#visage ⟩ 【i'm face to face with someone new】

[envy-of-the-apple]

Family Man Part 2

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part One

Word Count: 8.9k

thx to a very lovely commissioner!!!

Synopsis : Two months after Satoshi’s death, you and your daughter struggle to move on. You’re so lucky that Gojo is there to pick up the pieces.

(Yandere, smut, oral sex both m/f receiving, lactation kink, implied depression, masochistic gojo, ooc gojo, never rlly fixed that, reader has dark skin, xenophobia(NOT by gojo))

Sometimes, you're in bed, and feel like he's right beside you. 

For a moment, the last two months disappear. You feel whole again. Sometimes, it’s enough to make you turn around, words on your tongue, already ready to smile and greet him with a kiss. 

He isn't there. Nothing's behind you. 

And you feel empty all over again. 

It's better somedays. The emptiness. It's like a looming visage of gloom. Farther away one day, in your bed the next. Lately, it's growing bigger and bigger. A dark cloud on your shoulder, resting heavier and heavier on your back. 

Grief. Mourning. Loss. 

When you open the door, the mailman smiles cheerily at you. 

"Morning!" He chirps. "Lovely weather we're having today."

You nod, silent as he begins to dig through his bag. He's younger than you, you note. By a decade, at the very least. Barely in his twenties. When you were his age, you were still back home, in the village. When you were his age, Japan was just a faraway country, hardly worth your notice. 

He hands you your dues. You take them with a respectful thank you. And then you wait for the inevitable. 

On cue, his smile fades. Something pitying fills his gaze. You force yourself to stare right back at him. Insecurity bites at you, and you know he's staring at your dull face. The circles underneath your eyes. 

In the background, Reina babbles. He's forced to take his eyes off of you momentarily. 

"I heard about your husband." He starts, still staring inside your home. Your hands tighten into fists. "I'm sorry for your loss." 

He bows. So do you. 

"Thank you." You tell him, rehearsed, just like you practiced millions and millions of times. "I...appreciate it." 

He smiles, as if he think he did something, made your life a little easier. You let him bathe in his graciousness, before you shut the door. Away from the sunlight, away from fabricated sympathies. You finally feel like you can breathe again. 

It's been like this ever since Satoshi died. 

Car wreck. Some drunk had driven too close to the curb. Satoshi had been walking home. He'd missed the bus, he does that often. It's a usual quirk of his, you'd often found it adorably clumsy. Being late was harmless. He wasn't supposed to die for it. It'd been an instant kill, for the both of them. No other witnesses. The scene was cleaned up by the time you got there. The officers kept you in dread for four hours. In that time, you could almost convince yourself that it wasn't him. The reason why he wasn't answering your calls was because his phone had died. He was lost on the other side of town. He was anywhere else, doing anything else. 

You were brought to identify the body. Your eyes couldn’t deny what you saw.

You think a part of yourself died with your husband, too. You drift through life like a ghost. Mindless, numb. Colors have all bled into grayish blues. You don’t really feel much of anything anymore.

Reina squeals. You blink back to reality.

She’d dropped her toy. You pick it up. It was a purple stuffed rabbit. Satoshi had gotten it for her the day she was born. She doesn’t even sleep without it.

These days, Reina is the only thing that makes you get up in the morning, even when you don’t want to. She’s the only thing you push yourself for.

You don’t know where you’d be without her.

She’s giggles when you hand it back. She doesn’t even know. How can you even begin to tell your infant that her father is no longer coming home? Someone so new at life should not experience death this soon. It’s a sin. Someone has cursed her. It’s the only explanation you could give.

You kiss her on the top of her head. Her baby hairs are still growing. They resemble yours. Every part of her was you. When you look at her, you don’t see Satoshi.

You used to tease him about it; now, you wish there was just a tiny bit of him on her face.

Or maybe it was a good thing? Did you even want to see the man you loved, mourned for, and hated to think about in your daughter’s eyes? Would it break you even further?

You don’t have to think about questions like those. You have more important things to worry about. When you rifle through the mail, your heart sinks.

Warnings, bills, everything that Satoshi used to handle. Even when your world stopped, the rest of the planet didn’t: ever turning, ever malevolent.

You place the bills down. Reina babbles something.

You bend down to pick her up, she screams in delight when you place her on your lap, peppering her face with kisses.

And maybe your world hadn’t stopped, not just yet.

“There are stains on your blouse.”

You glance down before shrugging.

“Reina dropped her food.” You shrug. “I didn’t have time to clean it up.”

Kiyo doesn’t look very happy about your excuse. She doesn’t say anything about it, preferring to glare at you in silent disapproval as she always does. Usually, you’d have Satoshi acting as a barrier between you and your mother-in-law. For obvious reasons, that wasn’t feasible at the moment.

Reina was being entertained by your father-in-law. Satoshi had inherited Isamu’s bald spot as well as his gentleness. Reina kicked her feet as Isamu muttered soft words, as though they were communicating, even though Reina hadn’t even said her first words yet.

Another milestone Satoshi would miss.

“We made adjustments to the will,” Kiyo announces. “Everything will be passed onto Reina when she comes of age.”

You nod, not very interested in politics and lands. Satoshi came from a traditional family. Japanese nobility, though he wasn’t fond of talking about his background. You were always fine with it. You never married him for the money, despite what your mother-in-law thinks.

On cue, Kiyo snaps her fingers. You blink in her direction.

She frowns, but you’ve never seen her smile in your presence.

“I would appreciate if you could pay attention when discussing my grandchild’s future.” She more or less hisses.

“I am,” you give. “Trust me, no one else is more invested in my daughter’s future than me.”

It makes her even more mad, but you’re too drained to play ‘submissive daughter-in-law’ with her. From the moment Satoshi introduced you as his fiance’, Kiyo had hated you. Nothing you did could make her like you. Not even when you learned the language perfectly, immersed yourself in Japanese culture.

She never said it out loud, but you knew what she thought of you. She wanted someone different for her son: someone with pale skin, straight hair, and Japanese heritage.

You wonder if she blames you for his death.

“You haven't gone to visit him,” She says, after she breaks her death stare, “you should.”

A part of you wants to say no, but you’re in her home, and you know she doesn’t take it lightly when guests (not family, you were not family) reject her. So you do as she suggested. You rise, glancing at Reina before ultimately stepping out of Satoshi’s childhood home.

He was just as you had left him. His gravestone stood tall and proud. Even next to all the other graves, his was the tallest. It must be Kiyo’s doing. No matter the gripes she had about you, her child would always reach for the skies.

His incense had to be switched. You did so, throwing out the burnt sticks and replacing them with new ones. You watched the smoke flicker away from his altar. A lone picture of him, a shy smile. It was from back when he was younger. His hair was still there. An office job hadn’t dulled his eyes.

You wanted to keep the ashes. Just a tiny piece of him, tucked by your own altar you had. Kiyo had refused, wanting the entire body to be cremated and kept in one piece. Too broken, you hadn’t pushed. Now, all you were left with his clothes and the fading scent on the pillows. You regret not fighting more that day.

You don’t cry. Not today. A part of you is proud. It feels like it’s much too early to feel so numb to this grave. It’s too early for this to feel normal.

You touch the cold stone. It’s smooth underneath your fingertips.

Your in-laws are right inside the house. You still feel lonely.

“You shouldn’t have left.” You told the tomb. “You shouldn’t have abandoned me like this.”

When you curse Satoshi’s grave, you could have sworn you felt a tiny tingle by your neck.

On Thursdays, you take Reina shopping.

She’s a hit with the local farmers market. The shopkeepers coo at her giggles and beautiful eyes as you haggle prices for vegetables and grains. It’s nice to get back on routine. Even with everything going on.

The bills were still on the counter when you left. More and more were coming in. You feel like you were being buried alive.

Reina kicks her feet. When you look at her, her chubby cheeks are stretched in the wide smile. You smile back, and then you pepper her face with kisses. These days, you’ve opted out of the bus, trying to save some money. It’ll just be until you find a job. Then, you can take as many Air-conditioned rides as you want.

There’s a honk. You ignore it. A car rolls to a stop beside the sidewalk. You take a peek, and then you stop and stare.

“Mr. Gojo?” You ask.

“Hey! Long time!” The man waves cheerily.

You give a timid smile, waving. Reina, your polar opposite, screams in delight. She frantically leans out of your arms as though she could get to Gojo by sheer will. You quickly rearrange your hands to balance her.

“What’re you doing out there?” He frowns. “Especially in this heat?”

“Ah.” Subconsciously, you wipe the sweat off your neck. “We were heading home from the market.”

He brightens. “Wanna hop in? It’s way too hot to walk that far.”

You smile, about to politely decline but then you remember infants shouldn’t be in this weather for too long.

Gojo’s car is luxurious, but the biggest relief is the cool air blowing over your heated skin. Reina is ecstatic to be next to Gojo. She babbles something, reaching out her tiny arms. Gojo takes her immediately.

“And how’s the prettiest girl in the world doing, today?” He grins, lifting her above his head. She coos.

You’re not really sure how Gojo walked into your life. You met him once before. That day when Satoshi had a mental breakdown and practically ran away from home. Gojo was so ansty back then, and it made sense why he and your husband got along so well.

He was the one who brought home Satoshi’s essentials from work—his computer, his notes—and then he started delivering Satoshi’s work mail. Then, sometimes, he’d stop by for lunch. And then he started bringing toys for Reina. Two months passed, and you know him now.

Not well. But you know Gojo enough to slip into the passenger seat, watching how he handles Reina.

“Okay, Car ride!” He tells her. She claps her hands as he gently hands her back to you.

“Thank you again, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him. “Really, this means a lot.”

He waves you off, starting the car. “Don’t worry about it, Seriously. Got nothin’ better to do anyway. Also, I told you already, call me Satoru.”

You smile, shifting away. You don’t know why Gojo is insistent on helping a widow. He was the friend of your late husband (though, strangely, Satoshi never spoke of the man before or after the quick introductions). Maybe it’s guilt. But unlike the rest of the people who knew, Gojo never once looked at you like that as though you were in pieces in front of him. It was nice, finally having someone like that. Someone who doesn’t see you as the widow of a dead man.

He was a nice young man. You shouldn’t be so quick to assume everyone has an underlying motive.

Maybe some people were just as they are. Nice.

“Grocery shopping?” He mentions to your bag. It creases under your grip.

You nod. “Dinner. You’re welcome to join, but I’m not making anything special.”

“I’d never pass up a meal from you, ma’am,” Gojo says, happily.

You like to keep to yourself, but he was driving you home. It was the least you could do to pay back his hospitality, as well as the other things he had done for you. Honestly, your bucket for Gojo’s hospitality wasn't yet empty.

When the car rolls to a stop, Gojo hops out, opening the door before you can touch it. You thank him, Reina huddled safely in your arms and fast asleep. Gojo grins, not before grabbing your groceries and leading the way.

Your house is sparser than it had been just months ago. Less decoration. Less silly memoirs. No pictures. You dumped them all, stored them in a tiny box before locking them all in the attic. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away.

Gojo waltzes into your home like he owns it. You don’t mind. He’s young, still in his twenties, at his prime. These days, you can feel things start to break down within you. Your shoulder hurts when you sleep on it the wrong way. You have to be more careful about picking up things from off the ground. You can’t tell whether this has to do with the remnants of pregnancy or your age, but you’re envious of Gojo’s youthful strength either way.

He places the bags on the counter. By then, Reina’s awake. She blearily blinks at you. You were hoping she’d stay asleep for a little while longer.

“I can watch her!” Gojo pipes up, extending his hands. Reina’s overjoyed to be handed over. It’s nice to have your hands full with something else other than baby

You listen to them giggle while you get started on dinner. It’s your usual dance. Potatoes. The sounds of boiling water. You want to make something simple, but Gojo is here, and you don’t want to disappoint your guest. By the time you’re back out, it’s nearly an hour, and the food has yet to be served.

They don’t seem to mind. Gojo had taken Reina onto the floor. You don’t complain. It’s where she usually played anyway. He was driving one of her wooden cars on the carpet, running it across the floor, as Reina clapped to her heart’s content. You could only watch, heart strangely numb.

He’s good with her.

Like Satoshi was.

You clear your throat. Gojo looks up.

“Food’s ready.” You tell him with a stiff smile. “Why don’t you wash up? I’ll take care of her.”

“Be good, okay?” He pats Reina’s head before standing up. You take her into your arms.

She’s tired from playing. Reina settles in the crib rather nicely. It’s relieving. When she’s asleep, you can’t bring yourself to leave. You watch her. Her chest rises and falls. She snores. It’s the most adoring noise you’ve ever heard.

When you head back to the kitchen, Gojo’s already back. He grins, clearly eager.

“You cooked a lot.” He comments when you two finally settle down. “Not that I’m complaining!”

“I hope it’s to your liking,” you say as always.

And it is. Gojo never hides from giving his compliments. He’s so genuine and sincere, and it makes you a bit bashful.

“Mrs. Sawai, this stuff right here is sometimes the highlight of my day,” he says. You shake your head.

“It’s true! You have talent. You should open up a restaurant or something! Wait no, don’t do that...you’d be booked for years, and I’ll never eat your cooking again.” That makes you laugh. He seems pleased for some reason.

“Thank you,” you say, “I appreciate that.”

“How was your week? Your students?” You prod.

“Good. They’re all good!” He chirps back. “I was out of town for the week, so returning to my precious students was the best.” He sighs. “Sometimes, I wish I could just pack them all in my suitcase and take ‘em with me. They’re the cutest things.”

He said he taught at a religious school, which you found strange because Gojo didn’t really strike you as religious. Nevertheless, he seemed very passionate about teaching. It was rather endearing.

Did Satoshi ever have that kind of passion for his job?

“Reina reminds me of them. The youth.” Gojo adds. “Endless potential. The kids are all like...seeds, right? They just need the proper care to bloom.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at things,” you say.

When dinner’s over, you gather the utensils and bowls. Gojo offers to help, but you don't bite, insisting that he rests. It gives you time to decompress. As much as you like Gojo, he’s a bit severe. You can’t be around him for too long, he’s too bright. His companionship is much like a furnace. Warm, but too much, and you burn.

When you return, you expect him to put his shoes back on, waiting by the door.

Instead, Gojo is perched on the counter—his hands card through your mail.

You stare. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised at being caught. He doesn’t startle; he barely spares you a glance, perusing over your bills like they were his. You know you should say something. Anger. It should bubble up instead of the shame. You open your mouth—

“How much?” He suddenly asks.

You fumble. “What?”

He waves the envelopes. “How much is it?”

You say nothing. He shrugs, as if that’s an answer itself.

Gojo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a checkbook. You move when he plucks a stray pen from the counter.

“What are you doing?” You ask, incredibly lost.

“I’m not real good with money.” He sheepishly admits before tearing off the slip and handing it to you. “But this should be enough, right?”

You stare at the amount. You’ve never held this much money before.

“I can’t accept this.” You instantly say. Instinct.

You go to hand this back. He puts a hand on his chin.

“Tell you what.” He tells you. “If I gotta take this back, I’m just gonna head to the bank, cash it in myself, and throw all the money into the river.” He grins at your horrified expression. “And it’ll all be in Yuan, so even if someone fishes it out, no one’s gonna be able to use it. One way or another, that money’s getting outta’ my bank.”

His voice softens, akin to butter. It melts into your ears.

“This isn’t out of obligation or anything. I’m giving this to you because I want to help my friend. That’s it.”

Gojo has never looked at you in pity, not like the others. He’s always looked at you like...well, you could never understand his expression. You stare at him. His sunglasses have tilted over, showcasing those gorgeous blue eyes.

Why? Why are you doing this? You want to ask him. It’s killing you inside. Is it pity for the wife of a dead friend? Why was he doing this to you?

You think of Reina. Happy giggling, Reina, with your eyes and your hair.

“It’s not like I don't have any to spare. I’m, like, loaded,” Gojo continues with his usual snark, and you think of the fancy black car parked in front of your tiny house. “And if that isn’t enough for you, just think of it as me paying you back after all those times I’ve eaten your food.”

You lower your gaze when you take the check.

“I’ll pay you back—”

“—I won’t accept it.” He grins, and you have to smile at his tenacity.

“Thank you. No, really.” You keep the check close to your chest. “Thank you, Mr.Gojo.”

He angles his sunglasses down. He looks expectant. Just this once.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

“No problem!” He pops his frames back into place.

You see him off. When he’s behind the wheel, he gives an excited wave. You shyly wave back.

And then you feel a touch right on your back. When you turn, there’s nothing but air.

Sometimes, you dream of home.

Your real home. The village is far, far away from Japan. Where you lived with your parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. On sweltering summer nights, you and the other children would sleep on the terrace underneath the stars. There were dirt paths, and rolling hills but the sky was clear every night.

In the village, tradition was everything. You used to hate it. Every day was the same. An endless cycle. You used to dance back then, your family had pushed you into it. As a child, you thought it was stupid.

Maybe that’s what pulled you towards the city—bustling roads, people everywhere. Your college was a town in and of itself. You met so many new people every day.

Satoshi was one of them.

When you brought them to your family, everyone was in awe. He was a foreigner. He was well-off, too; he came from a traditional Japanese family.

It was your Nani who pulled you aside as your family gushed about him.

“Are you sure about this one?” She had asked.

You nodded. Back then, you were young and in love. He was everything you could have dreamed of. New, exciting.

She doesn’t smile.

“Be careful.”

You remembered her words, even after you ran off with Satoshi to Japan. You remembered her words even after Satoshi assured you he wanted you to stay home and he’d work. You remembered her words when Reina was born. You remembered her words when you and Satoshi’s lives were perfect and happy.

And then you woke up.

Your village was gone. Instead of waking up in a pile of your siblings, you were alone on a giant bed.

It’s dark in your home. Satoshi hated having the lights off.

You looked to the crib. Reina was still asleep. During nights like these, you often bring her to sleep with you. It still isn’t enough, sometimes.

You’re a terrible mother. Why isn’t your own daughter enough for you?

Careful not to wake her, you slip out of bed, walking into the closet. You reach up, feeling your way on one of the shelves.

The photo album is dusty. You cough a bit when you open the book.

There’s you. Younger, stupider, garbed in your traditional dance dress. You always found that outfit so itchy. The photo was taken right after you’d placed first in one of your last competitions. Even in the photo, you had this look of disdain, holding that trophy like it was nothing but a heavy burden.

