because it's either because they can do something for them or they have something they need! They would still help him since they believe it's something he shouldn't need to go so far to have it. What do you think of it? I'm curious :3

UMMM YESSSS ANON YES! This is definitely something I have considered as well!! Tav isn't a naïve little target like Astarion is used too!

I imagine that Tav/Reader would probably admit to knowing about his plan not long after his own confession scene from Moonrise Towers in Act II. I think it would go something like this ♡♡

P.S.: I absolutely LOVED doing this, and my inbox is literally always open for stuff like this friends! :) It may just take me a hot second to reply!

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“I still can’t wrap my head around this,” Astarion’s voice was a hushed whisper in your ear, the two of you laying next to each other in his tent. You were close, but not touching — you were affording him space, allowing him to make the first move to initiate any kind of touch.

The intimate setting of laying across from each other in his tent was more than you had even expected. The candle stumps sat carefully around you basked everything in a gorgeous, orange glow.

“What do you mean?” You asked gently, your eyebrows furrowed.

“I’d imagine confessing to you in more ways than one… and never once did I imagine it would end like this.” He motioned to the two of you, running a finger tip across your knuckles before withdrawing. His voice was thick with emotion.

A soft chuckle escaped you, “What you thought I’d stake you?”

“Well… yes!” He said exasperatedly, before letting out a breathy laugh himself. Then he shook his head, turning serious, “I was manipulating you. Plotting against my master, with you as my shield.”

Your mouth twitched as you admitted, “I knew.”

“No, I don’t think you understand—“

You interrupted him, your face earnest, “No, Astarion. I do. I knew.”

Realization set deep in his features, his mouth hanging open just enough you could see his fangs, “How long had you known?”

You gave him a half smile, “Since the night you invited me to the woods.”

Your first night together.

“I— that was ages ago!" He sat up abruptly, his red eyes wide, "Why didn’t you say anything? Or better yet— gut me?!"

You sat up slowly, resting on your knees. “People have been using me for my entire life, Astarion. I know what they see when they meet me — a pretty face and nice clothes. Someone who is too friendly, too eager. People have been knocking on my door to ask for gold or sex or an invitation, anything they can get from me… as long as I can remember. Long before I met you."

Astarion was well aware of the mask you could so easily slip on when interacting with others. He hated it when you wore it. But now he understood you had been donning it to protect yourself, as much as he it did for himself too. But he still wanted to stalk and haunt every person who ever made you feel like you were a thing to be used, a means to some end.

Including himself.

Your voice snapped him back to the present, your voice hesitant, "But I had seen through your flirtations for a while now. It’s a force of habit for you, isn’t it?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Yes, it is."

Your expression crumbled, "I may have realized you were using me, but I didn’t realize how sex made you feel. I’m sorry I didn’t realize, I shouldn’t have indulged in that way."

The vampire waved off your apology, but curiosity got the best of him. "Why did you ‘indulge’? If you knew I was using you… if you knew that I'm... this."

You took a deep breath, before looking him in the eye. “Because I also recognized that what you were doing was a routine, a defense mechanism that you had been doing for longer than I’ve been alive. Because you were manipulated and used for your whole life too, weren’t you?"

Tears formed in the bottom of his eyes as he listened to you, but he willed them to stay back. His red eyes blinked furiously as he listened to you, his fingers intertwining together on his lap.

He wished you would hold them.

"You aren’t like your master, Astarion. And you aren’t what he made you to be either. You are a survivor. And when you were thrown off that nautiloid ship and found yourself in this merry party of misfits, you did just that — survive.

So… I let myself play mouse and get stuck in your trap. Just as I turned a blind eye to Wyll's sending stone. Or didn't ask Gale to explain what in the heavens he was doing with the amulet we had found. Because I trusted you, even back then. Cared for you far more then I should admit. But I knew you needed time."

His bottom lip trembled as you continued your own confession. He let his tears slip free as he saw your own break free. They stuck to your lashes and dripped down your flushed, freckled cheeks. Gods, even crying you were beautiful.

"But I regret that I laid with you — if I had known it caused you such pain I wouldn’t have done that. I knew that sex was apart of your repertoire, but I didn’t realize the anguish it caused you." Your face was pained as you admitted that, he could feel the self-loathing radiating off of you.

“It wasn’t all bad — those times with you were some of the most unexpected moments of bliss I’ve had in centuries." Astarion confessed as he grabbed your fingers and held them tightly. "But it still feels tainted, marred from my past with Cazador..."

“I know." You squeezed his fingers back, another silent understanding. "And we do not need to do such things until you are ready, Astarion. I mean it.”

He nodded, keeping his head down as he stared at the blankets you both sat on — willing himself to get his emotions under control.

You tucked your head to look up at his tilted face, "May I?" You asked softly, your hand hovering between you.

He swallowed as he nodded. You reached out slowly with your hand, before your thumb gently swept under his eyes and down the sides of his face, wiping away the tears that lingered on his pale skin. A sigh of contentment left him at your soft, simple touch. No one had ever touched him like that before.

He caught your hand as you went to withdraw it, your hands intertwined with his between you as you kneeled in front of each other.

Astarion was afraid to ask the next question on the tip of his tongue. But curiosity got the best of him. “So if you knew about my plan this whole time… when did you realize you— you’d fallen for me?”

Your entire face brightened as he asked, your eyes shining as you spoke, “Oh, from the moment you held a knife to my throat and barred your teeth.”

His heart soared, climbing up his throat as he almost choked from the happiness spreading through him.

“You masochist.” He laughed, grabbing onto the sides of your face.

“A romantic fool," You murmured as he placed his lips softly onto yours.

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If you enjoyed this, please feel free to check out more of my Astarion x GN!Reader on my masterlist!

[random-introverted-blog]

Come Home To Me [Ascended!Astarion x F!Reader]

The 10MB limit will be the death of me

Intended Audience: Mature [May ratings never stop you]

Who be smoochin?: Astarion x F!Reader

The Bit: You leave Astarion, save the day and go back to your hometown to live happily ever after with your family. Good thing he's not your crazy jealous ex. Otherwise who knows what he'd do when he found you? Happily minding your own business? oh, perish the thought, darling. Oh, and some time later you accidentally die without permission. He is not a happy camper about any of this. He may or may not raze your town and kill your family in the process...

Warnings/Advisories: It's Ascended!Astarion, guys. Come on. Still need me to explain? Fine. *Unfurls the world's longest scroll* Expect yandere elements, forced vampirism [yes...], intentional manipulation to cause Stockholm Syndrome. Emotional abuse by proxy, possessive behavior *pauses to shimmy more of the scroll into view* "you have a sister and she kinda a thirsty ho but we don't judge you go queen". And violence. Of the graphic variety. "I would have given you a dog, but he'd have probably killed the dog". Everything is (literally) on fire. And death. Lots of it. ANGST. Bad ending? Depends on what you consider bad. If you like obsessive yandere vampire boys then it's probably a good ending for you.

Words, all the words (count) : 4,001 baebeee

And away, we... GO

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The last thing you said to him about it was in reply to his hurtful comments.

"Well, that's fine with me. My home isn't with you, anyway."

It had been some time since you defeated the Absolute and your quiet little hamlet had remained such since your triumphant return. Hardly a thing had changed, not the Wilks farmstead, not the general store, not even that old and tipping wooden signpost. Few of your companions knew of the place you called home. He had never asked; you had never told, and it seems it was a blessing you hadn't. The last thing you wanted was for him to stroll into town and go out of his way to remind you how happy he was without you.

Which definitely seemed like a thing he would do.

As if he didn't have better things to do.

Thankfully, it sounds like he has. Such an opportunity to take Baldur's Gate by the throat was one only a fool would pass up. And Astarion Ancunín was certainly no fool. In no time, he had charmed and maneuvered himself to the top of the food-chain. By means of persuasion, intimidation... and a tactic of his you're intimately familiar with.

Seduction.

Oh, the rumors of who he has or hasn't slept with. Was it necessary to get where he was now? No. It was a display of power now. Dominance. He could have anything and anyone he wanted, anyone he deemed worth his whim, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do to stop it. And clearly, he didn't want you.

It stung a little. You had genuinely fallen in love with the man he used to be. But that was the keyword, wasn't it? He used to be. The man he had become now was a stranger. The warmth that once resided in his eyes had been replaced by a chilling, calculating gaze. Gods, why didn't he just listen to you? He didn't need the ritual. He was already more than enough...

With a shake of your head, you stepped out the front door of your small, two floor cottage and made the brief journey to your parents' house. A smile curled your lips when you saw your older sister waiting for you outside "Y/N, you're late!" She scolds with a laugh, throwing her arms around you.

A roll of your eyes and you returned her hug. "An adventurer is never late. They arrive always when they intend to."

"Sounds like a fancy way of admitting you're always late to me." Your brother remarks gruffly. Your mother not far behind. "You sure your time as a big hero didn't go to your head?" He adds with a raise of his eyebrow.

You move away from your sister and embrace your mother first, then your brother. "I kind of had other things in my head then, brother dearest," you remind them with a small laugh.

Your mother lightly smacked your brother's large arm and narrowed her eyes. "Don't drive her away with that attitude of yours, unless you want her to return to adventuring!" She scolds with a playful glint in her gaze.

A sigh escaped your lips. It had been five long years since you've taken up your old gear and hit the road. Part of you missed it. But you'd never admit that to her. She was just so glad to have you home, you couldn't bear to take that from her. Not after your father had passed while you were out saving the world.

"Come now, my starlings, I've got your sister's favorite on the stove for lunch," she cooed and herded the three of you inside. And like every time you come over, you spend your time regaling them of your journey and heroics. Of your friends' camaraderie around the campfire. From Wyll's many dances with Karlach, Shadowhearts' best snarky comebacks, Gale's incredible displays of powerful magic and Lae'zel's discipline, her culture and brutal efficiency.

And every time, you noticed the look your brother would give. Initially, you thought it was protectiveness. No matter how much you tried to downplay it, your family was acutely aware of the gravity of your situation back then. Perhaps your brother was merely thinking how many times they came so close to losing you, without them realizing it.

Maybe it was partly true, but it certainly was not the only reason. "Sister, I'm sorry but I must ask..." He began, gently clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair, across the table from you. "I was in the Gate not too long ago and heard... things. That you never seem to mention yourself..."

Despite your efforts to wrack your brain, you come up blank and draw your brows together. You cast a glance at your sister beside you and your mother, beside your brother. They don't seem as confused as you... "Lord Ancunín, was he not a companion of yours? They say he is also a Hero of Baldur's Gate."

"Yes." You answer sharply, also leaning back in your chair. "And you heard he and I were involved, I take it? That's what this is about?" You were getting defensive. You knew it, but you couldn't stop it. Even now, the damned elf was a sore spot for you.

The man your brother was, he never backed down or cowed away from anything, hardly ever you and only consistently your mother. He dipped his chin and held your glare. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, his words blunt but his tone low.

You chuckle dryly, and your gaze immediately flicks towards the door. "What does it matter? It was five years ago. Astarion and I were in love, yes, love. And then he took a path I couldn't follow in good conscience. So we did what we had to, then went our separate ways."

He paused, considering your response. Your sister was practically biting her nails in an effort to silence all the questions she had for you about your evidently dramatic love life. Your mother gave you the worst look of them all.

Pity.

"If it is as you say, little sister. Then I can only commend you for remembering your worth. From what I gather, he is not a man worthy of your attention," he says with a stiff nod.

A weak smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "He was. Once..."

"So what was he like? Was he as charming and beautiful as they say he is in person?" Your sister gushes as soon as she deems there's an opening in the conversation.

You hold up a hand to stop your brother and mother from scolding her. Somehow she's older than you, if only by two years. "Yes, and yes. Even after we broke up, I found him painfully gorgeous. His voice was like velvet, he was smart and witty and knew just what to say..." now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, you decided to indulge your sister's silly fascination about your ex. If just for today.

Afterward, the three of you, as always, did the remaining housework for your mother. A gesture of gratitude for everything she had done for you all as children, and still into adulthood. Life without your father had noticeably taken its toll, hence why your siblings had moved back home. None of them had outside obligations, and you were still trying to settle down from your adventuring days and really needed the quiet.

On your way out the door, intent on your cottage for the evening, your mother touched your arm. "Before I forget, starling!" she says, reaching for the small table next to the door, "this came here, addressed to you."

She extends her hand, offering you a letter adorned with a peculiar and ornate wax seal. You turn it over once or twice in your hand before smiling and thanking her. Odd. The only ones who wrote to you were Shadowheart and Gale and not only did they know to send your letters to your home, but they didn't use wax seals either. Not even Gale.

No one else knew where your hometown was. Even fewer that you returned here after your party disbanded. So who else could have sent it? That is clearly your name above the seal. It was not a mistake on the courier's part. But then, that was the only way this made much sense. Who could have found, cared enough to write and send a letter to you after all this time? To the wrong house, to boot?

It was a persistent question that nagged at you, making the walk home feel longer than usual. Paying only mild attention to the eerie stillness in the cool night air.

You set it down on your kitchen table to turn on the lanterns around your cottage, illuminating the room with a soft, golden glow before you decide to open it at last. The letter revealed its contents - or lack thereof, as you unfolded it and saw only two lines in the center of the parchment.

