#anyways. its lighthearted but true

[secondaryworshiparchive]

Pros of selfshipping with fantasy characters: hot

Cons of selfshipping with fantasy characters: accidentally unlocking a scent kink

[anto-pops]

Touch Starved - Ominis Gaunt x Female!Reader

Summary: To say you were going insane would be a monumental understatement. Ever since Ominis’ abrupt departure from the bedroom two nights ago, he had exercised an unnatural amount of restraint when it came to touching you.  There had been no more playing with your hair.  No hand holding.  No hugs.  No kisses.  No cuddling. No sex.  You had definitely upset him.

Alternatively summarized as Ominis getting rubbed the wrong way by a joke you crack at his expense, so he makes you suffer for it until he thinks you've learned your lesson.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, Ominis being petty, explicit sexual content, praise kink

This lovely precious Ominis oneshot is now up on Ao3

Ominis was a touchy-feely person. 

It was a trait that went hand in hand with being blind, you had realized after a while. He liked to really take his time running his fingertips over certain things to gauge an object's material, its sharp edges, and the size of it. Even though he had his wand to guide him, you had noticed a long time ago that he preferred to walk close to walls so he could run his palm along the length of a corridor, giving himself an added safety net for getting where he needed to go. 

He enjoyed the feeling of soft, gentle things; blankets, grass, running water, and especially your hair. He liked running his fingers through the strands slowly– almost sensually– as the two of you curled up together in bed once the sun had set. For a while you had assumed he did it for your benefit– lulling you to sleep every night with tender, soothing touches that made you melt against him without fail. Upon further investigation, however, you’d come to the conclusion that Ominis derived his own pleasure from playing with your hair. 

So when you finally deigned to comment on it one night, the last thing you had expected was for him to become disgruntled. 

“You’re like a baby Mooncalf,” you teased softly, your finger tracing random patterns against the smooth skin of his chest. Ominis’ hand stilled against your scalp, a few strands falling from between his long, dainty fingers soundlessly, but you barely paid it any mind. “All clingy with a penchant for soft things. I’m surprised you don’t build nests like they do.”

With your head nestled in the crook of his arm, you weren’t able to glimpse his face following the lighthearted joke, but you did feel him stiffen against you. “Is that so?”

You barely read into the flat tone of his voice. You simply continued to swirl your finger around against his sternum, dragging your nail lightly over the area above his heart. “Mhm. You’re so needy all the time– always touching me. What would you do if I turned up bald one day?” 

There was a long, drawn out pause before Ominis removed his hand completely from your hair, the absence of the appendage prompting you to look up at him through your lashes questioningly. “You’re right. Perhaps I should stop. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of such a travesty.” 

You blinked with confusion, your own movements against his chest halting as you considered whether or not you had offended him somehow. Then, just as you were about to reach up to reassuringly touch his cheek, you felt Ominis begin to unwind his arm from around you. He sat up calmly before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, picking his wand up from the nightstand as though he were about to go somewhere. Hesitantly, you murmured, “Ominis, I didn’t mean–” 

“No, you’re quite right. I should calm down and let you rest,” came his smooth, emotionless voice. That told you more about his true feelings than anything else, and you pushed yourself upright atop the bed as he started to exit the bedroom. “I have some work that needs to be done, anyway. Get some sleep, darling.” 

Just like that, Ominis strode out of your shared room without so much as a goodnight kiss. You were left reeling on your side of the bed– completely and utterly stumped as to which part of your teasing had chased him away. Had you known that your jesting would lead to the most frustrating week of your life, you would have just kept your mouth shut to begin with. 

��

To say you were going insane would be a monumental understatement. Ever since Ominis’ abrupt departure from the bedroom two nights ago, he had exercised an unnatural amount of restraint when it came to touching you. 

There had been no more playing with your hair. 

No hand holding. 

No hugs. 

No kisses. 

No cuddling.

No sex. 

You had definitely upset him. There was no denying that fact– not when the proof was laid bare before you so plainly. But every time you tried to broach the topic with Ominis, he simply waved you off and dismissed your attempts at apologizing. It didn’t take long for your remorse to turn into indignant anger. He was playing a cruel, unnecessary game, and you weren’t about to let him have the last laugh. 

So, you gritted your teeth through the torment and dealt with it. 

Every time you felt the desire to touch him, you dug your nails into your palms. Every time your eyes fell to his lips, you would bite your own and look away. It was difficult, but you weren’t about to beg. Not when this entire situation was one of his own making. He was trying to punish you for poking fun at him, but you wouldn’t give in. You would just play along and bide your time until he caved. 

That ended up being easier said than done. 

Towards the end of day two, Ominis returned home from work. You were in the kitchen preparing dinner, chopping vegetables from the garden with more force than was probably necessary, when the sound of the door closing reached your ears. When you glanced over your shoulder in search of the culprit, you spotted him removing his shoes with his briefcase still in hand. Normally when he came home, he would do exactly that before making his way towards you to give you a kiss in greeting. Sometimes he would even wrap his arms around your waist and perch his pointy chin on your shoulder to take in the sounds and the smells of whatever you were cooking. 

But not today. 

His wand pulsed once, prompting him to fix his unseeing eyes in your direction before peacefully saying, “Hello, love. How was your day?” 

That was it. No hug, no kiss, and no close proximity of any kind. Ominis let his long legs carry him through the kitchen and into the living room to set his briefcase down on the table near the couch, waiting patiently for you to fill him in on what you’d gotten up to that day. Words were failing you at present, though. You were shocked, and maybe even a little hurt. 

“It was fine…” you finally managed to reply. Your grip on your knife turned white knuckled as you frowned, then looked down at the pile of carrots and onions you had almost finished dicing. “Ominis, about what I said the other night–” 

“Oh, by the way,” he interrupted casually, which only served to deepen the frown pulling at your lips. “My colleague is hosting a gala for the Ministry at his estate tomorrow night. We’re both invited, so be prepared for that. It begins at five o’clock.” 

Unbelievable. 

“Alright…” 

This was absurd. How long was he going to ignore your attempts at reconciling? Aside from refusing to put his hands on you and pretending like he didn’t hear you trying to apologize, Ominis was acting completely normal. He carried himself the same way he always had, he conversed with you, and he wasn’t giving you the cold shoulder. He said good morning and bid you farewell before he left for work, and he ate dinner across from you with a smile on his face once he arrived home. 

Your nightly cuddles were a thing of the past, though. His back was always to you when you rolled over to bury your cheek against his chest– an addendum of his self-imposed ‘no touching’ rule. 

Resuming your aggressive chopping, Ominis took it upon himself to set the table. He flitted about as though he didn’t have a care in the world, and you openly glared at the side of his head from behind the counter. 

This was terrible. It was spiteful and it was mean. But if he wouldn’t let you make amends, then what choice did you have other than to endure? 

—

Ominis wore suits all the time. It was more unusual for you to find him dressed down, if you were being honest. His hair was always styled neatly without a strand out of place, and his tailor had perfected the art of selecting fabric colors that complimented his eyes beautifully. If there was one thing you had come to expect from your lover, it was that he would always look remarkably well assembled. 

Today, however, Ominis had gone above and beyond preparing for the Ministry gala. 

His suit was dark brown with an almost orange undertone that made his eyes pop. The sleeves of his blazer and the length of his trousers were hemmed perfectly– not too long or too short– and it somehow made him look impossibly taller. Soft blond hair was combed back from his face to showcase his high cheekbones, but unlike his everyday look, Ominis had intentionally used less product to keep the strands at bay. 

Which meant there were a few pieces of hair hanging deliciously over his forehead. It gave him a bit of a roguish appearance that made your throat dry up and your hands twitch. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to rake your fingers through that devilish hair of his and slam your lips against his. Every part of your touch-deprived body yearned to wrap around him– to feel him the way you had craved for the last three days. 

You knew it was pointless, though. He was still annoyingly averse to touching you, and you were still petulantly trying to wait out his weird form of retribution. Part of you was convinced that he had dressed himself this way specifically to get a rise out of you. 

He had to know he looked handsome. There was no other alternative. 

The gala was a luxurious affair that involved the finest foods, the finest wines, and even live music. The band that had been hired to perform all night was set up in the corner of the grand space, the rich melody emanating from their string instruments blending easily with the idle chatter happening around the dinner table. Ominis was seated to your right, directing a work-related comment to someone across from him while you picked lazily at your dessert. 

In all honesty, you were at your wits end. 

While you had fully expected Ominis to maintain his infuriating distance from you tonight, a tiny part of you had hoped that he would relent when you’d asked him to dance earlier. When he had turned down your request with some half-assed excuse, you couldn’t help but become positively pissed about it. 

He never passed up the opportunity to waltz with you. 

In the past, he had divulged that his parents had forced him to master the art of ballroom dancing for the sake of ‘keeping up appearances’– and although you loathed his family for the things they had subjected him to as a child, you were immensely grateful that they had invested in their son learning the skill. Ominis was a wonderful dancer. He led with poise, moved with grace, and always caught you when you stumbled. It felt like you were flying in his arms when the two of you spun across the room together, and you had grown to look forward to any occasion that made dancing with him possible. 

So to have been denied even that in the wake of his no-touching-allowed spell was the cherry on top of your already shit week. 

Letting loose a shaky sigh, you set your fork down and placed your hands in your lap. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You wanted to go home and bury your head beneath the mountain of pillows on your bed. It was hard not to feel so dejected in response to the weaponized isolation you had been subjected to this week. You knew it was your own fault for having poked fun at him, but you never would have done it had you known this was the punishment you would earn. 

Your face flushed in response to the tumultuous emotions running rampant through your mind. You didn’t know whether you were sad, angry, or numb to everything happening around you. It wasn’t until Ominis had stopped being physical with you that you’d realized how much you looked forward to and treasured his lingering touches. 

And he would even let you apologize. Where were you supposed to go from here? 

“Are you alright, darling?” 

Ominis had shifted his attention back to you, his milky-blue eyes narrowed with the faintest bit of concern. After the last three days, you didn’t know whether the look was fake or genuine, but at this point you didn’t care. You didn’t feel like getting your hopes up just to have them dashed again. 

Your silence only prompted Ominis to twist in his seat, angling his body sideways just enough so that his knees bumped against yours, and the sudden, unexpected contact made you jolt. The heat in your cheeks amplified when you watched his fingers stretch towards you, following the curve of your shoulder up your neck before the back of his hand settled against your forehead.

It was an innocent enough display, but after three straight days of no physicality of any kind with him, the gentle touch made your heart hammer against your sternum violently. 

“You’re rather warm… are you not feeling well?” 

Swallowing thickly, your voice came out sounding like a pained croak when you said, “No. I’m fine, just tired.” 

Ominis hummed thoughtfully, not at all convinced by your lackluster delivery. He removed his hand and swiftly rose to his feet, excusing himself as well as you by announcing that the two of you would be heading home early. You were hardly at liberty to object– you barely knew any of these people. Besides, any arguments you might have made were dutifully silenced by the blond’s hand appearing on the small of your back to steer you in the direction of the foyer. 

It felt like you were moving through dense mud as Ominis pulled you against his side, apparating the two of you into your living room in the blink of an eye before releasing you. The warmth from his skin lingered against your upper arm for a long while, and you remained standing in front of the couch when the taller man moved away to begin fiddling with his cufflinks. Only the sound of his shifting clothing filled the otherwise silent house. You didn’t say a word– just stood there quietly and watched Ominis loosen his attire. 

Once he had shrugged off his jacket and neatly draped it over the back of the sofa, his silky voice shattered the stillness of the room. “Would you like some tea? It might help if you’re feeling poorly.” 

Poorly… yeah, that was a word for it. “No, thank you. I’m not sick.” 

His brows furrowed questioningly, “It felt like you had a fever back at the estate, and you hardly touched your food the entire night. There’s a very good chance you’re ill.” 

So he had been paying attention. For some reason, that thought only served to upset you further. He knew you had been sulking, and still he had refused to abandon the ridiculous sanction he had placed on himself in regards to touching you. The only thing that had gotten him to even partially relent was his assumption that you were coming down with something, and all that had earned you was his legs bumping into yours and his hand resting fleetingly against your forehead. 

It had been too much and not enough all at once. 

“I’m not sick,” you repeated flatly, putting your back to him as you lowered yourself onto the couch. “I don’t need tea. Don’t worry about me, just go get ready for bed. I’ll be in shortly.” 

Liar. Tonight was beginning to look like the first time you would willingly sleep apart from him in years. You couldn’t take it anymore– turning over in the dead of night in search of Ominis’ warmth, only to be met with his back to you. It was a unique form of torture that you hadn’t thought him capable of. He had a vindictive side that you had seen inflicted on others, yes, but you had never been on the receiving end of it. Not like this. 

It was maddening. 

The room fell silent again, and for a moment you were convinced that he had heeded your insistence and gone to the bedroom by himself. But then you heard his feet padding against the floor, getting closer and closer before they stopped behind you. You chanced a look over your shoulder and found Ominis looming over you, his hips flush to the back of the couch, and he tilted his head to the side as a curious expression broke out across his face. 

“You’re upset.” It wasn’t a question– he knew you were bothered. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. Everything is perfectly fine.” 

The hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, and you narrowed your eyes in blatant displeasure. He knew exactly what had you so bent out of shape, but addressing it directly? No– that wasn’t his style. Ominis would make you confess before making his next move. 

What that would be, though, you didn’t know. 

“I can’t help you feel better if I don’t know what’s bothering you, darling. Talk to me.” His head dipped down ever so slightly, causing those loose strands of hair to fall in front of his face temptingly. Between that, the undone buttons at the top of his shirt, and that infuriating smirk he was failing to hide, you were quickly reaching your limit. “Does your less than stellar mood have anything to do with my lack of neediness these past few days? Have I not been clingy enough for your liking?” 

Bingo. It didn’t even surprise you to hear him acknowledge the root cause of your irritation. Of course you knew that was why he had been so distant. He was remarkably skilled at pretending otherwise, however– behaving naturally apart from keeping his hands to himself. 

Bastard. 

“I never said that as a bad thing!” Your voice was shrill as you finally erupted, slapping your hands against the cushions indignantly. “I was just teasing! And then you go and ignore me for three days– driving me crazy with your civility, treating me like I’m a blasted work colleague or something! You wouldn’t even let me apologize! What kind of sick, twisted game did you think you were playing?” 