You still have that trophy a decade later.

You flip another page. Your parents. Your cousins. Your Aunts and Uncles. You stare at the photo of you holding your baby cousin. He was the same age as Reina when that picture was taken. That was ten years ago.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your family. Reina hadn’t met her grandparents, her own cousins. You never got the chance to. Satoshi was always so anxious about leaving Japan.

They’ve seen her, through video calls and photos. But that’s different than touching her, bonding with her.

You stare at the photo of you posing with the rest of your siblings and cousins. Strangely, you feel like you robbed something from Reina.

You miss home.

You cry until the album shuts itself closed, and the sun starts peeking through the windows.

“You good?” Satoru suddenly asks.

You blink, eyelashes fluttering as you stare at him. He’s on the floor again, watching Reina as she clacks a few wooden blocks together. It isn’t quiet. The babbling, too. She’d already knocked over the tower Satoru had built. He didn’t seem too upset by her destruction.

“Oh,” you say, “yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

As discretely as you can, you rub at your eyes, hoping that would shoo the dark circles away. It doesn’t help.

“I...just haven’t been sleeping too well these days. That’s all.”

Reina says something, not too happy with the lack of attention. Satoru gives her another block. He’d given her a bunch of toys, this time. You weren’t sure where to even store half of them. If he kept this up, pretty soon Reina’s entire room will be filled with dolls mirrors, and blocks.

“What’s been going on?” He asks.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You aren’t sure what’s been going on yourself. All that you know is that it’s getting worse. You can’t sleep at night, most nights like there’s something pressing you down. Things are going missing. You feel like you’re being watched constantly over and over again.

It only goes away whenever Satoru’s around. Maybe that’s why you’re more tolerant of his space.

“It’s nothing,” you say, “I’ve just misplaced a few things. It’s been aggravating looking for them.”

“Hm.” He cocks his head, you can’t decipher his tone. “Really?”

“I’ll find them eventually.”

He’s silent for a few more moments and then—

“Maybe you’re haunted.”

You laugh. It’s mean and sardonic, but you haven’t laughed in a while, and you hide away when Satoru stares.

“A ghost?” You question. “Those don’t exist.”

In the village, superstition was everywhere. Guess that never changed, no matter what corner of the world you ran to.

“Not a ghost.” He corrects. “Maybe something else.”

You hum, unamused. Satoru turns to Reina with an all-too-wide smile on his face.

“It’ll be right behind you, and you won’t even know it.” He tells her. “Then, it’ll draw closer, and closer, and closer until....it gets ya—”

To further his point, his hands shoot out to lightly jostle her. Reina squeals, absolutely thrilled.

Then, Satoru turns to you.

“Or something like that.”

You aren’t impressed.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” You tell him.

“They certainly aren’t.” He agrees. “But other things are.”

Satoshi acted strangely two days before his death.

He was always anxious, but this was even worse than before. Constantly looking behind him, like they’d be something there. You know he wouldn’t sleep. He’d just lay there, shifting in panic.

You don’t prod until you find him in the bathroom in clear hysterics.

“I messed up,” he mumbles over and over again. “I messed up. I messed up.”

“Satoshi.” You beg, kneeling on the tile next to him. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I messed up.” He tells you again. “I keep messing up.”

And then he sobs. He cries so loudly, you’re worried it might wake up Reina. You hug him. Hold him close to your chest, letting him cry himself out.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you. “I’m sorry. I love you. I love Reina. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You ask.

He looks at you then.

“For cheating.”

You remember every detail. The crinkle in his eyes. The beginning stages of wrinkles in his face. A picture entirely stamped into your memory.

“I forgive you.” You immediately say. “I—I forgive you. We—we can work through this.”

“We can’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better. She deserves better, too. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything when you prod. Who, how, when. Your husband cheated on you. You aren’t even allowed to grieve your dying marriage when you have to grieve your dead husband.

You meant what you said. You forgave him. You would have worked through it. Fixed it. Because your marriage with Satoshi was perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

It was a perfect marriage when he never stood up for you in front of his mother. It was a perfect marriage when all he did back from work was eat and sleep. It was a perfect marriage when he cheated on you.

Rose-tinted glasses. Maybe your relationship wasn’t the most perfect.

But it was fixable.

Reina’s crying in her crib. The thing on your chest is back.

You fumble through the dark, reaching for her. She’s crying even louder when you pick her up, even when you rock her in your arms.

“Please stop.” You beg. “Please stop crying.”

She doesn’t. The pressure gets bigger.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” Satoru’s asking when you’re finished putting away the groceries. He’d offered you a ride again. You wondered when you stopped being surprised at his frequent pop-ins.

“The same as always,” you respond.

You’re not used to the house being so quiet. Reina’s always doing something. For an infant, she’s rather loud.

But she isn’t here today. Kiyo wanted her Grandaughter for the night. You obliged, letting your Mother-in-law whisk Reina away. Was she even your mother-in-law anymore?

“So nothing?” Satoru prods, and you wonder why he’s so persistent on the answer. Maybe he wants to tease you.

The differences between you and him are staggering. He’s young, still in his twenties, he probably still goes out clubbing, drinking, whatever kids his age are into. You are...older, a mom, unsure if the tight skirts you wore 15 years ago would still fit you.

“If you don't got any plans, why don’t you hang out with me tonight?”

You stare at him.

“Don’t gimme that look. You act like I’m gonna rob you.” He complains. “Let yourself loose a bit. What do you even do for fun, these days?”

That stumped you. Apart from lounging around, sulking, job hunting, revolving around Reina, you haven’t done much. When’s the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru?

“There’s a bar that opened up. Not too far from here.” He muses. “Wanna go?”

You hesitate, “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not good at handling alcohol—”

“Same! Total lightweight.” He gushes. “It’ll still be fun, though! What do you say?”

Why, you want to ask. Why is he so insistent on spending time with you. Asking about you. About Reina. What does he want from your broken family? Your mind can’t piece together the images—connect the dots.

“Okay,” you say instead.

Three hours later, you’re dressed in the most flattering clothing in the back of your closet. Satoru looks pristine as always, and you wonder if there’s ever a chance he could look any less put together. Under the dim lights, he’s almost glowing. You can’t stare at him for too long.

The conversation is light, not too purposeful. You wander from one topic to the next. He talks about his co-workers. His school. You’ve always wondered about this teaching job. He seemed to never want to shut up about his students, but whenever you try to pry about the details, he starts to drift away. The most you’ve gotten from him was rambling about how it was a private religious school before he sprung into something else.

“Did you have any pets?” He asks, “Growing up, I mean.”

You shrug. “There were a lot of stray dogs, in my hometown. We would feed them, but no. No pets.”

“You?” You prod.

He takes a moment, genuinely thinking.

“My family had a dog, not too long after I was born. After that, nothing.” You were surprised, he answered. The alcohol must make his lips a little looser.

“I think having a dog would be nice,” you muse, mostly to yourself, “maybe an older one. Less energy.”

“What pet do you think I should have?” He asks.

You stare at him. He’s grinning.

“A rock,” you respond, and when he laughs, you laugh a bit, too.

“I like it when you smile like that,” he says when his voice recovers. “You get all blushy.”

You frown, discretely checking your face in the glass.

“I don’t blush.” You say. “My skin’s too dark.”

He tips his sunglasses down, staring at you with those pretty blue eyes. You shift away. His gaze doesn’t let you get far.

“Not really,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “It’s subtle, but it’s still there. It’s a nice color.”

He’s teasing you. You know that. Still, you look away. He laughs again. It sounds like twinkling bells.

“How’s everything holdin’ up with the house?” He asks when you’re nursing your 3rd drink. “I know you had a couple of issues earlier.”

You shrug, lips loose, feeling warm. “I don’t think I have to worry about it. Not anymore.”

“Hm? Why’s that?”

“I’m thinking of going back home.”

He stops messing with his drink. You don’t notice, thoughts hazy.

“Back...to your country?” Satoru asks carefully.

You nod absentmindedly. “I only came here because of Satoshi. Now that he’s...I think it’s best for Reina if we go back.”

You want her to live with her maternal culture. You want her to meet your side of the family finally. Maybe, when she’s older, you can put her in your old dance garments. She’ll probably hate it, much like you did. She’ll be good at it, much like you were.

He’s silent, swirling his glass.

“Really?”

“Yes.” You feel defensive, even when you shouldn’t be. His tone was cool. Yours wasn’t. “It—it’s her home. She should see it.”

“Wasn’t she born here?” Satoru questioned. “Wouldn’t Japan be her home, then?”

You deflate.

“You’re right.” You admit. “Japan is her home, but it isn’t mine.”

You miss home. You miss the village. You’d do anything to go back to the good old times. You’d do anything to be away from this pain.

Japan was empty. Your in-laws barely tolerate you. No friends. No job. The only good memories you had were buried in a tomb, and even those rotted away by lies and deceit.

“I think you should stay,” Satoru says, voice soft.

“Why?” You ask. “I have nothing here.”

“You could.”

You look up. In the dim lights of the bar, he’s breathtaking. Everything you weren’t.

And that everything closes the distance between you and him.

It’s soft. Barely a kiss. His lips are soft; you can smell his shampoo. It lasts for a moment before you’re breaking it. You shy away, staring at the floor beneath you. Your shoes. You can hear your heart. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Satoru follows your mouth. This time, it’s bolder. You can feel his warmth, pressed against your frigid soul. He’s melting you down to bone. There’s a hand on your back, keeping you in place. Fireworks spark at the touch.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone like this. Not since...

And then you remember who you’re with, what you’re doing. The ring sits heavy on your finger.

You push away. Satoru falters, and you use that opportunity to stumble to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” You say, “I—I’m—”

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. Instead, you turn and flee out the bar. Into the cold frigid night.

You’re drunk. You can feel it in your fingertips, the way your vision gets the slightest bit dizzy when you move too fast. You cling against a random lightpost, checking your phone.

Your place wasn’t that far away. You could walk, right? But it would be safer to call a cab. Better yet, call Kiyo. Call your neighbor. Call anyone?

Oh, you just remembered that you have no one here.

Satoru finds you when you’re already crying. You can feel him on your shoulder before he even says anything.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for you, “c’mon. Let’s get out of the street—”

“Why?” You whirl onto him, so fast that even he’s surprised. “Why are you doing any of this? Reina, me, why do you care so much?”

You’re still crying, but you can feel your tears slow down the tiniest bit. You weren’t breathing. You don’t think he was either.

Satoru opens his mouth. Closes. Opens again. His smile is gone. You can see the imprint of your lipstick on his perfect pout.

“I love you.”

It feels like he just slapped you. A knife in your belly, tearing you apart. Nausea builds in your throat, threatening to spill all over the road. You can’t look at him anymore, it hurts too much. Betrayal. You’re betraying your husband. Your dead cheater husband. 

“Stop.” You beg him anyway, “Don’t say that. Never say that, I can’t think–”

“—Then don’t think.” He insists, sweet, saturated. “Don’t think about any of this.”

He kisses you again, and your mind blanks. You let him this time, and you feel yourself break over it.

This time, Satoru’s the one who breaks it, resting his forehead on yours. You still must look confused. He laughs adoringly.

“C’mon this can’t be too out of left field, right?” He asked. “I mean, I made it pretty obvious.”

He had. You were too preoccupied in your own misery to notice. Offers to drive you to the grocery store. Volunteering to take care of another man’s baby. Satoru has always been direct.

You avoid his gaze, but there’s no where to go.

“Satoru,” you hesitate. “I—I don’t feel that way.”

“I know.” He concedes, trailing his lips down your cheek. You don’t stop him.

“But you need this.” He kisses your neck. “I know you do. You’re so stressed all the time, hm? You need me. Use me. However, you want to.”

Use him. You’ve always used him. What difference would this make?

You still had a chance to stop this. There were so many reasons to stop. You were a recent widow. A single mother. He was so much younger than you—

You kiss him again to stop thinking.

You don’t know what time you stumble through your door.

Satoru hasn’t stopped touching you in the cab, walking up to your patio. If you were sober, you might have been a bit more hysterical about it, now you just wanted him never to stop.

He’s pushing you against the door, slamming it shut with your body weight. You can barely get the words out past his plush lips.

“Bedroom.” You insist.

He pulls away with a laugh. “’course, Babe.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that petname, but you don’t get a moment to complain. He’s effortlessly picking you up, and you settle on the cool comforters moments later.

Your dress is halfway up your thighs. He spares no time, reaching for the back and finding the zipper. It falls apart in his fingers. He peels the fabric off of you with a delighted sigh.

“Fuck, look at you,” he’s saying to the newly uncovered skin. “so so pretty.”

Not used to the attention, you shy away. He doesn’t let you, taking you by the chin so he can kiss you again.

He’s so different now. You feel like you’re seeing a side of him you aren’t supposed to. Long white lashes, pretty blue eyes that are drenched in want and lust. His breathing was elevated. He was excited.

It scares you.

“I...I haven’t done this in a while.” You admit when you pull back. You give him a glance, before resigning yourself to pull away the rest of the dress and dropping it to the floor. “So...Please be nice?”

You sound like a child, unsure and nervous. You hate that you can’t keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Yes, yes.” He’s nodding, staring at you like a drooling dog. “I’ll be so so nice, baby. The nicest. Just lemme’ touch you. Please, please, pretty please?”

You give a tiny nod, and he’s pouncing on you.

He’s insatiable, you don’t think he’d ever get enough. He’s pawing at your bra before it comes off completely beneath his touch. Your panties are gone too, and then you’re entirely bare beneath him.

He doesn't forget about himself, neither do you. Between his ravenous kisses, you manage to take off his jacket. Satoru helps you with his shirt, pulling it off him, showing his toned abs and pale skin. Not a single mark or blemish. He’s absolute perfection.

He must notice your hesitant fingers at his shoulders because he stops sucking on your neck with a distinct pop, still playing with your tits, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“Touch me,” he says, “I want you to touch me.”

You feel awkward pulling your fingers down to his chest, his stomach. His skin is soft, warm. Your hands are frigid. He shivers when you graze over his abs. His skin is so pale, almost translucent. If you were to pinch him, bite him, the color would show oh so nicely.

When you pull away, he whines, nearly falling over.

“Don’t fucking tease me like that.” The way he says it is so needy. You laugh, gaining the courage to play with his hair.

He gets the control back eventually, pushing you back down so he can devour you properly.

His face is between your legs before you can comprehend it. He’s spreading you open so he can see your pussy. You’re already creaming for him. Your pussy juice is spread across your lips, making your skin glisten and shine. It’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t worse, drooling like a fucking dog before his mouth meets your cunt in a frenzied kiss.

He gives this high-pitched moan that sends a thrill up your spine the more he makes out with your clit, licking and sucking.

“Oh.” You sink against the pillows. “Satoru—Satoru-!—”

“Fuck yes—” his voice is muffled but he doesn’t stop. “You taste so good, baby. like—like fuckin’ heaven—”

You almost double over when his teeth graze your clit. Your hand reaches out immediately to grab and his hair and pull.

It does nothing. He just whines, and when he digs deeper into your pussy, you realize he likes it when you hurt him.

You pull harder and his finger presses its way into your wet hole and just the right angle to make you see stars.

“Fuck baby, ‘can barely fit my fingers.” It would sound like a complaint if he didn’t sound so far gone already. “How are we gonna fit my cock into this pussy, hm?”

He talks too much. When you shove his face deeper into your folds, it seems to shut him up and he’s back to worshipping your dripping cunt.

He’s too good. It’s all so good. You’re squeezing his head between your thighs, sure you’re suffocating him but he doesn’t seem to care. The noise is downright scandalous but you’re too far gone to give a shit about that.

It felt so good to stop thinking.

“Close.” You gasp when you hit that plateau. “I’m close. I’m—”

“Gonna cum?” he asks from underneath you, and it only seems to spur him on. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl. Cum baby. Just let go. I gotcha’ just please please please—”

It hits and you arch your back, letting your orgasm rush past your body. It fizzes up your spine, right to your tits before you sag back to Earth. Satoru is more that happy to work you through your high before your thighs fall apart against him and he’s detaching himself from your clit with one last part kiss.

Satoru kisses you, famished. You can barely kiss back, following his lips with your own. You can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s a tangy sweetness, warmed from his spit.

“Was I nice?” Satoru asks.

You nod. He smiles.

He pulls back, sitting on his knees. You watch as he fiddles with his boxers, before pulling out his pulsing cock.

It’s not all that thick, but it’s the length that makes you shift, just the tiniest bit. He’s on the larger end. His cock looks puffy and dripping in a way that almost looks painful. He pumps himself a few times, and then you’re reaching out.

Satoru stops, watching as you rise from your earlier position, hand on his cock. Your hand is so much smaller than his, you can barely wrap your fingers around his base. He shivers at the touch, and by the time you’re fisting his cock he faltars, head falling into the crook of your neck.

“Too much?” You ask when he gasps.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No no. Keep going. Please don’t stop.”

That same whine again. Helpless and needy. When you squeeze him, he jolts.

And then you stop. You’re sure he’s about to complain but then you’re lowering yourself, keeping your eyes on him, and you give his cock a tentative lick.

You hadn’t done this in a while, and you weren’t all that sure if you could swallow all of him, but you try your best. You swirl your tongue around his tip, watching as he twitches. His cock jumps in your mouth and you have to hold his base to keep him still for you. He’s so sensitive. Every touch you give him seems to just make him even needier.

He rocks his cock into your mouth. You let him, watching as he babbles on and on.

“So so fucking good, baby.” He’s moaning, head flung back, like it’d be too much to keep looking at you. “Right—right there. Fuck fuck fuck.”

He cums fast, and it’s sudden. He’s barely holding his breath before he’s shuddering and he’s filling your entire mouth. There’s so much of it, you can’t possibly swallow it all. You mouth off his cock with a pop, pumping him until he starts twitching out of overstimulation.

Satoru is panting, still basking in that afterglow as you kiss him. He doesn’t seem too embarrassed about how quick he lasted. Then again, you don’t think he has the brainpower to feel anything right now other than pure lust. Pussydrunk, your brain gives.

You reach up, wiping away the tears collected in the corner of his eyes. A part of you wants to leave it there. He looks good like this. Pretty as an angel.

And then you look down and you see his cock has not gone down at all.