Playtime is over, pet.

It's time for you to come home.

For a moment, and only a moment, your brows draw together. And when it clicks in your mind, you toss the letter on the table as if it's poisoned, or worse, Him and you paced restlessly in front of your table. Fixated on the parchment, as if it might attack you when you least expect it. What could he possibly want now? Half a decade later, you've moved on. Hadn't he? How many others had he taken to his bed since you went your separate ways? Couldn't he have busied himself with them instead? Out of all those partners, a plethora of variety, you were sure, not a one of them had held his attention for at least a decade? And why, by all the gods above and below, did he send it to your mother's house? Such a careless mistake was unlike him. If he had gone through all this effort to find you, surely he had to at least know where you actually lived in town.

Your heart sunk as the thought crossed your mind.

It wasn't a mistake. He doesn't just know where you live...

A scream rang out, snapping your eyes to the door. More shrieks followed, and you darted to the window. Faces ran frantically down and up the road, smoke billowed into night sky, dusted with stars, from closer to the village center. You clenched your teeth, giving yourself a moment to seethe with anger before rushing upstairs to the chest at the foot of your bed. Did you have time to equip your armor? Most likely, not. Best to take your weapons. The sooner you're outside, the better.

Prepared as you were ever going to be, you dashed down the stairs and shouldered your front door open. The raiders were already in front of your house. You recognized the hauntingly pale, lifeless face of Gregory, the barman, in the claws of a half elf. His sharp red eyes weredistant as he gorges on his meal, mouth latched tight to Gregory's neck.

"Another!" cheered a nasally voice behind you. Two spawn leaped down from the thatch roof of your home. Quickly closing in. The human woman continued, "Ohh, I can taste this one already! How delicious! Perhaps I should save some for Master—"

"Don't be foolish!" hissed the half elf, tossing the drained body aside. "Master said our reward was a feast, and I intend to feast!" He lunged, fangs glistening with fresh blood in the dim light. Experience traveling with at least one vampire had prepared you for the tactic, and you stepped out of the way with ease.

It was the halfling that seemed the only one not mad with bloodlust. "B-but Master said... there was one we couldn't..." she stammered, eyeing you almost with recognition.

But the other two ignored her and threw themselves at you again.

Despite the boredom that consumed your life over the past few years, you were unwavering in your commitment to staying in shape and proficient in combat. You sparred regularly with the local guards, who were more than happy to help. They learned a few things in turn, after all, from the Hero of Baldur's Gate. So staying almost two steps ahead of these stumbling corpses was a breeze, almost comically easy for you.

Until your eyes caught sight of a burning home, the heat of the flames could be felt from where you stand. Your mother's burning home... As everything else melted away, a numbness washed over your limbs and your heart settled into stillness. Just as you were about to cry out, a blade mercilessly penetrated your back, twisting with a force that seemed intent on separating your torso from your hip. The taste of blood coated your tongue, while an indescribable agony consumed your every nerve. Fangs as sharp as razors mercilessly sunk into your neck, accompanied by the loud, insatiable slurping sounds that invaded your ears.

Except for one last sound before your world began to fade. "No! You worthless wastes of flesh, what are you doing!?" roared from somewhere distant, rapidly getting closer.

The grip on your body relented, and you crumpled to the ground. Above you, a familiar, curly white-haired, fangs and all ascendant vampire lord. His face was almost feral. Hoisting the human by the throat with one hand, her feet kicking in the air. "I gave you an entire village of fools to feed on, a vivid description of the one woman who was off-fucking-limits...!"

A serene anger washed over his face, causing a shiver to run down your spine, as he sealed his lips and glared at her with an icy stare. "You will wait, on your knees, until I am ready to thoroughly enjoy goring your body with my bare hands."

Her voice strained, she barely managed to gasp out "Master...!" before he mercilessly flung her aside, treating her with the indifference one would show to a discarded toy. The moment her body hit the ground, it rigidly rolled and moved until it settled on its knees in place. Silent sobs wracked her body, and tears streamed down her face, leaving her cheeks damp.

In an instant, his eyes landed on your unfocused one, coughing blood. You knew you were dying. But it wasn't as sad, or even as painful as you expected. "You spiteful son of a bitch..." you hissed, spitting blood from your mouth. He opened his to reply, but you wouldn't let him. You were going to enjoy this... You panted, wheezing the last of your energy into your last twist into his heart. "I damn you, Astarion... I damn you to the Hells. I damn you to misery..." Quoting the man that you knew haunted him still.

You take the clenching of his jaw and his balled fists to your grave with delight as your eyes fall closed, and you breathe your last.

You finally find peace, a gentle presence that settles within your soul. It was a peace so pure, so profound, that it felt almost otherworldly. There was a weightlessness in the air, as if burdens had been lifted and freedom embraced. Your eyes are drawn to the path ahead, its surface adorned with pristine, pearly white stones. Your brother stood at the end, ready to greet you. There stood your father and mother, beckoning you with open arms. And your heart swells with an untameable warmth as you start down toward them.

A cold, deathly grip catches the back of your neck, sending a sudden jolt of fear through your body. Pain squeezed you with an intensity you had never felt before. Your mouth opens, but not even a whimper escapes you as you're forcefully dragged back, kicking and flailing.

With a heavy gasp, your heart pounds in your chest as you lurch forward. Or at least you start before cold, familiar hands grab hold of you, pulling you into his arms. "Now, now, darling, just relax..." Astarion sighs in your ear, his voice thick with... relief?

You died... you were free of this... of him. "I was... going home..." you whimper, unable to fully choke back the sob, not even sure how he managed to forcefully bring you back.

"You are already home, pet."

In your frantic attempt to escape, you notice that the sights, sounds, and smells are completely different - you're no longer in your village, but a large, opulent bedchamber. Lavish furniture and ornaments of gold, silver, so many you quickly lose count. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock provided a comforting background noise. A luxorious silk gown, likely worth a kings ransom, has replaced your weathered tunic and trousers you knew you were wearing before. The softest linens you've ever felt in your life gently caress your bare legs.

His hand petting your head snaps you back from your observations. "Why the face?" Astarion murmurs, "did you truly think death would keep you from me? Little love, I can take anything I want. Even from the jaws of death itself." He briefly looks away as he giggles that short, airy sound that used to melt your heart. "Or did you think your heroic brother would, what, break my nail before I ripped out his throat?"

It's enough you try to wrench yourself from his arms again, stopping short of beating your fists against his stupid, fancy white and blue doublet. "You spiteful bastard..." you repeat from your memory as he keeps you held against him with little effort. "I was there with them, my family—"

"Hush, darling, you're not being reasonable," Astarion mutters, his fingers on your back drawing shapes and patterns that you reluctantly admit still soothed you. "I let them have you long enough. I let you play house in that backwater, and now it is time for you to take your place at my side. You were fated to be mine, and mine, you will always be." He explained, as if he was making perfect sense and stating the obvious.

You scoffed, trying again to leverage your hands on the bed, or his lap to put any amount of distance between you and him. "So dying and forcing me back, all reasonable?"

The look in his eyes turned sharp, reminiscent of the way he eyed that spawn. "Well, if you had been where you belonged, none of that would have happened, would it?" He chastised, lulling his head to one side. "I've already cast the insignificant wretch into the kennels. You are welcome to watch her suffer. Perhaps I'll grant her a blessing and allow her to kiss your feet before I peel her lips off her face... Or maybe after..." Astarion trailed off thoughtfully, his eyes up and away a moment as he considered the grotesque torture, as if casually deciding what flavor tea he'll have in the morning. "How comfortable are you with blood between your toes, my dear?"

You were experiencing such emotional turbulence that you momentarily wondered if any of this was actually happening. If he was aware, he paid no mind to it, as another wild thought captivated his mind. "And why did you not tell me you had such a deliciously submissive sister? Honestly, my love, if she can watch me kill your brother, drain your mother and still stare so eagerly at me, why can't you?"

Your heart froze, and you swallowed hard. Unwanted images of what he could have, and probably had done to your family flashed through your mind. As you stilled in his arms, he moved a hand into the air and snapped his fingers. And like a well-trained puppy, in she waltzed, wearing a black simple dress. Expressionless and silent as she stood before you. Watching you with scarlet eyes. "You know I'd never hurt you, of course. But perhaps your sweet sister can model the obedience I expect from you..."

Infinite threats, insults and visions of violence cross your mind, and like he can read them, Astarion gives you a stern, scolding look. From the corner of your eye, you catch a tear rolling down her cheek and it takes everything from you to not jump to embrace her.

Not that Astarion would let you out of his arms to do so. Fear spreads through your body, numbing your limbs and clouding your thoughts. For every outburst, act of defiance, misbehavior, denial of compliance, Astarion will ensure your sister suffers in your place...

"There you are, my treasure..." He cooes, catching a loose lock of your hair and twirling it in his fingers, pleased with whatever he sees in your eyes, "learning already... you're going to be so wonderfully obedient for me, aren't you?"

You turn your head away, down at the bed, never feeling so... small in your life. He grabs your face, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forces your attention back to him, denying your escape. "Aren't you?" He repeats, voice firm, commanding.

Without thinking, you scowl at Astarion, noticing the frosty disappointment in his eyes. He lets out an impatient sigh, as if handling a temperamental child, and then glances behind him. "On your knees, darling, it seems your little sister needs your example already..."

She stiffly collapses to the ground like an anchor to the seafloor and Astarion groans, as if he expected a more graceful motion from her. He starts to rise from the bed and a whimper from your sister has you catching his sleeve. "I'll do it." You force out, inwardly cringing at the implication.

But that's not enough for him. "You will do what, pet?" He says lowly, lazily turning to you.

"Behave..." The word hung in the air, its bitter taste lingering on your tongue, surpassing any foulness you had ever known. Again, you try to look anywhere else, any semblance of escape you can find from this, from him.

Astarion continues to press, his fingers brushing against your cheek, coaxing you to face him, locking eyes. There was a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes, like a flickering flame. "And...?"

"And... I'll be obedient..." Your chest tightens, your lip quivering and Astarion's face lights up with a tender smile.

He resumes his position on the bed in front of you. "Oh, my love, I know you will." Astarion smirks, his arm curling around you, pulling you back into him, his lips feathering yours, teasing before connecting them in a sweet... loving kiss. Just as you remember it, his lips are like a delicate caress, and you know better now than to pull away.

Your lips sync with his in a hypnotic rhythm, and his distinct taste lingers on your tongue - a blend of red wine with a faint metallic undertone. The scent of him surrounds you, a unique blend of rosemary, bergamot, and brandy, unmistakably his. His fangs only barely graze your bottom lip as he guides you down onto your back, maneuvering himself on top of you, "because I'll have eternity to teach you..." Astarion whispers against your mouth like a promise, and you can feel him smile at his own words.

Astarion's lips travel from the corner of your mouth, they leave a trail of soft kisses along your cheek, descending to the spot beneath your ear, until they eventually reach the pulsating artery, echoing the frantic pace of your heart. One last time... "My beloved consort..." He whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your skin, teasing his fangs against your neck, as if trying to be gentle in his own way. "Welcome home..." He purrs.

Then at last, he sinks his fangs deep. Drinking slow, steady gulps. One hand taking yours, interlocking his fingers with it, the other soothingly petting your hair. And at last, as your vision blurs and darkens, your body shivering under his, you start to believe it...

Maybe he does want you after all...

Maybe he's been your home all along...

ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: Honestly, I could probably write this one forever, it was so much fun. The perfectionist in me already spent more time than I should've on this. Two days of neglecting my main fic on ao3? Ugh, take me to the gallows. Apologies to my partner, friends, coworkers, family, dogs... I have a sacred duty to update that sucker at least every other week.

Also, I apologize for the quality of the gif. I make a lot of my own gifs and screenshots for these and tumblr's 10mb limit is going to throttle my sanity until it dies twice over.

[tokoyamisstuff]

f! Reader | no warnings

They're all 100% meant to be girl dads. I can't explain why, it'd just be so cute. Literally the safest baby on earth.

Alucard

"I'd trade anything I have just for a child with your eyes."

Sis, that man is dead. 😭 I doubt even with his powers that's in his range of possibility.

No seriously, you'll probably voice your wish metaphorically, meaning it as a compliment, but it will throw him into a full blown existential crisis. He hates not being able to provide you with whatever you want, after all.

The suggestion alone wakes a desire in him that he never even thought about before. He'll secretly dwell in self-pity, fantasizing about what it'd be like.

At some point, he cannot bear that it'd stay a mere dream and suggest adoption.

Anderson

"Huh? *points to some orphans playing in the background* Don't we have enough already?"

Takes him a moment to understand the gravity of your words. Error. Brain stopped working.

Even if you're already long in a relationship/have been intimate with each other, he'll get adorably bashful at the thought. Is shocked how excited the thought of your belly growing round with his child makes him.

I don't think he's entirely opposed to the idea, but he honestly sees all of the orphans as his kids. There's already so many children without a family that need love and care out there, right?

Well, in the end the circumstances would easily allow it, and he's got enough experience. One more certainly won't hurt.

The Captain

...alright? Doesn't need to be told twice. He is the kind of guy that just goes along with everything his spouse says.