“The kind that gets my point across,” he replied smoothly. Ominis left his wand-bearing hand braced on the couch as he leaned forward, effortlessly wrapping the other around the back of your neck to tug you closer. His skin was soft and warm, his even breaths ghosting across your cheeks as he held you mere inches away from his lips. “I had to make sure you learned that I don’t take kindly to being deemed needy or clingy. I am who I am– I love fiercely and without restraint. If those are facets of my character you want to poke fun at, I had to see to it you knew what life was like without them.” 

You gaped up at him, your mind spinning with insults and complaints that passed by too quickly for you to give voice to a single one. All of this to prove a point? He was insane! Never before had you thought your lover to be anything resembling petty, but he had remedied that in a shockingly little amount of time. He was petulant. He was mean and vengeful and too conniving for his own good. You had half a mind to retreat out of his hold and give him a taste of his own medicine– pack a bag and stay at some decrepit inn for a few nights out of sheer spite alone. Three days of enduring him keeping you at arms length all because you had tried to make a joke!

You would never jest again. Ever. 

But before you could pull free from Ominis’ loose grip and tell him as much, he was kissing you. Suddenly, passionately, wantonly– the taste of him gracing your tongue after so long sent a bolt of arousal through your entire being. Your eyes squeezed shut, your muscles tensed, and your thighs clenched together as your body ignored your brain’s demands to fight back. You wanted to refute his kiss and make it clear that you wouldn’t tolerate such treatment from him ever again. You wanted him to apologize for leaving you feeling so pitiful and lonely for days on end. 

But your more primal desires were stronger. After three days of craving everything about him, your mind was quick to shut itself off and drink him in greedily, your wounded pride be damned. 

Your fingers curled into the fabric of the couch as you let the imposing man part your lips with his tongue, the wet muscle sweeping through your mouth with devastating precision, and gods, he had you. Ominis, and that prideful expression on his face. Ominis, and that domineering lilt in his voice. Ominis, and those stupid, slender, mind-numbing fingers that dragged up the nape of your neck to collect a fistful of your hair. The pressure of his lips against yours increased as he forced you to crane your neck back, guiding you exactly where he wanted you with indisputable finesse. 

“Come on, darling,” Ominis murmured against your kiss-swollen lips after a while. “Tell me what you want. What have you been craving these last few days, hm?” 

You were positively dazed in the wake of kissing him, your mind reeling as you struggled to get your vocal chords to obey and answer him. “I– I want you to touch me. I missed you touching me– I hated that you wouldn’t.” 

A throaty chuckle sounded from deep in his chest and made the hair on your arms stand on end. “Is that all?” 

Fuck– hell no. You wanted all of him. 

There was no way you could have stopped yourself if you tried; your hands shot out to grab him by the scruff of his shirt, slamming your lips into his with the strength of a damn Troll. Ominis grunted in surprise– mercifully letting you manhandle him into another kiss– then brazenly hoisted his knee over the back of the couch. He scaled the barrier with little effort, never once breaking away from your mouth as he effectively climbed onto the sofa and trapped you beneath his taller frame. He tossed his wand to the far end of the cushions to free up both of his hands and immediately began running his palms down your sides, gathering up your dress so it sat in a messy heap above your navel. 

When the lack of oxygen in your lungs forced you to pull away with a gasp, Ominis took the opportunity to purr, “Looks to me like you’re the needy one now, love. I won’t lie, it’s a gratifying turn of events.” 

You were so swept up in your own arousal that you didn’t even care about his taunting. If it took doing the fucking waltz with an Inferi to get what you wanted, you would do it. “Please, Ominis,” you pleaded breathlessly. “Please– touch me.” 

“Show me,” he instructed calmly, causing you to shiver against him. “Show me where you want me.” 

With trembling fingers, you grabbed his wrist and dragged his hand between your legs, letting him feel the wetness saturating your undergarments for himself. His lips parted with obvious want at the same time your hips bucked up into his touch, deriving your own pleasure from the friction against your clit. “Here,” you gasped. “I want you here. Please.” 

Evidently three days was long enough for Ominis to punish you, because he didn’t waste a second before moving on his own. He slipped his fingers under the side of your underwear, sliding his fingers through your folds to collect the moisture seeping from you, then cupped the entirety of your cunt with his palm so he could sink two fingers inside of you. A satisfied moan tore from you then, causing Ominis’ features to darken as he pumped and curled the digits at a slow, even pace. “Like this? Is this what you wanted?” 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, entranced by his methodical movements and obsessed with the way he let his palm press down against your bundle of nerves. “Yes– just like that.” 

Through your hazy vision, you watched as Ominis lowered his head so it was nearly touching yours, a pretty, pink flush creeping over his cheeks at the sounds escaping you. “You won’t tease me for touching you again, will you? Is it a bad thing that I enjoy the feeling of your skin? Your hair? Am I the equivalent of a baby animal for appreciating those things about the woman I love?” 

With every question voiced, Ominis ground his palm against your clit with wicked intent. Your breathing hitched in your chest as you tried your best to rock down into his rhythmic movements, but your prone position made it difficult to do much of anything. You were entirely at the mercy of your lover, and he hummed pointedly before plunging his fingers all the way to the base of his knuckles– curling them to wring a strangled cry from your throat. 

Your eyes flew wide open when the pads of his fingers pressed against the sensitive area hidden deep within you, and you quickly blurted, “N-No. No, you’re not– I won’t tease– it’s not–” 

His tempo never changed– his digits never wavering from the incessant come here, come here, come here motion that was quickly igniting you from the inside. You heard him chuckle when you dug your nails into the skin of his wrist, and then you felt his other hand splay against your thigh so it could run up and down your leg appraisingly. “Good… you’re nearly there, darling. I can feel it. Right here,” he pressed into that one spot harder, making your toes curl and your eyelids flutter. “That’s where I’ll aim since you’ve waited so patiently. What do you think?” 

That was just it– you couldn’t think. Ominis had effectively nullified your higher brain power with two fingers and his sinful voice. When your senseless noises transformed into shaky iterations of his name and hiccups of pleasure, he closed the minuscule distance between the two of you to kiss you again. 

Well, he kissed you. You mostly just whined into his mouth. 

You wanted more; more kisses, more touches, more of Ominis. Your body unconsciously arched towards him as he pumped his fingers and ground his palm against you, and your heels dug into the couch cushions as the tension in your lower stomach mounted. In the far reaches of your hazy mind, you could faintly hear yourself calling his name over and over again– repeating it like a mantra as though your life depended on it. 

“That’s right,” he cooed, pressing harder on your bundle of nerves and laughing softly when you released his wrist to slap your hands against the couch. “That’s it. Come on, darling.” 

You didn’t know if you wanted to be grateful or woeful over the fact that he didn’t stop. It had only been three days, but after being denied every variation of his touch, your body was hypersensitive to everything he gave you. The tension in your gut grew tauter than a wire until it finally snapped, leaving you clutching at the cushions as you rode out every wave of euphoria with a buck of your hips. Ominis groaned at the sounds falling from your lips, his fingers continuing their assault as you begged him not to stop– to keep doing exactly what he was doing. Or, you did in your head, anyway. 

Out loud, it came across more like garbled syllables, curses, his name, and “Oh, gods, please”.

When the high finally died down, your whole body buckled beneath him. Ominis’ hand mercifully stilled against your cunt, and he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away and moving off of the couch. Your heart lurched in your chest at the blurry sight of him retreating– afraid for a few agonizing seconds that he was going to leave you and go back to being standoffish. 

But then the feeling of his hands on you returned, his arms wedging themselves under your boneless body to lift you off the couch and hold you against his chest. He had reclaimed his wand at some point before that, the red tip pulsing as it guided the man on his short journey to the bedroom, and he let it clatter against the floor once his knees hit the edge of the mattress. You were gingerly set down atop the covers and left to watch as Ominis’ hands fell to his belt, his deft fingers sliding the leather out of the metal buckle with practiced ease. 

“I suppose I was rather cruel about this whole charade, wasn’t I?” His voice was laced with mockery as he began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing inch after inch of smooth, pale skin. “It was obvious you were upset. I’m sorry, love. Can I make it up to you?” 

He could do whatever the hell he wanted if it meant he wouldn’t tease you anymore. Weakly, you rasped, “Yes...” 

Ominis let his shirt hang open so he could pull his cock from his trousers, the full length of him arching proudly in his fist as a result of his escapades on the couch. He gave himself a testing squeeze before lowering himself onto the bed, feeling for your outstretched legs so he could crawl over them and cage you in with his lean arms. “I could feel your frustration, too. You were wound tighter than a spring– so desperate to make the feeling go away. I almost gave up the other night when I felt you shifting around on the bed, mewling like a neglected kitten…”

Ominis’ tone was sickeningly saccharine as he reached down with one hand to pull your dress up your torso again, dropping the excess material over your chest so it pooled above your breasts. He made short work of tugging off your undergarments so he could trail his fingers over your stiff nipples, thumbing over the rosy peaks and grinning unabashedly when you whimpered. “Do you want it, darling? My touch? My love? All of me?” 

“Yes,” you whined, gasping when you felt the blunt head of his cock press against your hole tauntingly. “Yes, Ominis, please. I love you– I want you– I want all of you.”  

He hummed gleefully to himself, all too pleased with your pliant, remorseful nature. The hand on your breast skirted lower, lower, until it was splayed securely against the side of your thigh. Ominis shifted your leg over to give himself more room as he pressed into your cunt, the first few inches leaving you stuttering and panting into the empty air above you. 

Given how facetious he had been throughout the entire process, part of you was expecting Ominis to take you roughly and without restraint. Instead you were met with slow, shallow thrusts as he cautiously worked himself into you, his long, slender fingers stroking your leg comfortingly until he finally bottomed out with his hips flush to your rear. “That’s it, love,” he muttered huskily, letting his head hang between his shoulders so he could fix his cloudy eyes in the direction of your clipped noises. “You always take me so well.” 

You could only writhe beneath him in search of more, squirming against him as your walls began to tighten and urge him to move. Much to his credit, Ominis obliged the wordless command– knowing all too well what your body’s tells were almost better than you did. He pulled his hips back before plunging his cock back into your wet, waiting core, expelling a groan from your throat that caused his nails to dig into your flesh. 

“Gods,” you gasped, relishing in how deep Ominis managed to reach. You would always love and appreciate his dexterous fingers, but they could never compare to the long, curved length of him. 

“How does it feel? Tell me.” 

Ominis began to thrust into you then, setting a steady pace that stirred your insides and made your head spin. That same spot within you he had assaulted with devastating accuracy earlier was effortlessly struck over and over again by the head of his cock, driving you higher embarrassingly fast, forcing more choked moans from your scratchy throat. “Feels– feels so good,” you managed breathlessly. “It’s so good, Ominis. I– I think– I’m–” 

Strands of blond hair tickled your forehead as Ominis leaned down to laugh derisively in your face, the closer proximity putting his pelvis flush to your still-sensitive clit. “Are you close already? You poor thing– you must have been really pent-up these last few days…” 

His teasing didn’t sound nearly as malicious as it had before. It was strained– shadowed by his own arousal quickly creeping into the forefront of his mind. The sight of his eyes pinching and his lips parting was making you dizzy. Your inhibitions were a thing of the past as you became wholly focused on how Ominis grunted softly, his hips grinding against you with every perfectly measured plunge of his cock. The pressure he inadvertently placed on your swollen nub filled a void inside of you, and in a flash, it was all too much to handle. 

“There you go,” Ominis encouraged when he felt your muscles start to spasm around his length, your walls constricting him so tightly that his next panted gasp was laced with a throaty moan. “Go ahead, darling, come for me.” 

His velvety praises were your undoing as you trembled violently beneath him. It was as though Ominis had lit a fuse on you and caused every part of your body to explode, your second climax stealing your breath and leaving your body burning hotter than a furnace. His pace stayed the same– never faltering as he fucked you through all of it– and only once you went limp did he deign to change his methods. 

Ominis’ let go of your thigh to brace both of his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in so thoroughly that all you could see, smell, hear, and feel was him. His hips moved faster, his breathing fanning across your flushed cheeks quicker, and the hairswidth of space between you both left you with no choice but to watch his expression contort into one of sheer hunger as he chased after his impending finish. Your hands lifted off the bed of their own accord to sneak under the flaps of his undone shirt, stroking over his spine, his ribs, and those two little dimples that adorned his lower back. 

Drinking in your fill of his skin after three long, grueling days without it seemed to do as much for Ominis as it did for you; he shivered and buried his fingers in your disheveled hair to clench at the strands, his eyebrows knitting together with concentration as he slammed his hips into yours once, twice, then a final third time before he spilled inside of you. His entire body trembled as he came undone, a drawn out gasp of your name leaving his lips as he slotted his mouth with yours sans the grace of an actual kiss. It was all a clash of tongue and teeth as Ominis devoured the tiny sounds you made, only managing to pull away when the twitching of his cock had ceased completely. 

He didn’t get very far, though. Your arms were still wrapped around him– holding him impossibly tight to your chest in your pitiful attempts to keep him close. There was no chance you were letting him get away that easily– not after everything he had put you through this week. 

“So needy,” Ominis chided with a smile, releasing his grip on your hair before affectionately smoothing down the strands. “Perhaps I should keep my distance more often if this is the treatment I’ll get for it.” 

He couldn’t see it, but you narrowed your eyes up at him challengingly. Your hands slid down his sides so they were directly over his ribs, and when you dug your nails into the sensitive area, he flinched at the same time a strangled hiss slipped from between his teeth. “Don’t even think about it. I’m already forbidding myself from making jokes around you after this.” 

“Jokes are supposed to be funny,” he scoffed, flicking your nose lightly. “Although I do suppose the role reversal right now is rather amusing. It’s ironic– of the two of us, you’re the one clinging to me like a baby Mooncalf.” 

“You’re pushing your luck. This is all your fault.” 

“Ah, my apologies. Should I leave?” 

“No!” 

He was unbelievable. Merlin only knew what future, shoddy quip would prompt Ominis to disappear for a week straight, all in some ghastly attempt to teach you a lesson. You vowed then and there that you would never try to be funny again. Ever. 

[itsallgoodmann]

I'm going to act like I did not sob throughout the entirety of writing this story holy shit.

"Charles Knew that Love Existed Because Arthur was Love"

Desc: Arthur tells Charles about his condition and they both slowly realize they care a lot more about each other than they originally thought. Apparently loss can really strengthen emotions, especially unresolved ones.

(Heavily implied Charthur, comfort, angst, death, grief, mutual confession of love...You get the idea. Inspired by the fanart above (not mine obvs!))