“Oh,” you murmur, “I see you’re healthy.”

“Mmh,” he says back, not exactly words but you’re not looking for a conversation right now.

Your pussy is throbbing. She wants more attention. You’re settling back into your original position as you watch Satoru rifle through his forgotten pants. He pulls out a familiar wrapper. You have to roll your eyes at his preparedness.

“You’re a bit too ready for this.” You note.

“Can you blame me?” He honestly asks. “I’ve been waiting for this for months.”

The casual admission makes you glance away. He laughs at your sudden shyness and you have to wonder how you didn’t see him before.

“Ready, baby?” He asks. This feels familiar, somehow.

He gives his cock two cursory pumps, and then he’s pushing himself into you.

It’s so much all at once. As wet as you were, his cock bullies his way into you with a fierce stretch. It’s enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut. Grin and bear it.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” He curses. “How the hell did you fit a baby through here?” You can’t bring yourself to respond to his usual snark, so you claw at his back, raking your nails through his skin. He hisses and the pain seems to distract him into temporarily shutting up.

By the time, he sits his dick in your pussy, you’re close to breaking. You were right, he was way too big. Bigger than the one person you’ve always been with, so you’re not sure if you have a good gauge on size. Still, your brain short-circuits, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Mind-numb.

He’s impatient this time, not giving you a chance to adjust before he’s clumsily pulling back out only to ram himself back in. You lurch, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself from his sudden pace.

“Satoru—!” You gasp. “It’s—!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s apologizing, but you’re not quite sure how much he actually means it. “I’ve—I’ve just waited so—ah—long and now you’re here and it’s so—”

If it’s even possible, he gets even faster, pushes his cock even deeper into your battered pussy. The squelching of your hole and his whines into your ear make it so much more erotic than it needs to be. You give into your desire, reaching over to sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his neck. The masochist in him purrs in delight.

You notice it first. That familiar soreness in your tits. When you glance down, your nipple is leaking that familiar milky fluid.

Satoru notices too. He stops, sinking his dick entirely into you. You’ve never felt fuller.

“Oh.” You feel heat creep up your neck. You hadn’t fed Reina today, this was bound to happen. “I—I’m sorry. I—I should’ve—”

You expect him to pull out of you awkwardly. Maybe even be disgusted.

Instead, he groans.

“I’m getting dessert now, too?”

“What?”

As your answer, he leans down and latches onto your tit.

He’s messy, smearing milk all over your skin and the other breast. After a while, he picks up his pace again, resuming his pussyfucking. You’re sure the angle must be painful, him bent over you like this, but he makes no complaint. And you could care less about his discomfort right about now.

He alternates between your breasts like he can’t decide which one tastes better. It shouldn’t feel this good, watching him suckle on your tits but you can feel yourself get even tighter. He can feel it, too.

Satoru’s rambling now. You can barely keep up with his incoherent mess.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re close, arentcha’?” he’s slurring his words, spitting them out one after another. “C’mon baby, you wanna cum? Cum, then? Milk my cock, pretty baby. Just like last time.” You should be paying more attention to his words. You don't.

Everything feels like deja vu. You should be paying attention to your own words too. You don’t.

“Mhn.” You moan. “Close. Sato, I’m close. Real real close—”

Your eyes widen. So does his.

You think you just ruined everything.

And then he starts jackhammering himself into you.

“Say it again.” He demands, driving his cock deep into your cunt.

You shake your head, despite your refusal you can’t help but— “Sato, oh God. Please Sato—Don’t—”

“Again, say it again.” His fingers descend to your clit, messily rubbing tiny circles. “Don’t stop saying my name until you’ve cum.”

You obey. Sato, Sato, Sato, Sa—and then you’re tipping over the edge. He fucks you through it, keeping you on that high until he’s shuddering too.

“Fuck baby, I missed you.” He’s whispering in your ear. “I missed you so much.”

You sigh when he kisses you, still coming down to Earth. The kiss his soft, just filled with want, instead of that carnal desire. He pulls away, and just when you’re debating to let him stay the night, he’s pulling out new rubber.

“Another one?” You ask, the dots not quite connecting yet.

“Oh, c’mon.” He grins down at you. “You didn’t think we’d go for just one round, did ya?”

You’re finally back in his arms.

Satoru dreamed of this day. He’s dreamt of this for months, ever since he had to leave you with that scumbag. Now that you’re sleeping peacefully in his arms again, everything is finally right in his world.

He shifts, wanting to bring you closer to his chest, but he winces. Fuck, you really did a number on him. He didn’t know you were into biting. And he can feel the pleasant sting of your nails on his back. He’d need to be careful with his RCT for a while. He wants these marks to last for as long as possible.

And when they fade, he’s sure he won’t have to convince you too much to make more for him.

“Give...them...back.”

Oh right. He’d almost forgotten about that other tiny problem he had.

He turns to the curse. “So, enjoy the show?”

Satoshi is unrecognizable. Malformed, demented. No more eyes, tall enough to reach the ceiling. To a being like Satoru, he was still nothing.

To a non-shaman and an infant, a grade 2 curse was quite the hassle. No wonder your so exhausted these days. Your husband was cursing you.

“Give them back.” The curse rasps. “Give them both back.”

Satoru’s silent, as if he’s really thinking about it.

“Nah, I’m good.” He grins. “This one’s mine now. And about Reina...what do you think suits me best: Dada or Daddy?”

The curse roars. It’s loud enough to shake the walls. Satoru tsks.

“Careful there. You might wake the missus.” He points out.

“Mine...” Satoshi insists. “They were....mine.”

“Were.” Satoru enunciates. “And now, they’re all mine! Sorry about the change in management. Don’t worry, though. I’ll take great care of both of ‘em.”

Always wanting to have the last word, Satoru reaches over and plucks your wedding ring off your limp finger.

“So, that’s where you got attached.” He muses at the metal. “Can’t believe you’re pathetic enough to curse your own wife. Is this 'cause you're still mad about the execution?" He asks, twirling the ring in his palm. "That happened months ago, man, get over it."

A snap of his fingers. Satoshi is gone. The room gets less stuffier. You relax in your sleep, and Satoru is caressing your arm, still studying the ring. It’s cheap. Plated gold with a less valuable metal as the base.

Pathetic. He tosses it carelessly.

A few months later, Satoru proposes with a proper engagement ring.

You say yes.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hi! I don't know if you are open to requests and if you're not completely ignore this request!!

Could I get a drabble/one-shot of Husk or Alastor finding their wife from the living world has come to the hotel? Like this is their first time seeing her after many years? Thank you and I Hope you have a good day/night!!

A/n: I'm gonna do both!

Husk:

It was that stupid fucking smirk that pissed him off, why did that prick look so fucking smug?! "What the fuck are you looking at?"

Alastor hummed turning his back to the cat demon as he waved him off. "I know something you don't know."

"What the fu-."

His name, his real name that he hadn't heard in years from a voice that still remains in his mind echoed through out the bar. His eyes went wide taking in the appearance of the new inhabitant of the Hotel.

Expect she wasn't new, oh god she wasn't new. Taking a hesitant step forward, he never thought he would see you again. His wife, his lovely wife.

It did not take long for him to pull you in his arms, his chest heaving as he desperately clung to you. Even with your broken wings you were still beautiful.

Pulling back slightly, Husk's ears flattened on his head. A deep purr leaving his chest as he looked into your eyes. "I know I ain't much to look at."

Shaking your head, you didn't care. After living in Heaven for so long you finally found the love of your life. "Who are you kidding, you still handsome." Sighing you buried your face into his chest to listen to his heart beat. "Know matter what you are I will always love you."

"I never stopped loving you...my angel."

Alastor:

He was trying to ignore what ever Charlie was blabbering about, something about a new inhabitant to the hotel....someone for him to exploit? Well lets just see how naive they really are.

Though the moment he spotted them, he felt his smile twitch. This had to be some cruel joke, a punishment. You did not belong here! you were to pure for hell, to kind!

It was a mistake, it had to be a mistake. "I don't know who you are but go back to where you came from! I should just rip you apart for taking the visage of my wife!"

You could feel the tears sliding down your cheeks as you took a step forward. But with every step you took forward he took on back and soon his back hit the wall. Ears twitching back and forth, you could see his hand gripping that cane tight in his grasp.

You had to make him see it was you, so you hummed, you hummed that song he sang to you on your wedding night, the song he would sing to to your anniversary, the one he sang the night you were killed.

You let your hand glide across his cheek, you could see the smile wavering as he finally took you into his arms.

"You came back to me." He whispered into your neck.

Nuzzling your face into his chest, you smiled as your eyes closed. "And I will never leave you again."

[andypantsx3]

Andy I just had a thought.. Shouto kabedon.. i’m very sane about this

Omg I loooveeeeeeeee this omg!!!!!!! You are a genius!!!!!!! This ask unlocked something inside of my brain; this is barely coherent and unedited but I offer you this heartfelt nonsense in return.

contents: shouto x reader, sfw, implied fem reader, aged-up characters, 1.7k

You tried to ignore it when you first heard Mineta say it.

"Trust me, the babes love it," he'd lisped to his doubtful audience—Kaminari, a befuddled-looking Kirishima, and Shouto, whose face was so impassive you'd actually been under the impression he wasn't listening.

The former members of UA's graduating class of 2X74 were stuffed into Kaminari's new apartment for a party. It was mostly the heroics department, but you'd spotted a few of your fellow general course graduates as you'd passed through the kitchen to grab a drink. You'd come out into the living room to see Mina and Jirou—as well as pretend like you weren't ogling your long-time crush Shouto—but you found you were immediately regretting leaving the safety of that kitchen.

"And you've... done it?" Kirishima asked, eyebrows scrunched.

Mineta made a show of inspecting his fingernails like it was nothing to him—which you seriously doubted. "Trust me, women like assertiveness. This move is plastered all over their romance manga."

You took another sip from your drink. You wanted to pretend like you weren't hearing this, but Mina and Jirou were making it hard, Jirou stone-faced next to you and Mina unsuccessfully trying to filter her gleeful laughter into her own drink.

"Do you think women even know it's a kabedon, if he does it?" she asked, leaning in to whisper.

Jirou looked doubtful.

"He's like, waist height," you whispered back, sighing. "I don't even know if his arm would reach the wall either...?"

"I think it probably looks like he's just trying to hold himself up," Mina said, her grin unholy.

"I pity the woman he's attempted it on," Jirou said drily.

"—you're sure?" Kaminari was saying when you turned back to the boys' conversation, also looking doubtful.

"One hundred percent success rate," Mineta insisted, eyebrows wiggling.

Despite yourself, your eyes slid over to Shouto, like they almost always did, wandering over that handsomely thoughtful expression. It was the thing you liked the most about him—how his angelically beautiful visage was at stark odds with how awkward and kind of strange he was; how he looked like an ice prince but was one of the warmest, kindest people you'd ever spoken to.

You'd been paired for a couple assignments back in school, hung out on the periphery of his Class A friend groups, and had ended up teaching him a fair few things about how to cook and do laundry when he'd asked. He'd even rescued you during one of the many attacks that made up your time at UA together—which was really when your crush hit you full-force.

He'd been so gentle with you, carrying you out of harm's way when your injured leg had crumpled beneath you, and the careful way he'd handled you had been so at variance with the raw, roiling power he'd wielded on the battlefield—the tidal waves of ice that swept up the villains, the towering wall of fire that mercilessly choked off any of their escape points.

You thought Shouto was one of the most gentle, well-mannered men on earth.

He would probably never kabedon someone. He would never need to—people fell all over themselves for him.

"The babes fall right into your arms," Mineta said, raising his voice to encompass the knot of girls stuffed together on the loveseat. "Isn't that right, ladies?"

"I'm going to get another drink, the image of Mineta trying to kabedon me needs to be wiped from my brain," you told the girls, flinging yourself over Mina's legs in your haste to escape.

The kitchen was a welcome reprieve, and you dug around in Kaminari's fridge for another can, letting the cool air wash over you. You studiously ignored that all Kaminari seemed to have in his fridge was a pile of moldering grapes and some mayo.

Can acquired, you briefly considered not going back out into the living room and abandoning Mina and Jirou to their fate. But the pull of Shouto was too strong, and with a sigh you resigned yourself to more of Mineta's lechery.

In the hallway, however, you stumbled into the man himself, coming towards you from the opposite direction. You were struck momentarily dumb by the way the breadth of his shoulders seemed to take up almost the entire span of the hall, the way his fading summer tan looked against the light-blue of his button up. He was so handsome even when he was just walking, it was so deeply unfair.

"Hi Shouto," you said, raising your can in a salute, hoping your voice sounded normal. "Careful in Kaminari's fridge, he's culturing something on his grapes."

Shouto blinked down at you, those beautiful mismatched eyes growing a little wider. "Y/N," he greeted you, though there was a note of something strange in his voice, like there was something weird about you that he hadn't expected.

You wondered if you'd spilled something on yourself like a child, and decided to detour to the bathroom on your way back. How embarrassing.

You gave him a rueful grin, stuffing yourself against the wall so you wouldn't accidentally bump a strong shoulder as you passed, swearing vengeance on your drink if it had betrayed you in this moment—

Except, suddenly there was a hand against the wall in front of you, blocking your passage down the hall. You startled, whipping back around to stare at Shouto, only to find him looming way closer than you had anticipated.

Your back bumped the wall as he crowded you in, his other arm coming up to press against the wall on your other side, caging you inside his reach.

Your mind was so overwhelmed with the sight of him this close—that straight, blade-thin nose, that full, pouty mouth—the light touch of some expensive cologne at his collarpoints—that it took you a second to catch up with what was going on.

Your mouth dropped open when you registered that Todoroki Shouto had just—kabedoned you?—was actively kabedonning you? what the literal fuck—in the middle of Kaminari's hallway.

"Shouto? What—?" you managed, your voice strangled. The air felt like it was resisting you, refusing to be drawn into your lungs.

Shouto's voice was low and intimate as he answered, sending a mortifyingly visible shiver right down your spine. "Is it working?"

You gaped at him, eyes flickering over his serious expression. "Is—what—?"

Shouto shifted even closer, so that his face was a scant two inches from yours. You were suddenly, horrifyingly aware of how close his mouth was, how tall and strong and warm he was over you.

"Do you plan to fall into my arms?" Shouto asked. "Mineta said women liked it."

It was a fight for your life to make the connection over the static in your brain, the lack of oxygen in the air. Mineta had said women would fall for you if you kabedonned them... Shouto was.... kabedonning you.... computation pending...

"You... want it to work?" you asked, words clipped. You felt like any stray movement and your mouth would brush his, and you didn't know if he wanted—it was too strange to think that he might—

"Yes," Shouto replied, his handsome face serious. Those heterochromatic eyes searched over you, trailing over your features like a warm touch. "I want it to. Am I... not doing it correctly?"

Your face heated, and an entire conservatory of butterflies took flight in your stomach. You could not believe what was going on right now.

"No you're—you're doing it right."

Shouto's face was even closer, then, his mouth a whisper away from yours. "Then you have fallen for me," he said, sounding like both a question and a conclusion. He looked like he didn't know what to do next.

You had to suppress a laugh, charmed and mystified and nervous all at once. He was so reliably strange—of course he had taken Mineta's assertions at face value. And he was so straightforward, of course he had implemented the advice straight away. He was so silly, you liked him so, so much.

"I... have," you said, a helpless smile creeping over your lips. "Although it was a while before the kabedon, to be honest."

Shouto blinked, and you could just barely see his mouth grow a little slack in surprise. "Oh," he said, a hint of a shy smile touching his mouth. "Good."

"Yeah. Good," you said, your own grin going wider.

Shouto's eyes dipped down to your mouth, and his eyelashes fluttered. A thrill of anticipation went down your spine, your knees suddenly liquefying, as Shouto leaned back in, and your own eyes fluttered closed.

The press of his mouth was hot and soft—perfect, like you'd always fantasized it would be. He shifted closer, so that he pressed against you, and you had to tilt your head back to accommodate how tall he was, reveling in the strength and the heat of him over you. One of his hands left the wall to thread into your hair as he kissed you, cradling the back of your head like you were something precious, and your stomach swooped in response.

He kissed you boneless, absolutely stupid against the wall of Kaminari's hallway, and it was all your could do to wrap your arms around him and kiss him back. You didn't know how long it was that the two of you stood there, wrapped up in one other. All you knew was you never wanted Shouto's mouth to leave yours again, never wanted to leave the circle of his embrace.

So of course an appreciative whistle broke the two of you apart. You tore your mouth away from Shouto's only to find Mineta standing at the end of the hall, grinning like a wolf. A tiny, lecherous little wolf.

"Nice one, Tododoki," he said, like you weren't even there.

You bristled, stiffening in Shouto's arms as you glanced back at him quickly to measure his response. But the dazed look on Shouto's face pulled you up short, and he looked at Mineta like he wasn't really seeing him.

"You were right," was what he eventually managed. "The kabedon is very effective. Now if you will excuse us, I need to do it again."

A shocked laugh escaped you as Shouto's hand seized yours, and then you were being pulled around the corner into Kaminari's bathroom. Shouto walked you back against the door, an arm coming up just like before, pinning you against the door.

Another pleased laugh was muffled in Shouto's mouth as he took yours again, cupping your face to his. The lock clicked shut behind you.

[504py]

Candlelight and Calluses - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

A particularly unruly thunderstorm begs you to ask your knight to stay by your bedside, just for a little bit.

i see quite a bit of bodyguard leon fics so i always thought he'd fit into a knight au rather well. art by me!!

Historical inaccuracies, I'm terrible at old-timey speak LOL, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, relationship is dubious so this could be seen as platonic, romantic, or however you'd like.

1, 2, 3

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It seemed like life would continue like normal after your former knight was discharged for stealing from your mother, and Leon came to replace him. He definitely feels more trained, more skilled, more refined, someone very reliable, so you can see how he was hired so quickly.

Somehow, you just can't get used to his presence, though.

You see him at very scheduled times of day. He sleeps in a room close to yours, mother said its safer to have him closer at night in case someone breaks in. If you're awake early enough, you can catch him leaving his room. You see him training in the courtyard through the window you pass by when you head to the kitchen. He always escorts you to your bedroom and says goodnight when you decide to call it a day, and stays posted near your door for a few minutes, before retreating to his own for the night.