Not to sound indecent but he's a man on a mission, so prepare to be dragged into the next best place to fuck at any given time. Welp, that's how he found out he's got a breeding kink.

Gets even more clingy and openly affectionate than usual. Seriously, he can't wait until it finally happens, he might even be more thrilled than you are.

Walter

"My dear, you have no clue how much your words mean to me."

Delighted and overjoyed. It's been a great wish his entire life, but due to the course of his life he gave up on this naive hope years ago. To ever think he'd be given this chance, and with you of all people...he's truly blessed.

Would be prepared for every eventuality and literally carry you on his hands. You're used to being coddled by him, but this is some queen treatment right here.

His gratitude knows no limits. You'll forever be reminded of how much your family and your willingness to carry this child means to him.

Maxwell

"Wha- why? Am I not enough for you?"

Ugh. Children? He can barely tolerate dealing with people in general. Seriously, you should know him better than that.

Still, he's surprisingly cooperative. If you insist, guess it can't hurt as long as they turn out like you...

The closer the due-date however, the greater his panic and regret. Doesn't think he's cut out to be a father.

Definetly cries like a dog when holding his child for the first time. It's the most precious thing he's ever seen and he ends up being the most loving parent, thriving to give them everything he had lacked as a child himself.

Endlessly showers you in praise for gifting him this miracle, and having convinced him to the best decision of his life. This probably won't be the only child you'll have.

[starsstuddedsky]

Blonde Phase

Renjun x gn reader

summary: spontaneous hair decisions always end in regret. that's what you expect to hear when you tell renjun you're bleaching your hair, but instead you find support, and even his help. you should appreciate his wholehearted support but instead it has you wondering: why doesn't he care?

genre: fluff, minimal angst, technically they're in grad school but that's not particularly relevant, non idol au,

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, spontaneous hair decisions (i do not endorse), lmk if I missed any

wc: 4.4k

a/n: in the immortal words of charles boyle, the most intimate thing you can do with a lover is wash their hair. yknow i made fun of him for that until i wrote this. i see it. also its been so long since ive finishing anything, pls forgive me if this is bad. renjun i love u. as always I'd love to hear what you think <3

“I’m bleaching my hair.” If you say it fast enough, Renjun won’t be able to talk you out of it. The plastic bag swings around your wrist as you walk across the parking lot. “I’ve already bought the bleach and gloves and stuff, and I’m going to do it, today.”

He’s quiet for so long you check to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. “Okay.”

You almost drop your phone. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing the word out. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

“Um, yeah?” You say. “You have opinions about literally everything. You talked me out of buying those pants two days ago.” You finally get to your car, tossing the bag onto the passenger seat and half-falling behind the wheel.

“That’s because they were made of polyester, and the thrift store was still charging $15,” he says immediately. “That was a scam.”

“Money is temporary, drip is forever.”

“Those pants would have lasted a year max, before they fell apart, and you still haven’t learned how to sew so you wouldn’t even be able to mend them or upcycle them.”

“You know what, I didn’t buy the pants, so this fight is moot,” you say. You set the phone on speaker, turning the engine on to blast the AC.

“Well, not moot. Technically I won,” Renjun says.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t insufferable.”

“Here I was thinking you appreciated my insight,” he says. “You even asked for it.”

“I did not!”

“You literally asked about bleaching your hair.”

“I said I was surprised you didn’t have an opinion, not that I wanted to hear it,” you say.

“Semantics,” Renjun says. “So what time do you want to come over?”

You frown. “Tonight?”

“The roommates are out of town for the whole weekend, and I have way better ventilation,” he says. “I’d much rather bleach it without passing out.” He pauses. “You do want help, right?”

“Honestly, I was not expecting support. I was fully ready to fight you on this,” you say.

He snorts. “Come over whenever, I'm not doing anything today.”

“See you in twenty minutes.” You hang up, feeling a strange ball of tension roll around in your gut. That was… too easy? Renjun always has something to say about your admittedly impulsive tendencies. But if he’s going to help you’re not going to reject it—knowing Renjun he’s probably already watching Youtube videos and learning more than you will ever know about bleaching hair.

And it’s Renjun. When have you done anything without his help?

.

.

Renjun opens the door wearing a wearied expression. He doesn’t bother to greet you or even smile, just unlocks the door and steps to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” you say, trading your shoes for the spare slippers resting by the doormat. You follow Renjun into the space that serves as kitchen, dining room, living room, and Jaemin’s miniature gym, with weights and mats stacked next to the television.

“Who the hell clogs a toilet and then leaves for the weekend,” Renjun says.

You set down your plastic bag full of hair products and frown. “That’s disgusting.”

Renjun leans against the counter. “And you didn’t have to spend the last forty minutes trying to unclog it.”

“So which of the guys are you going to murder?” You try to guess, running through his roommates: you find it hard to believe Jaemin would do such a thing. Jeno maybe, and Donghyuck would certainly think it’s funny. But, in all honesty, it could have been any of them.

“Don’t know,” Renjun says, “but knowing them, they’ll make a pact to protect each other.”

“Seriously?”

Renjun pauses, gaze sheepish. “It’s what I did when I accidentally killed Jaemin’s little succulent that survived his college dorm.”

You fake a gasp, placing a hand over your chest. “Every day I learn something new about you. That’s devious.”

“I was drunk!” Renjun says, holding up a finger. “And Jeno and Donghyuck pushed me into it, so it was equally their fault.”

“If you say so.” You glance around the apartment. “Where are they all?”

“Jaemin’s visiting family, Jeno has a soccer tournament, and Donghyuck said he’s going camping with Yangyang.” Renjun says, counting off with his fingers.

“Donghyuck and Yangyang are friends?”

“Yeah, according to them they bonded over dealing with me.”

“Those were their exact words?”

“Dealing with my ‘stupid ass,’” Renjun says.

“That’s more on brand.”

Renjun nods.

You think about Yangyang, Renjun’s friend from when he was a kid. You’ve met him a few times now, especially since he’s moved half an hour away from Renjun. He’s fun, always bringing out a chaotic side of Renjun whether it’s dancing on a bar or bringing out angry-Renjun. But Yangyang and Donghyuck?

“That’s a terrible friendship. They’re going to ruin you.”

Renjun nods again, but you see the smile hiding in his eyes. He can rant all he wants, you know he’s excited his friends are getting closer with each other.

You point at the bag. “So where are we doing this?”

You half expect him to lecture you about rash hair decisions but he just gestures to the kitchen. “I figure right here should be fine. The tiles should be pretty easy to clean and probably could use some bleach anyway.”

He drags the chair with a rickety leg from the dining table. You dig through the bag and set everything on the counter. While Renjun cracks a window open, you begin to mix the developer and the bleach, curling your lip at the sharp scent. Renjun joins you, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Wow that’s strong,” he says, wincing.

“Yeah,” you say. “Definitely a good idea to do it here.”

When the powder is finally combined, you sit on the chair, Renjun following behind you. You section off your hair together, then he grabs the bowl and the brush.

He holds the thick paintbrush brush up against your hair, glancing at you, giving you one last chance to back down. You give him the nod of approval and he shifts back to focusing on your hair, brushing the bleach into it as carefully as he spreads paint on a canvas. He works section by section, carefully drenching your hair with the creamy solution.

“So, are you going to tell me why you decided to do this?”

You can’t resist turning and glancing at him. “I thought you approved.”

“I didn’t try to talk you out of it,” he says, “that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about how you came to this decision.”

You nod until Renjun uses his gloved hand to hold your head straight. “I suppose that’s fair.”

You pause, trying to find the right words. But you find yourself drifting back to Renjun. Why didn’t he ask this before the bleach was in your hair? It’s not like him to keep his opinions to himself. When you first met him, he was yelling at Donghyuck for going to a philosophy seminar just to fight with the notorious bigot of a professor (which Donghyuck did and then got kicked out, and proceeded to get the professor suspended). You only knew Mark back then, a friend from another class who invited you to meet some of his other friends in the dining hall. When Renjun turned to ask what you thought, you said Donghyuck should do what he thinks is right. Renjun didn’t hesitate to call you an idiot then. So why isn’t he calling you an idiot now?

To his credit Renjun doesn’t rush you. He continues to paint the bleach into your hair, content to wait for you to figure out an answer. Except you’re thinking about all the wrong questions. Like, seriously, why do you want him to call you an idiot?

“I want a change,” you finally say. “I’m stuck in a degree that will make me absolutely no money when I graduate, I can’t afford to break my lease, and don’t have any major relationships that need upheaving, so, hair.”

“‘A change?’” Renjun repeats. “Like, you woke up this morning and thought, today I’m going blonde?”

“Like, I have this feeling in my chest, this aching feeling that there’s something I need to do, someone I’m supposed to be, something more than the person I see in the mirror but I’ve made my decisions and I’m happy with my decisions and I genuinely like who I am. So, hair.”

You see Renjun’s hand falter out of the corner of your eye, halfway between the bleach mixture and your hair. He freezes for a heartbeat then continues to move, lifting some hair off your ear, careful not to brush the bleach onto your skin.

“‘So, hair,’” he says.

“Are you really going to repeat everything I say?”

This gets a short laugh from him. “I think the fumes are getting to me already.” He pauses, setting down the brush and stepping in front of you. “For what it’s worth, I like who you are, too. I’m really glad we’re friends.”

You smile at him. “Me too,” you say. “I definitely would have fucked up trying to bleach this on my own.”

.

.

“There’s still some bleach left,” Renjun says after he finishes with your roots. “You’re sure you don’t want your eyebrows to match?”

“Why don’t we do your eyebrows,” you say. “Better yet, why don’t we shave them off?”

Renjun sets down the brush. “Okay, no eyebrows.”

You grin at him. “That’s what I thought.”

He helps you get a plastic bag wrapped securely over your head, then sets the timer.

“What do you want to do for the next half hour?” You ask. “Preferably something that requires little to no movement.” You gesture to your head. “We’re not winning any frisbee tournaments tonight.”

“It was one time,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head and stepping around you plop down onto the couch. “We can watch something.”

You follow him, sitting on the other side, a cushion between you. The space feels strangely empty. Though you’ve spent plenty of time alone with Renjun, even alone with him at his apartment, the silence is usually interrupted by one of the guys getting bored of playing League, or coming back because they can’t go out to a bar without someone forgetting their ID, or in desperate need of Renjun’s expert advice (read: Jeno never remembers to ask Renjun to look over his submissions until 12 minutes before they’re due). The cushion between you never stays empty for long but the moments stretch on, only making the distance feel greater.

You wonder, not for the first time, how long it’s been since you’ve thought of Renjun as just a friend. If he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much about what he thinks. And if he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much that he suddenly doesn’t think.

You sneak a glance at him, fiddling with the remote for a couple seconds before realizing he grabbed the wrong one. He’s certainly always been handsome—that was undeniable from the moment you met him. But more than just being good looking, it’s Renjun himself. Not just those dark eyes, but the way they burn with passion (even when he’s arguing about the proper number of appetizers to order). It’s his perfectly shaped lips, the way they betray how he feels with a slight curve up or down—and his smile. Always, always his smile, beautiful and breathtaking even though you’ve seen it a thousand times.

He turns, a little furrow in his brow. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re looking at me funny,” he says. “Did I get bleach in my hair or something?”

You turn to face the TV, trying to pay attention to the show Renjun chose. “I wasn’t looking at you funny,” you say. “I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“If you say so,” Renjun says, “but if there’s a blonde spot anywhere in my hair, I’m so making you pay for it.”

You shake your head. Where the hell did those thoughts come from? Renjun, more than a friend? Sure, you’re close with him and sure, he’s objectively attractive, but you’ve never had those thoughts before. Well, at least not sober.

“Um, why are we watching Singles Inferno?”

“Because I asked and you were too busy not staring at me to answer, so I put it on,” Renjun says. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t like it. I saw you rant on your Instagram story the other day.”

“Okay, but you don’t get it,” you say. “This bitch really has the audacity to to—”

“I saw your post,” Renjun says. “Believe me, I get it.”

“If you didn’t want to hear about it you should not have turned it on, because now I can’t stop,” you say. Renjun rolls his eyes but even as you delve into a full on essay about the horrible men particularly common in dating shows, you see the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile.

.

.

The timer goes off halfway through an episode.

“Saved by the buzzer,” Renjun says. “I’m putting a ban on anything reality TV related for the next three hours.”

“You’re the one that brought it up,” you mutter without any real annoyance. Despite his banter, Renjun dutifully listened to your rants, and even got mad along with you.

You drag a chair to the sink while Renjun drapes a towel over your shoulders. He puts on gloves and unwraps the bag, letting your hair fall into the empty sink.

“Close your eyes,” Renjun says gently. He tilts your head back, cupping the back of your head for a moment before pulling the head of the sink faucet out. He runs the water, long enough for you to peek your eyes open.

You’ve gotten used to seeing Renjun focused. He gets a little furrow in his brow, always glaring at his work. Before you were friends, you used to think he was actually angry, that his frowns and short tone were real. You’ve learned since then, it’s not his emotions, it’s his passion. The frown only comes out when he’s focused, trying to be perfect. When he cares.