"Hey Charles," Arthur sat down on the crate next to Charles, overlooking the main campfire. Charles gently rubbed gun oil on his sawed-off shotgun, thinking quietly to himself, like he always did.

"Arthur." Charles nodded at Arthur, glancing at him quickly before looking back at his gun. Arthur put his hands in his lap, clasped together tightly. He closed his eyes briefly, trying his best to gather his thoughts. He had known Charles for less than a year, but somehow Arthur felt more connected to him than Dutch.

Arthur didn't want to tell him. In fact, Arthur couldn't think of a thing he wanted to do less than tell Charles the truth...

Because he was dying. Famous gunslinger Arthur Morgan, taken by a goddamn lung disease. How ironic. Charles deserved to know, he had been so kind to Arthur. Arthur remembered the weeks after the O'Driscolls had kidnapped and shot him, and who stayed by his wagon the longest.

Not Dutch, not John, not even Hosea.

Charles.

"You shouldn't get up," Charles said bluntly, staring into Arthur's blue eyes, glazed over in a Morphine-filled daze. Arthur shook his head like he did every time someone told him not to do something. It didn't stop him from hoisting himself up so his head rested on the back of the wagon. Charles just shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"Swanson's Morphine is certainly doing its job," Charles muttered, mostly to himself, Arthur scoffed in return.

"Why you here anyways?" Arthur took a deep breath and tried not to wince at the stitches from the gunshot wound in his abdomen. Charles chuckled, a lighthearted noise that made Arthur smile...Even if it was mostly because of the Morphine.

"Just, watching... Got nothing better to do." Charles shrugged his shoulders and continued sharpening his knife next to Arthur's wagon.

"I think in the time you've been with us-" Arthur took a moment to think about what he was going to say, his words slightly slurred from the drugs.

"I've never heard you speak more than two sentences to anyone." Arthur shook his head, smiling. Charles rolled his eyes.

"I just don't have much to say, I guess." Charles shook his head, but couldn't help the smile that graced his face.

"Charles...Smith... The lone wolf... A man of few words." Arthur put his hands up and made a gesture like he was reading a newspaper headline.

"If I knew you were going to act like an idiot I wouldn't have given you the Morphine." Charles shot back, but he didn't take any offense. How could someone take offense to the ramblings of a Morphine drunk Arthur? Arthur acted like he had been shot (very fitting), giving Charles an exasperated look.

"The lone wolf does speak!" He said dramatically, drawling out the 'does' to annoy Charles even more.

"You should sleep Arthur," Charles finally said, putting away the knife and other sharpening materials.

"Y'know..." Arthur yawned, the euphoric sensation of the Morphine and the drowsiness that healing cost was really getting to him.

"I'm quite fond of you, Mr.Serious." Arthur slurred, moving his head down to the pillow and looking up. Charles studied Arthur's expression, trying to read his true emotions. Arthur's eyebrows were relaxed, his lips upturned in a lazy smile. He could see the crow's feet that appeared next to his eyes, and the scar that was on the bottom of his chin. Charles meant to ask about it, but never did.

"You've always been the hardest worker in camp," Arthur yawned again, and Charles shushed him.

"Go to sleep Arthur, for god's sake."

"Somethin' on your mind?" Charles' deep voice brought Arthur out of his thoughts, and Arthur nodded. Charles looked at him, narrowing his eyes a little bit. Charles must have had an inkling of what Arthur wanted to speak about. He was quiet, but he wasn't stupid. At this point, no one could deny Arthur looked sick...Real sick. His collarbones were sticking out from his pale splotchy skin, his clothes were now bagged around him. His eyes were bloodshot, and when he ate there was a large coughing fit that followed.

The cough. It made Charles' ears ring, the violent shake of his chest, the crackled wheezes that followed. Charles saw the bloodstains on the inside of Arthur's sleeve.

"You wanna ride with me?" Arthur blurted out, Charles took a second but nodded.

"Always." He said curtly. Charles walked with Arthur over to his horse, before he mounted Taima. Arthur led the way to the outskirts of Annesburg, before riding aimlessly towards the mountains surrounding the Wapiti Indian Reservation.

"Yer a smart man Charles," Arthur started, taking in short breaths, thinking hard about how to word things. This did nothing but make Charles nervous.

"Arthur," Charles said in almost a warning, like he was afraid Arthur was going to beat around the bush and never get to the point. Charles didn't like it when people weren't straightforward. However, Arthur was the only exception to this rule. The only noises that accompanied them through the ride were the clopping of hooves on rock, and the rushing of water from the nearby Dakota River.

"If things go bad, you get yourself out of there, alright?" Arthur coughed but tried to stifle it, which only made it worse.

Charles wanted to get off his horse and punch Arthur in the face. Not because he was angry at Arthur...

But because he was scared. Charles Smith, the fearless lone wolf. It wasn't like Charles hadn't experienced loss before, hell, in the last few months it was constant... Davey, Sean, Kieran, Hosea, Lenny, Molly... Charles was sad, of course, but life went on. The sun still shone the next day, the coffee was still brewed like normal, and the songbirds still chirped their melodies.

"You got... More to lose." Arthur said, his voice softer, more vulnerable. Charles shook his head, immediately shooting back,

"No. Come on. Don't start talking like that." It was obvious though, even when Arthur explained it.

"I didn't tell you before," Arthur took in a wheezing breath.

"I saw a doctor."

Charles wanted to jump into the Dakota River and feel his entire body go numb from the cold. He wanted to push his hands to his ears and hum until he couldn't hear Arthur's words anymore because they cut like a knife. They made him bleed like no one had ever done before. Instead, Charles gripped the reins of Taima tighter, slowing down to a gentle trot.

"It's pretty bad, and it's gonna get worse."

Charles shook his head, but luckily Arthur didn't notice. He bit his lip and tried to make sense of it all.

"Take a left down this trail," Charles said softly, pointing to the slightly worn trail into the thick woods of the Cumberland forest. Charles led Arthur to a clearing, where a thick, lush layer of grass grew, and flowers erupted from the space.

"I don't remember much of my childhood," Charles said, dismounting his horse and motioning for Arthur to do the same. Arthur followed Charles into the clearing and they both sat down on a fallen log, covered in bright green moss.

"My mama though, she taught me all about the herbs..." Charles smiled gently, then motioned to the flowers. Arthur looked at him, confused.

"These are flowers..." Arthur corrected, Charles just shook his head and chuckled.

"She taught me about the flowers too, if you'd let me finish." Charles pointed to the flower with stems that held a few dozen tiny bundles of red flowers, with a bright yellow center.

"Blood flower," Charles said, Arthur nodded, listening intently. Charles then pointed at the other flower that covered the clearing, a stem that held a single, cupped, red flower.

"Field Poppy," Charles informed, Arthur could have probably guessed that, but just hearing Charles talk was enough. There were a few minutes of comfortable silence, the horses quietly grazing near them.

"Did the doctor say how long?" Charles was careful with his words, but he wanted...No, needed to know.

"A couple weeks, a couple months..." Arthur drawled, coughing again. This time the fit was so bad Arthur wheezed for breath afterward. Charles rubbed Arthur's back, hoping the contact would soothe something, even if it was just his soul.

"You're a good man, Arthur Morgan." Charles forced through gritted teeth, afraid if he said more he would have to wipe tears off his face. Arthur chuckled.

"I ain't a good man,"

Charles frowned, if only Arthur could see himself through Charles' gaze. The way he glowed, Arthur's soft smile and kind words. He acted tough, but he loved. Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, promising himself he wasn't going to break down.

"I'm only going to say this once, Arthur," Charles warned.

"You're one of the best men I know." Charles smiled bittersweetly like it should be obvious to Arthur.

"You're kind, hard-working, loyal, and smart." Charles removed his hand from Arthur's back, before resting it on his shoulder.

"Hell, you've probably saved my life countless times." Charles sighed, then made eye contact with Arthur. What a horrible choice. Icy blue eyes, bloodshot and tearstained, inflamed with the pain of the human condition. Charles stared back at Arthur with warm brown eyes, trying to keep his equanimity. He was normally very good at it, a skill he prided himself on, but this was different. At that moment, in the clearing, Charles realized something.

He was soft for Arthur Morgan. He wanted to see Arthur happy, he wanted to see him thrive. It took everything in Charles not to scream about how he loved Arthur Morgan... And, more importantly, how much he loved the way Arthur loved. Freely and fully. Arthur rarely shared by the campfire, but when he did it was always a story about saving a man who got bitten by a snake, or a woman who was stranded because her horse died.

"Yer' a good man Charles, one of the best." Arthur choked out, now trying to keep his own composure. Charles just smiled, it was all he could do. But Charles broke when Arthur made eye contact with him again, his face wet with the streams of hot tears that poured down his cheeks. It was instinct as he opened his arms for Arthur, hugging him tightly. In a useless wish, Charles thought about how he regretted not doing this earlier. Arthur clung to Charles and Charles clung just as much back. Arthur wrapped his arms around Charles, burying his head into Charles' chest. In a swift movement, Charles gently brought his hand up to the back of Arthur's head, his other arm wrapped securely around him. They both sat there for a good while, breathing in the scent of each other and trying to memorize the way their bodies fit so perfectly together.

"Shouldn't leave things unsaid, should I?" Arthur finally said, breaking the silence. Charles nodded, still holding Arthur close to his chest.

"Then I think I love you, Charles." Charles wasn't going to debate what exactly Arthur meant by this. Charles didn't care. He loved him back.

"I think I love you too, Arthur," Charles murmured, now gently carding his fingers through Arthur's hair.

"I always imagined you were a Bison," Arthur muttered softly, Charles nodded.

"Dutch told me I was like a buck... Unlikely friends." Arthur chuckled, but it ended in a painful cough that Charles tried his best to soothe.

"You think we'll meet in another life?" Arthur looked up at the sky, it was now dusk, and the stars were beginning to appear. Charles nodded,

"I hope so." Arthur smiled at the response, a real nice smile.

"Then I'll look forward to meeting you all over again." Arthur was always the best at bringing out even the most buried emotions. Charles froze, trying not to lose it. He didn't want Arthur to go. He can't let go. He was never able to let go, everything he ever lost is covered in claw marks from when he tried to make it stay. Charles choked back a sob, gently lifting Arthur's head to place a tender kiss on his forehead. Arthur's blue eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, every decision Arthur ever made had spun through his mind, all leading up to this one single exchange. Perhaps death wasn't going to be that bad. Charles brought both of his hands and cupped Arthur's jaw, looking at him, trying to memorize the face.

Charles knew that love existed because Arthur was love.

That's why, when Charles carried the limp, cold, body of Arthur Morgan down that mountain, one arm around his torso, the other around his leg, he made sure to stop by that clearing. He uprooted those flowers and planted them on his grave. It was the least he could do.

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for Righteousness."

A/N- Woah! First fanfic on this account! Last time I regularly wrote fanfiction was when I was sixteen (I am in my twenties now). Couldn't get Charthur out of my head so I created this (it got very out of hand very fast). Unfortunately, I do not apologize for the amount of heartbreak this may cause you.

If you would like to leave a request, go for it! I am a full time college student, and I do work two jobs, so there's no telling if I'll ever get to it, but if it's a good enough request I'm sure I'll make time. It's weird to be so familiar yet unfamiliar with creating a fanfic post, but alas, I'll stop yapping. Hope you enjoyed the fic!

Fanart used can be found here, credit to conconarts!

[scholomancefan]

Horrifying prompt/idea:

Omegaverse where Shen Yuan is Shen Jiu and Qiu Jianluo’s son.

For Context: I’ve been reading Sha Po Lang, and Chang Geng’s relationship with his (supposed) mother in his memories had me thinking of Shen Jiu (after escaping the Qiu household) raising Shen Yuan similarly, with alternating murder attempts, machinations, and pity.

Fun fact, in the first draft of Marrying the Scum Villainess's Daughter, Shen Yuan was going to be Qiu Jianluo's and Shen Jiu's! But that was too dark for what I wanted to be a lighthearted comedy, so I cut it 😅 Anyway, here's my first try writing omegaverse! Please be gentle ❤️

“All this time this man has deceived you!” Qiu Haitang cried out. “He’s no beta. He’s an omega, the wife of my brother, and the bearer of my nephew Qiu Yuan!”

Everyone turned to stare aghast at Shen Qingqiu, including Shen Yuan himself.

It couldn’t be true. Shen Qingqiu was a beta just like Shen Yuan. He’d gotten Shen Yuan on some brothel worker somewhere, something Shen Yuan’s bullies on Qing Jing had rubbed in Shen Yuan’s face over and over.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes were like black marbles, and there was no life in them. Only purest loathing for the alpha Qiu Haitang as she made her accusations.

The Huan Hua Palace Master stroked his beard. “These are serious accusations,” he murmured in a carrying voice.

Because omegas were little better than property to be bought or sold through dowries–treasured in families, to be sure, but one could never hold a position of power. Whether they were even allowed to cultivate was generally the decision of their alpha after they had been mated; how could omegas be expected to control their base lusts without a firm and guiding hand?

“He murdered my brother, Qiu Jianluo, and stole their child,” Qiu Haitang wept. “Qiu Yuan, a precious omega of our house!”

And now it felt like all the air around him had vanished. Shen Yuan couldn’t breathe.

“Baba…” Shen Yuan whispered.

The teas. The damn teas that Shen Qingqiu insisted they drink together every day. Shen Qingqiu had never liked Shen Yuan; had encouraged the other disciples to bully him, had turned away from Shen Yuan’s tears. But he insisted every day at the same time that they take tea together. It was a far cry from family bonding. It was as much warmth as Shen Yuan ever had from him.

“The omega Qiu Yuan of course cannot remain in omega Shen Jiu’s care,” the Huan Hua Palace Master insisted.

This!!! Fucking!!! Setup!!! Everyone was just taking Qiu Haitang’s word for everything, even though Shen Yuan was certain he and Shen Qingqiu were still to all appearances betas. This could only mean one thing… or rather, that one person was behind this.

“We will arrange a marriage for him straight away to a trustworthy cultivator of great promise,” the Huan Hua Palace Master continued.

There it was.

Shen Yuan peered through the crowd and sure enough there was Luo Binghe, watching the proceedings with the smug look of someone for whom everything was going according to plan. For the protagonist everything always went according to plan.

And in this case apparently the plan was to collect Shen Yuan into Luo Binghe’s harem like a special edition Pokemon card!

Gongyi Xiao stepped forward and reached out to Shen Yuan. “It’s going to be all right,” he said softly, the trappings of kindness trying to hide the poison of the lie.