Tonight, you ask him to stay just a little longer. Rainy days never really bothered you, but the thunder today was particularly bad. It was painfully loud and booming, each strike and roar making you flinch in the anticipation that the ceiling might cave in on you any moment and swallow you whole. You knew he was there to protect you, that's the main reason he was here, but your cheeks burned at the loss of your pride when you give him your request.

His expression, illuminated by the lantern in his hand and highlighting the sharp planes of his visage, is slightly different than usual at your query. His dark eyebrows are slightly raised, the frown on his lips not as deep as it usually is. His eyes are softer.

"Of course, my lady."

You head inside your bedroom, your sight settling on your nightwear set on your bed by one of your maids. You turn to Leon, asking that he leave while you change, but his back is already turned to you. You figure he got the hint, and you undress.

He's listening intently to the sounds of cloth shuffling, till he hears your weight dip your mattress, "Have you finished dressing, my lady?"

"Yes, I'm all done." You reply. Your voice is weaker than usual, perhaps scared that the thunderstorm will hear, and a crackling boom will respond, instead of Leon.

He turns back to you, seeming to pause for a moment, thinking of what to do. You've never seen him do that, perhaps this situation is new to him. That thought makes your face warm in shame.

"I... Shall I stay in the room, or shall I stay at my post, milady?" His voice is quieter than it usually is, too. Admittedly, it's a little hard to hear each other with how loud the rain is.

"If... If it would be alright, Sir Leon, could you stay by the side of my bed? Just until the storm subsides. I'd hate to keep you here for too long."

"It is no trouble to me, my lady, I promise."

He makes his way over to you, confidence in each step despite being so unfamiliar with such a strange, intimate request.

"...You can grab that chair by my vanity, Sir Leon, you don't have to stand."

He obliges, grabbing said chair and setting it by your bed.

He's dressed in a simple cream-colored linen blouse and trousers. You can see his neck. You breathe out a laugh realizing that this is probably the first time you've ever seen it. He wonders what you find amusing. You rarely ever see him without any armor on, maybe just a glimpse when he leaves his room in the morning, and even when he's not in full steel plating, he's usually donning chainmail.

"...Is it heavy?" You mumble, drowsily.

"What is, my lady?"

"The armor you wear. Is it heavy, Sir Leon?"

"Well... Not particularly, milady, but perhaps I've just gotten used to it. It does get hot, though."

"Mm..." You hum, "Always wanted to try it on, always wondered what it was like... I know mother and father won't let me, though." You chuckle.

Leon smiles a little, maybe the first time you've seen him do so. "Maybe I'll let you try on my helmet someday, milady."

"Really?" The drowsy smile you send him makes him feel warmer, "That'd be nice... I always thought the armor you knights wore looked so fashionable." Your eyes close.

He laughs slightly, and the sound is clearer now. Without realizing, the storm had passed, and you feel at ease. Leon waits a little longer, counting your breaths and seeing if your eyes will open again. He thinks the way your eyelashes rest against your cheeks look beautiful.

"Sir Leon?" You mumble, barely legible.

"Yes, milady?"

"Have a good night..." You add, before dozing off.

"You as well, my lady. Good night."

He waits a few minutes more, like he usually does when he escorts you to your door. He's never watched you sleep before, despite this being part of his nightly routine. He wishes a little more that thunderstorms would happen more habitually so he could do this more often.

Leon gets up, and quietly places your chair back to your vanity. He returns to take his lantern from your bedside table, and he pauses, watching you for a few beats more, before retreating to his bedroom for the night.

"...Calling me just Leon would be fine." He ends, with a whisper of your name.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

[silkjade]

SPARKS AMIDST THE SNOW

scaramouche x reader ⤀ warnings: gn!reader, second chance romance ⤀ synopsis: he meets you again for the first time since erasing himself from irminsul, and new hope flickers in the barren cold. ⤀ notes: for the best reading experience, pls think of the outro to all too well (10 min version) while u read this !

When Scaramouche inevitably accompanies the golden haired traveller on their journey to Snezhnaya, the last thing he expected was a pit stop in your little village on the outskirts of the capital. and although his puppet body does not shrink in the face of this nation's biting cold, his skin burns under the curious, yet cautious, gaze of those once familiar to him.

He keeps his head down, dipping his hat so that its large brim might hide his visage, eager to avoid any unwarranted attention. Still, his eyes cannot help but wander and his heart, imaginary as it may be, cannot help but wonder.

Were you well? The last he'd seen of you, he had promised to return a god — one who would whisk you away from the barren cold of Snezhnaya to live out your days in glory as his mortal consort. But for all that had transpired, and then that fateful traipse beneath the Irminsul, he's now no more than just another stranger passing through — fleeting as the falling snow, just another memory to be buried in the desolate stillness of winter.

He cares not for the stars in the sky, yet somehow they still dictate that his traveling companions would task him with purchasing commodities, of course from your family's stall. He's long grown out of his naivety; knows that in this infinite realm of possibilities, there’d always be the chance of meeting you again, slim as it may be. If it really came to, he had been prepared to let you live your life, free of him this time around, but it seems this world has its own twisted sense of humor, for he cannot tear his eyes from the ring that sits upon your finger.

"That ring. Where did you get it?" He's never been one for small talk, but the biting curiosity rivals that of the wind, as it chips away at his exterior. He keeps his tone even, ignoring the multitude of emotions whirring in his head, though irritation clearly seems to buzz the loudest.

It should have been impossible that a ring he'd forged with his own hands should still exist, but as the fate of this world has yet to reflect that… if he hadn't given you the ring, then how? Or perhaps even who... the cold, gunmetal glint laughs in his face as your swift fingers wrap up his purchase.

The stranger's question takes you by surprise, and you look up, taken aback by the intensity of his indigo gaze — beautiful, and bitter, and so blatantly familiar, yet you cannot quite figure out why.

Your village is nowhere near the main road, so it isn't often that you'd host any foreign guests; even if you did, you're sure you'd remember if someone like that were to ever have passed through. Nevertheless, you flex your fingers, pulled out of your thoughts by his impatient sigh.

"I'm not sure. I've had it ever since I could remember."

You're the same as he remembers, he thinks. A rose amidst the snow, with frost resting in your hair and on the curls of your lashes. Out of habit, he takes your hand, inspecting the ring at a closer proximity.

'How rude,' you think. and yet your hand in his, feels comfortable, and warm, and right. Like an electric charge drawing two magnets home to the other. It’d be blasphemy to pull away, but you manage to do so anyway, furrowing your brows at his boldness, the frown on your lips more so a reflection of your confusion, rather than displeasure.

“If you wanted to look, you could’ve just asked,” you mumble, as you slip the ring off your finger, offering it to him in the palm of your hand.

The detailed metalwork, the particular branding imprinted in the iron… there’s no denying the influence of the raiden gokaden, though it was perhaps, a subconscious decision made from muscle memory. In hindsight, he thinks that, in the moment, he must have felt—still feels—that same overwhelming affection that came as second nature to kabukimono. after all, it was forged as a promise of his love, and there’s no question about it when, hidden beneath his clothes, its pair hangs on a chain around his neck.

"It’s made with excellent craftsmanship," he boasts, "any merchant worth their weight, would give you a good price for it." He figures you might as well get something out of it, and a piece like this, though meaningless now, is still sure to last you until at least the next winter.

But a stubborn pout is painted across your snow-kissed features. "Absolutely not! it’s actually quite dear to me, you know..."

Scaramouche scoffs at the irony. ‘Why?’ he wants to ask. He is not foolish enough to believe himself an exception from the rules of this world; not when he's already convinced himself to give up on chasing the impossible. Still, here you are, turning destiny on its head — his heart, right within reach.

“It can’t be that dear, if you’d so willingly hand it off to a stranger.” his face reveals nothing, though he cannot say the same for the bile that rises in his throat. He crosses his arms, a brow raised in skepticism. "How do you know I won't run off with it right now?"

“I don’t,” you start, “so I suppose you could call it a leap of faith.”

“Or a doomed attempt at flight,” he counters. “You’d leave something so precious up to fate?”

You ponder for a moment as to why you feel so drawn to this stranger, why this back and forth comes so easily, why you seem to somehow just trust him.

"We don’t get many visitors here,” you start, “and as fate should have it, the day we do, it happens to be someone as interesting as you. that must count for something, no?”

The realist he’s learned to embody rolls his eyes at such ridiculous notions: your blind optimism… putting such faith in these false stars…. but the tenderness he had buried begs to differ, planting roots between the cavities of his chest, sprouting until it breaks through the surface.

He takes a further study of the intricate details, the careful inazuman script engraved on its body. ‘My heart,’ he had wrote.

Scaramouche dips his head as his fingers close a fist around the piece, the large brim of his hat hiding the fondness glimmering in his eyes, and the ghostly smile settling on his lips. He does not cringe as he recalls the lingering remnants of Kabukimono's innocence: stubbornly deluding himself to believe that his hollowed chest was naught for his natural lack of a heart, but because fate had dictated you to be its keeper.

Perhaps the warmth of sumeru had indeed rubbed off on him — melted the frost that crawled upon and tore his skin, whilst teaching him to hope again, not for anyone else’s sake, but for his own. What was that Vahumana saying? It’s difficult for people to truly understand themselves — and as much as he’d like to disagree, judging by his current predicament, he knows he cannot.

“Have you ever considered that this ring might be one half of a pair?” he tosses it in the air, nonchalantly, as if he were merely flipping a coin, catching it mid-way before you have the chance to swipe it back.

“What do you suppose fate would have to say about that?”

It’s almost impossible to tell whether he’s truly genuine in his queries, but the mischievous gleam in his bright eyes, and the smug look on his face, seem to nullify any regards you may have had. Your brows twitch in vexation. was he not just here to buy provisions? And yet he toys with you so…

“Well if that were the case, then it would be between me and whoever owns the other half,” you huff, reaching over once again in an attempt to snatch back your belonging, only to miss by mere seconds thanks to a quick slight of his hand.

Breathing out something between a chuckle and a scoff, Scaramouche tugs at the thin chain around his neck, hard enough for it to snap right off, and toss in your direction.

"A leap of faith," he says plainly. it lands in the palms of your hands: a ring, near identical. 'My soul' it reads. If he lacked a heart, then it could only have been forged from his soul.

A flurry of questions swarm in your head, as you stare at his ring. you want to ask him why and how, but he's already pivoted away, the tassels of his hat barely missing you by inches, as he quickly grabs his purchase.

“Who are you,” you manage to blurt out, calling out to him, and asking him to wait, so he might answer these questions he’s planted in your heart, but he only bids you farewell with a lazy wave of his hand.

Though there's nothing he'd like more than to hear the sweet song of his name falling from your lips, he's learned it best to leave the past where it belongs. once he's settled his scores... Then he'll get his second chance with you—he'll make sure of it, vowing to come back for you, not as Kunikuzushi who you had once known him, but he hopes you might one day be able to love him as he is, as well.

‘My soul’ your new ring reads. You shake your head, pursing your lips at the mysterious wanderer, wondering if you’d ever see him again, but a gust of wind blows your way — not a prickling cold as you’re used to, but a warm summer breeze that seems to caress your cheeks so sweetly.

Perhaps it's only in your head, but you swear the wind seems to carry the whisper of a name in its flurry. 'And don't you forget it,' it seems to say.

notes2: pleaseeee associate this with the outro of all too well (10 min version) like imagine the camera slow panning out amidst the falling snow, to the hopes of another chance together (⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄‸o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝) anyways, tysm for reading, reblogs/feedback vry much appreciated ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[megamindsecretlair]

Good day, good day! I've been thinking about this for a while, and now I'm just like, yes, we need it! 😏 Can you pretty please write a follow up to my favorite Franklin Saint fic you wrote recently? A Hold On You. I feel like we need something where either the reader is heavily preggo or already had the baby and like the reader predicted, doesn't like the new body. But our boy Frank comes through with that reassurance he promised. 🙌🏾😌

A/N: Le sigh, I am so, so, so sorry this took forever! I know there's no rush to these things but this has been staring me in the face for sooo long LOL. I hope this was worth the wait!

A Hold On You, Pt. 2

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, Angst, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), spanking, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink and breeding kink. Fluffy smut. Established relationship.

Summary: Taking place between season 4 and season 5, Franklin toys with the idea of legacy and keeping the people he loves in his life. Months into your pregnancy, your previous worries get the better of you. Luckily, Franklin is there to kiss it all away.

Word Count: 3,424k

Part 1

A/N: I keep feeling like Franklin gets pushed by the wayside. It's not intentional, season 6 just really still affects me LOL. But I will get over that! Also trying to clean up some of these requests ya'll got for me. I love ya'll so much! Please, consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I don't tag empty blogs.

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @nerdieforpedro @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @iv0rysoap

You stood in front of the mirror in your bathroom. Steam from the shower receded slowly from the mirror, revealing your visage inch by inch. You stared at your body. Well, more importantly, you stared at your tummy. 

It was beginning to protrude. Leave it to Franklin to get you pregnant that same night. No sooner had you realized that your period was late than did your sensitive stomach turn on you. Already it was trying to purge the invasion. 

Okay, that wasn’t fair. You were truly happy that you were pregnant. You knew no matter what, that Franklin would be a good father. Nothing like his own that he refused to talk about most days. They were at a tentative truce. But it seemed like they were on thin ice and the slightest thing could break it.

You rubbed your belly, planting your hand over your stomach. You could not picture your child. Did that make you a bad mother? 

You pursed your lips as you turned from side to side, looking at your naked body from all kinds of different angles. Shouldn’t you have an inkling? An idea? You and Franklin hadn’t decided on names yet. Wasn’t that something you should have by now? Was there a rulebook to this sort of thing?

Tears stung your eyes as you thought over everything that could go wrong. How dangerous Franklin’s life was. His enemies were yours now. Franklin had to look over both of your shoulders to ensure that you were safe enough to walk across the street.

How could you bring someone into this type of life? How could you possibly agree to gamble with your child’s life? 

Horrible, ugly shame filled you as the tears flowed more freely. Being pregnant sucked! Your fucking nipples ached all the damn time. You were gassy now, that was fun. And whoever was in there would likely run circles around you because you were starting to get sleepy all the damn time. 

You sank to the edge of the bathtub and let the tears fall. That was another fun side effect. You cried at the drop of a hat. You cried because you looked funny, cute, beautiful, or fat. You cried because you wanted cookies n’ cream ice cream but Franklin got you rocky road. You cried because you felt guilty for making him go back to the store to get you what you actually wanted. 

These hormonal changes were driving you nuts. What was worse was that Franklin was gone more often than he stayed at home. All you had were nameless bodyguards that stayed outside your place twenty-four seven. 

You felt alone. 

The tears began in earnest. Big, fat crocodile tears that spilled down your freshly washed cheeks. Droplets landed on your thighs and you rubbed your belly. What did you do?

“Babe?” Franklin called out. 

You sniffled and wiped your tears, getting up to close the bathroom door. You ran some water to try and hide your tears. On top of everything that Franklin was dealing with, he did not need to deal with his hormonal, pregnant girlfriend. 

Franklin knocked on the door. “Babe? You okay in there?” He asked.

“Fine! Just got out the shower!” You called back. Did your voice wobble? Did you sound like you had been crying? 

Franklin twisted the knob and opened the door. You sighed, looking away from him in the mirror. Franklin was immediately by your side, lifting your chin and pulling you close.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He turned off the water in the sink and rubbed your arms. 

You hadn’t realized how cold you were sitting in the bathroom. Tears had a way of warming your face and drowning everything else out. Pressure and snot was not a good look on you and it hurt even worse. 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you said. You accepted Franklin’s embrace even though you couldn’t get your mouth to move. To tell him what was bothering you. You could have his baby, but you couldn’t tell him what was bothering you? 

Franklin pulled back and looked at your face. “Got another craving? I’ll get it, just tell me what it is,” he said. 

“I’m so ugly,” you whined. You sounded like such a baby, but it was true. You didn’t recognize your own body. It was a chamber now for your baby. You were doing everything right but it was hard to feel sexy knowing that there was precious life growing inside of you.

It’d likely be even worse after the baby was born. While it ripped everything from you on the way out. And then you’d have to breastfeed it and watch it and worry over it for the rest of your natural born days. 

“What? Why would you say that?” He tried to pull you closer but you were fighting him. You needed space, time to think. The damage had already been done but you still had months to get used to this new life. This new adjustment to your routine. 

You didn’t regret having his baby. You only regretted that you hadn’t thought it through more fully. Really understood the consequences of opening your legs and letting Franklin have his wicked way with you. 

Franklin let you fight him but he was an immovable rock. He planted his feet and stood his ground trying to catch your eyes. You looked everywhere but at him. 

“Hey, hey, talk to me. Please? Why would you say that?” 

“Because I am. I’m fat and gross,” you pouted. 

Franklin sighed. “Naw, baby. You’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world,” he said. He kissed your cheeks. You fought him on that too. You felt so horrible. Like a caged animal needing a release. A break. An escape from the torment of your thoughts. 

You shook your head and wiped your tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just got the mumps,” you said.

Franklin pressed kisses to your forehead, both of your eyelids, and your lips. He kept kissing your face until you relaxed in his arms. That, at least, hadn’t changed. You felt safe in his arms. Warm. 

When your shoulders finally dropped from your ears, Franklin turned you so that you faced the mirror. He wrapped his arms around your tummy, hands flexing over your stomach and linking his fingers together. He was already protecting his baby. The thought brought fresh tears to your eyes. You could fill a pool with how many tears you’ve shed over the past few weeks. 

Franklin’s chin dropped to your shoulder and he looked at you in the mirror. He smiled softly. “I wish you could see you as I do. You are nothing but beautiful to me. Strong. Look at this sexy ass body,” he said.

He swayed you from side to side as if dancing to a slow song in his head. You tilted your head. “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you said. You sniffled and tried to lean away to reach for a tissue, but Franklin wasn’t letting you go.

His fingers lightly rubbed your tummy. His rocking was strangely soothing. Melodic even though there was no music to guide you. His eyes never left yours in the mirror. 

“So? Don’t make it not true. Didn’t I say that this belly would look sexy getting bigger? And these titties? Shit, you lucky I am suckin’ on them thangs all day long,” he said.

You giggled despite your commitment to stubbornness. Your mouth twitched as you tried to suppress more giggles. He did not need encouragement for his corny ass lines. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you told him.