“Unless you want bleach in them, close your eyes,” Renjun mutters, with absolutely no malice behind the words. His eyes shift to meet yours and that’s how you know you’re right. He can glare and bluster all he wants, he can’t hide his eyes, warm and shining. Like when he’s looking at his art, his gaze is a combination of soft and intense, creating something stronger than affection. Except he’s not looking at his art, he’s looking at you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Despite every attempt to shut down the thoughts, they race through your head, a stampede grown out of control. Renjun, who you’ve only known a year and a half but who has become one of your closest friends. Renjun, who never fails to share the only opinion you really care about. Renjun, who you can’t imagine life without. Renjun, who you’ve never dared to imagine life with.

He places a hand on your forehead, bringing the faucet closer to rinse your roots while keeping the water from pouring onto your face. You prepare for a cold shock but the water that soaks into your hair is the perfect temperature—not scalding hot, not freezing cold. Some water sprays over his hand, falling onto your eyelids and cheeks.

“Sorry,” Renjun murmurs. He holds the head farther away, running his fingers gently through the roots of your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, warm against your temple. You can feel his body, hovering over yours, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but warmth seems to emanate from it.

His friends would laugh at you if you described Renjun as soft to their face, but it’s the only adjective that captures the way he works the water through your hair. Soft and gentle and careful and nothing like the Renjun that has to corral everyone into his car at 3 in the morning. And yet this Renjun doesn’t feel like a stranger to you.

Washing your hair takes a lifetime, but as soon as he steps away and turns off the water, you miss it. You miss him, even though he’s only a couple feet away.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says. As soon as you do, he tosses a towel at you. It hits you in the face before you can get your hands up.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Renjun says, not sounding sorry at all. He manages to hold back the laugh but still grins at you, unashamed. He steps forward and pats your face dry, with the same gentleness as before, though there’s still a mischievous glint in his eyes. You yank the towel away before he gets any ideas, drying off your face on your down and wrapping it around your hair. You wring it out a couple times before letting go, doing your best to get it to fall evenly around your head.

You raise your eyebrows at Renjun. “Okay, how bad is it?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m insulted that you think there’s any way I’d fuck up you hair,” Renjun says. “And it looks really good. Blonde suits you.”

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone, studying yourself in the mirror and… he’s right. The color is even, somewhere between blonde and orange that is unavoidable when using bleach. Radical hair changes generally end in tears but looking at yourself in the mirror, you don’t feel the usual dissonance. The hair is different but somehow more familiar than the “normal” you that doesn’t feel right anymore.

“I’m right,” Renjun says.

You smile. “Yeah, you are.” You put down your phone, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Renjun.”

“For what?”

“Doing all of this for me,” you say.

“It’s the least I could do,” he mumbles. “You’re my friend.”

You shake your head. “Thank you anyways.”

Renjun just shrugs and grabs the bowl, rinsing out the bleach in the sink. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s avoiding your eyes.

You do your best to clean up the bleach from the floor, busying yourself until Renjun finishes. You wonder if you’re imagining the tiles getting a little bit whiter. Finally, he turns off the water and glances at you.

“You’re really happy with it?” He asks, sounding more like he doubts you rather than changing his opinion.

“Yeah,” you say, standing up. “I think it’s the ‘me’ of right now, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Like, I feel disjointed, and blonde hair is definitely not me, but it's the me that feels kind of all over the place, so even though it doesn’t look like me, it looks like me.” You wring your hands together, fingers tinged red.

“That makes no sense,” Renjun says, “but I think I get what you mean.” He smiles. “And I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets.”

So he did think this was a potential mistake? Why didn’t he say anything?

Renjun turns back to the sink, but before he can turn the water on, your voice calls his name. ��Renjun?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Why didn’t you fight me on this?”

He doesn’t move for a long moment. You wish you could see his face. “I have been told by certain people,” he begins, which is code for Donghyuck and Yangyang certified their position as Renjun’s worst nightmare. He turns to face you, wiping his hands on a towel.

“That I have a tendency to be overly opinionated in a generally negative direction. And I thought about it, and I realized I'm never really fully supportive, whether it’s a big decision, or, like, coffee, and I’ve always been this way, but, apparently, it’s especially… apparent with you.” He frowns. “This is all coming out wrong. I’m trying to say that it’s different when I’m around you. I’m different.”

Your eyes jump between his, trying to decipher what he’s saying. “Different?”

“I care a lot about you,” Renjun says, “more than anyone, actually.”

“Oh.” You blink once, twice. “Wait, you like me?”

Renjun’s eyes shift to the floor. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but let out a short laugh, reeling at the absurdity of it all. Renjun likes you? But he’s Renjun. Even though he’s the most common main character in your daydreams, you never once realistically thought he might be fantasizing about you too. But he likes you.

“I really didn’t want to say anything, I mean, before anything else you’re my friend, and I don’t want to ruin that,” Renjun says rapidly. “We’re good friends, and I really didn’t want to be the guy that pretends to be your friend but just wants to date you the whole time, that’s really not what I was trying to do, it’s just—”

“Renjun.” You put a hand on his shoulder and he freezes mid sentence, mouth still hanging open a little. Before he can move, you lean closer, the type of line you’d only dare to cross in your dreams.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you say softly. He blinks, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“I’d like that,” he finally breathes. So you kiss him.

It starts light, his lips exactly as you imagined—soft and warm. His arm works its way around your waist, pulling you closer. The other works its way into your hair, still wet and sticking to your head. Renjun kisses like he’s been planning this for a long time, and maybe he has. Every movement is slow and careful, until he’s stolen all your air and even then you don’t want to pull away.

Your bravery fades the minute you meet his eyes. You bury your face into his chest, your cheek resting against your own hand. Renjun wraps both of his arms around you, holding you snugly in place.

“I like you, too,” you say into his chest. It’s the cowards route but if you look him in the eyes the words will never come out. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“It wasn’t actually,” he says softly. “I think I drove all of my friends insane trying to figure out whether I should confess or not.”

“They all know?” You groan. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”

“Yeah.” When Renjun laughs, it shakes your whole body. You can feel the rumbling, overtaking his heartbeat. “It’s okay though. It’s worth it.”

You turn your head, emerging from the sanctuary of his chest and tucking your head so that you can see his face. He smiles at you with the familiar warmth you’ve come to expect.

“Yeah,” you say, “it really is.”

Renjun grins.

“Your hair on the other hand…” He says.

“I thought you liked it!”

“I like it,” Renjun says, “but when has Donghyuck ever liked a single change to anyone’s hair?”

“Since when do you care what Donghyuck thinks?”

“I’m just saying now that we’re officially dating, my friends are going to be extra annoying,” Renjun says.

“Extra annoying? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Don’t underestimate them.”

You groan, pressing your face back into his chest. “It’s not too late to get some hair dye.”

“You are not changing your hair because of my dumbass friends,” Renjun says.

“You like it?”

“You like it,” he says. “That’s the only opinion that really matters.” He pauses then adds, “But yeah. I like it.”

You grin, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. “Maybe we should dye your hair too.”

Renjun snorts. “Oh yeah?”

“We could have matching couples hair.”

He laughs out loud this time. “Maybe we should just get some shirts.”

“Three minutes of dating and you already want matching shirts? Huang Renjun, be honest.” You push off of him until you can place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Are you obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he says, layering his voice in sarcasm that still isn’t enough to hide the truth of the admission. “All day every day, all I think about is you.”

“Well, see, that can’t be true because if you were that obsessed and I’m this close, you would already be kissing me because—” You forget whatever you were going to say, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when Renjun is kissing you like this. Your hands at his shoulders slink around his neck, while his wrap around your waist, leaning so close to you, you feel your back begin to dip.

Huang Renjun is poison, the kind that turns into a heart-shaped puff of pink when the bottle is opened. You melt into his kiss and it’s still not enough. You could die, right this instant, and you don’t think you’d notice. Death itself wouldn’t be able to tear you away from this moment.

“Renjun!” Donghyuck’s voice thunders through the kitchen. “How dare you? You bastard, you’re cheating?”

You jump apart, turning to see him looming in the doorway. His glare settles on you, and you see the exact moment he realizes he recognizes you.

“Jesus Christ, you could have knocked or something,” Renjun says.

“I live here too,” Donghyuck says automatically. He squints, then looks at Renjun, then back at you. “YN? Your hair is blonde.”

For some reason, you raise your hand and wave at him. “Hey!”

“Oh my god!” Donghyuck cries. “Yangyang owes me thirty dollars!” He races back out the door, screaming something that’s lost as the door swings shut.

You glance at Renjun. “Cheating?”

He frowns at the door, still a crack open. “Did he… seriously think you were someone else? That I was cheating on my unrequited crush?”

His eyes shift to yours. A heartbeat passes and you burst into laughter. His friends might be annoying, but they’re still endearing. You press a messy, smile-infested kiss to his lips and wonder if you’ll ever get used to the giddy feeling.

There’s plenty messy in your life, plenty to doubt. But watching Yangyang and Donghyuck drag their backpacks in (apparently Donghyuck forgot his power bank and they decided to give up on camping) as they attempt to interrogate Renjun on every detail, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t really matter. You don’t doubt Renjun. You don’t doubt blonde suits you. And you don’t doubt the power of a last minute hair decision, not anymore.

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

NSFW, s/h mention, smoking mention

AITA for not telling my boyfriend how I felt about something sexual that we did?

So, my (19f) boyfriend (22m) was in town visiting me over the summer. I live with my parents while I'm not at college, so he was staying with me, my parents, and my four younger siblings. The event that I'm talking about was at the end of his visit, the night before he had to head home back to his own place (different state, about a 7 hour drive from me).

Some important context for this before I begin is that I am somewhere on the asexual spectrum (he knows this and we have discussed it) and don't typically derive any sexual pleasure from anything that we do. This isn't to say that I don't enjoy it -- I'm typically very neutral on sexual things, but I like feeling close to him and I like the pleasure that it brings him. This is to say, I find enjoyment in what we do in my own way, and everything we do is with extremely explicit consent. He also has some issues when it comes to sexual acts from a relationship in the past, and while I don't know all the details, it's clear that he is hesitant specifically about making sexual advances towards me. We are both technically virgins in the strict sense. We both have histories of deep body image issues and self-harm (mine ongoing, his (mostly) in the past).

This particular day I was super overstimulated all day for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with him (hunger, exhaustion, ongoing depressive episode, other unrelated reasons). We started messing around at night and, although I was not terribly in the mood, I was still enjoying being close to him (and wanting to be intimate before he left in the morning). It went further than I think either of us expected it to (again, EXPLICIT consent from both parties). Obviously I won't share details, but at the end of the night there was cum on me and in my bed.

Now, while all this was happening, I was enjoying it. Not sexually but sensually and romantically. But afterward, the overstimulation of being dirty and my bed being dirty hit me like a wave and I sort of internally freaked out. I made sure to reassure him that everything we did was good and that I wanted it all, which I did. He then asked if I wanted to shower together or separately. I said separately and went to shower. I took a longer time in the shower than I intended to and had a minor meltdown. I ended up self-harming (not majorly) to calm myself down and get myself out of the panic. When I came back to the room and he left to wash up, I smoked a little weed and nic while he was gone (he's a nonsmoker but knows that I do) to calm myself down more. When he came back I told him I didn't want to sleep in my bed because it was dirty, and asked if we could sleep on the couch in the living room instead (relatively isolated living room, both fully dressed and literally just sleeping, no chance of anyone stumbling upon us in the morning except MAYBE my 16-year-old sister). The rest of the night was fine.

Here's where I'm almost positive I'm the asshole. He was clearly upset with himself after what happened even though we had both wanted it, and he kept apologizing and telling me he loved me. He asked me to turn away so he could get dressed (which of course I did) which is a major change from usual. I think it was because I asked to shower separately from him and then expressed discomfort at my bed being a mess. Even though I reassured him almost relentlessly the entire evening that everything was good, he was obviously deeply upset with himself. He was also crying when he got out of the shower, but I'm 90% certain that was because he was upset about leaving the next day, since we were going to be apart for the longest we'd ever had to be due to his career.

So I just didn't tell him about the self-harming or the smoking or the meltdown. I knew he wouldn't find out because he was leaving the next day.

Why I am almost certainly the asshole: I wasn't communicating about something he almost certainly would've wanted to know about. The self-harming is particularly shitty on my part. We are both very open about our mental illness and relate in a lot of ways, so he knows I actively s/h and is not upset by it (apart from just like generally not wanting your partner to s/h). But he's so intent on communicating all of our feelings about everything that we do together that I know he would've wanted to know that I was upset, and actively hiding that I was hurting myself is a deeply deeply shitty move on my part. I know that.

Why I might not be the asshole: telling him would've done absolutely NOTHING positive for either of us. Everything we did was consensual and enjoyable, and it was only the mess afterward that overwhelmed me and just happened to be the straw that broke the camel's back after a really long day. There's absolutely nothing he did wrong or nothing he could've done to prevent it. I feel like telling him couldn't have brought about any positive results since he wasn't really responsible for it and it had nothing to do with him. It would've just led to more insane self-flagellation and self-hatred on his part.

I'm almost certain I'm the asshole here. It's been weighing on me like crazy since he left. But I almost feel like telling him would've been MORE of an asshole move on my part.