The snap of a paper fan unfurling. Blood spattered the cobbles at their feet. Gongyi Xiao clutched his bleeding wrist and cried out in pain.

And then it was Shen Qingqiu standing there, shielding Shen Yuan from the view of the crowd.

“If you try to take Shen Yuan, I will slaughter you all and dance in your bloody remains,” Shen Qingqiu snarled, and raised his fan, stained crimson at its qi-honed edge.

[terrifictomholland]

my art, my muse

So, quite some time ago I said on here I'd write for Tom and well - here it is! It's been a fun ride! As always I can't help but to thank @worldoftom for being the very best beta a girl could ask for! So thank you very very much darling!

word count: 6.9K

warnings: look this is nothing but absolute filth! its got a whole bunch of stuff lmao - but oral (female and male) dirty talk, spitting (ooops) slight dom-Tom, please please please, if you are under 18, don't read this I don't want to corrupt youngsters!

Without further ado, enjoy!

The doorbell rang when you opened the door, entering the tattoo shop that you spotted on a whim. The idea had been brewing in your head for some time now to get a piece done, but you hadn’t been quite sure as to what to get done. The smell of leather and disinfectant burrowing into your nostrils, somewhat of a comforting smell and the sound of a tattoo-gun in use. 

“Yo! Welco- holy shit!” a curly red-haired guy cut himself off seeing you from a seat behind a counter. Your head swiveled around looking behind you as to why this guy cursed the way he did. 

“Y’alright?” you mused seeing the slight red tint on his cheeks. “I’ll willingly put money in the shit-I–say jar in a second, but I just know you’re my brothers’ walking sex-on-legs dream come true right now.” He explained and a raucous laugh exploded out of you, your head thrown back from the unexpected comment. 

“Oh? Who’s this brother of yours then?” you asked cheekily and the red-haired guy grinned. “He’s gonna be doing your tattoo seeing as how his client just cancelled on him, so you’re in luck to torture him,” he schemed and you grinned even more. 

“How interesting, thank you for the information,” to which he bowed his head. “Always happy to put Tom in a hard position,” that innuendo didn’t go unnoticed by you as you laughed once again. 

“Anyway, what’s your name? and more importantly what are you getting done and where?” He asked wiggling his eyebrows. “Aren’t you a cheeky bugger? M’names Y/N. As for the tattoo, only for me and well, Tom to know and you too maybe, find out if you’re lucky,” you winked and his eyes glittered.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Harry and I must say, Tom might just have met his match,” he held out his hand to which you took and shook. 

It was very fun and lighthearted talking to Harry while this infamous brother of his, Tom, finished doing some work on another client. While you waited, you and Harry made some idle chit-chat and you looked around in the shop.

It was surprisingly airy and neat, a light green with dark wood finishes. Tiny knick-knacks of things that seemed like they were personal to the brothers. Such as different but very cool mulled wine bottles, an array of different Marvel figurine bobble-heads - actually, a bunch of different Spider-Man bobble-heads for some reason. 

“Hazza? Why are there so many bobble-heads of Spider-man?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Hmm, Tom’s obsession since he was little,” he shrugged and you nodded continuing on to look at some very professional looking photos of a guy tattooing a client. You presumed the artist was Tom, but you couldn’t see his face. Only his gloved hand holding a tattoo gun working on a very detailed rose piece. It was stunning, both the photograph and the design of the piece. 

“Who took this photo?” You couldn’t look away from the various photos that hung on the walls, all in the same kind of style, showcasing the talent of both the photographer and the tattoo artist. They worked brilliantly together and it really showed.

“Oh! I did, I’ve shot all of these photos in here actually,” you could hear the pride in his voice and you turned to him, giving him a wide smile, “these are incredible,” to which his cheeks turned an adorable red hue. 

“Thank you,” he said modestly, “but in all fairness, Tom’s a really good sport in letting me hover over him when he’s working, he makes my job fairly easy,” he told you earnestly and so far, from all that Harry had said about this Tom, he seemed to be a really good and stand-up guy. “That’s a really nice thing to say about your sibling. But, may I ask where this brother of yours is? Not that you’re not impeccable company,” you winked.

“This brother of his is right here,” a raspy voice said from behind and you saw Harry grin and throw you a wink as you turned around. 

Oh boy.

What Harry had seemed to forgot to mention was that Tom was sex-on-legs for you, because damn oh damn. 

Standing against the door-frame to a room in the back, was easily the hottest guy you’d ever laid eyes on. You felt him give you a once-over as you did the same. Time suspended for a moment as you drank all of his features in. 

Black fitted jeans, showing off what looked to be very strong and muscled thighs which you wouldn’t mind climbing all over. Your eyes wandered further up over to his chest and arms, he was wearing a white simple t-shirt that he made look a million bucks. A broad chest and neck which you wouldn’t be opposed as to sink your teeth in and really mark him up. 

An air of confidence about the way he held and carried himself, something slightly dangerous, but in the best and more enthralling way. He wasn’t afraid to show you who was boss, and for him? You’d abso-fucking-lutely let him. 

But the killer? For sure his arms, splattered with tattoos, at first seemingly random ones but the closer you looked, they weren’t random at all. They all told a story - the story of Tom. 

You couldn’t really take your eyes off of his arms. So defined and fucking hot, his biceps were stuff you wrote poems about. So well-sculpted, as though he was made of marble. Veins running all over his forearms that just pulled you in. 

Veiny arms and hands were your ultimate weakness and something told you that he knew he was hot-shit, by the way his eyes raked all over you. 

“You’re Tom?” you cleared your throat once and a smirk formed at the corner of his lips. “The one and only,” his voice was ever so slightly husky and raspy when he spoke to you and you shuddered in delight. 

All of a sudden, getting a tattoo today was the best goddamn decision you’d made in ages if it meant getting to spend the rest of your day in the company of Tom.

He had the perfect face, a jaw sharp enough to cut glass, dark brown eyes that could read you like a book and the most perfectly kissable lips. Which you wanted to do, very badly. 

“and you are?” he prodded and you snapped out of your own little world which was full of Tom, all over you and very sweaty. “Hmm? Oh! I’m Y/N,” you recovered giving him a slight smile. 

“Nice t’meet ya,” he pushed off the door frame to come closer to you, giving you his outstretched hand. 

Fuck, he smelled intoxicatingly good as well. As if he didn’t already have everything going for him. 

“You too,” you said taking his hand and shaking it confidently and he licked his lips when your hands met, briefly looking down on them. “Wanna head back?” You swore his voice deepened ever so slightly when he said that, or it was merely your imagination. He smirked once again and you knew he knew the effects he had on you. “Lead the way,” you said and you could hear Harry snickering behind you, having watched your exchange.

“Don’t forget to wrap it before you tap it!” He shouted and you couldn’t help but the mortified laugh as Tom flipped him off. 

“Well that’s professional,” you smirked taking a seat in the chair. “What can I say, if he can dish it out he can damn well take it too,” he shrugged nonchalantly taking a seat on his chair, facing to look at you. 

“So, what are you wanting done?” all of a sudden his voice changed and he was back to professional Tom which made you smile to yourself, “I’d like a mandala,” you said after a beat seeing him pull out an iPad, pulling up a programme in where he started to draw on it. 

“Yeah? That’s cool, anything specific you want in the mandala? A specific pattern or so?” he prodded having already started to work on a design for you. 

“Nah I’m good, putting my faith in you not to fuck me up,” you grinned cheekily and he snorted, “Thanks for the vote of confidence,”.

“Anytime,” you winked and he let out a small laugh. “What about this?” he turned the iPad after a moment and you were rendered speechless, he’d drawn up the most gorgeous mandala design you’d ever laid eyes on. “Yeah, yep it’s perfect,” you hummed not being able to take your eyes off it. He smiled proudly seeing the way you looked at it, feeling a burst of warmth inside of him. 

“Where do you want it?” 

“My thigh, please,” he nodded, eyes landing on your thigh, ever so slightly moving upwards which made your insides clench. “How big?” he asked, his eyes landing on yours and you flushed imagining something else entirely. “The piece?” he added when you were still far too in your own head and your cheeks heated even more now and he smirked - a devious look in his eyes. “Oh, um, I was thinking maybe half of my upper thigh? Would it be a good size?” watching the way he fiddled on the iPad for a moment before a stencil came from the machine by all of his equipment and he smiled at you, “I think it’ll be good, I’m just gonna place it on you and if you’re not happy with it we’ll change it because I won’t let you leave here unhappy okay?” his eyes shone with earnest and it made butterflies erupt inside of you. 

“Thank you,” you gave him a warm smile and he returned it before gloving up in a black latex glove and he put some lotion on the tip of his finger, rubbing it on your skin and placing the stencil there. 

You couldn’t help but to stare at him as he worked, eyebrows pinched together in concentration, lips pursed as he moved quickly and swiftly with precision, you felt utterly at ease in his more than capable hands. 

And oh, those hands. 

Albeit gloved up, those hands were something else entirely. From the glance you got before he put those gloves on, they were slender, long and veiny in all the right places. Not to mention how skillful they were, oozed a certain kind of confidence that could completely unravel you. 

“Have a look and say what you think of the placement, if anything feels wrong we’ll fix it,” he urged, and you stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror he had and you looked at it, both in the mirror and down on your thigh. 

“It’s so good, it’s the perfect place,” he grinned feeling happy with himself you could tell. “Thank you, that makes me happy to hear,” he grinned right back and you went back to his chair that he had wrapped in cling-film while you admired your soon-to-be tattoo. 

“I’m taking it you’ve done this before, but even if it’s been a while, just a quick reminder,” he started and to be frank, you didn’t hear much of what he said except all of the innuendos he’d managed to capture in that one single sentence. “If at any point, you start feeling woozy, or just really fatigued, tell me or tap my shoulder and I’ll stop okay? I’ve got juice and snacks so just tell me yeah? I really don’t fancy you fainting in my chair,” the seriousness in his eyes made you melt inside. 

“I promise I’ll let you know if anything is bothering me,” you reassured and he gave you a quick but warm smile, a small nod before he turned to filling up his little ink caps with black ink.

“Is it just gonna be black or do you want some colour?” he asked, taping up his tattoo gun.

“Nah black will be fine,” you got yourself comfortable as the buzz of the tattoo gun came alive. Soon enough you felt the familiar sting of the tiny needles against your skin and you shut your eyes at first. No matter how many tattoos you had, the first few strokes were always the roughest. 

“You okay?” he asked as if he could read your mind. “Yeah, yeah, just getting used to the pain again,” you told him honestly and he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to say it’s too late to change your mind now, if I stop now you’ll just end up with a dickish looking line,” he smirked to distract you from the pain and it worked, it made you laugh. 

“I’ll be fine, i’m a big girl,” you braved and his eyebrows raised slightly, “Oh yeah?” his voice laced with something more, something darker. 

“Intrigued now are we?” you teased and he gave you a cheeky grin as he kept working on your piece. The pain lessening with each stroke he did. 

“Maybe,” 

“Your brother said a curious thing when I first came in here today,” you started and he momentarily stopped and looked at you very cautiously. 

“What’d he say?” 

You smirked, “Oh just something that piqued my interest is all, how I’m apparently your sex-on-legs dream come true,” and he let out a husky laugh. In that moment you felt a rush of confidence go through you knowing that Harry was right. 

“Well, he can sleep with one eye open tonight then,” he muttered and you shook your head amused, “I’m not hearing a denial,” 

“Watch it, I’m the one with a gun,” he warned going back to your thigh starting it back up. “Yeah, apparently two,” you smirked smugly. He met your gaze for the briefest of seconds and that glance alone told you everything he didn’t say out loud. 

“The mouth on you,” he muttered as he kept going on the tattoo. You felt absolutely victorious. “What’re you gonna do about it?” 

“Have half a mind to just put you over my goddamn lap,” those words went straight to your core and you sucked in a breath and by the smirk on his face, he’d heard it. Your heart thudded in your ears at the thought of his strong hands coming down on your ass, your cunt leaking all over this thigh - right here in the tattoo chair. 

Oh god damn. 

“Oh? Did I press a button there?” now it was his turn to sound all smug and mighty when you tried to ever-so-slightly shift positions. He knew he did and you really fucking liked it, you pondered how far you could let it go. 

“So what if you did?” you played nonchalantly as though this didn’t effect you in the slightest when you both knew it very much did. 

A smirk widened on his face, “well then, we’re gonna have fun in this chair aren’t we?” and that sent heat pool in your core at the words and your previous thought that flooded your mind. 

“I guess we are,” you fired back with equal amount of heat. You didn’t think you’d ever wanted someone as badly as you did in that moment, in all of your life. The time left in the chair would be unbearable with him touching you and the ache you felt between your legs. 

That’s how it went for another hour and a half while he filled in the lines and started on doing the shading, the two of you walking along a precarious line of chatting and getting to know one another and coming up with the craziest foreplay you’d ever been apart of. 

All the while you felt a consistent heat in your core that simply never faded but you tried to move past. 

“So, I’ve got a question for you,” you hummed and he glanced at you while he filled up with some more ink. “Yeah?” 

“Do you like watching tv-series?” you began and a confused look crossed his face, “sure, who doesn’t?” 

“So here’s the real question, from all the shows you’ve watched - which show has the best first kiss?” he let out a small laugh.

“Sorry babe, but that’s not really what I focus on when I watch shows,” you pouted, “c’mon! Ask me the same question then!” you tutted to which he rolled his eyes, going back to the tattoo. You winced and he noticed and stopped immediately, “You okay?” 

“Yeah yeah, just quite sore from earlier when you went over that,” you told him honestly and he gave you a sympathetic smile, “Sorry babe, I’ll be more gentle,”. That however made you perk up, “who said I want gentle?” 

“You’re fucking incorrigible,” he groaned and you giggled, “ooh look at you and those big words,” you taunted and he just sighed, “anyway, who’s the best first kiss in a show?” 

“Nick and Jess from New Girl, don’t you fucking dare tell me otherwise - that’s right! I said what I said,” you stuck your chin out daring him to say anything else. He pondered your answer for a moment before nodding, “yeah okay, fair enough, can’t argue with that kiss - it’s a really epic first kiss,” and you smiled satisfied with his answer. 

“Good answer, I approve,” 

“What do you do for a living anyway?” he changed the subject and you smiled knowing he was doing his best to distract you from a very dull pain and you were eternally grateful for it. 

“Oh you know, I’m a pornstar,” you said off-handedly and the tattoo gun went quiet and he just stared at you, “Yo-what?” 