“I ain’t doin’ shit but making sure my two babies are okay. I ain’t gon’ lie and pretend I know what’s going on. But you gotta talk to me when you feel like this,” he said. “I can’t help you if you shut me out.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” you told him. He shouldn’t. You always had a handle on your emotions. A way of feeling them but not letting them control you. Not by much. It took a long time for you to get here and you’d be damned if you let Mother Nature control you.

“I just get down sometimes, Franklin,” you said. 

Franklin nodded and smiled. “ I know. And you shouldn’t have to be down alone. I know this is big. This is big for the both of us. I didn’t think we’d get it on the first try,” he said with a smile. 

You rolled your eyes. He was pretty damn proud of that fact. Told anyone who would listen that he was successful the first time. His parents were naturally excited. None more so than Cissy. She was too giddy at the prospect of having a grandchild. 

“You are a mess,” you told him. 

Franklin’s smile grew bigger, giving you a glimpse of the Franklin you knew before. The one who smiled quicker and didn’t hide behind walls in his mind. Trying to keep everything so close to the vest. 

Franklin kissed your shoulder, lips lingering a second too long. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. You’re only sexier carrying my baby. These hips? Hmm. Just wanna squeeze the fuck outta them,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Your tears dried up as you looked at Franklin. At the raw hunger in his eyes. You may feel ugly, but you were far from it in his eyes. 

Franklin moved his hands from your tummy to cup your ass. He jiggled the globes in his hands, grabbing as much of it as he could. “This ass! If you only knew how bricked up I am all day thinking of this ass ridin’ me,” he said.

“Franklin!” You turned around to look him in the eye. His hands stayed on your body as you turned and they landed around your waist. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your belly. 

“You have made me the happiest man alive. There is no one else I’d rather share this with,” he said. He leaned down and kissed you, taking his time to explore your mouth. The kiss was slow and lazy. You had all the time in the world to kiss him and he took every last second of it. He’d retreat and return just as quickly as if he were starving for your kisses. 

You wrapped your hands around his shoulder and pulled him closer. He rubbed against your belly and you drew back, staring at the damn thing like a traitor. Already getting in the way of your life. Already taking up space.

You sighed. There was just no way to get around this. No way to pull you out of this funk. 

Franklin only lifted your chin. He stared into your eyes for a second, a minute, possibly an hour and your bottom lip started to quiver. He only smiled patiently and returned to kissing you. 

You sighed into his mouth. Where the hell did you find someone like him? Someone that didn’t balk at your panic attacks? Or these new hormones? He’d seen you during Hell week. This was that but amplified. Your body was foreign to you now. You grew up with this body. You suffered through puberty with this body. You and this body had been down a rocky, twisted, and convoluted path to self-love. And now you were sharing it.

Franklin’s hands kneaded your doughy flesh around your hips, getting softer over time. He kissed a hot trail down your jaw, neck, and towards your chest. His lips teased around your sensitive nipple and you hissed, jerking away from him.

“They’re really fuckin’ sensitive right now,” you said.

“Oh really?” He asked. He smiled, holding your gaze as he moved his head once more to lick and suckle around your nipples. Your legs instantly went weak. Your nipples were still fuckin’ sensitive, made worse by his playful teasing, but it also felt too good. His warm mouth felt deliciously painful on your titties and you were sighing and whimpering in the bathroom before long.

Your moans echoed off of the tile in the bathroom. Your soft sighs filled in the empty areas and his suckling grew louder, reaching a crescendo that you matched with cries of pleasure. 

“Franklin!” You half-yelled and half-moaned. 

Franklin went to your other nipple, giving it as much attention. You hissed. So much for your shower. You were growing wetter by the second from his teasing alone. As if sensing that, like the mu’fucka had a nose for it, his hand glided down your side until his fingers teased your clit.

You jerked in his arms and he hummed in appreciation. “Hmm, so fuckin’ wet already,” he whispered against your chest. 

“How can you stand here like a goddess and not expect me to worship at your feet? To appreciate this precious gift you’re giving me? I know I been away, I’ll work on that the deeper we get into this. I want to be here for everything.”

“And I want you to know that I found you sexy when I first met you. I found you sexy when you agreed to be mine. I found you sexy when we found out you were pregnant with my baby. And I find you sexy now. Every day I find more and more things to love about you.” 

“Franklin, please,” you sighed. You could not handle him being this damn cute while sucking on your nipples and his fingers playing with your clit. 

“Do you believe me?” He asked.

“Huh?” You asked. If he moved his fingers just a little to the side, you could cum. You felt an approaching orgasm. Your knees were turning to jelly. You were so, so close.

“Do you believe that I find you sexy? That I fall more in love with you every day?” He asked. 

You nodded. “I know you do, Franklin,” you said. “I just forget sometimes.”

“Well, then, I’ll have to keep reminding you. And keep reminding you. And…” Franklin lifted his head from your nipples as he moved his fingers to flick over your clit. You gripped his arms and shook, the bathroom turning hazy as your eyes rolled. 

“Fr-F-” You were trying to warn him. To let him know that you were close, but he already knew. He kissed you, tongue licking your lips before you allowed him inside. Allowed your tongues to mesh and play with each other.

He smiled against your lips as you finally cried out, crying out your release. You slumped against him as you finished and he gently continued to play with your clit. 

Franklin grabbed your hand and pulled you into the bedroom. You giggled trailing after him. He held your hands while you sat on the bed. You were pleasantly wet, feeling the squishy essence in between your legs.

Franklin wasted no time getting naked. You watched him with a smile dancing on your lips at how beautiful he was. Did he have a clue? Did he come close to understanding what you felt for him?

“You make me so happy, Franklin,” you told him. 

Franklin shed the last of his clothes and stepped closer with a big grin. His grin was infectious, causing one to split your face in two. Cheeks aching from the strength of love pouring from your veins. 

“You make me happy too, babe. I don’t ever want you to doubt how beautiful you are. If you do, let me know. I’ll sort that shit out,” he said.

You giggled as his lips returned to yours, joining you on the bed. He settled onto his back and then pulled you to straddle his hardening length. You bit your lip, a bit of shyness creeping in. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before. That he hadn’t seen everything about you and kept coming back for seconds. 

Things were different now. Everything changed. But Franklin didn’t let you wallow. He encouraged you to sit in his lap. 

It took some wiggling and a lot of guidance on his part since you couldn’t see his length past your belly. Once the tip of him grazed your wet entrance, the shyness left your body.

You moaned as you sank onto his dick, gliding down until he was fully seated inside of you. Your hands braced yourself on his chest as you acclimated to his size. He wasn’t huge, but he stretched you plenty. 

Your eyes were closed, reorienting yourself with the feel of him inside you. God, you missed this. You had sex in the beginning but your morning sickness was awful. You couldn’t keep shit down. Everything smelled and crackers tasted like cardboard. 

You sighed as Franklin rubbed your hips and your back. “Feel good, baby?” Franklin asked. 

“Yes, baby,” you moaned.

“You look good, baby,” he said. You looked down in time to see his gorgeous smile. Franklin was playing with the idea of a beard. It was coming in nicely. Framing his face and making him look older and wiser. Sexier. Like a dad already. A dad you’d like to fuck. 

You smiled at your own little joke. “Thank you, Daddy,” you said.

“Go on and get yours then,” he said. He smacked your ass with his hand, leaving a ghost-hot sting behind that made you hiss and look at him with mischief. If he wanted to play…

You slowly grinded on his dick, rolling your hips back and forth. Franklin licked his lips and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked down to where you were joined. 

You continued the slow roll, getting him used to that before you started bouncing in earnest. “OH shit,” he moaned. 

You grinned and kept bouncing, up and down on the entire length of his dick. He hissed and rolled his hips in tune with yours until you were matching each other perfectly. In sync as only you two could be. 

His hands gripped your hips. You didn’t know if you were bouncing on him now or if he was pulling you down on his dick. Either way, you were both speed-running towards that beautiful peak. Hand in hand, racing forward faster and further until you were both screaming out an orgasm. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chanted.

“Shit, oh fuck,” Franklin roared. 

Sweat rolled down your back. You leaned forward so you could kiss Franklin. Your kisses were sloppy, jerky, as you rode out your orgasm. Some unknown force took over, unable to help yourself from continuing even though you were too over the moon. Too far gone. 

Maybe this was what he felt like when he kept going even after you came. That driving need to stay connected, stay buried in each other. Your hips kept rolling until you were too weak and spent to keep going. Your legs finally giving out as you collapsed on top of him. 

Franklin groaned and rolled you over until you were beneath him now. He slipped out and you licked your dry lips, turning your head to the side. You did not want to stop, but you were out of breath. In danger of passing out altogether.

You never experienced a mutual orgasm before. It was usually one after the other. Like a gentleman, Franklin always made sure you came first. Sometimes multiple times before he allowed himself to climax. 

Franklin gave your tummy multiple kisses. Every inch of skin was covered with his lips. He laid prayer after prayer into your skin. 

For the first time all day, you felt beautiful. You felt loved. You felt like the most gorgeous woman on the planet. 

“I love you, Noodle,” he said, calling your baby by the nickname you agreed on. You didn’t know why, it just felt like a Noodle, nestled in there. 

Your heart swelled, seeing his face as he continued to kiss your stomach. You rubbed his head as he continued talking to Noodle telling it how he was going to protect it, love it, cherish it, and that it had the best mom on the planet. 

Tears prickled your eyes for entirely different reasons and you tried to blink them away but couldn’t. Franklin kissed up your stomach and couldn’t resist a final lick and tug on your overly sensitive nipples. 

When he reached your mouth, he smiled and kissed you. He sighed into your mouth. “I love you, baby,” he said.

“I love you even more, Franklin.”

THE END

The Secret Franklin Saint Files | Part 1

[carnal-lnstinct]

hi renee hi!! For the event, I'm curious about how you'd write yandere!goku 👀 in my mind, he'd be villainous while still remeaning his easy going and cheery self, but I wanna see your take on him! What would he do to have his beloved all by himself, you know? Thank you, I adore you!

〖 GOKU X READER 〗 ✦✦Content: M/18+. MINORS DNI. possessive!farmer goku, established friendship / coworkers, secret pining.  ✦✦Warning: yandere character trope. implied murder. canon-typical violence. blood

He’s been bad again, forgetting his virtues in favor of an impulsive and selfish retribution.

He has been changed because of you. It’s fine, of course, what you don’t know has never hurt your image of him in your eyes. You’re just friends, after all. His friendly visage is not allowed to be different from the man you’ve been working the farm with, he isn’t in a position to show he wants more from you. Yet you being friendly with other men makes his jaw clench. The smile he wears so easily becomes a strain to hold onto.

Goku is always good at reading another’s intentions and he sensed nothing but a greedy, one-sided motive in the eyes of the farmhand you were currently talking to. Just another face at the farmer’s market whose come to try and get with you. Another self-serving jerk whose cock drove his actions when struck by your alluring presence. He could see all the signs in the man’s body language, and though the saiyan outwardly smiled in his cheeky, playful way, letting you know he’d finish loading the trailer himself, the crates were cracking under his grip. Goku’s nails carved into the wood as he walked the unsold vegetables back toward his tractor—nothing in his mind but the perverse intent of the farmhand drooling over you.

No one should be allowed to think of you that way. He doesn’t even know you. He just wants to put his dirty dick in you. And you’re laughing at his corny jokes, you’re laughing with him. Like you want him...

The saiyan lets out a deep breath after setting down the now fragile crate.

You hear the trailer bed shut loudly letting you know that Goku finished packing the rest of the vegetables. After you bid farewell to the friendly market stranger, you approach the tractor to find Goku nowhere in sight. He finished for sure, but you didn’t see that familiar head of spiky locks anywhere. You waited a bit and leaned against the tractor as you glanced over your surroundings. A sound hits your ear from a distance but it doesn’t linger in the air long enough to be deciphered. It must be a bird.

You waited for as long as you could but then figured Goku must have gotten caught up speaking with someone else in the farmer’s market too.

As you push off the tractor and turn to leave you bump into Goku suddenly approaching you, the saiyan fumbling with a crate of beets before successfully steadying them. You didn’t see him coming at all, you didn’t even hear him coming, but you apologize profusely for your neglectful eye as he only laughs it off.

“It's no problem. Thanks for not leaving without me.” He humored, crossing in front of you and making his way over to the attached trailer. 

“What’s that on your hands?”

After setting down the beets, Goku looked over the back of his hand and saw the red stains smeared around his knuckles, a drip flowing down the pinky side of his wrist. He smiles at it and gives you a slight giggle, answering.

“Beet juice.” He punctuated his casual lie by giving the stain a lick and playing up a sour reaction. “Guess one’s rotting.”

He’s been very bad again.

None the wiser, you giggle at his misfortune and shake your head. “Guess we better hurry and get those on ice. Are you sure we got everything?”

“Yep! Unless you’re lookin’ to bring your new friend.” Goku teases, making you fold your arms at the playful jab unable to resist grinning at it.

“No luck for me here. We did exchange numbers, but I’m not holding my breath on it. I never hear back from anyone I meet here. Guess you’re stuck with me a little longer, boss.”

Goku’s smile slowly grows wider. Another day that starts and ends with just the two of you. “I already told ya, you can just call me Goku. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

A Conversation with Cardinal Dolan

CHAPTER THREE:

Featuring the Archbishop of New York, Cardinal Timothy Dolan

My name is Michael Thomas, and I'm Cardinal Timothy Dolan's lover. If you read the first two installments to this story, you learned that during an interview for the NY Times, I seduced Cardinal Dolan and found in him, after some initial reluctance, a very willing lover. One day I was home, received a telephone call. It was Cardinal Dolan and he asked if come over. He explained that he needed my help on something. I told him I'd be there right away, arriving at his mansion on Madison Avenue 30 minutes later. His receptionist greeted me, told me His Eminence was expecting me and to go right in. I knocked before opening and calling out "Your Eminence… Cardinal Dolan?"

"I'm here. Come on in Michael." Came the reply from his office. I walked in, and there he sat at his huge oak desk wearing a clerical collar with a suitcoat. I was already beginning to tent my jeans.

"Thank you for coming." He said.

I told him it wasn't a problem, and that I'm always here for him. He told me his assistant went home early due to a migraine and needed someone to help him film his segments from his show. And knowing I do something similar, he called me. Of course I agreed to help and got behind the camera and started filming. The whole time I took in his visage, and the lust was coursed through my veins. I knew he was priest. The famous Archbishop of New York, but I wanted him. Bad.

So once we were finished, I walked around to his chair and sat on his lap like I was a little kid. Before he could question this, I kissed him hard on the mouth with a little tongue thrown in. I was hot and raring to go, and sitting in the lap of this man was quite intoxicating to me.

"Michael, not here. What are you thinking?" A surprise Cardinal Dolan said. Despite his protest I could feel the substantial bulge at his crotch. I responded by putting my arms around him and burying my face in his neck. He gasped, and said "What… Martha is right out side… this isn't right."

"Relax Your Eminence, she won't come in unannounced." I said sitting in the archbishop's lap, with my arms around him taking in all of the sensations bombarding my senses. The smell of his after shave-scented skin, the soft yet firm feel of his warm body, the soft wool of the suit he was wearing, and his hard-on poking at my ass. It was all too much as I kissed him hard and placing his hand on my erection.

He quickly directed me to lock the office door. I got up from his lap and did as he asked. I came back and knelt before him in his chair, placing my hands gently on his upper legs and savoring the feel of this beautiful man. Finally, unable to take it anymore, I reached for the bulge in his pants, and he gasped in pure pleasure. I had to have his cock. I reached up and undid the bottom buttons on his clergy rabat. This gave me clear access to his crotch as I ran my hand over the bulge once more noting its size. I then unfastened his pants, unbuttoned the bottom buttons of his dress shirt exposing his belly, reached into his boxers, and extracted my 8 inches long, uncut, and beautiful prize.

Looking at him with eyes filled with love, lust, and longing, while running my hands up and down the shaft of his cock and teasing the head with my thumbs, Cardinal Dolan moaned and shivered. I finally could take no more, darted forward and took the head of his cock in my mouth, tasting the precum that was collecting there. I then went down and deep throated him, making him moan again with more intensity. I went down on him with everything I had, sucking as though my life depended on it.

"So… good…" Cardinal Dolan moaned.

I went at this for some time, noting his rapid breathing and increasing excitement. All too soon his cock burst forth with a sizable load, filling my mouth. I was in heaven, and was rewarded with several more sweet spurts of his delicious cream. Cardinal Dolan slumped back in his chair, clearly satisfied as I reached up and worked his balls trying to get every bit.

As I I stood up and jerked my boxer shorts down. My long fat dick sprung up and stood straight out from my body. It was so hard it was throbbing. Noting my strong erection, he then reciprocated, going down on it like a seasoned pro as I enjoyed watching this man in his clerical garb on his knees sucking me off. After teasing me and prolonging the excitement, I was desperate to fuck him.

"Take off your pants and underwear. Leave everything else on and bend over your desk." I said as I pulled my cock out of his mouth and pulled him to his feet.

I was never hornier than I was at that time, seeing this man in his clerical shirt and collar bending over his desk bare-assed with nothing else on but socks. I quickly removed my clothes and reached for the lube I kept in case such occasion should arise, and lubed my cock. I then started lubing his hole, putting first one finger, and then two in him. He moaned and shuddered. The time had arrived. I pressed my cock against his hole and slowly pushed in. He gasped and asked me to take it slow. I obliged, giving him time to get used to me before proceeding further. Finally, after some time I was balls deep in the archbishop's ass.

I then began to thrust slowly, eliciting sounds of pleasure. I was ecstatic as I pulled him in close and started to pick up the pace, hearing him gasp. I braced myself against him, and really got into it. He grunted in pure pleasure, and it was fascinating to feel his large body tremble with each thrust. I was consumed with lust, and became an animal. I reached around to find his erect cock, and began stroking it in time with my thrusts. Soon he came, shooting his load on the desk in front of him.

Now wanting to see his face as I fucked him, I pulled out, cleared off the desk, and lifted him on top. I told him to spread his legs and pressed myself between his legs, rubbing my erection against his cock. I was savoring the feel of him, with my arms wrapped around him and my head laying on his shoulder. I told him to wrap his legs around me, and immediately began probing with my fingers and cock for his hole. I found it, and once again penetrated him and began fucking him. His cock had come back to life, poking into my belly. I was more excited than I had ever been as I eagerly thrust into him. He was really gasping and moaning in pure pleasure as I picked up the pace.