Feel free to ask any clarifying questions.

[moorishflower]

Dirty Talk (Dreamling, Explicit)

This is because of @landwriter making me realize I don't have much practice writing dirty talk. This is still pretty tame in that regard.

"I don't think you're even capable of talking dirty," is what Hob says, one fine winter evening, comfortable and a bit comfortably tipsy, sat at his regular table in the New Inn with Dream of the Endless sat across from him, and he knows by the way Dream rears back like a cat whose nose has been flicked that he's made a mistake in saying it. It's only been a few months since Dream has come back into his life, since he's gifted Hob with information and explanations and finally, in the trenches of autumn as the leaves had crumpled from the trees in red and gold splendor, the rare sight of his smile and a trembling lower lip, and a soft, My friend, but in those few months Hob's come to the realization that he would do anything, literally anything and everything, to hold Dream's friendship. To make him feel safe. To keep him here.

And maybe mocking his friend's mode of speaking isn't the right way to go about it but, again, he's just pissed enough for it to not seem like a big deal, and Dream doesn't seem upset so much as he seems offended. Mates give each other shit all the time, Hob reassures himself, and it's not like they were talking about something life-changing. Dream had only been complaining about his sibling interfering with his realm, which has apparently caused some sort of imbalance in the Dreaming, and from there had followed a great lot of metaphysical and esoteric explanations that boiled down to 'wet dreams are on the rise' (pun intended). It explains why he's had so many in the past week. It doesn't explain why so many of them have featured dark hair and skin like cloaked starlight and eyes bluer than the Aegean Sea, but that's his albatross to bear, not Dream's.

And then Dream had said something along the lines of how sex dreams had used to have poetry to them, there'd been an intimate back and forth, not just of bodies but of words, a build-up and a climax. One thing had led to another, and Hob had said what he said, and he stands by it. Still stands by it, even as Dream's eyes turn flinty and the corner of his mouth turns up into a smirk that would shame the devil.

"I am the Prince of Stories," he murmurs. His voice is a laser that cuts through the raucous din of the New Inn. There's a van's worth of footballers a few tables down, either celebrating or commiserating, it's not clear which, and the entire pub is lousy with the noise. Hob doesn't have to lean forward to hear his friend, so tuned is he to that purring baritone, but he does so anyways. It gets him closer to Dream, who also leans in, like he's about to share a secret. "Do you truly believe me incapable of crafting words titillating enough to bring one to completion?"

"I don't think you've ever said the word 'cunt' in your life," Hob says, doubling down like the idiot he is. He's never claimed to be a wise man, and especially not when he's in his cups. Besides, it's the winter hols, he's got nothing to do tomorrow, and if he ends this night with nightmares that make him piss the bed he'll concede that Dream has won this round.

"You would be incorrect."

Hob can't imagine Dream ever speaking in a way that's less than dignified. There's such power to him, all the time, such staid and solemn surety, and there's no room in that sort of denseness for telling your partner how much you'd like to suck their brains out of their prick. More's the pity, because he thinks if he could imagine it, the shape of his stranger's lips around the word 'cock' would surely be a fine feature to add to his repertoire of fantasies.

It's at this point that Hob makes the stupidest decision he's made all night.

"Prove it," he says, and takes a sip of his drink, secure in the knowledge that six centuries of swiving has rendered him immune to embarrassment, even in such a public setting. There is a long pause during which the only sound is the ambient riot of the Inn around them, the clink of glasses and the cheering -- or bemoaning? -- of the footballers, the nearly-incomprehensible drone of the sound system piping Top 40s Modern Rock into the kitchen behind the bar, Marv the bartender swearing as he uncorks a bottle of champagne for a mixer.

Then Hob feels something brush against his foot beneath the table, and the rest of the pub goes silent.

Or rather, not silent, but…muffled. Like someone's draped a great blanket over the both of them, and now it's just him and Dream, as it's always been, as it always will be, facing each other across a worn, wooden table, as much of the original wood as Hob had been able to salvage. He's worked it into the foundations, into the bartop and the tables and the floor, trying to preserve the stories he'd told for his stranger, the history, like it was ale that had soaked into the floorboards. Dream's eyes are focused on him, impossibly blue, and he feels another soft touch, this time higher up his leg. Like a foot stroking up his calf, except no game of footsie has ever left him feeling this breathless before, this yearning.

"Would you have me prove it to you with words of prose, Hob Gadling?" Dream's voice is a thing with texture. It'd be prosaic to compare it to such human stuff as velvet or fox fur, but Hob's limited in his petty human understanding, and to his ears it's plush and warm and welcoming. It's a voice to bury your face into, a voice that drips down the skin like warm honey or candlewax, with just enough bite to be interesting. "Would you have me woo you with poetry? Shall I compare thee, not to a summer's day, but to the wild bounty of the fields? More comely than all of autumn's fruits and grains, thy hair rich as the loam and the fertile earth?"

Fertile is an unfair word for him to use, Hob thinks. His brain's scattered out his ears in an attempt to try and hear better, but he doesn't have a choice, because if he wants to not hear he's going to have to get up and leave. And not listening to this just…isn't an option. Not with how Dream is looking at him, head cocked like a bird and his mouth red as garnets shaping around words, words, words.

"Shall I opine about the shape of your body? How broad and virile your chest? I have seen you at sport, Hob, and I know what you hide beneath sweaters and cardigans. I have seen the daydreams of those who lust after you. They imagine you coming in from your war games, stripping the shirt from your back and drinking the sweat from your body. They imagine what it would be like to sink to their knees and bury their mouths into your most intimate places. Worshiping you with hand and tongue. Would you have me describe these fantasies, Hob?"

Oh, please, he thinks, and wonders if it must show on his face, how dry his mouth's become, how tight his trousers are now, because Dream's little smirk grows wider. His pupils are blown so large they nearly eclipse his irises, and there's only a thin ring of startling blue outlining a sea of infinite void.

"Or would you prefer it in cruder terms?" The light pressure that's been dragging up and down his leg inches higher; it feels like fingers kneading into the soft insides of his thighs, and Hob's legs fall open to give the phantom hands better access. The Inn looks and sounds like it's moving in slow motion, but maybe that's just because he can't look away from Dream.

"Would you like me to describe how beautiful your cock is?" Dream asks, and he says it with the disaffected expression of someone asking about the weather and the deep and growling voice of a jungle cat, and Hob is fairly certain he makes a noise of his own, something undignified and stifled by how quickly he bites his lip. "How the weight of it would fit perfectly in my hand? You are made for pleasure, Hob. Thick. Heavy. Better still, to hold the shape of you in my mouth."

"Oh, fuck," Hob says. He's barely aware that he says it, but Dream's eyes light up with fiendish inner fire. There's no blue anymore. It's just black, and stars, and Hob drifting in them like a rogue comet, burning up.

"Yes. I could describe how you would fuck me. How you would turn me inside out. I would want to ride you first, to see the shape of you inside me. I would want you to fill me with your spend until I could taste it in my throat, and then, when I had found my pleasure, I would want you to bear me down into the bed. I would want you to break me in half, Hob Gadling, because I will accept no less than the most ardent lover, and if I do not finish the night with your cum leaking down my thighs and my arsehole gaping for you, I will not be satisfied."

The ghost-touch that's been drifting higher and higher along his thighs presses firmly against his groin, and Hob makes a strangled, gasping little noise, swallowed up by the thick syrupy slowness of the Inn, and comes in his pants. It's an orgasm so sharp and sweet and high that it feels like the prolonged note of a flute, and leaves his thighs quivering in the aftermath, and his breath coming in heady little rasps. He hadn't even been aware he was that keyed up, but then, he hadn't been aware of anything but Dream, and Dream's voice, and now how Dream is staring at him across the way, eyes glittering like a thousand diamonds set in velvet. Hob watches as he slowly lifts his hand from beneath the table, spreading his fingers. They're covered in cum, little beads and drips of it sliding down to the second knuckle, and Dream holds his gaze like a fist around Hob's heart as he raises his hand to his mouth and begins licking his fingers clean.

There's another noise, an uncomfortable whimper, that Hob doesn't want to think is him but probably is.

"Have I sufficiently proven myself?" Dream asks, popping his fingers free of his mouth with the most obscene, wet sound that Hob has ever heard. He imagines those fingers spearing into him and making that same sound from all the lube dripping out of his arse, and Dream's nostrils flare.

"Dunno," Hob manages to say, when he finally finds his voice. It's a thready, needy voice, but it is there. "Could use some more convincing. Don't suppose…you fancy coming upstairs to continue this conversation?"

There's a gentle stroke along the inside of his thigh, making his poor, spent cock twitch, and Dream smiles at him. "Yes. I believe there is more I could tell you, Hob Gadling."

And there is. A lot more. That night, and into the morning, and the next, and the next. Hob needs a lot of convincing.

He's grateful Dream seems up to the challenge.

[honeycreammilkshake]

Reminder yuji's grandpa told yuji to help people even if they DONT WANT TO. YUJI saved sukuna

Hi, anon. You're so right. I'm so obsessed with this chapter that it's making me sick...

From the very start, Yuuji has been the only one to show Sukuna empathy or compassion. As I've written before, everyone else makes their "declaration of love" into competition to force Sukuna to see things their way, to try to make him submit to them, but Yuuji has been so intimate and open, so gentle, with the King of Curses like no one else has.

During chapter 265, he took Sukuna on a literal scenic tour of all his childhood memories. Sukuna actually goes along with this, without being overly hostile or mocking... which is a really interesting and unexpected thing for his character to do!!! It indicates to me that, if even only subconsciously and even if he hates it, Sukuna actually respects and cares about this brat. He's willing to listen to him, to hear him out, to even indulge him by doing whatever the brat asks him to do together like archery or fishing... all things that if anyone else asked the King of Curses to do, he would more than likely kill them on the spot for their insolence.

Ever since then Yuuji has been owning Sukuna completely. He's gotten under that cursed skin far too deep for Sukuna's liking...

Their fight scene from 266 really illustrates this well.

Call it what you want, but to me this scene just confirms that Sukuna is blatantly denying his own feelings. To react that strongly to Yuuji's sympathy and pity... to feel like it's nothing more than Yuuji looking down at him... Sukuna is scared of being seen as anything other than an inhuman, unfeeling monster of chaos; he can't stand that Yuuji - someone he sees as weaker, someone who lived alongside him, someone he made suffer - is still being merciful and willing to give Sukuna a second chance of sorts.

Sukuna claims that he knows what love is, has told Kashimo that it's because he "understands love" that he finds it meaningless. But in actuality, Sukuna doesn't understand love - he understands the lack of it.

Which is what makes Yuuji's approach to finally teaching Sukuna love all the more interesting, because he is literally trying to remedy that lack of love, to fill that void in Sukuna's life up.

In chapter 268, we see Sukuna in a very pathetic, cornered position. He's literally at Yuuji's mercy.

Yuuji is standing over Sukuna, more than capable of ending things for good. He's gotten Megumi back already, so he technically has no reason to keep Sukuna alive. He can choose to take all his more-than-justified hate out on Sukuna.... but he doesn't.

Instead... he shows Sukuna just how far his love and compassion can go. He reaches down, so tenderly when Sukuna doesn't deserve it, and cups the monstrous King of Curses in his hands, so softly.

Sukuna is literally dying in Yuuji's hands. Instead of mocking him, or making him suffer, as one of the other "strongest" people would do, Yuuji is instead reaching out to him.... yet again!

He basically says "I see you, Sukuna. I understand that if our circumstances we're different, we could very well have had the same fate or still been the opposites of each other. But I accept the way things have turned out for us - I accept you. We can live together because I care about you even if no one else does."

Yuuji has suffered in Sukuna's own hands, but Yuuji cradles Sukuna in his. Yuuji been called weak, pathetic, and useless by Sukuna. But still he stands. After everything Sukuna has done... Yuuji hasn't broken. In fact, he believes in his ideals more than ever. He's extending that mercy to Sukuna when anyone else would have killed him. He's being so softly intimate with him.

That is what makes Yuuji so strong, truly stronger than everyone else. He doesn't give in, he doesn't break down, he doesn't become hopeless and shattered. He's as kind, caring, and loving as ever.... Sukuna can't take it.

This tsundere bitch is literally dying instead of accepting Yuuji's marriage proposal. Can't handle his own feelings for real.

What's really interesting to me is how Sukuna uses Yuuji's full name here, too. In the past, he always referred to Yuuji as "brat" and so many other demeaning names, but now... now he's admittedly recognizing Yuuji as someone with worth, even saying "I should congratulate you."

He is mistaken though. I think he knows that Yuuji wouldn't lie about wanting to live together with Sukuna. After all, he's been inside of Yuuji. He knows the brat isn't the type to be dishonest about these kinds of things. Megumi is safe now, so how can Yuuji seek to gain anything from staying by Sukuna's side?

And also, if it was all to mock Sukuna, why does Yuuji look so heartbroken when Sukuna refuses his offer??

That is the look of someone who is disappointed in what happened, not glad that Sukuna chose death instead of love.

I have so many thoughts on this... I could write a whole other meta but literally... this is just an outright confession of love, no matter how you interpret it.