You smirked smugly at him, “nah I’m fucking with you, I’m a florist,” you said with a whole lot of enthusiasm in your eye and he let out a laugh, “Ah damn, what a shame I thought I’d seen you somewhere on Pornhub,” he winked and you let out a loud cackle. 

“That’s meee!” you followed along and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the banter. 

“How do you like it?” he asked after a while, “I love it, it’s all I’ve ever known - my grandmother started the business when she was a young girl and it was passed down to my mum and now I’m running the show,” you smiled proudly and he smiled in turn hearing you speak so passionately about your family business. 

“That makes a whole lot of sense that’s your job, you were made for making others happy,” 

“That’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me,” you said shyly and he gave you a tender smile. “Well you deserve to hear it,” 

                              ****

“How many do you have?” you motioned towards his tattoo on his arm, a few of them splattered here and there. “Around twelve or fifteen I think, I’ve lost count,” he sheepishly admitted. “How do you lose count?” you asked with genuine curiosity. 

“Well, it’s quite easy to forget when you get them done absolutely sloshed,” he winced and you let out a laugh.

“Which one matters the most to you?”

“Oh, easily this one, my most recent one. My dog recently died so I’ve got her little paws with me forever,” he gave you the gentlest smile and showed you the paws he had on the inside of his left arm. “I’m sorry for your loss, but it’s a beautiful way to honour her,” you gave a gentle smile in return. 

                               *****

You let out a small gasp seeing the tattoo all done in the mirror, “Oh Tom, it’s absolutely gorgeous,” you whispered in awe, unable to take your eye off of the beautiful piece, moving closer to really take in all of the tiny and beautiful details in the tattoo in all of it’s glory. 

“Thank you,” he gave you a warm smile and you knew that he took pride in your reaction and was full of pride knowing that he had made you happy with the results. 

“You’ve been the most outstanding client,” his words were genuine but ever so slightly laced with something more sinister and it made your gut clench. His eyes wandering from your thigh, moving slightly higher and you swallowed thickly. Without word you moved back to the tattoo chair, perching yourself up on it. “Have I?” he followed suit, sitting on his chair in front of you. You looked down seeing his glove-free hands and you licked your lips having fantasized about them for all this time now that you’d been there. “Mostly,” he smirked and you swung out with your leg to playfully kick him. He snorted and took your leg with ease putting it over his thigh and all of a sudden your throat went dry. 

Your eyes following his every move as he poured some lotion on his hands and rubbed it onto your new tattoo. You exhaled shakily feeling his hands on your skin. Your skin tingling from where he touched you. 

“Are we alone?” you referred to Harry as Tom inched closer to you, his hands gliding further up your thigh and you couldn’t look away from his gaze. He had you completely locked in your place as his hands barely touched your inner thigh, your heart racing in anticipation.

“Yeah, Hazza left some time ago now, it’s just us.” That’s all that was needed for the sheer unadulterated lust to take over and take charge. 

Before you knew it, your eyes met in a wild and heated kiss. The hours you’d spent riling each other up were surely paying off now as his hand wound his way to your hair, pulling on it making you whimper into his mouth. 

He bit down on your lip making you part them and he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth with ease - you fully surrendered yourself to him as you climbed over into his lap, straddling his hips. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked inside these walls,” he pulled away briefly letting those words wash over you. His voice full of lust and want and it drove you crazy. 

“So why don’t you fucking take me?”  his eyes were burning with barely contained fire and you sucked in a breath knowing you were in for quite the ride. 

“Shut up,” he growled, making the tiniest smirk form on your face. “Make me,” his eyebrow raised in challenge but you knew he wasn’t one to back down - neither were you. 

“Maybe I should just have your mouth stuffed if all I’m gonna get is back-talk,” that no doubt, had the desired effect on you. Your mouth salivated at the thought of Tom using you for his pleasure any way he wanted. “Fucking please,” your voice coming out far breathier than you intended. 

His whole demeanour changed and a down-right filthy smirk spread across his face as he took your desperate state in. Your erratic breathing, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from sheer lust and want. 

“Get on your damn knees then, princess,” you bit your lip nodding as you dropped to your knees, coming face to face with his bulge and all you wanted to do was devour him. 

“Do you need an invitation?” he hummed watching you with interest as to see what you’d do next. Your hands making quick work on getting him out of his jeans. His cock was straining through his boxers and you licked your lips, it was all you could think about. But for a brief moment all you wanted to do was savour this moment, before you took off the last piece of clothing, leaving him completely naked. It was something so thrilling this part, you’d always felt that way. You glanced up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as you removed his boxers, his breathing laboured, flushed cheeks and his eyes never leaving you, keeping you locked in place and it was unbearable in the best way possible.

His fingers wrapping in your hair, nudging you forward towards his cock, all angry and red, tip covered in pre-cum that you used as glide to work your hand up and down his length. His cock hot and pulsating in your hand as you gave him a few tugs. A low moan falling from his lips, “fuck,” he breathed, urging your mouth towards him. 

“What should I do, sir?” you taunted, your hot breath falling on his cock, so close yet so far away. “Fucking suck,” he ordered giving no room to argue and you let out a moan when you engulfed his cock, feeling the weight of it on your tongue. 

You were giving Tom the performance of your life, but oh my, it was the most rewarding blowjob you’d ever given. He was so responsive to every little thing you did. “Fuck, oh,” he moaned running a hand through his own hair - you could tell a small part of him was holding back and you didn’t want that. 

“Stop holding back,” 

“Sure?” his voice was wrecked and you looked up at him, mouth full of his cock giving him a nod. 

 “God the sight of you, such a pretty cock-slut for me aren’t you?” He pushed your head further onto his cock and you whimpered, feeling your panties getting absolutely soaked by the second. He must’ve had an innate ability to sense all of your kinks, such as dirty talk was the way straight to your cunt. “You gonna take all of me? Be a gagging mess for me?” he kept going and you whined against him. 

“Please, fucking please,” was all you managed to say before Tom took over, fucking your mouth making the most obscene noises you’d ever heard. All of them going straight to your throbbing cunt. You closed your eyes, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged quite a few times which only spurred him on. “Oh yes, the best fucking cockslut,” he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. You preened at the praise feeling like the best girl for him.

Just when you thought he’d cum, he pulled you off of him and you looked at him confused with mascara running down your face, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. “oh babe, what a sight you are,” he grunted running a finger over your swollen lips. You grabbed his hand, pushing his finger in your mouth and his eyes darkened shoving another one in and your eyes fluttered shut. 

“You’re just begging to have your holes filled aren’t you?” he tsk-ed and you whined, nodding your head, feeling drunk on lust. He removed his fingers and you opened your eyes, watching him for what was next. Instead of answering you he slated his lips over you and it went straight to your head, letting yourself get lost in the kiss and you let him guide you. 

“I just bet that cunt of yours is drenched now huh?” he hummed against your lips, the air of confidence returning to him. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” 

His large, warm hands pushed your skirt way up, letting it bunch by your waist and his fingers danced across your inner thighs making you squirm trying to get his fingers where you needed them most. 

“Don’t be impatient,” he tutted and you stilled at once, your breathing coming out laboured. “Sorry, so sorry sir,” you breathed letting out a moan feeling his lips on your neck, nibbling and biting on the sensitive skin there, causing tiny goosebumps all along your arms. 

“My oh my, what a filthy slut you are, I just bet you love letting me use you however I want huh? All this from sucking my cock?” he drawled and you shut your eyes in embarrassment when he felt your drenched panties. Hell, your juices ran down your legs - you were that turned on. “Yes sir, I’m such a slut,” your hips moving forward desperately needing his fingers inside of you. 

“You really are,” you bit your lip, batting your eyelashes at him, “what’re you gonna do about it?” 

His hands moved to your hips, gripping them tightly, “do I strike you as a person who will just..give you the answer to that?” he searched your eyes and you gulped. Your faces so close together you could practically touch his lips with yours, your breath falling onto each others. “Yes?” he tilted his head sideways and your stomach flipped. 

“No then?” he smirked, trapping you with his arms on each side of you. “No babe, we’re gonna have some fun now - so,” he hummed running his finger tips along your collar bone leaving you a shivering mess. “Why don’t you show me just how desperate you can get you filthy slut hmm? Beg for it,” he nearly growled and it had you in a puddle, your cunt clenching around nothing. 

“Please, please sir, please touch me,” the words just fell out of you, a desperate and almost incoherent mess by now. “Touch you where?” his fingers working on removing your top, and he drew in a breath seeing your tits, both of them pierced and hard as rocks.

“Say it,” he growled, flicking your nipple making you gasp. “My cunt sir, please touch my slutty cunt,” 

“Good girl,” he lowered his head, lips finding your neck and moving lower down to your tits taking one of the swollen buds in his mouth and you moaned, arching your back and pushing your tits in his face feeling him pull and tug on them with his teeth. His large hands cupping your free one, playing with it whilst the other continued to tug quite roughly with his teeth causing your body to jolt forward and goosebumps to run over your entire body. “Oh god,” but he was generous and switched, giving the other tit the same lavicious treatment and you were in heaven. 

Your head falling back and your legs spreading automatically and you felt him rip your panties from your body. “Fuck that’s hot,” you moaned running your fingers in his hair.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he murmured, moving to your other nipple, lavishing it with the same amount of attention. You bucked your hips trying to get him to touch you, but he wasn’t biting. 

“Fucking please! Sir!” you begged almost to the point of tears, you’d never been this sexually frustrated and it drove you mad with Tom’s teasing and torture which was so delicious. “Don’t you get fucking bratty with me or I’ll shove these in your mouth,” he warned holding up your panties and your jaw went slack. “That’s what you want isn’t it you filthy whore? You want your own cunt juice all over yourself while I fuck you senseless,” your cheeks burned in embarrassment once again. His eyes were dancing with raw desire for you now, his eyes never leaving yours as he bunched your soaked panties into a ball, shoving it in your mouth and you moaned, nodding your head that this was okay. 

“I haven’t even touched you yet and look at you,” he hummed, his finger ghosting over your folds and you nearly collapsed, you were so ready for him, for whatever he would give. 

“Fuck,” he cursed at how easily his finger slid past your folds due to your slick and you swallowed letting the pleasure roll through you, against your panties feeling his thick and long finger disappear with little resistance, exploring your walls and your eyes rolled back, letting his finger expertly move in and out of you. 

“More,” you muffled out as tears formed in your eyes, needing so much more. “What a greedy little whore you are,” he smirked adding a second finger, finding a rhythm with ease and you cried out. He was building up his pace, paying close attention to every little reaction you made. He angled his fingers up and further in and your vision turned hazy when he found the spot. The one where your toes curled and you screamed out against your panties, your orgasm rocking into you from nowhere and he fucked you through it and then some, letting you ride your high for as long as possible. 

He carefully removed your panties from your mouth once you calmed down and collected yourself ever so slightly. He licked his fingers clean and you let out a weak moan at the sight, “That’s hot,” you hummed licking your own lip and he smirked. “You good?” he pressed a kiss to your temple and you nodded. 

“Best fucking orgasm of my life,” you concluded and he laughed. 

“You think we’re done so soon?” you lifted your head glancing at him, “We’re not?” 

“Fuck no princess, we’re barely getting started. I’m gonna fuck you into oblivion and then I’m gonna have a real good taste of that cunt of yours before I’m letting you leave here,” and that was a promise. 

It made your stomach drop and fill with anticipation, “So what’s next?” you were game for anything and everything. “Get in front of the mirror and spread your legs,” 

Well, fuck. 

You did as told, walking over to the mirror on shaky legs, your heart racing in anticipation for what was in store. 

Your skin prickled, feeling Tom come up behind you, his cologne mixed with sweat surrounding your senses in the best way. His solid chest pushsing against your back, his fingers gliding along your waist and hips up and down causing goosebumps all over. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” his voice low and husky and you closed your eyes at the sensation of having Tom’s lips over your neck, sucking rough marks on the delicate skin there.

“Feels so good,” you twisted your fingers in his hair and you let out a breathy moan when his hands snaked up to your tits and he cupped them. Rolling the hardened buds between his fingers causing your back to arch and you tried to rub your legs together to ease the ache between them ever so slightly to no avail. “Is this all it takes? Pathetic, is that why you had them pierced? To be used and tugged til’ you’re a crying mess?” his eyes were sparkling with mischief. 

“Please,” you whined craning your neck to look at him, only to see his burning eyes watching you. He was just as affected as you, you could feel it now too, his cock pressing into your lower back and you moaned softly. 

“Look at me,” he ordered and you obliged, he gave you a hard kiss and you eagerly kissed back as his hand snaked to your front, toying with your cunt, running his finger along your sopping wet folds and your knees buckled. 

He pulled away from the kiss, holding your chin with his free hand and you hissed when he circled your clit, your slick making the glide of his fingers so easy. You were just about to look away when he motioned for you to open your mouth to which you did and he did the hottest fucking thing you’d ever seen. 

He spat right into your mouth and you nearly came right then and there. He must’ve sensed it too because a wicked smirk formed. “Oh you like that huh, you filthy little thing?” just to prove his point, he did it again and you swallowed thickly, your vision hazy from lust. 

He pulled away for a moment and he rummaged through his clothes, returning with a hand on his cock, stroking it and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of his condom-clad cock, wathcing the way his wrist flicked at the tip.

“Such a pretty cock,” you bit your lip, watching as he walked up to you, his hand finding your front once more, easily slipping a finger inside and fucking you open simultaneously as he pushed you against the mirror, making sure that the two of you had the perfect view to watch what was going to happen next.

“Best put on the show of a life time huh slut?” he growled in your ear, slapping your clit and you cried out. The pain hurting so good and Tom lifted your leg up, making the slide into you easier and you both let out a ragged breath at the sensation of your walls clamping down around him. “Fuck, fuck oh Tom,” you gasped as he bottomed out and you had to take a few breaths to steady yourself. 

“The tightest cunt I’ve ever felt,” he grunted, nails digging into your hips that you were sure was going to leave a mark. You couldn’t form words any longer once Tom started fucking into you, his hips doing the lord’s work and all you could do was hang on and enjoy the ride. Which you very much did. 

You loved the way his cock felt inside of you, the way he was rolling his hips finding new bursts of pleasure inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. You screamed out when he angled his hips up, finding your g-spot and he started rutting into it over and over until you were a quivering mess, barely able to stand up. 

“Fuck that feels so good, sir,” Your breath coming out in short pants, tiny fireworks going off behind your eyelids as Tom figured out your body and what made you tick. 