"Take me, yes… take me, fuck me harder." Cardinal Dolan moaned.

This was all the invitation I needed as I wrapped my arms around him tighter while fucking him at an increasingly harder pace. It was so erotic, feeling his large solid body tremble with the force of each thrust. It was so erotic, feeling his large solid body tremble with the force of each thrust. He was moaning and babbling incoherently with pleasure, while his cock left trails of precum all over my belly. I continued at this pace for what seemed like eons. I never wanted this to end, ever. However all good things must come to an end, and I exploded inside him. Burst after burst of semen coated his insides and this caused a second orgasm from him, shooting a another load all over my abdomen.

We lay there breathing hard and totally spent, but satisfied.

[admrlthundrbolt]

Love From The Other Side (Bowser x Chubby Reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your kingdom had recently come on dire time. With the Koopa Kingdom having a vast army. Well who was Bowser to deny your family's pleads. Especially when you were being offered to him on a tempting platter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, I'm back at it again. Don't think that I wasn't writing, I just found out I had an allergy. So I had to deal with that. But I'm back and with a cute Bowser story. I've wanted to write for him since the new Mario Bros movie. It wasn't until recently that I thought of a decent plot though. Any who I hope you enjoy.

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

He was surprised at receiving a request for an audience with your kingdom. A trading kingdom from a far off port. He had seen your parents from time to time at galas or Royal conferences. They seemed to be respectable if not private people. What was most peculiar though, was your name in the letter. He had heard mentions of you of course. But outside of your own kingdom, no one had seemed to see you.

It may have been your presence that made his decision. Who was to say, either way, your family would be at his castle within a fortnight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your hands fidget together as the carriage made its way down the rocky road. Glancing around you notice your mother frowning out the window. While you father was staring at you. Looking down quickly, you braced for a lecture.

“You know this is a last resort, don't you?” His gaze seemed to bore through you to your very soul.

Nodding you hoped that would be answer enough. As he didn't turn away, you said. “I do.” Though the whole situation only made you feel as if you were only an object.

A ghost of a smile fell on his face. Though it was as hollow as his next words. “I'm glad.”

Your mother's eyes narrowed as they surveyed the passing scenery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your families arrival rang throughout the castle. The Goombas were rushing around to do last second tidying. While Kamek ordered Koopas to finish the dinner preparations.

Bowser's eyes swept over the grounds until they landed on the colorful carriage. It had wonderful murals of coastal scenery. As well as being drawn by creatures that weren't quite fish or horse. He was eagar to see what other oddities your kingdom may have. Hearing a scuffle next to him, he looked down to see Bowser Jr. shuffling in excitement. It wasn't everyday someone visited the castle under pleasant circumstances. Smiling down at his son, he ruffled his hair affectionately.

The carriage parked in front of the king and the driver opened the door. As regal as ever, your father and mother stepped through the door. He was a moment from greeting them, when you appeared. Beautiful as anyone he had ever seen and full as an overripe fruit. You were the visage of a deity.

Your father cleared his throat causing Bowser to reluctantly look away from you. The man had a knowing yet somber expression on his face. While your mother was out right scowling. A sheepish look crossed your face as you joined your parents.

Putting on a more professional air, he waved his arm towards the castle. “Welcome, please come inside and rest in your rooms a while. Dinner will be ready soon.” With that he rushed inside, Jr. trailing behind him. All the while berating himself. Coming up with a plan to not make so much of a fool of himself at dinner. Not noticing how Jr. couldn't stop looking back at you admiringly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Charles are you sure this is the right decision? I mean did you see the way he was gaping at her.” You could hear your mother's complaints ringing through the room you had been shown to.

“Evie please, this was a descion that had to be made.” There was a tense silence that followed. “It's not as if we've forced her. You know better than anyone that no one can will her to do anything.”

This caused an uncomfortable pressure to build behind your eyes. Not wanting to hear about your parents thoughts on you. You swiftly entered the room. “Have they called us for dinner?” You had already heard the Koopa tell your parents it was ready. But it was easier to change the subject quickly and avoid their gaze this way.

Your father smiled and gave you a endearing smile that you weren't sure you deserved. “Yes, should we start making our way then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sat at the head of the table. Desperately hoping that he didn't seem to eagar as your family approached. Jr. bounced in his seat to the right. To his shock you took the seat on his left. It was in this moment that he was glad that Kamek had suggested a smaller table. Something about it being a less intimidated and cozy gestured.

The first dish came out and only the sound of silverware filled the room. It wasn't until the main course came that the tension was broken by your father.

“I'm sure your curious as to why we've called for this audience.” His gaze felt piercing to the turtle tyrant.

His eyes flickered to you for a brief moment, before focusing on him. “I was surprised why such a distant kingdom would reach out.” Without knowing the reason for your visit, it felt like he had to walk on egg shells. Why were you here?

Rubbing a hand across his aged features, he said. “It is not under happy circumstances. We are receiving threats from a nearby kingdom. Are you familiar with the Eezla domain?”

He had to hold back a flinch. Even he had a hard time dealing with the war hungry dictator of a leader from there. It was no wonder your family had seeked out an audience with another kingdom. The only question was why his.

“He has come to us with a demand. Our daughter's hand in marriage or a battle for our ports.” His tone was weary.

Your gaze dropped to the table with dread. You wouldn't mind sacrificing your morals to save your people. But as the only heir for your family. It was an obvious ploy to take over the kingdom. You wouldn't have been surprised if your parent's death would have followed the potential ceremony.

“So instead we talked together on the matter and came to a new conclusion. It would be far more difficult if our daughter was wed to a more tolerable kingdom. Though they would need to have a formidable army.” He would have continued his eloquent explanation. If not for your mother's bitter interuption.

“She choose you. Can you believe that.” Her glare burned through him. “Out of all the options she had. You were her first pick.” Folding her arms over her chest, she resembled more closely a toddler than a queen.

Standing up quickly, you gave a hard stare to your mother. “It was the logical choice.” Looking away from her, your timid demeanor returned. “If the other party accepts that is.”

He could help but think that your gaze was as piercing as your father's. Though there was a graceful openness to you. He thought of Peach for a moment and had to keep a grimace off of his face. It had been a blow to his heart when she married Mario. Looking at you, it was like a golden opportunity had been dropped in his lap. “I do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an odd feeling to bid fairwell to your parents. But with your mother's distaste for the arrangement and time running out. It was better that they go start the ceremony preparations now. It was a relief to only have to make final decisions. Also that Bowser agreed to a wedding in your home lands.

Placing your ear against the door. No large footfalls could be heard and your shoulders sagged in relief. You shouldn't be avoiding your betrothed. On the other hand, if he asked about what your mother said. You just may die of embarrassment.

Just how was a sheltered princess supposed to explain to her newly betrothed about her powers. That the only reason the ruler of Eezla had found out you are a seerer. After that it wasn't long before he demanded for your hand. By choice or force. This had prompted you to shut yourself away and look for the best path. It hadn't taken long. The moment Boswer entered your visions, it was all but decided. The sight of his heart break was surprising. Followed by the tenderness he held for his son. He provided for his citizens, raising a fierce army.

A blush took over your face as you remembered your possible future together. Growing to care for one another. Parenting Bowser Jr. together, even visions of your own children. It was almost to much to handle, your face felt as if it was on fire.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered yourself. Stepping out the door, you bumped into a small figure. It was a shock to run into someone shorter than you. But a gasp escaped your mouth as you saw Jr. on the floor in front of you.

Scooping him up on your arms, you fussed. “Oh darling, I'm so sorry. I didn't notice you there. Are you ok?”

He beamed up at you and nodded quickly. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. He got a new mama, she was super nice and pretty! “Are you coming to breakfast?”

Looking down at the sweet boy you hesitated. “Is your father there?”

Shaking his head, he said. “No, he had to go with Kamek. So I told him I would take you to breakfast.” He was bouncing in your arms. It made him a bit hard to keep a hold of.

So placing him down gently, you nodded. “Yes some food sounds good.” You felt guilty for avoiding him. But you thought some time apart may bury the comments your mother made.

Feeling a tug at your hand, you allowed the excited child to lead you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He couldn't keep his mind off of it. You had chosen him. Of all people why him? He could hardly pay attention to the map sprawled out before him. No matter how many times he told himself that knowing the enemy territory was important. His thought just couldn't stop straying to you.

Your sweet temperament and melodious voice. How well your plush form filled out your clothes. How you looked at him without any fear or animosity. You had chosen him.

Shifting his mind onto a task to aid you. Yes that's how he could keep himself on point. This was for you. The more he knew of his new enemies. The better he could protect you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't see each other again until dinner that evening. You having spent the day with Jr., avoiding any thought of the large turtle. While he made battle strategy and his mind wouldn't stop returning to you.

It would have been a quiet meal, if not for the youngest participant. He animatedly talked about what you both had done that day. His father couldn't help his admiration for you growing. You obviously had already taken a special place in his son's life.

“Then I slipped off the stair.” Waving his arms around wildly, the pint size turtle almost tipped out of his chair. You both leaned forward, until he settled back down. Your face flushed as your eyes met. “But Ms. (Y/N) caught me with sparkles.”

Bowser's eyes widened, he hadn't been informed of you having magical ability. He wondered if it was anything like Kamek's spells. “I wasn't aware of you being a caster.”

Your face darkened as his attention was solely on you. “Not many people are. That's one reason my parents kept me from the public eye. With how rare magic users are and all.” He wanted to questioned you a bit more. But the subject seemed to make you more timid than usual. So instead he turned back to Jr. and listened to his day with you. Hopefully with time you would feel comfortable enough to open yourself up to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldnt stand it any longer. You had to tell him the truth. It felt deceitful to keep your ability from him. The day you were meant to be bound was fast approaching. You didn't want to start your married life together on such a sour note.

You steeled your nerves as you came upon the door to his private chambers. It was well past Jr.’s bedtime, so you knew interuptions were unlikely. Raising a fist you knock lightly, when no immediate answer came you were torn. A part of you was relieved to not have to deal with this quite yet. Still there was a throb of anxiety about waiting any longer. You battled with yourself to knock again or leave. Until the door swung open.

Bowser toweled off his firey hair as he looked down at you. It was an unlikely yet pleasant surprise to see you outside his chambers. Grinning down at you he invited you in. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As he left through another door, you glanced around the room. It was about as grand as you had imagined it. Lavish paintings and banners decorating the walls. Though an area was sectioned off for Jr.'s art. It was adorable and heartwarming to see how much he had saved. A flush coated your cheeks as you noticed the only place to sit was the large bed. It was a lavish setting, dark stained wood with deep red bedding. You felt a shy yet scandalous heat travel through you. It wouldnt be long before this would be your chambers as well. The very bed that you would share together.

You almost jumped out of your skin as he reentered the room.

“Sorry about that, you caught me after a shower.” His hair drooped in a freshly washed fashion. It was a look you hadn't had a chance to see yet. It was an odd, but endearingly boyish style. “What was it you wanted to discuss?”

“Oh I was um.” The blush spread deepening to your neck. It was one thing to come up with the resolve. But another to go through with the difficult task. Still you needed to do this, for both of your sakes. “I need to let you know the truth. Why I chose you that is.”

He watched you carefully. It was something that had been on his mind for a while. Who was he kidding, since it was mentioned. But as he watched you fidget in place, he couldn’t take the usual pleasure he got from others squirming. So instead, he sat next to you patiently and waited for you to continue.

Gathering all your courage, you spat it out. “I can see the future.” A stagnant silence filled the air. Each of you waiting for the other to break it.

He awkwardly shifted to get a better look at you. Was that why you had chosen him? Was he the best pick or did you settle. Gazing down at you, he took you in. Your flush full cheeks and eyes looking everywhere but him. Your soft body, if only you knew how much your plush form filled his dreams. Taking your warm hands into his own, he smiled genuinely. “So you saw us together?” You nodded. “Were we….” He paused not knowing how to put the next question.

You noticed his hesitation, it made you want to sigh in relief. It was nice to know that you weren't the only one having a difficult time navigating this. Tightening your hold on his hands you explained. How the leader of Eezla had found out about you being a mage. But the only thing he was interested in was your proficient seer abilities. His demand for your hand was met with refusal. He then threatened the lives of your people. This led you to searching for a solution, which turned out to be him.

Eyes wide he wanted to deny it all. “But I'm just as bad as he is. Why choose me over him?” He hated himself for bringing it up. But a part of him would feel worse if he didn't.

Shaking your head you glared at him. “You are nothing like that monster. I know you have a sorted past with the Mushroom Kingdom. But the moment Peach married you left well enough alone. Not to mention the way you care for Jr. and your citizens. And when we have our daughter, your eyes light up the first time you hold her.”

He stared at you with astonishment. “We have a daughter?” You cover your face mortified. Only to shriek in the next moment as he scoops you up and spins you around the room. Your screams turn into elated giggles as you relax in his arms. Pulling you closer he gazes into your lovely eyes and leans forward. You meet his lips in a tender kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things went well, pleasant conversation and sweet looks were exchanged. It seemed that things were going to work out. Until the Mushroom Kingdom caught wind of a damsel ‘trapped’ in Bowser's castle.

Mario suits up as his brother looks at him skeptically. “Are you sure you should go charging in there?”

The shorter man glared at him. It wasn't like he had a choice. The minute Peach heard some woman was there she threw a fit. Complaining about her time there and what she had to deal with. If it was her he wouldn't hesitate to rush over. Even if she was right, he just wanted to relax every once and a while. If it wasn't his new royal duties, it was his family back in Brooklyn. It felt like he hadn't had a day off in years.

Waving a hand at the other man, he said. “I'm just going to check things out. Not start a war or anything.”

With a weary nod he followed after his older brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As time was drawing closer for the wedding, you were pouring over the final details with Bowser. He had originally insisted that you make all the decisions. But after convincing him this was a ceremony to join you both, he relented. You were elated at the combination of opinions and styles. It was going to be a magical event.

Jr. had tried not to get bored while you went over the seemingly endless papers. He really did, but what was a young boy to do. Although when he heard the words flower arrangements. He knew there was something he could do to help. Calling out that he was headed to the gardens, he darted away.

As he gathered flowers, weeds, and grass. He failed to notice the two plumbers approaching the castle. He jumped and whirled around as they called out to him.

“Hey kid, have you seen a new lady around the place?” Mario thought it would be easier to ask than sneak around.

Eyes narrowing at the brothers, he frowned. “What’s it to you?” There was no way he was letting these guys near Mama. When they didn't answer, he turned back to a patch of red flowers.

Getting frustrated with the whole situation, the shorter man put a hand on the boy. Only hoping to get his attention again. He was shocked when the child ran from them.

“Mama!” He stumbled in his hurry to escape from the brothers. Tumbling end over end, he landed on his knee. Scrapping the skin, blood seeped from the wound. Tears sprang from his eyes as he sat on the ground. Luigi started to make his way over, until the wind began to pick up and the ground shook.

The entrance burst open as a red eyed Bowser and a whirlwind sprinted towards the group. The wind calmed down a bit. The brothers were faced with a woman that looked as of she wanted to bite their heads off. They had never seen a more fierce expression on a person before.

Your hair whipped around your face wildly. The only thing that brought you back was Jr. wrapping his arms around your leg. Dropping the magic immediately, you scooped him into your arm. Cuddling him close to your chest, you wiped the tears from his cheeks.

Allowing himself to take a moment to gaze at the two of you tenderly. He enjoyed the sight of the woman he was growing to love caring for his child. It was a veiw that he could get used to. A glare slid on his face as he turned towards the brothers. “Is there any reason your harassing my son. Make it quick, you interupted something important.” One wrong move and he would tear into these idiots. He would risk peace with the Mushroom Kingdom for his families’ safety.

“We came to make sure she wasn't here against her will.” Mario was done with this entire situation. He was obviously sent on a dead end trip. You were treating Bowser Jr. like your own child. Not to mention Bowser putting himself between you and the brothers. It was obvious you were here by choice.

This made you finally take your attention off Jr. These men come here and accuse your betrothed of forcing you here. You know he had a sorted pass. Though your ability showed that he was passed that phase. It was one thing to make baseless claims. But it was a whole other to harm a child in the process. “I am here of my own accord. In a months time I will be marrying Boswer and taking my place in this kingdom. If that is enough evidence for you, I will now be leaving to heal my son. If not then I won't hesitate to make sure this is your last trip to the Koopa Kingdom.” The wind picked back up at your threat.

“No, we'll be on our way.” Mario just wanted to go home and soak away this entire experience. Pulling Luigi along, he shushed his protest with a wave of his hands.

Bowser followed after you, pupils practically shaped like hearts. He wasn't sure what he had done to be so lucky to meet you. But he would be sure to keep his plush queen by his side.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Ballet dancer reader x khonshu who tries to be his mysterious scary self and the reader just WHIPS her leg up to uppercut his head and crack his skull. Khonshu grabs her leg at the last second and he’s VERY surprised as she looks him DEAD in the eye, “I will FUCK you up. My ballet teacher has been a Russian matriarch since I was 5. You can’t scare me, bitch”. And khonshu’s just “Well mark me down as nervous AND horny!!”

I fucking cackled at this it's so fucking gorgeous

I changed it up a bit for comedic effect but asfghhkkll

Old Birds and New Tricks

Khonshu x Fem!Dancer!Reader

TW/CW: Attempted mugging, reader is a badass, Khonshu pops a boner for the first time in like ever, but nothing explicit happens :)

A/N: I figured you'd get a kick outta this one @drinkingwithkhonshu @juneknight because I'm on the floor with it lmao

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

You were walking home after a long practice session, your toes and legs ached from straining to stay on your tippy toes for so long, your arms cried for relief from the strain of holding the bar, performing so many sweeps and graceful flares alongside your troupe and mentor.

Your mentor, Katja Ivanov was a good teacher and a harsh mentor. She was a hulk of a woman, roped with muscles built over her long period of performing dance (you yourself thought she must have been in prison at some point, too but when you shot the question as a joke she merely laughed; but didn't deny it).