All I can say is... Sukuita best ship.

Thanks for your ask, anon! Wishing you a happy rest of your week <3

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 2

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

Part one here On AO3 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

Part two: room service

Steve hopped up to grab another glass from the minibar and poured them both a double shot of vodka. He insisted on bandaging Eddie’s knuckles before they got on with anything else. 

It felt… odd, intimate. He couldn’t help thinking, though: This guy just smashed the plasterwork!

He’d stepped into this room feeling concern for Eddie. He should jack-knife right back to being anxious for himself. Next round, it could be my face that gets smashed.

Still, Eddie seemed more downcast than buzzing with pent-up violence. Steve continued worshipping Eddie’s slightly unsteady hands, dripping with weird silver rings. Which had fortunately missed the worst of the smashing stuff or Eddie really would be badly bruised.

Pianists’ hands, Steve thought.

Which brought a lump to his throat. 

Now was so not the time to think about everything that had gone to shit in his life or his crappy loser-ville dreams. He forced a smile, trying to catch Eddie’s eye. He consoled himself with the matter he found Eddie attractive, which was a rare win with a John, plus he seemed… nice. Edgy, fidgety, but an all right dude.

Steve neatly tied the end of the bandages and chugged back his drink. Down to business.

“What’s your trip gonna be, Eddie? What sector of paradise city you wanna go cruisin’ thru tonight?” He internally face-palmed. Way to go, Harrington. Real smooth. “You wanna party first?”

A smirk twitched across Eddie’s soft-looking lips. “Weeeell, I don’t party up here much.”

“You’re kidding?” Steve leaped to his feet, waving his arms literally everywhere. “How can you not? This place is wild! We’re gonna party, okay? We’re gonna have an awesome time, man.” Raking his hair from his eyes—that cheap gel never was worth jackshit—he absorbed a few more details of his plush surroundings.  “You got one of those sound systems that takes 8 CDs at a time? That’s totally mental! And… shiiiiiit! Is that your guitar?” Steve dived to grab one of the coolest six strings he’d ever seen, a slender beauty with two-tone cream bodywork. “It’s totally rad! Do you play? I mean, that’s a dumb question. You must, I guess…”

He trailed off. Eddie stared at him, squirming slightly. It bordered on creepy. Steve kept blabbering because he was already waaaay too far down shit creek without a paddle to stop.

“Hey, should we put music on?" asked Steve. "Or do you wanna jam? You know, I kinda dabble myself from time to time… Uh, you okay?”

Eddie had finally got up. He took two paces across the room and yanked the guitar from Steve’s grip. “Nooooo music.”

“Is that some kinda rule?”

That teeniest smile again. “Shouldn’t you be telling me your rules, Steve? Like how much is a ‘party’ with you gonna set me back? Not that I give a rat’s ass, so c’mon, hit me.”

Another internal facepalm. Steve had intended to be upfront about rules and prices. Then again, it was the first time he’d negotiated for himself.

“You want me to stay the whole night?”

Eddie shrugged. Up close, his dark eyes were intoxicating, sucking Steve in, which was probably why Steve said, flustered: “Two hundred bucks and I stay till daylight.”

You were gonna quote four! If Kline comes sniffing, he’ll have at least a hundred off you.

Eddie nodded, laughed. The air reeked of vodka now. As well as the weed. Steve cleared his throat, pressed on:

“Rules. Okay. Nothing that leaves any marks on my skin. No breathplay. Got any weird kinks?”

“Not right now.” Eddie started fiddling with his rings on his unbandaged hand. “Nothing other than a hankering to fuck a really cute guy.”

Steve blushed like an idiot, and his heart gave a crazy thud. What the fuck? “And we gotta use rubbers,” he said.

“Obviously. Anything else? Like, do you kiss on the lips?”

Steve snickered. “You watch too many movies, Eddie.”

“Not much else to do, stuck up here with cable. So, you do kiss on the mouth?”

“Sure thing.”

Truth was, Steve had been thirsty for Eddie’s lips since that first merest hint of a smile. He edged forward so they stood pretty much nose to nose. He slipped a hand to cup Eddie’s jaw and plastered his mouth enthusiastically to Eddie’s. Eddie gave a surprised grunt, not yet parting those tempting lips.

Steve panicked. Shit, too much?

Then Eddie plunged his tongue straight towards Steve’s tonsils and they started kissing for real, and… Wow!

It was some kiss.

Steve dove straight in with his best tricks, sweeping the depths of Eddie’s mouth, hands roaming everywhere, trying to figure out what Eddie liked best. He threaded his fingers down the length of Eddie’s hair, which was salon-smooth and silky to the touch. Trouble was, the kiss was too damn pleasurable, and Eddie was giving it some too, messing up Steve’s hair, mashing their faces so it got kinda bruising. Steve plunged a hand down the front of Eddie’s loose jogging pants, grabbing his package.

“Hello big boy,” purred Steve, as they broke for air. “You fancy a little kiss down there?”

Ugh. Way to go with the cheesy lines again, Harrington.

Eddie didn’t seem to hear anyhow. His gaze locked so hard on Steve that he seemed almost in a trance. “I want to feel… Oh shit, I don’t know what I want.” Eddie clamped a hand in the small of Steve back, crushing Steve so close that his hand got squashed between both their erections. “I want to fuck you, Steve. Basic stuff.”

Steve smacked another sloppy wet kiss on Eddie’s parted lips. “Your wish is my command. I’ll, uh… be right back.”

…

After Steve left, Eddie sank down on the couch, buried his fingers deep in his hair. Wtf am I doing? What the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK?

He’d got a giant erection from the kiss alone.

Steve was gorgeous, and yeah, Eddie wanted to fuck him bad, and he was already having the best evening he’d had in eons. Didn’t stop his stupid brain racing onward to the black hole of doom that would follow.

You pay for fuck-buddies, now? Seriously, Munson? Seriously! 

His heart was already dying a little death, and part of him withered with embarrassment too. He knew the staff of this place thought he was a weird-ass freak. The God-like Dungeon Master and the front man of Corroded Coffin wouldn’t have given a damn about that.

But now? Eddie was embarrassed, and Christ, that was pathetic. And where the heck was Steve? If he took any longer in the bathroom, Eddie’s nerve would snap, he’d ask him to leave. It would be yet another date with Mr Palm and his five sons.

Tentatively, he tapped on the back of the door—it was the smaller of two washrooms in the suite. The one without the plunge pool. “You okay in there? Getting lonely here, brother.” Shit, ain’t that the truth, and was Steve doing drugs or something? If so, the son-of-a-bitch should share.

“Yeah. I’m just… Look, I’m not powdering my goddamn nose, okay? It’s, you know… lube. Been a while since I… um… yeah.”

Eddie’s knee-jerk disappointment overrode his spiralling nerves: “No way! I wanna do that.” 

He opened the door a crack. And there was Steve—jeans around his thighs, no underwear, fingers plunged between sweetly rounded ass cheeks, eyes wide as a startled bunny-rabbit. Eddie’s grin made his face ache. Damn, he’d not used those muscles in way too long.

“Sorry, I… Look, man, I’m gonna be straight with you.” Steve had backed up against the sink as Eddie closed in on him. “Most clients just wanna get in there, and—”

“I want in , believe me,” said Eddie, still grinning. He’d pretty much forgotten how good feeling this fucking hot for somebody was. “Fingers first. Seriously, I love playing with a guy’s ass.” 

“Well, that’s kinda cool. Because you have the most gorgeous hands I’ve ever seen.” Steve grasped the wrist of Eddie’s uninjured hand, drew it up to his wet shiny lips. The hrrrr of Steve’s breath alone was enough to make Eddie’s cock spring even farther to attention. Steve sucked Eddie’s fore and middle fingers deep, rolling his tongue around them, even emitting a douchey little moan. Didn’t sound as fake as Eddie felt it ought.

Slowly, almost torturously, Steve mouth-fucked Eddie’s fingers, eventually dragging them free with a wet pop.

“Jesus Christ,” murmured Eddie. Steve had gotten some full-on come-hither-shit going on in those ridiculously pretty eyes, and it was almost too much, too soon. Eddie was going weak at the knees, just letting Steve take the lead, and his brains were disintegrating to mush. 

Steve—the slutty little torturer—dragged Eddie’s fingers around toward his butt, guiding them along that warm cleft between his cheeks. “You want in?” murmured Steve. “Then get in me. Though, seriously—you got a whole penthouse, and you’re gonna do me against the sink in your second-best restroom?”

They stumbled toward the bedroom. Steve almost tripped over the jeans he’d gotten tangled around his ankles, and Eddie nearly collided with another fake-marble pillar. They wound up on Eddie’s gigantic, four-poster Emperor size bed, with Steve splayed naked, ass upward, on the grotesque pink satin covers.

Eddie crawled up over him on all fours, ready to go. Damn, he didn’t wanna rush this. Didn’t want it to be over. Steve looked fucking edible, one knee hitched, chin tilted to the side, chewing his lower lip in a deliciously filthy fashion.

Eddie leaned back and gave his own dick a couple of pumps. He mingled his own precum with lube, rolling it gleefully between his thumb and forefinger, before sliding the latter into Steve.

Steve’s little hiccupping gasps were precious. Eddie snickered—he knew just how awesome it could feel, all those nerve-endings set alight. And Steve’s hole… Eddie wasn’t gonna complain that Steve had loosened himself up. It was like gliding into goddamn honey. He pressed another digit in, scissored, literally crumbling at the sound of Steve’s sexy hitched breaths.

“Oh God, Eddie… Yeah… there… fucking awesome. You got me dripping, man. I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

“Liar, liar, ass on fire. Nobody’s that easy.” He curled his fingers, deliberate delving for Steve’s prostate.

“For you… I’m… uh… uh… whatever you w-want me to be.” Okay, that was a wake-up call. Eddie was maybe enjoying this a little too much. But the corny lines felt way faker than Steve’s needy sighs. He pulsed and clenched around Eddie’s fingers and Eddie revelled in it. He kinda wanted to slide his fist in, but Steve was still pretty tight, and…

“Oh Gooooood,” wailed Steve. “I should be paying you.”

“Nah. I’m having fun here, Sweetheart.” Eddie really was. 

“I… uh… uh… charge extra for pet-name. J-joking.”

“Okay, Princess.”

That earned Eddie a punishing clench. “Sh-shut the f-fuck up.”

“Gimme that tough lovin’ around my dick, Princess.”

Eddie grinned harder than ever, slowly eased his fingers out. For a joyful split second, he realized he was feeling himself again. Eddie flip-the-bird-at-the-whole-fucking-world Munson was back!

Nah, don’t think too hard. Don’t lose the illusion…

He gave Steve light swat on the ass.

“Ow! Uuuuh, Jesus, I feel empty.” Steve waggled that insane cute butt. “Eddie, you gotta fuck me. I want you, man. I need you.”

Eddie stared down Steve’s little hole, and the rest of the world might as well have gone nuclear. He slipped the rubber on his dick—Steve seemed to have lost it so far, he’d forgotten even to remind Eddie—then he slid into Steve’s tight body and fucked him hard.

…

“Can I have my two-hundred dollars, please?”

Steve hated asking the question of Eddie.

Eddie was nice. And hot. Even while peeping from beneath the bedcovers like a vampire scared shitless of daylight.

Last night was pretty damn good, really. Far better than Steve had any right to expect. So yeah, he hated asking, and his stupid fingers were shaking, which was annoying and weird and meant he really struggled with the buttons on his shirt, but… 

He needed the money. He needed his meds, and he’d still gotten that hopelessly colossal hospital bill from last winter hanging over him.

“Uh, Eddie? Look, I’m really fucking sorry I woke you, man, but I gotta go serve breakfast. Oh, and try not to limp. You got quite the python in your pants there, dude.” It was a dumb cheesy line, but not entirely flattery. Steve hadn’t been fucked in a while. Eddie had ridden him three times in the end, before they’d snatched a few hours of sleep. “So..?”

“Yeah. Right.” Eddie finally lugged himself into action, wandered into the lounge. “Okay… wallet. Not sure where I left it, uh… You need help with those buttons?”

Standing in the doorway between the rooms, Steve wrinkled his nose in surrender. “Please?” 

That just proved fresh torture. Eddie got up close and personal again with those hands, one still bandaged, and those lips, and…

Get over it, Harrington. He paid to dick you for the night. You got lucky that he’s a nice guy and now you’ve got a dumb crush on him?

“Uh, you might wanna do something about your face,” mumbled Eddie.

“Huh?”

“Eyeliner? You look like a stray member of Kiss, Honey.” Eddie gently dabbed beneath Steve’s eye with a fingertip, and Steve… kinda froze. Then he flinched away. Eddie wandered off again and still couldn’t find his wallet. Steve was gonna be late, so after he’d washed the rest of the crap off his face, he settled for a fifty-dollar bill that Eddie found stuffed down the side of one of the couches.

“I’ll have the cash later, promise,” said Eddie, rubbing bleary, blood-shot eyes of his own. “You’ll come back?”

“For my fee? You bet,” mumbled Steve. He grabbed his knapsack, and made for the door. Eddie caught his wrist lightly:

“Yeah, but… You wanna come back for more than that?”