He tsk-ed you, a free hand finding your clit, rubbing it in circles. “Come on, cum for me, let me feel you cum all over my cock. Show me what a good little whore you can be,” he growled and with those words, something inside of you snapped like a coil. 

A dam coming undone as your orgasm wrecked throughout you, screaming his name over and over as he fucked into you giving you what you so desperately wanted. 

“Such a fucking sight you are,” he moaned, his hips jerking as he came into the condom, his hips working their way inside of you. You watched in the mirror his facial expression as he came, eyes glassed over, cheeks flushed and jaw slacked. “Nothing like you,” you hummed, clenching your muscles and he groaned loudly putting his sweaty forehead against your neck. “Fucking shit,” he cursed finally calming down and you whimpered when you felt him slip out of you, already missing the feeling of him inside of you. 

“Wow,” he panted, slipping away from you, removing the condom and tossing it in the bin. You smiled lazily, sliding down against the mirror sitting on the floor completely spent, drinking in the sight of him. 

He really was the sexiest guy you’d ever laid eyes on. Muscles in all the right places and the juiciest ass that you simply wanted to sink your teeth into, if given the opportunity - god did you hope you’d get the opportunity to do this again. 

“Wow indeed,” he looked over at you, giving you a small chuckle when he saw you on the floor. “Y’alright?” he came over with some paper towels, giving you a bashful smile as though to say ‘sorry it’s the best i’ve got’. You took it nonetheless, carefully wiping yourself clean the best you could. “That was ..absolutely mindblowing,” you confessed honestly,  and his eyes lit up, a wide smile taking shape across his pretty face that left you molten at the sight. “It was pretty fucking sensational,” he agreed easily.

A moment passed between the two of you, your head resting on his shoulder as a comfortable silence washed over you, “so, what now?” you hummed feeling how your body finally relaxed after all it had been through, both the tattooing and getting the railing of a lifetime all in the same afternoon. He chuckled softly, “I don’t know about you but this has made me famished, so, wanna grab some dinner?” his voice turned surprisingly soft and unsure which made you grin, “aren’t you a smooth one then? All shy and bashful,” you teased and he let out a laugh, rolling his eyes, “well?”

“Yeah, let’s go for some dinner,” you agreed and he got up a hell of a lot more smoothly than you, Tom having to help you up and your legs were so shaky still. “Fuck,” you cursed walking on wobbly legs - of course Tom noticed it and he smirked proudly. 

“Shut up,” you muttered and he let out a laugh, “You can’t honestly think that this won’t give me such an ego boost, you can hardly walk and that’s all me,” he wiggled his eyebrows which infuriated you, “and here I was going to say we should definitely do this again sometime, buuuut,” you trailed off and he scoffed, pulling his shirt over his head. “Oh princess, you know we’re ending up in bed together again, no doubt,” he radiated confidence as he was checked you, not so subtly, out and it made your cheeks burn as you got dressed. 

“First, you buy me beer and dinner,” he let out a groan, walking behind you and you felt his eyes on your ass, “god, marry me already,” he begged and you couldn’t help but to be helplessly enamoured by him. 

“If that’s your way of proposing, you suck,” you shrugged and he clutched at his heart, “come on now, Romeo,” with that, you waited outside for Tom to close up the parlour.

“Thanks for waiting around,” he smiled, reaching for your hand and lacing your fingers together and you felt the same jolt of electricity as before when he touched you. 

“Anytime, something tells me you’re worth waiting around for,” you laced your fingers together as the two of you walked down the street and into a pub. 

if there's people still around to read ill tag a few of you

@duskholland @tetralea @thirsttrapholland @thefallenbibliophilequote @xoluvx @greenorangevioletgrass

[sohyxn]

UNSPOKEN LONGING⠀───⠀minatozaki sana.

TAGS : fluff, angst, friends to lovers, oblivious sana, pining, reader can't take it anymore 💔, college au

SYPNOSIS : constant rejection makes you decide to avoid sana at any cost. what will happen if sana realizes your absence and confronts you for it?

NOTES : happy belated birthday to our sana, i was supposed to post this yesterday but something comes up. anyway this is really shitty but pls enjoy <3

it was another ordinary day at college, but for yn, it felt anything but ordinary. the weight of unrequited love had become a burden she could no longer bear. countless times, she had confessed her feelings to her friend — sana, only to be met with rejection. but today, yet again yn determine to confess her feelings towards the latter.

yn's heart pounded in her chest as she stood in front of sana's class, waiting for the beauty to finish her class, her hands trembling with anticipation. she had gathered all her courage to confess her feelings once again, hoping that maybe — just maybe this time sana would finally reciprocate it.

after what feels like years, sana's figure finally appeared and yn approached her. "hey sana, there's something i need to tell you," yn began, her voice filled with nervousness. "oh, hey yn, what is it?"

"i've been carrying these feelings for you for a long time, and i can't keep them to myself any longer. i... i like you, sana."

sana's eyes widened slightly, her brows furrowing as she processed yn's words. she let out a soft chuckle, assuming it was another lighthearted moment between friends. "oh, yn, you're always so sweet. i really like you too! you're an amazing friend."

yn's heart sank, the weight of sana's continuous obliviousness hitting her hard. she tried to hide her disappointment, forcing a smile to mask her true feelings. "haha... yeah. anyway, i've got to go, see you sana."

with mixed emotions, yn turned and walked away, her heart aching from the unrequited feelings. yn was exhausted, tired of pouring her heart out and yet again receiving nothing in return. so she had made a difficult decision to finally move on from sana, which is by — distancing herself from sana. and so the process of moving on started.

in the days that followed, yn focused on avoiding minatozaki sana at all cost. from ignoring sana's hellos to avoiding eyes contact with sana.

as yn walked through the bustling hallways, her eyes caught a glimpse of sana chatting and laughing with their mutual friends — myoui mina and hirai momo. the ache in her chest grew stronger. she missed the warmth of sana's presence, the way her smile could brighten even the darkest of days. but yn remind herself that she couldn't continue living in a cycle of heartache anymore.

days turned into weeks, and yn's absence did not go unnoticed by sana. her heart felt heavy and her mind felt confused with yn's sudden distance.

"did i do something wrong?" sana huffed. "quit complaining and just confront her about it sana" mina said. "yeah, you should do that instead of whining about it to us every damn time." momo complained.

the trio are currently in mina's apartment — having a study session that quickly turned into sana pouring her life problem session.

"you don't get it, its just so sudden you know? did she find out about my feelings towards her?. is that why she started avoiding me? she won't even look at me anymore. guys please help me." sana continued rambling. "like i said sana, confront her about it. you won't know what happens to her if you keep complaining and do nothing about it." mina said frustrated with sana's whining.

"fine ugh, i guess i will." sana rolled her eyes as her mind kept wandering about yn.

the next day, sana mustered her courage to confront yn. she found the latter sitting alone in the campus library, her gaze fixed on a book but her mind clearly elsewhere.

"sana?" yn looked up, surprise evident in her eyes.

sana took a deep breath, her voice laced with vulnerability. "yn, why do you keep avoiding me? did i do something wrong to you? please tell me if i did something wrong to you. i miss you yn."

yn couldn't ignore the longing in sana's voice, but her heart was guarded. "sana, you did nothing wrong. i've been busy with assignments and projects, that's all. "

sana's brows furrowed, her eyes searching yn's face for any signs of deception. "yn, i know you well enough to sense when something is bothering you. it feels like there's a wall between us, and i don't know why so please, be honest with me."

yn's gaze faltered, her heart feeling heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. she took a deep breath, gathering her courage to share her true feelings.

"sana, i can't bear this distance between us any longer," yn confessed, her voice filled with a mix of nervousness and determination. "the truth is, i have feelings for you. more than just friendship. every time we're apart, i feel a void in my heart, and i miss you more than words can express."

"and i've been avoiding you because i thought we couldn't be more than friend, with your constant rejection, moving on is the only thing i could do."

sana's eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. she hadn't expected yn to have the same feelings. a sense of relief filled her chest.

"y-yn, i didn't know... i didn't think you'd felt the same way," sana stammered, her voice filled with a mix of astonishment and joy. " and i'm so sorry, i've been rejecting you because i never thought you would like me back, its just too good to be true."

sana took a step closer, her eyes shining with sincerity. "yn if you're willing, please let me take you out on a date."

yn's guarded heart melted, her voice filled with a newfound happiness. "sana, i'd be crazy if i said I don't want to."

a smile spread across sana's face, her hand reaching out to gently touch yn's cheek. "i'm glad we're on the same page, yn. i promise i will take you on the best ever date you've ever had in your life."

and so, in the quiet corners of the college library, yn and sana embarked on a new chapter of their relationship. and in each other's presence, yn and sana found solace, blissfully content in the knowledge that their unspoken longing had finally found its voice — a love that would flourish and endure for a lifetime.

[waltricia]

Bridgerton season 2 episode 3, “A Bee in Your Bonnet” is ✨magic✨ and let me tell you why.

For those of us who didn’t read the book and knew nothing of what was going to happen, we truly went on an incredible and surprising roller coaster of an experience.

We start the episode with seeing the guy from Hellboy and being like ‘oh yay, it’s the guy from Hellboy!’

… only for him to die three minutes later. And that scene is rough. It’s sudden and abrasive. And the sounds are jarring. The death is scored by tense strings. Then a moment of quiet. Then the AMAZING Ruth Gemmell begins taking us on Violet’s traumatic grief journey, which starts with her jolting Anthony (and us) out of the quiet.

And a thunderous heartbeat threatens him as he walks toward this entirely altered, unwanted life path. And that’s obviously the beginning of his PTSD.

In the other flashbacks throughout the episode, we continue to hear horrific, heart-rending pain radiate out of Violet while Anthony must not only attempt to endure it, but cover his own grief. Anthony and his siblings (and again, we the audience) all have to listen to Violet grieve while she’s giving birth! Screams on top of screams.

And the last flashback is technically quiet, but just as devastating because, like the moment of Edmund’s death, the quiet is weaponized. It signifies the death inside Violet.

It should go without saying that Jonathan Bailey is also a brilliant actor, but I’ll say it now anyway. Damn, he good! He and Ruth partnered perfectly in this grief journey. Serious props to them both because I felt this shit.

And then finally we come to the end. We had been immersed in the horrible aftermath of that striking tragedy. Between the flashbacks- in the present day- we had followed Anthony through the rooms and grounds where he had suffered silently. We had seen Edmund’s grave. We had learned that Anthony’s greatest fears and insecurities all stemmed from that tragic event ten years prior.

And then another fucking bee comes along.

And I swear to god, the first time I watched this, when Kate got stung, my heart was pounding, I was terrified, and my instinctive reaction was “oh my god, is she going to die?!” In hindsight, it’s obviously insane to think that she would be killed off at all, let alone in this scene. But the very fact that, for a moment, that was a legitimate fear I had is exactly why this episode is so god damn brilliant. I felt what Anthony felt. And I’m not the only one! I’ve seen other people’s similar reactions to this scene. The episode really is a roller coaster; easy, lighthearted moments (pall mall, drug tea), interspersed with the terrifying drops and loops that are Anthony’s painful memories which constantly haunt him. And then it brought us right back to that first traumatic moment. Because Anthony has PTSD! And that’s what PTSD does. Anthony is right back where he was, literally not far from the same spot outside Aubrey Hall, standing in front of a person he loves, watching them get stung by a bee on almost the same spot on their body. The tense string scoring comes back and Anthony panics because he’s completely helpless again.

And all of those elements- the setting, the scoring, the acting- combined to terrify us and make us forget something critical: most people don’t die from beestings.

And here’s where it gets really profound for me. Because it’s not just about how we feel Anthony’s fear. It’s also about how Kate completely obliterates it. Without knowing that history and without realizing the full extent of what her actions would mean, she does exactly the right thing. Rather than die and rather than also panic or shy away from his vulnerability, she meets it with her own in the form of care and steady assurance, which is true strength. And in so doing, she stops this cyclical moment in its tracks and completely alters the trauma. She puts his hand on her heart, and the heartbeat comes back. But this time, it’s not threatening. It’s inviting.

And just like in the first scene, the moment is over all too quickly. Just like in that scene, Anthony is thrust onto a new path. But where that moment was damaging, this one is healing. And we feel that too. And it’s the greatest experience that art can give us.

It’s catharsis.

And that’s why this episode is magic. 🐝✨

[labulemon]

Theory: Haru and Taiga are Actually Partners in Anti-Darkwick Crime 💥🥷

I started thinking about Sagara "Liar" Haru and went deep diving. Sorry. Disclaimer this is a crack theory. im /j. unless ur /srs. then me too... <3

TLDR: Taiga wanting to eat Peekaboo is just a cover and Haru is pretending not to give a shit about Gen/Mio so they can blow the roof off of Darkwick. 💥

Reason Why 1: All of their "lighthearted" interactions and "Peekaboo Gets Eaten" encounters occur in public places and outdoors. Haru gets serious really quickly when it's just the two of them, which never really happens elsewhere. Plus, Taiga actually remembers Haru, which doesn't seem like it happens to many people.

Taiga, in general, doesn't seem to control when his anomaly-eating hunger strikes. He also doesn't seem like he's fully in his right mind. But in Peekaboo's case, he holds back long enough for Haru to come get Peekaboo, then straight up lets him go.

Did he seriously spend all of Jabberwock's money on anti-security measures on one man chasing one rabbit?

There are also tons of anomalies between Taiga and Peekaboo. Zipper crocs. Every animal from the entrance of Jabberwock to the dorms. Assuming he's actually in control of his hunger but still eats them anyways, couldn't he just walk outside and grab one?

Conclusion: Peekaboo's abductions are just a way to make it seem like Haru avoids Taiga. To stop the spy/Darkwick from suspecting them as they ready to blow it up. Plus it gives Haru an excuse to buy stuff when Haru mentions having to buff anti-Taiga-measures in Jabberwock.

Explanation 1: There's something special about Peekaboo that makes him particularly desirable. Explanation 2: He's always hungry, but the hunger just gets worse at certain points in the story. He wants to eat Peekaboo, but Haru's fast enough to get there in time and his pleading typically outweighs Taiga's hunger. Explanation 3: The defenses don't actually cost that much, Haru is known to make bad purchases (the capybara, unless he bought it to save her), and Taiga just really really wants to fuck with him because its really really funny. Explanation 4: It's just comedy and I need to stop thinking so hard😑

Reason Why 2: Haru treats Gen and Mio's situation very dismissively when he's next to Romeo and Rui by saying that Elias will take care of it, but he's super serious talking to Taiga.