Katja was a woman who took no shit from rude people, and she instilled that in all of you, her dancers, her "baby birds" she called you. She made sure that all of you knew that just because you were dancers, people couldn't take you for granted.

So, after "official" dance practice had ended... Katja taught all of you how to use your strength and flexibility to defend yourselves as well as perform graceful maneuvers.

And it came in handy. Really, really handy.

London was dangerous after dark, the empty streets crawling with bad things in the shadows, like an infection beneath the skin.

That was how you found yourself in an alley, a large drunk man between you and freedom.

You were no quitter, no coward, and instantly, like a computer scanning a file, your brain recollected each one of Katja's lessons and put them into action.

Your body flushed with fresh adrenaline, your heart hammering within the confines of your chest as you whipped around on one foot, your other flying out to kick your assailant in his gut, knocking him back and making him dry heave with the strain.

"I told you, asshole." You hissed, bringing your fists up to guard your face.

"All I got in my bag is my gear. Now piss off before I break your jaw."

"Fuckin'... bitch." The man wheezed as he stumbled out of the alleyway, leaving you behind and feeling the high of victory.

You pick up your bag where you dropped it and slipped the strap back over your chest, the band squishing a bit between your breasts as you tightened it.

"Amusing." A deep, raspy voice mused.

You whipped around, trying in vain to locate the source of the voice. It came from nowhere, but at the same time... it came from everywhere.

"I was merely passing through when I thought to aid you, human." It spoke again, your very bones trembling as the voice bored into your very brain.

"But you seem to have been able to handle that threat on your own."

You pressed your ears hard beneath your hands, gritting your teeth at the invasive feeling the voice left as it crawled in and out of you.

"God! Just--get out of my head!" You say through your gnashed teeth.

You hear an exasperated sigh, and you feel the air shift around you as you lift your gaze, your eyes trailing the body of someone who just appeared in front of you.

He looked like a cliché monster from one of The Mummy movies, draped in linen and flowy robes and everything. The freakin' bird skull completed the freaky visage.

"The hell--" You sputter, dropping your hands from around your ears, taking a step back from the... the thing in front of you.

"Seeing you handle an opponent so large was amusing." He--and you were most certain that he was a he--chuckled grimly. "A tiny little waif like you."

Okay, you didn't care how big and imposing this otherworldly bastard was, the fact he was jabbing at your stature and visual "weaknesses" irked you. You could swear you heard Katja's voice from over your shoulder.

"Kick his ass, да, маленький?" She would jeer.

"You... think I'm... small?" You say slowly, your eyes narrowing to a dangerous glint as he leans in, the smell of the spices clinging to his body wafting into your nose, heat radiating from his lithe body as he bent to your level.

You were giving him a chance to walk it back, maybe apologize for being a judgmental prick, so you wouldn't have to prove once again that you were just the opposite.

He did not.

"You are not as weak as you appear... Little one." He huffed, his head moving in a slight jerking motion, indicating his amusement.

Yeah, no. You had enough of big assholes thinking you were easy pickin's tonight.

You smiled sweetly up at him, your expression completely devoid of any innocence behind the mask of charm. You could see his shoulders drop and head tilt in confusion, but he was given not another moment longer to ponder why you would be smiling.

He expected you to retort, to snap, to--his thoughts were immediately cut off, as you moved in a blur.

Because you effortlessly raised your leg with lightning speed brought on by years of practice, and curled your foot in the classic ballerina's stance and kicked him in his stupid ass beak.

When your shoe made contact, you swore you heard the dry bones crunch as he stumbled back, almost falling flat on his ass before he caught himself with his staff, a grunt coming away from him.

Your hands gripped your bag strap as you looked down at him indignantly, a sense of smug superiority washing over you.

"Not as weak as you thought, now, huh?" You huffed victoriously, before turning on your heels and storming out of the alley.

Khonshu, the god of the Moon, dispenser of Justice and protector of those in the night...

...was just kicked in the face by a tiny woman.

And she actually did manage to crack his bones. They healed almost instantly, of course, thanks to his divinity.

But what didn't heal was his pride as he kneeled in the dirty alley, leaning on his staff for support as he watched you leave.

The look in your eyes, the power behind your legs... It was like the sun came up early and rose with your kick, to wash out the cool light of his moon with the harsh burning rays of daylight.

And it left him stunned. Stunned in a way no mortal has ever been able to.

And, frankly, he found his body responding in... other ways, too. Ways he hadn't indulged in what felt like... eons.

He was a god, yes, but divinity doesn't automatically grant piousness; and he found himself imagining you using your legs in a different way.

Had Khonshu a human mouth, he would be smiling.

He needed to see you again.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

да (pronounced da) = Yes

маленький (pronounced malen'kiy) = Little One

(Forgive me if it's butchered, I used Google translate for it asdfghjkl)

[golden-afternoon]

Okay. This one isn't even smut but somehow I'm more nervous to post this than the other ones I have. This is a surprise gift for someone hehe, they'll know it's for them when they see it. (p.s. I'm so sorry Diluc lovers, I am not confident in writing him. Hope it's decent ish skdjdksjd)

Warnings - gn!reader, no editing just straight to paper but no real warnings here! It's nothing but fluffy stuff!

How long had it been since he had woken to the sound of birdsong instead of laying his head down to rest to it?

Opening his eyes slowly, he almost immediately had to close them again to brace against the soft morning light streaming through the open curtains of his window. He raised his arm on instinct, pressing his forearm against his eyes to shield him from the brightness with a quiet sigh. Though, his muscles tensed almost immediately as a noise came from beside him, nearly echoing the noise he had just made.

He whipped his head to his left, his eyes suddenly wide and alert as the adrenaline served to wake him faster than any cup of coffee could ever dream to. But the moment his eyes settled on your sleeping form beside him, he could feel every ounce of tension in him leave as quickly as it came.

Diluc remained still, watching as you took every breath. In. Out. In. Out. Like the tides the draw in and recede from the shore. It was a calming sight, a reassuring one. The dawn’s warm light had reached your face, drawing muted shapes in the shadows of your features, highlighting your natural softness in a way he can’t say he’s certain he’s seen before. With slow, careful movements, he shifted to lie on his side, his hand now free to reach out to you. Gently, he brushed his calloused fingers across your forehead to push the loose bits of hair there from your face, allowing him a better look at your sleeping visage. An unnamed ache stirred deep in his chest as he found the words to describe what you looked like in that moment— at peace.

He wasn’t used to this yet. Having you so close, coming to know the appeal of a slow morning… It was all still new. He wasn’t sure if he ever would get used to it; part of him wasn’t sure if he should get used to it. After all, there was so much darkness still in this world, so many other things he needed to be on top of and worry over. And yet… Here in his bed that he has now come to share with you, he can’t help but want to be a little selfish.

Moving closer, he wrapped his arm around you, gently shifting your head so your cheek was resting on his other arm, curled close to his chest. He paused as you stirred, but was pleased to see that you seemed a bit too drowsy to mind. Without a word, he pressed a small kiss to the top of your head, letting his fingers idly brush through your hair. He supposed it would be alright to indulge himself, just this once.

[kalmiaphlox]

Crash Landing

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Astarion has never been a bat before. He's never wanted to be a bat before, but a little sneeze is all it took for him to be stuck as a disgusting rodent.

Wait- He can fly!

But maybe flying isn't all it's cracked up to be...

Main Tags: Batstarion, FLUFF!, Dadstarion, Established Relationship

Waking up next to Astarion is a new experience every time, and this morning is no exception. 

The moment she opens her eyes with a yawn, his head looms above hers, ruby eyes boring holes into her face as if she might dissolve into nothing if he looked away for even a moment.

“Any particular reason for being a weirdo this early?” Kalmia asks while placing a hand over his eyes, but he leans forward to nip at her fingers instead and once she pulls away, Astarion bares his teeth. “Ah, so no reason.”

“Do I need a reason when I'm with you, little wyrm?” He holds her wrist and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. “I just want to see every side of you, even when you snore louder than a dragon… Oh, wait…!”

She pinches his nose. “Awe, the vampire has learned comedy this morning. How fun.” 

“I'll show you fu-” Astarion rears back, blinking in bewilderment. His nose scrunches up, sniffling before sneezing - violently.

She didn't even know vampires could sneeze.

Gone is the dastardly man with the killer good looks though. Just… gone from her sight. Kalmia sits up swiftly and an alarmed squeak brings her eyes down to the emerald green duvet. A fluffy white bat with overly large ears and a short, pink snout stares up at her with confused red eyes. 

Well, isn't this something? 

“My, oh my, irthiski, seems I'm not the only shape changer around.” She rubs at his fuzzy head with a finger, and in typical Astarion-fashion, he bares teensy fangs that shimmer like pearls. “What a cutie pie! I could eat you right up!”

That raises another squeak from him, though she can hear the rage burning behind it. How mighty it is, but a dragon does not cower from such things. 

“You should be able to speak normally, come on, use your words.” Kalmia nudges him a bit too hard, knocking him over on the sheets. “Oops, sorry!”

There's little grumbling noises that sound suspiciously like speaking, he must be getting a grasp of this new body, it'll take time. Astarion is wobbling around best he can, using his wings as crutches to stand up, the little hook at the end catching on the bedding so he gets stuck, letting out more angry squeaks.

Oh gods, her heart might explode from the cuteness.

“I'm going to pick you up, can't have you tearing all the bedding.” Gingerly, Kalmia wraps her hand around his fuzzy body, picking him up and offering her other hand as support beneath his legs.

The grunting finally becomes audible, “You- What have you…” His lungs aren't at their usual capacity, a full sentence is a struggle. “What have you done, you witch?!”

“Oh, I turn you into a cat once and now it's my fault?”

“What in the…" He gasps, "hells am I?” His small head is angling around to get a look at himself, but she'll do him one better.

The Truesight mirror, its shiny reflection and lacquered wood encasing reveals all.

They stand now in front of it, holding her hands out so Astarion can gaze upon his visage - his favorite activity, but definitely not hers. “You're a bat, irthiski. I've heard vampires can do this sometimes, but maybe you're a late bloomer.”

“Late bloomer-!” He erupts into more enraged squeaks and growls, almost completely falling off her hand before his grabby feet latch onto her finger on instinct, dangling precariously upside down. “A damned bat! I don't want to be this! Where's my beautiful body?!”

Ignoring his dramatics and pressing a smooch to his head, she smiles widely. “I know someone who would be very excited to see this sight.” And they depart from their room, striding into Izmezine's where the girl is just waking up. “Good morning, anon ! Who do you think this is?”

Izzy sits up, blinking her bleary eyes and rubbing them with a big yawn, before scrunching her button nose to inspect the white ball of fluff in Kalmia's hands. Her lips form into a frown, turning her head away in disgust. “It's ugly.” 

That was not the reaction I anticipated. 

The wail of anguish that leaves his tiny bat body is very impressive, if not over-reactive. Setting Astarion down on the bed, Izzy pulls away slightly, what a terrible start but Kalmia will fix this. “Izmezine, sweetie, please, this is your father. He's turned into a bat by accident. Let's be nice.” 

That gets Izzy to take a peek again, and she looks to Kalmia for confirmation. “T-Th-That’s my papa?”

“Yes.” 

Poor Astarion is trembling against the bed, the words of his daughter like a stake straight through his heart, but at least he's stopped crying. Izzy reaches forward hesitantly, brushing a finger against his fur and she gasps, “He's s-soft!” She goes back in for a more gentle pet, “W-Why is papa a-a baby?”

Finally finding his words again, Astarion speaks up, “I don't know, I just turned into a bat, but kitten, you think I'm ugly ?” That last word barely makes it out as a squeak. Gods, he's going to be hung up on that for ages.

Izzy scrutinizes him further, golden eyes narrowing and appraising the bat before her. “Uhm, a l-little ugly?” Kids are always so blunt, Astarion should feel lucky that Izzy has enough sense to walk her statement back. The gold eyes turn up to her now, “Kalli, I'm hungry.”

“Me too, let's go have breakfast. What would you like?” Kalmia scoops up the whinging bat and places him on her shoulder, then holds Izzy against her hip. 

“Cake!” Is Izzy's first breakfast suggestion.

“Normally I'd agree, but a cake takes a long time to make, how about we make one later and we can have some scones and jam now?”

The dhampir thankfully concedes to that idea and they settle in for an easy breakfast while bat-Astarion clumsily scrabbles along the counter, whining, “I'm hungry too, you know.”

Seems Kalmia isn't the only one that becomes ravenous when changed. “I'll get you food in a bit. Let me take care of my anon first.”

He collapses into a sad pile, crying endlessly, “My daughter thinks I'm ugly, my lizard is starving me. Where is the love?!”

Kalmia slathers some jam onto a scone, ignoring him, “Izzy, what would you like to do today?”

“Can p-papa go in my h-house?” She asks around a mouthful of food.

“Hmm,” Kalmia eyes the worming creature before her, the image of Astarion being stuffed into the doll house is hysterical, but… “I don't think he would like that. Bats are supposed to be able to fly, maybe we can help him learn.”

Both Izzy and Astarion perk up at that, their eyes shining with new possibilities. “You really think I can?” Astarion seems apprehensive at the prospect.

“I don't see why not, irthiski. We can try it out once you get some food.” With breakfast finished, Kalmia takes the bat downstairs, leaving Izzy with the task of gathering pillows and blankets. “What blood do you want?”

“Yours.”

She brings the bat in her hands close to her face, “If you have it now, you can't have it later.”

More grumbling follows, “Fine, get me a glass of the boar.”

Filling a goblet to the top, Kalmia rests them both on their desk. Astarion's little wing hooks grab onto the lip and he shimmies his little body up the length of it, long tongue lapping up the blood. She watches quietly with her head tucked between her hands as a red stain begins to bloom along his snout and neck as he drinks. 

“Kalli! The-The blankies and p-pi-pillows are ready!” Izmezine shouts down the stairs.

Astarion pulls away, flopping down to the desk, “I'm full.” The goblet's halfway empty now, she's impressed by his apetite. They return upstairs now after a cleanup, finding the sitting room absolutely covered in blankets and pillows. 

Setting her bat on the couch, Kalmia gives Izzy a big kiss on her cheek and squeezes her into a tight hug, “I knew I could count on you to go above and beyond! Wow, look at all this coziness!” 

The girl giggles in her arms and Astarion pouts, crossing his wings in a pitiful stance, “What about me? ”

“I didn't forget you, irthiski!” Kalmia showers his tiny head in kisses and Izmezine does the same. He melts at their love. “I don't know how different it is from being a dragon, but my first time flying was… a little wild, you know? I think my mother just threw me off a cliff a few times until I got it. Be thankful for our care, Astarion.”

Izzy nods like she completely understands the lengths they are going to take care of him and he scoffs, “Your mother is a brute.” Kalmia only remembers those days with fondness, he wouldnt understand.

“No! Nafl i-is nice!” Izzy corrects him with a tap to the snout.

“I turn into a rodent and you both gang up against me? Where is the-”

Kalmia interrupts, “Enough. This should come somewhat naturally to you, but we'll start here on the couch and move up in height, ok? Now get to flapping.”

His beady little eyes glare at her and she just smiles sharply back. He's testy, big or small. With a despondent huff, Astarion shuffles along to the edge of the couch, stretching his leathery wings and shaking them out. 

The first few attempts end with an immediate face plant to the ground, and while he may not admit it, Astarion is very thankful for the pillows now. The fifth attempt though? His wings find the right rhythm and angle, so he glides down to the end of their makeshift protections. More tries are made, his gliding and flapping now consistent. 

Kalmia and Izzy erupt into applause, and she isn't quite sure if she imagines the blush on those little bat cheeks. “Higher now, Astarion?”

“Yes, yes!” He's glowing with pride at his newfound capabilities. Raising him up to the fireplace ledge, he huddles on the ledge peering down to the blanket laden ground. “Alright, I can do this.”

Izzy cheers from the sidelines, “Papa can f-fly!”

With one step, Astarion dives over the edge, flapping vigorously to maintain his height, and it sticks. He's flitting about excitedly, if not a little haphazardly, cackling gleefully. Kalmia, while very happy for Astarion, is concerned he's being too reckless. “ Irthiski, you should slow down and watch where you're going!”

His head whips to her, “Never! Nothing can sto-!” and he smashes head first into a wall, crumbling to a heap of bat limbs on the floor. Izzy shrieks, running over to his still form.

The downside to an undead partner? Can't really tell what kind of damage they've sustained because they don't breath or exhibit any of the normal symptoms.

Astarion is probably fine though. 

I hope.

“Don't worry, Izzy, your father will be ok. He'll just need to… sleep that off.” Kalmia strokes the girl's head, whose eyes are welling with large tears. “We should find him somewhere to rest.” She is concerned that he's not changing back… but vampires don't die that easily, no matter how small they are.

Izzy zips downstairs and returns with two doll-sized beds, laying them down by the fireplace with extra bedding so it's very cozy. Kalmia assists in putting his bat-self onto the bed and covering him with blankets. “Kalli, m-ma-make a f-fire! Papa’s c-cold!” Stacking some logs, Kalmia breathes fire onto them, stoking the flames until the room is toasty. With a sniffle, Izzy lays out next to her father and rests her hand on him, “I take c-care of papa.”

“I know you will. You watch over him so I can get lunch started, ok? We can eat here.” Kalmia kisses her forehead before setting off to the kitchen. 

It's always an adventure with them.

++++

Over an hour later, Izzy has fallen asleep looking after Astarion's limp body, which hasn't even twitched all this time. 

Maybe it's time to take matters into her own hands. 

Or fingers.

Pricking the tip of her index finger, Kalmia places it up against Astarion's bat snout, hoping the pooling blood will work like vampire smelling salts.

And of course it does, she should have thought of this earlier. 

His snout wiggles side to side, seeking out the delicious scent before him, and begins licking at the drop the moment he makes contact. Red eyes blink open, looking haggard, “What- What happened?”

Kalmia picks up her sad bat, cradling him in her arms, “You crashed into the wall going much too fast. Izmezine took very good care of you, so you should thank her once she's up.”

“How do I change back? If I spend another moment like this, I'm going to become quite cross with-”

“Hush, you're always angry. I normally just think about being me, so maybe try that?” 

Astarion goes silent for a while, so he must be trying anything to be himself again. Nothing happens though and he grumbles unhappily, “This is stupid. I don't want to be stuck as a flying rodent for the rest of my life. How will Izmezine be able to introduce me to people? ‘ Oh, come meet my father! The bat? Yes, that's him!’ Kalmia, I can't stay like this!”