Despite his rising stress levels—Kline was gonna flay his ass—Steve’s heart gave another crazy little pulse. He mentally slapped himself, schooled his features into a weary mask of don’t-give-a-shit.

“That’s up to you, not me. I mean, it’s gonna cost you another two hundred dollars on top of the one-fifty you already owe me.”

“Done,” said Eddie, almost too quick, and then… 

Shit, Steve couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, brushed his mouth lightly against Eddie’s. He sensed the moment when Eddie’s slightly parted lips curved toward a smile. He just about managed to smirk rather than grin back like a besotted idiot.

“That one’s on the house.” Steve tugged his wrist free and literally sprinted from the penthouse to the service elevator.

Chapter 3 on AO3

Chapter 3.1 on tumblr or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

Likes and reblogs appreciated and will feed the bunnies :) 🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕 thank you 💕🐰💕

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader

Part 14, here’s the LINK to part 13 warnings: mentions of hate, body insecurities, some bold ‘fans’ approach the couple on holiday and Daniel is a protective boyfriend. Mentions of smut at the end of the chapter, this will link onto part 15.

Danny’s hand gently nudged at the girls phone in her hand, setting it down on the table as he watched her with a sympathetic gaze. “It’s fine, Daniel.” The words fell off a sigh a little harsher than she intended. She knew that he knew exactly what she was reading through, all the dm’s all the posts, comments, stories, everything about her and Daniel together.

“It’s not.” The Australian gently spoke, taking her smaller hand within his. “Let’s just enjoy our last night, fuck whatever that’s saying. It’s not real life, baby.” At his words, she offered him a gentle smile, squeezing his hand in a hope he knew she didn’t mean to snap at him.

“Yeah… you’re right. I’m gonna miss being on holiday with you. I wish it wasn’t ending so soon.” “Well how about we go somewhere else? Just the two of us, maybe somewhere more relaxing.” The pair had joined numerous friends, attended festivals and drunk plenty. The idea of an intimate holiday with just the two of them felt needed.

“Relaxing… where are you thinking?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Somewhere hot… maybe we could flight right out. Italy?”

She let out a pretend moan at his words. “You read my mind, Ricciardo.”

“Maybe I just know you too well… Horner.” Daniel and y/n winced when he spoke her last name. “Ew, that reminds me of your-”

“-dad. I know. Don’t say that.” She finished his sentence, Daniel watched her with a sheepish smile, admiring the beautiful girl. “You’ve had a good time though? Despite all that stuff?”

“The best time.” She honestly nodded, hand squeezing his. “Thank you, Daniel.”

“No, no, don’t thank me. I’m just glad you came with me, it’s made my trip.” Flustered by his words y/n almost didn’t know how to respond, her smile wife and gaze nervously darting around the table. As soon as she went to respond, she was cut off.

“Daniel!! Is it okay if we can take a picture with you?” Both their heads snapped up to see two girls around y/n’s age stood directly in front of their table with their phones ready. Y/n was positive one of them was already filming.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sure guys.” Daniel flashed her a look to which she smiled in response, hand slipping out of Daniel’s as she glanced back down, snacking on the few last chips on her plate.

What she didn’t expect was one of the fans to come around the back of her hair, barging into her and possibly the person behind her. There was no apology, she physically attempted to nudge the chair out of the way like there wasn’t a literal human being sat there. Daniel felt his mood sour as his eyes narrowed down to where she’d touched his girlfriend. “Woah, careful. There is somebody sat there.” He joked it off, but there was a hint of annoyance behind his voice, y/n could hear it. “Right.” The girl gasped it off, holding her phone up in front of their faces.

“Is she your girlfriend?” The other boldly asked. Y/n tilted her head ever so slightly. “Yeah.” Daniel nodded, with a smile. Neither of the girls said anything for a few moments.

“You can’t give him your number now, Carmen.” Both y/n and Daniel almost spluttered in surprise. “Oh, no, no.” Daniel, again, laughed it off, attempting to sit back down in his seat, thanking them.

“Could we make a couple videos with you.” The same girl then probed, banging into y/n’s chair again. “Uh- no. Can you watch her chair, please?”

“Not even one video?”

“Please, Daniel.” The two became borderline pleading. Y/n swear the awkwardness was just seeing through her bones, she could tell Daniel was just trying to finish the rest of his beer in peace.

“No, not today I’m sorry.” Both the girls seemed to turn sour, the same girl huffing and stomping back around Y/n’s chair again. This time her hip bumped into her back, and she didn’t think it was so unintentional.

She shot her a look of annoyance, one as if to tell her to back off. Never been good at biting her tongue in these situations, she was finding it really difficult.

“Nah, leave us alone now guys. You’ve bumped into her chair several times. Just let us eat here.” As pissed as Daniel was, he tried to make his voice sound less harsh than he intended it to.

“We came to see you, not her.” The girl who wasn’t doing all the thumping, Carmen, y/n remembered her name was, spoke as though it was obvious. Y/n giggled in response, but the amusement was short lived when noticing how pissed Daniel looked.

“Alright, we’re leaving. I don’t have any fuckin’ time for this.” Daniel took his girls hand. The two had already paid previously, but still she couldn’t help but feel the disappointment of leaving early.

“Daniel-” she went to mutter. The two girls went silent as he placed a gentle hand on her back, leading me away from the two.

“What the fuck.” One of them eventually muttered. “They can get fucked, let’s go.” Daniel muttered to the girl, nudging her ahead of him. When they got out of the restaurant she was stunned to see a few people lingering, perking their heads up and taking pictures when Daniel emerged. Y/n’s brows knotted and furrowed and head dropping instantly, although there wasn’t hoards of people, she didn’t expect to see people forming. The two girls she could shake off, so could Daniel, but now this? She could feel from his grasp he was growing tense.

She knew their motive. Normally they would let Daniel be, but word had spread where they were, and the pictures taken on the yacht probably influenced to take their own pictures, just to see what else they could get hold of from the budding relationship.

“C’mon.” Daniel sighed, gripping her hand tightly and leading the way. He was pretty quiet the whole way back to the hotel, apart from checking up on the younger girl every now and then. Y/n was more worried about him.

When they were comfortable, she knelt up behind the Australian on the bed. “You good?” Her hands over his shoulders whilst he sat on the edge of bed. He was texting somebody on his team, probably his friends, telling them to avoid that place at all costs. “Mmmh, I’m fine, baby.”

“You don’t sound it.” Daniel let out an inward sigh in response and dropped his phone to one side. “I’m just pissed.” He fell bad, head resting on her lap.

“I know what can help you with that.” She giggled. “No, I’m serious, y/n!” He nodded, rolling over to face her. “Im pissed.”

“Mhm, they were fuckin’ rude.” The girl replied, but her mind was beginning to float elsewhere as she played with the strap on her shoulder, teasing it down her tanned skin.

“Really fuckin’ rude, I didn’t even wanna hear anybody’s shit, they couldn’t have just been nice, you know? Could they? They had to fuckin’ ruin it.” He groaned, head dropping against her thighs. She hummed again, slipping the strap off, the other hand curling in his hair.

“If they were men that treat you like that I woulda fucked them up.”

“Oh yeah?” She laughed lightly, tongue pressed to her inner cheek. Daniel pressed a kiss unintentionally close to the inside of her thigh. “Uh huh.” He sighed.

“So protective.” She hummed as he glanced up to see both straps off her dress slipping off her shoulders. Just when she thought he got what she was hinting at, Daniel reached up and fixed them for her, thinking it was unintentional.

“Well yeah.” He shrugged, watching her move around the room and began to take off her jewellery. When she dropped an earring to the floor she purposefully bent all the way over to pick it up, revealing under her dress. Again, Daniel was blind to it and just thought of it as an accident.

“They must’ve told people we were in that specific place. You know?” He ranted as she hummed in response, slipping out of her dress.

“What’re you doing?” Daniel paused for a breath. “Getting dressed.” She shrugged like it was obvious. “Oh yeah. But, yeah, I don’t know, the fact they were all outside pissed me off more. I don’t care every now and then, I like speaking to people, but not when it’s invading my privacy- invading yours. Fuck, I got so angry.”

“I could tell.” She gently spoke, sitting down in the plush chair across from the bed he sat on. She was classed in only her underwear and heels, crossing her legs and leaning back in amusement. Although Daniel eyed her up and down, he still continued with his rambling.

“In fact, I’m gonna text fuckin’ Joe and everyone right now.” He reached back over for his phone. Y/n sighed. “Do you have to?”

“Yeah, I’ll be 2 minutes, sorry baby.” He hummed. She sighed, running her hand down her lace cladded bra.

“Can’t we do something… else?” The ache between her legs only grew when she lifted one onto the chair, spreading them slightly.

“Mmmh, what do you wanna do, baby?”

“Clearly you’re not interested.” She teased, lifting the other leg into the chair. Her fingers slipped over her core and Daniel froze.

“What’re you doing?”

“Something that you should be doing.” She moaned, swallowing with an inhale and exhale of pleasure as her fingers rubbed softly. Daniel swore he felt himself grow hard immediately. The sexual hold she had over him was unlike anything else, and when her hips gyrated slightly, he was startled into action.

“Fuck, c’mere.” Despite his words, he rushed to her, attempting to kiss her but she pulled her chin down slightly and let out a low moan instead. “No, you can watch instead.”

“Oh, you wanna be like that now, do you?” His arms rested on either side of the chair. “Yeah, it’s fun.” She giggled, pressing her finger to her clothed clit. The pressure was something she began yearning for.

“Not fun for me.” He shook his head, eyes falling down to where y/n pleasured herself slowly. “Sit back on the bed, Daniel.” She whispered, but he didn’t respond, he wanted to be in charge. He had so much anger bottled up, maybe he could release it in one way or another.

“No.” The Australian muttered, hand reaching out to hold her throat. Her breath hitched and a small smile grew on her face.

“Then fuck me, Danny, stop making me wait…”

————————————————————————

Taglist: @dinodumbass @mccall-muffin @allabouthappiness @benbarneslut @ricciardhoe-3 @headinthecloudssblog @f1wintermoon13 @hrlzy @topguncultleader @victoriaholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @j-cat @lovzmez @laneyspaulding19 @fanboyluvr

[galaxostars]

If you had to choose your top five favourite marauders era characters and ships, what would they be?

This question was actually so hardddd haha and I feel like you could ask me again in a month and my answer would be different bc I’m such a multishipper that… yeah xD but for now here it issss :

Fave characters :

1. James Potter : mhm I love myself an arrogant goofball who’s actually smarter than people give him credit for, who’s got so much love he’s impulsive with it and hurts the ones he loves, who doesn’t know what to do with the loneliness that grips him sometimes, who defines himself by his ability to help people, who rarely allows himself to express himself negatively (ex : sadness/anger/frustration) because if there’s one thing that he fears the most, it’s hurting people. Plus, he hasn’t got any trauma or anything so why should he complain, yk?

Basically I love a good flawed James, and the sort of character where you wouldn’t expect him to have issues yk

2. Sirius Black : I mean… cmon do I even need to explain? ‘Cause if I start idk when I’ll stop, like literally. Ive had a crush on this character since I was eleven and never grew out of it, its almost embarrassing if it wasn’t completely justified (and the only reason he’s not number one is just because I write him less than James so I feel like I know him less intimately but like if you’d have asked me before I started writing I’d have put him number one for sure)

3. Regulus Black : !!!!! sorry but indoctrinated younger ‘abandoned’ (in between quotes bc he was not Sirius’ responsibility and Sirius was right to save himself but it’s also very normal for regulus to feel that way etc etc… we know the drill) sibling who’s faced with sudden delusion about this superior figure he’s followed/served, everything he’s lost in the process, and who redeems himself by going on this suicide mission that ends up being useless? (And unknown by Sirius AHHHH.) The guy is literally so smart and technically such a loser bc he doesn’t serve much for the plot and that’s what compelled me so much the first time I read hp 😭 he’s so tragic I love it

4. Narcissa Black : younger sibling; once again similar pattern to regulus but she survived, she’s so smart I’m, like, shaky in the knees, (esp i love female characters who do what they have to do to survive), she’s powerful too, and jkr is shit at writing female characters and I will never not be pissed abt it but I do think cissa was very compelling (+ Helen McCrory’s acting game was sooo perfect), very protective of her family and will stop at nothing to protect them, and that’s a value I respect so much. I will say, in general, any member of the black family is very compelling to me. Bellatrix would come right after narcissa in terms of fave from that family.

5. Barty Crouch Jr : listen if you know me, you know I’m… idk how to define myself actually, but I like unhinged stuff so. This is like. Peak unhingedness. Paired with intelligence bc we know canonically that man was smart af, and daddy issues? Dark hair, too? You just described my type. He’s even more compelling in tragic storylines (like past bartylus and barty joining Voldemort for regulus and then faced w the delusion and the grief? Gut wrenching) so yup.

Favorite pairings :

1. Moonshine (remus/james) : I know this sounds weird but a certain fanfic re wrote my brain chemistry and ever since then I’ve been obsessed. I just think they’re so tragically beautiful together. They’re both very selfless beings that just give and give and never prioritize themselves and together it’s a mess. They keep hurting each other because they’re so selfless, they’re not very good at reading each other and they let their insecurities get the best, they’re both frightened of how much they love, of the other not wanting them, of needing to « tame » their emotions. I love them.