Haru has pretty deep ties with them. According to Ritsu, Haru was the person tho took on Gen and Mio's debt to Sinostra. Even if they weren't that close, Gen seems to be the only person who can fix Haru's mechanical arm. Haru can't be careless about losing Gen, at the very least.

Haru has been shown to be a bad liar when put in the spotlight. When Romeo first tells him about their sentences, his "I had no idea~" REALLY sounds like he's faking it. Are they hiding something from the Rui and Romeo as well?

With the assumption that the "mermaid" that Hyde mentions is Gen or Mio, then it's true that Haru reacts incredibly poorly to it. So why be dismissive earlier..?

Conclusion: Haru and Taiga want other people to think Haru's given up on Gen/Mio. He can't publically protest their situation because it'd be too suspicious that he's trying to save them, and there's a spy.

Explanation 1: He just trusts in "Elias" so much that he only steps in when it seems like Elias can't do it alone. He's just talking to Taiga for a hint. Explanation 1.5: It's a really long time between Ep. 10 Chpt. 6 (Bar scene) and the last episode of Jabberwock's second chapter (Taiga and Haru scene) and now it's bad enough he goes to Taiga. Explanation 2: He's too stressed to talk about it with Romeo when he's half drunk and overworked. Plus, it's strange that Taiga would choose to work with Haru over his partner Romeo? Unless maybe it was to protect him? Explanation 3: The voice line is totally normal and I'm the only person who thought it was strange and fake-sounding (Same bar scene as above). Explanation 4: See above + It's a completely unrelated mermaid. We all know that Haru is just a big anomalous animal rights fan, duh. Explanation 5: I really really need to stop thinking so hard 😑

I think almost all the 3rd years in this game are involved some crazy inter-dorm drama about/bc of the Clash (mostly because of jin/frostheim) except Jabberwock and Sinostra so let them in on it smh

[avatatewrites]

Thankyou thankyou and congrats on the WCBF chapter!! I hope you are already digging into your TBR list! I was wondering, what’s on it?

(pls note that currently, your Daine x Sloane ship is ranking higher than the OG Xaden x Violet and this fic keeps taking re-read precedence over my entire tbr list…which has now promptly been abandoned now I’m back at work anyway 🥲)

If you keep flattering me like this, my ego will need its own post code. I cannot possibly thank you adequately for your comment, but... THANK YOU!

Ok, turning to my TBR... Currently, it's about 79 pgs long, so I'm just going to give you a fraction of the Empyrean fanfics currently on it, presented in no particular order. As you can see, there's a lot I plan to cram into the next week!

Lights, Camera, Bitch, Smile by @ellebellewritesfic and @curlyhairedkatniss: I actually just finished reading this, but I immediately wanted to read it again, so I'm counting it. It was quick, fun and PERFECT. I read it while I drank wine and ate cookies, and at the end, my cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. I would not change a single thing, and I truly cannot recommend enough if you're in the market for something lighthearted.

The Underpants Heist by yams77: I don't have words for how much I love this concept, and I have heard it's INCREDIBLE. I'm so, so, so excited to read this, and I wish I had something more poignant to say than that, but I don't.

Stay Your Pretty Eyes on Course by theoneiam2277 (@theoppositequeens): This is Slain omegaverse. Slain. Omegaverse. 'nuff said. A ship isn't a true ship until it has an omegaverse fic, and I'm pretty sure (?) this is the Slain ship's first/only? I just started the first chapter of this (with a glass of pinot grig in hand sitting by the fire pit), and I'm having the absolute best time. 11/10, no notes.

I love you, I'm sorry by mierelsorren: I very nearly broke my 'no reading while I'm in active writing mode' rule for this one, because SO MANY people are talking about it on the RQ discord. I have heard it's exquisite agony, and I cannot wait to sob, weep, bawl my fucking eyes out.

Flirting With Death (and Possibly Brennan) by wedonotsharekills: I'm so intrigued by this concept that my skin itches, and I'm nearly frothing at the mouth bc I just saw the second story in the series was Slain. SIGN ME UP.

Just Ask by @suebswrites: I went to start reading this the day I posted my first chapter of WCBF, then realised it was excellent about two sentences in, then realised I simply had to wait to read it because it was so good that it was going to influence my writing if I didn't. I wasn't a huge fan of how canon Halden panned out, so I feel like I'll be a sucker for any story that has a compelling/interesting Halden, which I have heard this story has! Also, Suebs is a wonder, and a rockstar, and I'm about to be the single most annoying/prolific commenter on and live reactor to her work until I go back into writing/hermit mode. Sorry in advance, Suebs!

Zihnal's Two by @june-s-pumpkins: In the spirit of full disclosure, June is actually one of my fav people on the internet (I don't know if I've told her yet, so this might be a very grand gesture), BUT that's not why this story is on my TBR. I was robbed - robbed, I say! - of a heist in Onyx Storm, and I demand justice. This is a canon compliant take on the research heist, and a lot of people who I think are incred love it, so I cannot WAIT to read it.

The Alchemy by @pretty-pleaseee: This is a modern medical AU with Violet/Xaden, Imogen/Garrick and Dain/Sloane. Please sign me all the way the fuck up. A lot of people say this is one of their fav comfort fics (and I'm ready to be one of the people who says that). ALSO, I already peeked at chapter 1 and IT'S SO GOOD.

I've probably missed some important ones, so if I think of more later that are high on my TBR, I'll add them in the comments!

[fanfics-with-coffee]

To be kind, To be a fool

This has only been proofread and edited by a sleep deprived me sooooo, I also wrote it in a daze from 1AM to 6AM. I'm back in my Baldurs Gate 3 hole and I've been so very inspired from so many other fanfic writers I got back on this blog

You did it, you saved the prisoners from Moonrise Towers and everybody is back, safe and sound at least for tonight. You and Astarion are holding back from the festivities, instead talking about your act of heroism and why you do it. You say you choose to be kind for who else will, he says you're choosing to be a fool for what else is kindness if not foolish.

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort Pairing: Astarion x reader Words: 4400

Its doubtful if Last Light Inn had been quite so lively as when you returned in the raggedy old boat with the prisoners from Moonrise Towers. Once they had been cleared, everyone had ran to their loved ones or simply rejoiced in the warmth of the fire, ever burning away the darkness that threatened to creep inside any crevice it could get it's cold claws into. And of course they soothed their dry throats with the little wine and ale that was left behind when the shadow curse had blanketed the land. The two boys manning the bar were running around relentlessly, trying their best to fill every empty goblet and mug they could spot, leaving no one without a drink. It’d probably only be hours before Jaheira had to call it a night so they wouldn’t run out of the little liquid joy they had left. But until then, the celebrations were loud and proud.

For a moment, things were bright, despite the dark sky. 

“What a ruckus, you could almost think that Lathander himself had been in attendance.” Astarion mused, one hand gracefully swirling a glass of wine while the other rested on his upper arm. He was leaning against the wall beside you in a corner of the inn that hadn’t been filled with people. Not that it was difficult, even with the prisoners free it was barely enough to fill the tables and chairs. You smiled, watching the tieflings try to catch up after the devastating nights apart. 

“If Lathander was here, I think there’d be a lot more dancing on tables and a lot more wine.”

“True… And a lot more fucking.” Astarion replied with that signature cheeky smile he always pulls when he’s said something salacious or teasing. You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, nodding along to his line of thought. He wasn’t wrong. 

“You’re probably right. Well at least we could let these people see another dawn, I think in a sense maybe Lathander really is here.” You pull your eyes from the happy faces and let them reflect in your mug of ale before downing another mouthful of it. The smooth, delicate taste of honey coats your tastebuds and leaves a pleasant warmth in your stomach.

“I didn’t take you for the god honoring type, you know? Besides, these people didn’t need Lathander, they had their own little ray of sunshine coming to their rescue anyways. Our own little goody-two-shoe altruist in shining armor.” He teases you, reminding you that there weren’t any gods in the belly of Moonrise Towers. Yet beneath the lighthearted tone you detected something else, a familiar bitterness and disapproval that he had given you before. That he gave you whenever you did something ‘too nice’, ‘too self sacrificing’ or ‘too cheaply’. You had long ago started ignoring it, instead taking it as a sign you probably did the right thing.

“Mmmh, mayhaps. I mean we were there anyways, and I wouldn’t have wanted to be left there to the Absolutists if I was stuck either.” You give him an answer you know he’ll hate and you made sure to slather some extra kindness in there as well just to really make a point. “And I find enough reward in watching these people.”

Astarion rolls his eyes hard enough you worry they’re gonna get stuck to the back of his head. You watch him, unable to hold in a laugh as he pretends to vomit from how ‘disgustingly sweet’ you are. You don’t say anything for a moment as he lets his eyes roam the room, the soft light of the torches reflecting upon his white locks of hair. You can see the disgust in his eyes as he watches them, and you could only guess as to why he felt so strongly about your acts of kindness. 

“I can’t wait to see the day you realize that none of these people would do the same for you… When someone betrays your kindness and I can stand there and laugh, telling you ‘I told you so’.”

He says it nonchalantly, as if it’s a fact. He let’s his own hatred for the world seep through every syllable yet he hides it behind a face that says he doesn’t care. You expected comments like this to come from him, you expected resistance to helping the helpless. Yet something about his words right now makes your chest tighten in anger, the notion that you were simply too stupid to realize that not everyone was kind. That he was maybe smarter and more experienced than you for seeing the cruelness in the world. You turn sharply to face him, slamming your mug down a little too harshly on a table close by. Astarions eyes meet yours, he never expected you to react like this, you had never before raised your voice at him. The air has grown tense. 

“Astarion, I am kind. I am not a fool, and you should do well to remember that there is a difference.” Your words are sharp yet you’re thankful no one else has seemed to notice you two. “I know that people will hurt me, and betray me. That people will not always do the same as I would’ve done. But if I don’t help, then who will? I have the power to make a change and I’ve chosen to use that power. You don’t have to agree, but you’re not allowed to tell me that I am wrong for deciding to be kind.”

He can see the hurt in your eyes as you correct him. That it’s not a question about your own navïte making you help others, but the fact you put conscious effort into being kind, despite the risk it has. Cold, uncomfortable embarrassment washes over him like ice water. A feeling he despises and so he sets it alight with anger instead, feeling himself burn with it as he finds himself again. His fingers clench around the half empty glass of wine he continues to hold onto. Thoughts swirl around in his head, trying to find the ones that will hurt the most, a painful payback for embarrassing him.

“And pray tell what is the difference? You waste not just your own time helping these idiots, but ours too. We were here to find a cure, yet all we’ve done is listen to sob stories and rescue people who will most likely die on the road to Baldurs Gate anyways. What kind of fool would waste so much energy and time on things that will lead to the exact same result anyways, I believe that’s actually what people call insanity.” He makes himself appear taller as he pushes himself off the wall and stands in front of you, scowling as he meets your gaze. 

How dare you tell him that he’s wrong? After 200 years of cruel torment and nights spent around people who could not give less of a shit about him, you’re telling him there’s people out there that care? And if so then it’s even worse, because that would mean no one simply knew he was in pain. Was Astarions own torment not enough for people to even notice?

No, he knows what he went through. No one cares about others' torment unless there’s something in it for them, even if just so they could feel a little better about themselves and comes at no expense of theirs. It’s always just about ourselves, Astarion just skips the other steps and puts himself first. Why could you just not do the same? Why did you have to go out of your way for anyone else?

“Fine, call me a fool. Insane, även. Say what you want about me, Astarion, but I will always choose to be kind. I’m sorry no one made that choice for you before, I am. B-”

“Do not tell me about kindness, y/n, there is no altruistic kindness like the one you speak of it’s a performance people put on for others.” His words are cold and sharp, they bite into your heart in much the same way his teeth pierce your skin. Painful. “We should all put ourselves first, it’s what everyone wants to do anyways! Skip the damn pleasantries and just be honest about it at the very least. I’m tired of having to look beyond the kindness just to see their true intentions.”

He’s rambling without thinking, remembering all the kind words and touches he’s received just because someone wanted to get in his pants. All the faux acts of kindness he watched Cazador perform so he could get what he wanted, or even just to make sure whatever cruel act he had in mind would hurt even more. All the nights in the beginning where he debated how he could save a victim, just to realize he’d get nothing but pain in return. The kind acts he himself performed in hopes of receiving something kind in return. 

The way he seduced you just to make sure he had safe passage to Baldurs Gate, to a cure. 

You were left speechless, caught off-guard by the outburst of emotions. You knew he was selfish but this was rooted deeper and maybe you should’ve realized when he had finally told you about Cazador and his ‘siblings’. You clenched your hands, trying to find something to refute his points. To prove him wrong. Yet you have nothing of worth to sooth his pain. He sees your hesitations and assumes he’s finally gotten through to you, he’s won. His red eyes leave yours to once again look at the others smiling faces, not wanting you to see the disappointment grow in him as he realizes he was right.

“So you’ve never been kind just to be kind?”

“No. Never.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, letting the motion tilt his head back as he finally raises his glass of wine, downing the rest of it. The sudden action makes the glass flow over the corners of his mouth and the deep red liquid coats his chin and drips down on his chest, staining the white fabric of his shirt. It bleeds into the criss-cross stitching and travels further down before he has time to react. 

You gasp and grab an old handkerchief stuffed in your pocket, quickly moving to try and save his favorite shirt. It's instinctual, thoughtless. Even when you’re mad at him and even though he’s furious at you, you try to help him. As soon as the cloth touches him, shame spreads like a disease through him, regret taking root in his chest somewhere where his beating heart should’ve been. 

He hates it.

“Don’t touch me.” He bites back, snatching the handkerchief from your hand to do the job himself. You instantly step back, putting your hands up to make sure you give him space.

“Tsk, I’m going to bed. Good night, y/n.” He’s aggressively dabbing at the stain as he starts walking away, trying to soak up as much as possible but it’s clear it's a useless endeavor, it will forever remain stained.

“Astarion!” You call out to him before he gets too far and he stops momentarily, turning to finally look at you. 

He’s met with pity reflecting off of your eyes in the lowly lit room. 

He hates it.

You say something else but suddenly the sounds of the celebrations drown out whatever it was. He doesn’t even try to listen and simply turns around to find the room that he had been given as a thank you from Jaheira. He didn’t need your pity, he didn’t tell you about his past because he wanted your pity, anyone would feel pity for him if he told them what had happened to him. He wanted you to… care. Foolishly, he wanted you to care about him, about what had happened to him. He wanted you to listen to his issues and maybe, just maybe, you’d want to help him like you helped everyone else around you. And maybe you’d do something without asking for anything in return. 