“Shall I tickle your nose? A sneeze seemed to set it off the first time.”

His bat face goes through a range of emotions, before settling on sadness, “This is so unbecoming, but fine. Do it.”

Kalmia locates a feather pretty quickly, Gale has quills laying out everywhere, and lightly shuffles the tip across Astarion's nose. His nose wrinkles but nothing happens, and he folds in on himself in defeat. 

“I'm sorry, irthiski. We'll figure something out.” She does feel terribly for him, nothing is worse than being stuck in a form at the wrong time. She knows it well.

“Mmm, papa?” Izzy’s sleep laden voice pulls their attention as she starts grabbing at the doll beds, but realizes nothing is there, so she shoots up, alarmed. “Papa?! Wh-Where are y-you?”

“I have him, anon, it's ok.” 

Crawling over, Izzy pets her father, also seeming sad that he's still stuck like this. Who's going to read the bedtime story for them?

But if Astarion continues to be a bat, might as well take advantage of this opportunity. “You know, Izzy, I think he's kind of dirty. We should bathe him.”

The girl's eyes light up, “Yes!”

“What?! What do you think-” Astarion begins to shout.

Kalmia presses a finger against his snout. “You've been outvoted. Accept your fate.”

He whines and complains all the way downstairs, and once the bath is filled a few inches deep, she settles the little bat in. Izzy gets to work swiftly, wetting his fur and carefully working in the shampoo. Kalmia assists from the sidelines, but Izzy has it handled. 

Astarion's taking this with as much grace as possible, letting Izmezine do as she pleases, because there is never a world in which he would deny her.

But this time must come to an end, it seems.

He makes a strange noise, like a sharp intake of breath, and sneezes, splashing water everywhere when a vampire reappears where a bat once sat.

His resting clothes are soaked and Astarion is absolutely covered in soap, hair flattened against his head as he sneers at the two of them. ‘You two have had a lot of fun today. I think daddy needs some payback.” Izzy and Kalmia both shriek with laughter as they attempt to run, but Astarion grabs them both, dragging them into the tub, turning the water on. “If I had to suffer, then so should you!”

Once they're all soaking wet and giggling, they climb out of the bathtub, drying off, Kalmia has a new idea. “Ready to make a cake, Izzy?”

The girl jumps up and down in excitement, “I w-want pink frosting!”

“Any requests, irthiski?”

He runs a towel over Izzy's curls, “One of Gale's nice bottles of wine. I'm just… going to lie down, my body hurts.”

Kalmia laughs, “You'll get used to it.”

“Ugh, I sure hope not. If I never turn into a rodent again, it will still be too soon.”

++++

Notes:-anon = flower (draconic) -nafl (short for nafldask) = grandmother (draconic)

[srvbryn]

ᝰ.ᐟ Different scenarios with the Lin Kuei brothers

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ tw: none

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ I'm trying something different this time??? Ig.

˚⋆｡Bi-Han (Ghost), Kuai Liang (Sweet Dream), Tomas (Hands)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・

Bi-Han

(name) watched Bi-Han from the shadows in the ethereal realm, her spectral form tinged with a melancholy glow. She couldn't communicate directly with him, so she whispered in the wind, hoping her words would reach him.

One moonlit night, as Bi-Han walked through a lonely courtyard, (name) mustered the courage to make her presence known. "Bi-Han," she muttered, the wind carrying her voice like a delicate melody.

Bi-Han came to a halt, a shiver running down his spine. (Name) lingered nearby, her translucent figure yearning for a connection, unbeknownst to him. "Who's there?" he inquired, scanning the shadows.

"It's me," she responded, barely audible. "Someone who has been watching, longing for a connection that transcends the boundaries of our worlds."

Bi-Han frowned, unable to pinpoint the source of the mysterious voice. "Show yourself!"

(name) hesitated, then whispered, "I can't. But I need you to understand – I am not a threat."

Bi-Han's scepticism faded as his curiosity grew. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to be seen by you, even if just for a moment." (name) confessed.

Bi-Han, though still uncertain, couldn't ignore the sincerity in her voice. "How can I see someone who isn't truly here?"

She rustled leaves to form patterns on the ground, hoping he would notice. "Bi-Han," she whispered through the rustling leaves, "I'm trying to reach out to you."

He stopped, glancing around. "This is getting absurd. If someone is here, reveal yourself!"

(name) sighed, realising how difficult her situation was. She embraced a new strategy, determined. She began to subtly manipulate the environment, making lanterns flicker and shadows dance. "Bi-Han, can you feel the energy around you?" she asked, amidst the orchestrated chaos. "This is me, desperately attempting to connect."

Bi-Han, now slightly unnerved, clenched his fists. "Enough games. If you have something to say, say it clearly!"

(name) felt a pang of frustration but refused to give up. One night, as Bi-Han strolled by an ancient tree, she gathered all her spectral energy. "Bi-Han," she called out with a surge of determination, "look into the shadows, and you might catch a glimpse of the love that defies the boundaries of existence."

Bi-Han turned towards the tree, sensing a strange energy in the air. (name) willed herself to be seen, a faint silhouette against the darkness. Their gazes locked for a split second, his mortal gaze locked onto her ghostly visage.

"I see you," he whispered, more to himself than to her.

(name) beamed with joy, a luminous glow surrounding her. "You felt it. The connection that surpasses the realms. I've longed for this moment."

Bi-Han, though bewildered, couldn't deny the weird bond that had formed. "Who are you, really?"

"I am (name)," she confessed, her voice fading as she retreated back into the shadows. "A spirit who dared to fall in love with a mortal. Remember me, Bi-Han."

As (name) faded away, Bi-Han stood alone under the ancient tree, grappling with the otherworldly encounter. Love, it seemed, could bridge even the widest gaps between the living and the dead.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.

Kuai Liang

(Name) and Kuai Liang, the enigmatic Scorpion of the Shirai Ryu, found themselves nestled together in an unexpected haven in the quiet moments before sleep. The moonlight painted a delicate tapestry on the room's walls, and shadows played on Scorpion's face, emphasising the intensity in his eyes.

(Name) traced a pattern on Scorpion's forearm, adorned with the kunai and rope dart that were the hallmarks of his deadly arsenal. "Who would have thought that the feared specter of the Netherrealm enjoys these peaceful interludes?"

Scorpion's lips curled into a rare, genuine smile. "In the stillness, I find moments of respite from the chaos that plagues my existence. It is a welcome reprieve."

She chuckled, her fingers lightly grazing the edge of his mask. "I never imagined I'd find myself in the company of the infamous Scorpion, let alone sharing a quiet night with him."

His eyes softening as he gazed at her. "And yet, here we are. Fate has a way of weaving unexpected bonds."

As the conversation flowed, (Name) probed deeper into the realms of Scorpion's thoughts. "Do you ever regret the path you've walked, Scorpion? The choices that led you to become the specter of vengeance?"

Scorpion's eyes became reflective. "I cannot afford the luxury of regret." My actions are entwined with a cycle of blood and vengeance. However, I find solace in these moments with you that go beyond the confines of my cursed existence."

She reached for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "You're more than the legend, Scorpion. There's a person beneath the mask, and I want to know him."

A silence lingered, pregnant with unspoken truths. Scorpion broke it with a quiet admission, "Underneath the fiery exterior lies a soul burdened by its past. Yet, your presence offers a glimmer of warmth."

(Name) smiled, her eyes locking with his. "You're not just the specter of vengeance. You're Kuai Liang, a person with dreams and hopes. Tell me about them."

Tomas and (Name) moved through the crowd with ease, their fingers intertwined like an unspoken promise. (Name) cast a glance at Tomas, a soft smile on her lips.

And so, in the embrace of the night, Scorpion unfolded the chapters of his mortal self. Dreams of redemption, of breaking free from the chains that bound him to the Netherrealm. The room echoed with their whispered confessions, forging a bond that transcended the realms they inhabited.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.

Tomas Vrbada

"(Name)," Tomas said, his normally stern voice softened by the chaotic symphony that surrounded them. "This is... A bit unexpected."

She squeezed his hand gently, the crowd acting as a shield to their shared secret. "Sometimes, the unexpected moments are the most precious ones."

The city lights painted a canvas of possibilities as they emerged from the crowd. Tomas hesitated, but (Name) clung to the connection they had discovered. They walked in unison, their steps guided by a silent understanding.

Tomas spoke again, his words carrying a vulnerability seldom seen on the battlefield. "Your touch is a calming force."

(Name) chuckled, her laughter a melody during the night. "Who would have thought the mighty Tomas Vrbada could find peace in a crowded street?"

He shot her a playful glance. "Perhaps strength is not just in combat but also in unexpected moments especially when it's with you."

Their walk continued, punctuated by shared laughter and sidelong glances. The city served as a backdrop to their growing bond. (Name) turned to Tomas as they found a quiet spot.

"You know, sometimes the best alliances are formed in the most unexpected places."

Tomas nodded, a genuine smile gracing his face. "Indeed, and perhaps this alliance is destined for something beyond battles."

[akashis-waifu]

Excerpt from "Switch"

Chapter 3 of Beyond God and Evil (Aizen Sōsuke/Female Reader)

Canon-divergence set months after TBYW. Reader is the new Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough.

Tags: Romantic comedy, fluff and angst, enemies to old married couple, banter as love language, mutual pining, immortality, slow burn, political intrigue

“SO, why did you want to meet us?”

You ask with thinly veiled annoyance, facing forward and refusing to look at the man you’re addressing.

You are currently inside an underground establishment: a sacred hall that cannot be located in any map. In ancient times, it was where the leaders of the Five Great Noble Clans gathered to discuss matters of importance to Soul Society.

Seated on the head of the pentagonal table is Tsunayashiro Tokinada, and across him are Kuchiki Byakuya and Shihouin Yoruichi, occupying the chairs farthest from him. With you arriving last — mainly due to your reluctance to see the distasteful visage of your enemy — you are left with no other choice but to take the seat adjacent to the host. 

Reveling in your murderous aura, Tokinada nonchalantly waves a hand and answers with a pompous grin. “Ah, just simple courtesies. As someone who was recently promoted, I thought it would only be proper of me to introduce myself as the new leader of the Four Great Noble Families.”

“But, before we cut to the chase,” he suddenly adds and turns to you. “May I ask where you have been for the past six months, Lady Hirasaka?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Unperturbed by your cold response, Tokinada continues. “You see, as the overseeing personnel of the Visual Department, it bothered me when I learned that the head of the Hirasaka could not be found in Seireitei. Thus, out of concern, I had some of my retainers search for you in Rukongai, the Living World, and even in Hueco Mundo. But you were nowhere to be found.”

“Concern,” you repeat while holding back a scoff. “I'm surprised that you are capable of such emotion, Lord Tsunayashiro.”

“Oh, believe me when I say I do! You are, after all, the favorite underclassman of my late wife.”

At the mention of Kakyo, you feel your blood boil, and the urge to evaporate the man on the spot almost overwhelms you. Aware that further engaging in conversations with him will lead you to committing murder, you will yourself to remain silent.

Meanwhile, Tokinada is impressed that you did not take the bait. Still, he perseveres in his mission of destroying your composure.

“Since you were nowhere to be found, I could only assume one place where you could have gone to. Somewhere not easily accessible — a place that is out of jurisdiction even for the Great Noble Families.”

You raise an eyebrow at his cryptic words. 

“You were in Muken! Yes, that could only explain it!” 

Tokinada claps in exaggerated eureka. “I mean, you were Aizen's personal bedwarmer, right? You must have been dying to shag him.”

Your vision must have blackened from unadulterated anger because the next thing you know, you already have your Inherited Zanpakuto released, the large scythe now hanging above his head.

“Do you want to die, Tsunayashiro Tokinada?”

[ruinsof-rome]

My theories on the album covers

okay, I'm having many thougts based on the posts on tiredandlonelymuse and I'm trying to articulate everything so hear me out:

the standart cover is the only one that the face isn't interchangeable, and it's also the only one that we see only the face, covered in makeup in a way that evokes tenderness, innocence, melancholy, doll vibes. it could also be like when a child tries to do their makeup to try to emulate being older, playing pretend, but you can still see that's only a child, an innocent being. (i wanted to articulate more on this but i'm having trouble expressing myself in english)

now to the expression on her face. it feels like they're daydreaming, or dissassociating. the gaze looking far away, as if she's not mentally here anymore. see, this is their "tender core", who as a child "became such a skilled dis-associator that I split in two".

“Leave your body, and go somewhere else.”

so this cover we see Ashley, putting makeup on to play pretend as if she's someone else, dissassociating from their reality.

also i want to include this excerpt because i feel like it relates somehow: "My therapist once told me, “You are the guiltiest feeling person I’ve ever met” and just to prove her right, I took it to heart. An astrologer said, “You have so much water in your chart. What is it like to feel the emotions of every single person alive, everyday?” and I wept because I sensed he was displeased. A teacher told my parents “She’s very sensitive. Far more than the other kids in her class.” I took my SATs at 9 years old, but they encouraged my mother to hold me back because of how my eyes glistened when I heard the word no."

ok, so now onto the variants.

for the empty faces, we have "I will always reassemble to fit perfectly for you" "Someone new peeking through the room. I fear the name you whispered is mine, I’ll know it soon. I’m headless, I’m just limbs. I think they’re coming in. I already died, so this is extra time."

and if the empty space is a mirror, "Her voice and visage a reflection of your deepest dreams and darkest fears." "Standing now, in the mirror that i built myself"

on the covers with the faces on, i read some posts on @inthenameofloveforthesakeofpower that made me think

the only variant that's looking away and is expressing some emotion is the 70's one. the others are looking directly to the camera, displaying no emotions.

but at the same time, they all relate to this part "In a confusing chain of events, my maladaptive daydream became my full time reality. My armor can walk and talk and they look just like me."

and these variants showcase the "ability of a woman who can become anyone, anything your heart desires. Friend, lover, foe. She transforms before your very eyes."

we establish that the variants are the Halsey persona, the armor, that protects the core of Ashley while also being able to transform in every form imaginable.

OK NOW TO THE FUN PART: why is blonde halsey the only one looking away?

her face on this particular cover looks A LOT like the close up on the standart one. it's not the same photo, but both of them have this look of melancholy and dissassociation. andd i just noticed that the eye makeup is the same on both covers!! the eyelashes and the black liner are exactly the same.

blonde halsey is related to the song The End, the most personal song released, talking about their health struggles. This comes from ashley, the person who is sick. but she's releasing the song under the cover of halsey, as if she's the child that's putting make up on to appeal to the world. that's why we can see her with the same expression, looking away in fear when becoming this other persona. she's too scared to tell these big news by herself.

then we get to the other covers, where her maladaptive daydream became their full time reality. that's why they all are looking directly to the camera, because they created their conciousness, they're the reality now, they are in the present.

i'm seeing as if the covers are progressing, as in each one that passes she's getting more and more into the halsey persona

pink halsey, the last on the scale, represents the songs Lucky and Lonely is the Muse, both of wich feels like it's Halsey talking from their experience. She's a popstar, she's so lucky, but why is she still so sad? She's a muse, built from special pieces that can always reassemble to fit perfectly for you.

also back to blonde halsey x the others, i have this other theory where there's this part "I already died, so now I see it open eyed. I already died, so I am justified." she could be the only one with conciousness, seeing it open eyed

ok that's it for now!!! i'm sleepy but my head was bubbling with these thoughts so i needed to write them down! i'm sorry for any errors or if i couldn't express myself correctly, i'm writing on my second language so some thoughts are difficult to translate. i'm probably super wrong about all of this, but i had fun writing!!

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! I wanted to ask your opinion on a fanart character design I'm working on 👉👈 It's for a book called Incarceron, & like a lot of stuff by white ppl, none of the characters have canon ethnicities so I'm having to work that in myself.

There's one character I'm struggling with, but the context of my issue is Incredibly convoluted (since its a fantasy book) so forgive me for how long this question is 😭 if it's too complicated or you don't feel like answering it, no pressure at all! I will figure something out<3

So the setting is this apocalyptic world divided into a massive sentient prison (Incarceron) and Outside. There is only 1 person who ever Escaped named Sapphique, and he is this elevated, almost Jesus figure who people look up to and pray to. He only appears on page in visions to people, but he is THE embodiment of hope. I have chosen for my Sapphique design to be Black bc I think it adds a lot of meaning to him as a person and embodiment of Freedom.

He's not my question though (unless you have notes on my choice for him), where I run into problems is with another character named Jared. Jared is Outside & a wisdom-keeper working to liberate Incarceron. Jared is repeatedly described as looking similar to Sapphique (or his statues at least), and in my first designs, I had wanted Jared to be SWANA.

However at the end of the 2nd book Incarceron creates a body in Sapphique's image to try and Escape itself. Sapphique appears in a vision to Jared telling him to stop Incarceron from using his face, so to thwart the Prison, Jared does magic to essentially take the body for himself and steps into the role of Sapphique to return to the Prison and liberate and free the people. It’s a bittersweet ending treated like an ascension to godhood almost.

So LONG story short I'm no longer sure abt Jared being SWANA since he does physically take Sapphique's visage. Would it still be uncomfortable if I made him Afro-SWANA? Should he just be Black?

I do have other Black and SWANA characters in my design lineup, but Jared is a fan-favorite and his symbolic becoming of Sapphique is a really cool scene, so I want to be particularly cognizant with him.

TYSM for reading all of this 🙏again so sorry for the length. I really appreciate you and your work so much and I hope you're having a good day!

I would immediately see someone named Sapphique as Black lmao now that's just me but like. Come on now. I'm also pronouncing it like "Saafiq", which, tying into your question, would definitely be Afro-SWANA to me 🤷🏾‍♀️ you can very much be Black and from that area.

Otherwise, I don't really know how to answer this. If in the story he gives Jared permission to take his visage, it might not be such a big deal. But also, if they look that similar already, then when the change happens there could be slightly different details so that you know when it's Jared. Like, if he wears his hair slightly differently or wears different colors. Different symbols so that we are aware that while we are gazing upon Sapphique, we are gazing upon a new reincarnation of him. God comes in any and all forms 🤷🏾‍♀️ but that's how I'd take it. Idk if that helps.