2. Prongsfoot : FUCKING FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Together they’re. They. Just. I hate them bc of how much I love them if that makes sense. They’re everything. A law of the universe and whatnot. I love everyyyy fucking version of them. They make me cry they make me scream they make me smile they make me laugh, they’re literally my comfort ship.

3. Jegulus : they’re kind of the pairing that made me join the fandom, and though I don’t read them as much as I used to, they’ll always make me so soft. Enemies to lovers? Yeah, well I’m not immune yk. Best friend’s brother? Even better. Tragic and doomed? Yeah sign me the fuck up. I will say I like them just as much when it’s jegulily, but that’s also because I think poly relationships are so complex and compelling.

4. Moonwater : and not platonic haha, i have to say that basically i ship anyone who’s very smart imo with regulus, and Remus passes the test. Plus he’s also introverted, a book nerd, done with James and Sirius so i feel like they could bond very easily. I prefer them in a non canon sitting tho for some reason, but yeah I’m. So fond of them. They get into heated debates. Even their ship name is so dear to me because, that’s like both their biggest fears and pairing them in one name feels like they can overcome them if they’re together ? 😭 it’s so sweet (plus, it allows me to ship prongsfoot on the side lmfao)

5. Regulily : same reasoning as up there but like they’re probs the only het pairings that I really really love. i never expected them to be so important (but *cough cough* disintegration happened…) but honestly they make a lot of sense? I feel like Regulus would be more confident with Lily, and Lily would feel more calm with Regulus? They’re that scary hot powerful quiet couple yk. Anddd they can bond over siblings angst lmao.

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

OMG hi I love your writing sooo much. I kinda have 2 requests if you don't mind, there both for Charlie. One would be like the ABC thing (idk what there called 😭) the other maybe like reader is pregnant. I feel like Charlie would go ballistic and like crazy protective.

Awe thank you so much, and dw, I can do both! I did the pregnancy one for this post since it took less time, but once I get around to writing the abc one, I'll definitely tag you in it so you can see when it's out! I hope you enjoy!

Yandere mafia boss when reader is pregnant

Afab reader because you know, pregnancy, but no pronouns are used so technically gn! reader.

Warnings: Technically yandere character but he doesn't really do anything yandere-esc here besides be overprotective, pregnancy, the vague idea of abortion is mentioned, somewhat abusive parent mention (not reader or Charlie dw), mentions of vomiting.

Also-the idea of a Charlie having sex with a kidnapped darling makes me feel gross, so for the sake of my sanity, reader is with willingly with Charlie, he's just kind of yandere for different reasons.

Divider credit goes to @kyejiz

-Charlie wasn't planning on having kids, he really wasn't. His childhood was fucked up enough, courtesy of his father being the previous leader of his mafia, and he really had no desire to put a different child through that, no matter how aware he is of his shortcomings. So he always tries to be careful when getting intimate with you, just to be on the safe side.

-But no precaution is 100% affective, and eventually, you end up beating the odds and becoming pregnant.

-When you tell Charlie, he's...stunned, to say the least. How could this have happened? You two were so careful, how did you still end up pregnant? Holy shit, what were you gonna do? Did you want to keep it? How could he possibly be a father? Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit-

-He tries to appear calm and collected, keeping a brave, stoic face on, but from the way he's clasping his hands, and the way his leg's bouncing up and down rapidly, you can tell he's freaking out. You can't blame him, especially with his job, but his nervousness is starting to make you nervous. What if he's upset? What if he wants you to get rid of it? Will the kid ever have a normal childhood? What are you going to do?

-He's fully prepared to ask you what you want to do about it, but before he can, you whisper out that you want to keep it, and he feels a strange rush of relief flood his system. he's not sure why, keeping the kid will be much more difficult than simply getting rid of it, and besides, how could he possibly be a good father when he's never had a good example of one, or when his job is...well, what it is?

-Still, as soon as the initial shock is over, he's over the moon. He's gonna have a kid! He's gonna have a kid with you! He's gonna have a kid with you now! He can't believe it!

-His immediate reaction is to pick you up (gently) and twirl you around, smiling uncontrollably as your new life together flashes through his brain. He can worry about his job and all the little things later, for now, he just wants to celebrate this new milestone with you, and only you.

-Immediately begins preparations for the kid. he's buying everything you two could possibly need in bulk, regardless of how soon you'll need it. A crib, clothes, toys, diapers, blankets, anything that comes to mind, he'll buy. He'd rather be overprepared than underprepared, and besides, he's practically rolling in money, so spending too much isn't really a concern for him. Only the best for his child!

-On top of preparing, he becomes 10x more protective of you. It doesn't matter how early you are in your pregnancy, or how capable you normally are, he is not letting you do anything, no matter how low-effort the task is. He's following you around the house, helicoptering around you every second he can, picking things up for you, cleaning literally any sort of mess or disturbance you've made regardless of how capable you are, anything that could possibly be considered taxing on you is no longer something you're able to do. He doesn't mean to stress you out, that's the opposite of what he wants, he's just super nervous about your wellbeing throughout your pregnancy.

-Nobody's allowed to touch you besides him. Nobody. Not that they could before, but especially so now. On the rare occasion you're out of the house, he's always by your side, glaring at anyone who dares stare at you for too long.

-Speaking of his protectiveness, he's amping up the house's security as much as possible, if he hasn't done so already. He refuses to let anything bad happen to you in general, but he double refuses to let anything happen to you while you're pregnant, or to the kid once it's born. He's a powerful man, and with the job he has, he knows what attention he attracts and what his enemies are capable of. He can't let them hurt you or the kid, he can't even risk them knowing he has a kid. If he lost either of you...he wouldn't be able to cope.

-His fears are exactly why he doesn't let anyone besides your personal bodyguards know you're pregnant. Even them knowing stresses him out, but he still has a job to do, and leaving the house is inevitable, no matter how much he tries to put going out off. He just has to trust that the bodyguards will take care of you while he's gone, but he'll definitely be stressing when he has to leave you behind for a bit.

-He can't keep his hands off of you, even before the bump starts showing. He's constantly holding your stomach, cuddling up to you, picking you up and carrying you around, any form of physical touch he'll be doing regularly. If you're stressed and need him to back off he will, but he'll be very twitchy while parting for you.

-Lord help you when your bump does show, his hands are gonna find a new home on your stomach. He loves the feeling of your child kicking at your stomach, it calms him down whenever he has doubts about having a kid. It makes him feel like everything will turn out alright.

-He refuses to be like his father, he refuses. His dad wasn't necessarily unloving, but he was a mafia boss, and Charlie was meant to be an heir, so most of Charlie's childhood was stripped from him in preparation for his future career. Instead of being able to play with kids his own age, he trained to fight, to kill, to do business. He was taught to trust no one, to never show his emotions to a living soul, and to utilize his anger for furthering business. Pair all of that with his parent's constant fighting, and boom, ruined childhood.

-So needless to say, he's scared. He loves the kid already, and he's sure he always will, but what if love isn't enough to make him a good parent? What if he still ends up being hard on the kid, just like his dad was on him? He doesn't want to shove this life onto an innocent child, especially his child, but what if he does? How could he be a good father when violence is all he's ever known?

-You'll have to reassure him a lot during your pregnancy, even if he never explicitly tells you his fears. It's kind of obvious based on all the parenting books he's bought, or all the blogs he's scanned giving advice on how to be a loving dad. Sources he'd normally never turn to, but right now, he's desperate. He just needs you to remind him that it'll be ok, that the thought he's putting into all this is enough proof that he'll be a good father.

-He's the best comfort you have when pregnancy symptoms start to kick in. Pregnancy cravings? he's got everything you could possibly want stocked in your ridiculously large kitchen. Morning sickness? He's up with you, holding your hair back as you do what you have to. Sore? he's massaging whichever part of your body needs soothing. Tired/grumpy? He's doing whatever you need, no matter how stupid or ridiculous your requests may be. You're carrying his child after all, it's the least he could do.

-Pampers you to high heaven. Whatever you want, you'll get, no matter how expensive. It doesn't even have to be something you need for your pregnancy specifically, literally anything you want he's providing. Your happiness has always been key to him, and he's not about to let you feel unloved or neglected during your pregnancy.

-He won't ever tell you this, but it pains him to see how uncomfortable you are at moments. He's less ballistic about it than he would be if it was literally anything else causing you distress because he knows that this is natural and just how pregnancy works, but he's still very on edge, especially when you're showing visible signs of being uncomfortable. He abhors seeing you in pain, even when he knows he can't help you the way he feels he needs to. He doesn't want to make you feel bad about yourself though, so he'll keep his worries to himself, watching over you carefully as you go through your day to day life.

-Once moving around becomes more difficult for you, he'll do whatever he can to get you from place to place without letting you strain yourself. This usually ends with him carrying you around himself, but on the off chance he can't or you won't let him, he'll try to bring whatever you need closer to you, so you don't have to walk as far. It can seem a little overbearing, but he means well.

-He's constantly chattering about your kid, what they'll be like, how they'll turn out, what they'll be interested in, the big moments he can't wait for, all that good stuff. He'll love the kid no matter how they turn out (for the most part), but he still enjoys speculating with you.

-He's so excited to be a dad, and he's especially excited to be a parent alongside you!

-...Let's just hope he doesn't pass out when the baby comes, he's desensitized to a lot but childbirth isn't really something he's seen a lot of (or at all).

Hope you enjoyed!

[moirasdolly]

Junker Queen NSFW Alphabet ᥫ᭡ ˖ ࣪

Contains: NSFW, trans jq, oral sex, lots of cum, cockwarming, exhibitionism

Listening to ♪ ིྀ: Body - Summer Walker

Notes: Hi requesterrrr <3 I was 100% planning on doing the alphabet for her anyway, so this gave me an excuse to just do it. I hope you like the headcanons I chose for her :3

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

I don’t know why, but I feel like she’s the type to knock tf out after sex. Of course before she’s out like a light she does some quick cleaning up for both of you, but the rest comes after a nap.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Her favorite body part on herself are her abs… duh! And her favorite on you is your ass for sure, she love smacking it literally any chance she gets.

Cum = (Anything to do with cum)

She gets messy, by messy I mean she cums a lot. She’ll cum inside you, on your stomach, your face, literally pick a place.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Hmm I kind of had to think hard about this one since I think she’d be really open about everything, but maybe she secretely gets off to the though of you being handcuffed or tied up at her mercy while she runs her hands over your body.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

I don’t think she’s been with a lot of people, but I think she’s just naturally good at fucking.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

For less intimate nights she loves taking you from the back. She love to pull your hair and splay her free hand on your lower back, pushing you into the mattress. She loves the few of your cunt squeezing her. For when she’s feeling more romantic she loves you below her with your legs propped up on her shoulders so she can see your pretty face.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc)

She’s not necessarily silly during sex, but she’s not extremely serious either.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc)

Up to your imagination.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

I think she tends to enjoy the more dirty, desperate, sensual aspects of sex rather than slow and romantic love making.

J = Jack off (Masterbation headcanon)

Oh she definitely does it when she thinks about you. She has dirty pics you send her stored in a hidden folder on her phone and most definitely pulls them out to get the job done.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I think she’d be a bit of an exhibitionist. You know her thrown? Yeah she loves to make you ride her there knowing anyone could walk in and catch you guys. Your loud moans would bounce off the walls as she grips your hips and fucks up into you.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Dare I say her favorite place is the thrown. Sue meee but I think she loves how much control she has over you there.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Your body is attractive to her no matter what size you are or your body type she just thinks you’re the sexiest woman she’s ever met.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

She most definitely is not into being anything other than a dominant top. She prefers having control.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

She is a MUNCH! She adores how your thighs wrap around her head locking her in and how your thighs start to tremble as her tongue laps up your arousal.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc)

She is almost always fast and rough with you and you love it. She man-handles you like nobodies business and she’s literally soooo strong, she definitely uses that to her advantage.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc)

I think she’d be down for a quickie but they always leave you so fucked out that Odessa ends up having to tend to you after.

R = Risks (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc)

She’d love to try almost anything at least once

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Her stamina is actually ridiculous, it’s almost too much for you. She pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re begging her to stop <3

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

I don’t think she really needs toys, her natural assets are more than enough for you. She’d own accessories for you though like collars, leashes, etc.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

She see’s no point in teasing, she give you exactly what you want because your pleasure turns her on.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

Odessa is extremely loud. She loves moaning right in your ear too no matter what position she’ll make sure those groans reverberate through your whole body.

W = Wildcard (A random headcanons for the character)

She loves cockwarming… what can I sayyy. She loves how hard you try to stay still, but fail anyway. You were just made for taking her cock <3 there was no way you’d succeed in staying still on her lap.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We all know she’s buff as hell. Her thighs are so perfect, her abs are sculpted as hell, and she’s got a big dick 🫣

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

You guys fuck like rabbits omg , she has a never ending sex drive.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As I said earlier she knocks the fuck out as soon as she can afterwards. Although she has high stamina during, afterwards the exhaustion hits her like a truck. Her cuddles are the best though <3