Yet tonight, he reminded himself that no such thing as true kindness existed. And to expect you to care about him despite who he was at his core was foolish itself. Your kindness came at a cost he hadn’t even thought about; You expected him to change in return for your kindness. He was mean, he was selfish and he wouldn’t let you change him for anything.

He turns to close the door to the room he was staying in, the feeling of his shirt clinging to his chest uncomfortable and wet. Astarions eyes find you in the same corner he left you, yet your eyes didn’t meet. Gale and Karlach had come up to you, pulling your attention to them. You had quickly started smiling and laughing again, one hand on Karlachs shoulder in a calming manner. 

Why had he even let himself hope that you would follow after him?

He closed the door.

The hours dragged on, the darkness in the Shadowlands making day and night nearly indistinguishable. The only thing that made time feel real was the ever waning torches, slowly burning out. And while you felt like it must’ve been a fortnight of drinking, laughing and talking, it can’t actually have been more than three hours based on how many torches had already burned out and been replaced. You had been convinced to join Karlach by the grill, Wyll telling stories of his time as the Blade of Frontiers in the soft glow. You listened and laughed, at points discussing the actual validity of these stories. But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t let the thought of Astarion go. He hadn’t left the room he was staying in, all alone in there, perhaps still trying to clean the shirt he always seemed to wear. 

As people finally sated themselves and found their companions, the celebrations died down to  a quiet mumble amongst those unable to sleep. The children had long ago been told to head to bed, only occasionally peeking their heads out from the dorm or coming out to ask for a late night snack. Jaheira herself had taken over the bartending but was now stuck pleasantly talking with some fists that had sat down after their patrol shift. Even most of your companions had headed to bed, either in the dorm or at camp depending on their preference, Astarion had specifically called dibs on the single private room. 

“Well, I think it’s best I call it a night as well!” Karlach stood up and stretched her muscular arms over her head. “You should do the same, soldier, can’t have our tactician getting sloppy!” She smiled at you, expectantly putting her hands on her hips as she waited for you to stand up and walk with her.

“Oh, I think I’m going to stay up just a little more. I’m sorta enjoying the quiet murmur in here, and I haven’t really had the time to speak with Jaheira since we came back.” You lied, trying to give her a convincing smile. But you couldn’t hold her eyes with yours, instead turning your head to watch the door to Astarions room, trying to make it look casual. 

“Riiight… You know, I don’t know what’s going on between you and fangs but I wouldn’t take anything he says to heart. He’s sorta dumber than he wants us to think, so whatever he told you… Eh well, I dunno, I’m not the smartest myself.” She laughs at herself, the alcohol having had an effect on her after quite a few bottles. “But I am the strongest! So if he needs  a good assbeating then I’m here for ya. I know he can say some pretty rude stuff at times even if he doesn’t mean it. What is it people say? Hurt people, hurt people?”

“You’re right Karlach...” You smile at her, she may say that she’s not smart but she knows people better than most. “But it’s fine between me and Astarion, we just had a disagreement but it’s nothing to worry about, I don’t think. Though I know an assbeating wouldn’t help, but I appreciate the offer.”

“Well if you say so, soldier! I’ll see you in the morning then I guess.” She gives you a hard pat on your back before leaving, yawning loudly as she walks towards the dorm room, softly ‘shoo’-ing another tiefling child back into the room.

You spend some time just watching the embers of the firepit burn, feeling the heat hitting your face in waves and drying out your lips. You drink the last of the wine in your cup and lick your lips, standing from the stool to leave the empty cup at the bar. Your eyes find the wooden door again and you spend a long moment debating if it’s a good idea. Facing Astarion right now would be awkward and draining, it would even risk you two blowing up at each other again. Yet you know he was hurt, that much was obvious.

The knock is soft and you’re uncertain if he could even hear it over the sound of the fireplace in the room. You consider that maybe he had gone to bed in the end, it had been hours since you saw him after all. 

“Astarion? Can I come in?” You call out softly, afraid to wake him if he was in trance but wanting to give it at least one more shot before you give up. It takes a moment but suddenly the door opens ever so slightly, just enough to let you know it was open but not enough to see him in the doorway. You take that as a ‘yes’ and carefully push it open further. You hadn’t even heard his footsteps come to the door nor leave, yet when you slip through the crack of the door he’s sitting on the bed. The room is dark, long shadows being cast from the dying fire. The moon lights up his pale skin and even paler hair, reflecting off of him as a glow. His legs are crossed and he’s leaned back on his hands, his chest exposed. He looks as if he’s made of marble, his chest doesn’t even move with breaths as you watch him, a quirk of his vampirism you’ve realized. You make sure to close the door behind you, never turning away. 

Neither of you say anything. There’s a book open  next to him on the bed, it’s the sequel of some book he had picked up early on in your adventure. You had gotten the sequel for him after he expressed his enjoyment for the first one, it had cost you a gold but it was worth it. You stare at it, unwilling to meet his gaze directly. Yet his is firmly placed on you, indifferent and icy.

“Well? Were you just here to get your handkerchief back or did you want something?” He spoke first, raising an eyebrow.

“...Is it as good as the first book?” You ask, finally looking him in the eyes. He furrows his brows before he looks at the book next to him, realizing what you meant.

“It’s decent. I liked the twist in the first book so it has a lot to live up to, but it’s an enjoyable read. But I’m sure you’re not here for some midnight book club so out with it. What do you want?” He’s clearly pushing you away, but the fact that he opened the door when he heard it was you must mean he’s willing to listen.

“I wanted to come see how you were doing. Did you manage to get the stain out of your shirt?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And no, I did not, I will have to try to find someone who knows prestidigitation to get it out, I believe. Now if you excuse me, I’d quite like to get back to my bo-” He’s about to pick his book back up, clearly done with the conversation if you weren’t going to get to any point.

“I also wanted to apologize.” 

He raises an eyebrow and looks at you, giving you his full attention and newfound interest in the conversation.

“I snapped at you, and while I don’t think I was in the wrong for doing that-” He rolls his eyes, making it clear he disagrees with you but he lets you keep talking. “I shouldn’t have made it sound like being kind was an effortless choice and that you always can and should choose. It’s not easy every single time. So I’m sorry.” You try to gauge his reaction, see if he gives you any sort of response. He doesn’t at first, his face difficult to make out in the drastic lighting. The distance between you may only be a couple meters but right now you feel like there's kingdoms between you.

“...You say that yet you make it seem so damn easy. You never question why someone needs help, if it’s their own fault for getting themselves in that situation. You never assume people have any other intentions than what they tell you up front. You’re kind as effortlessly as some breathe.” He spits out the words as if they’re venom, once again speaking as if he believes you’re a fool. “Even to me, you’re kind. You ask me about my wounds, if I like the books I read, if I’m comfortable, where I learned to sew… I thought you were just trying to get in my bed at first, something I’m used to. I’ve given my body to countless ‘kind souls’, but now I’ve realized you just want me to be another victim you saved. Another person you’ve fixed. So you can play hero and get all the love and praise that entails. ‘Hero of Faerûn saves poor vampire spawn! Look at this poor sucker!’” He uses his hands to show off the fake headlines.

“Pun intended.” There's a sarcastic smile on his face as he stands up, grabbing your bloodied and wine stained handkerchief from the bed table before approaching you.

“That’s not why I did those things, Astarion, please. I care about you, just liste-”

“Well jokes on you, your kindness has been wasted on me. I’ve used you for my own gain, you know?” He throws your handkerchief against your chest, forcing you to clutch it so as to not let it fall. “I played with you just as easily as any other poor fool I’d find in Baldurs Gate’s whorehouses. You were ridiculously easy, just a few kind words and charming smiles and you were wrapped around my finger! Not that I blame you, have you seen me? I’m hard to resist. But it’s time to drop the pleasantries, the kindness, you’ve just been a tool for me to find a way to survive and I’ve just been another notch in your belt. But I am not another helpless pawn for you to feel good about ‘fixing’. I am pessimistic, I am selfish, I am merciless and I am cruel, and you won’t ever be able to change that.” He finally finishes his monologue, still forgetting to mimic the act of breathing as he stands before you in eerie silence. There’s a sense of vulnerability within his eyes despite his posture. Like a cornered animal lashing out in a desperate attempt to be left alone, to not be hurt.

You’re standing close to him now, mere decimeters away from each other's bodies. Yours heated and warm and his forever cold to the touch. You move slowly when you finally decide what you want to say, what you need him to realize. His eyes notice your hand raising and he tenses up even further, preparing him for what? He’s not sure. Then your hand reaches his face, softly cupping his cheek with your palm. Your heat exchanges with his, your hand slowly warming his skin while yours cools to the touch. He’s in shock, unable to say or do anything, just watching your face to try and read what your intentions are.

“I’ve tried to tell you, even before you went in here. I will always choose to be kind to you, Astarion, just as you are.”

He finally sucks in air, his lips parting to make sure his lungs fill fully and it’s as if it's his first breath since he died in that alley. That’s what you had tried to tell him before he left. You smile, moving your hand to brush a strand of his hair out of his face, observing his features. The dark, angry and nearly sadistic expression he carried before when he was trying to hurt you has washed away, leaving only the face of a lost young man standing before you. Eyes wide and mouth agape as you fully brushed off all the cruel things he said to you. Could he do nothing to scare you away, force you to back off? Keep you locked out of his heart?

He closes his mouth finally, eyes cast down to the floor as shame once again flowers in his chest, the thorns digging into every nerve.

“Even when I make it a difficult choice?” He asks quietly, shyly.

“Yes, even when it’s a difficult choice. But I don’t find it difficult to care for you Astarion. If you let me… I wouldn’t even find it difficult to love you.” You laugh a little, the question was silly to you after all. 

“You really are a fool.” A smile forms on his lips, the smile lines you’ve always adored finally showing themselves and his eyes as softening. He could never understand you, you’d never make sense to him. No matter how many times he thinks he has you pegged, you always go over and beyond his expectations. And once he thinks you’ve reached your limit on kindness, he finds a little more, even for a monster like him. His hands, which had consistently remained at his sides until now, moved up to find your hips. Astarion pulled you in closer to him, soaking in your heat and digging his head into the crook of your neck. You can’t help but laugh again, loud and happy, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer to you.

“I will always be kind, even if it does make me a fool.”

[magiturge]

do you got any thoughts on how sheriff might feel about tricky/vice versa? Two people left behind in the city and fucked over by jeb but with wildly different fates. Sheirff hiring(?) tricky in mc3 with the added context of mpn lore is aghh

kind of like that to me, but in a more lighthearted way.

( i will refer to tricky here with she / her )

i like to think sheriff’s cowardly humanity is sobering to tricky in a way. i think tricky is more aware of how jeb messed her up more than sheriff is and in a sense.. she pities him in a way. not in a “aww you poor thing i have to dote you” way, it’s more in a..

even in how much i have lost myself, seeing the way you cling helplessly to your sanity while he keeps dragging you further down sobers me for a moment in time and if anything, even if i can’t convey to you what you need to hear and i’m likely not in a good state of mind to guide you at all, at the very least i can be.. a good shock.

sheriff sees tricky in such a way that’s like, she is scary to him of course. tricky is a clown zombie zed that he knew as hofnarr now just completely off the shits because of dissonance. though i just don’t imagine he hates her, just wary because she doesn’t pick a side out of morals. he can’t understand her so he’s nervous.

tricky sees sheriff with a distorted pity seeing things he can’t see about his situation even through insanity. i think she can recognize that sheriff isn’t built for this, and albeit is amazed he kind of found his solace in being compliant and emotionally standoffish to deal with the pressure.

she’s, studying him.. lol. like the scientist she was.

tricky has nothing left to produce a tangible to others respect for jeb, it’s banter while sheriff cannot muster defiance. when you say they have wildly different fates its true but they end up in that rotting city anyway.

i think if given the opportunity, she can find her mundane fun in taking him away for a moment so he can loosen up but i think the drastic change would be too big a shock for his mind.

sheriff’s like a rock mentally in all of this. he watched tricky get worse at an emotional distance. he’s very resilient.

i like.. to imagine they are friends. maybe not a normal friendship but it’s like, cracking open a drink and sipping and just being around. it’s not therapy and it’s not always a fun hangout, but it’s company.

[catras-breakup-song]

i’m not gonna lie… i’m lost here. is this supposed to be an 4nt1/cr1t1c4l post? if so, i genuinely don’t understand the point being made.

is it that playful banter is a bad thing? is it that being too hands-on violates unspoken boundaries? the message is so unclear to my autistic ass…

oh, wait, OP provided tags:

so aside from the fact that they are absolutely not sisters by default, least of all canonically (even if you do interpret them that way somehow), nor was it ever intended by nate stevenson, i’m still having trouble figuring out how this is problematic.

in which ways is lighthearted touch totally contradictory to passionate kissing/caressing? why can’t partners who are dating do both, especially in different cultural environments such as the horde where intimacy is discouraged and friendly sparring with familiar peers is a safe expression? if it’s so different, what are we as the audience supposed to interpret from their style of physical affection by the final season? side note, but aren’t we supposed to consider the latest version of anything in general as the most accurate?

now i have a question lol, did you take this moment literally at her word, and all the other times she repeated it?

also, my friend just pointed out that this is the classic homophobic talking point of "they seem to just be very good friends! they were roommates!" lmao. i've never agreed with accusing anyone who cr1t1c1z3s catradora of lesbophobia, which i'm not doing necessarily, because that's simply not how it works, however i found this funny and partially true so i'm keeping it in.

the lip bite was included unintentionally 👀

anyway, as i’ve discussed on this blog before, i’m very arospec and it’s inseparably intwined with my identity itself; i also project that onto catra. something we often bring up in that community, is romance-favorability (as its own spectrum of range all the way to blatant repulsion btw) — which is a personal preference that’s defined as exactly as it sounds like and occasionally revolves around fictional depiction as separate from one's own reality — and arguably more importantly, amatonormativity — which is an arbitrary set of rules for romantic expectations set up by an alloromantic society. this is typically thought of as common denial of the idea that someone could actually want to separate themself from needing a life partner in marriage, but can very much be applied to an annoying list of what draws the line between romantic & platonic relationships. that line is very individualistic and is to be decided on such a level only, and it doesn’t even get into what queerplatonic means, a concept saved for another day!

my point is, the OP seems to be trying to claim that catradora objectively cannot be read as romantic because their dynamic growing up & early-on in the story doesn’t perfectly meet socially-constructed standards of what that should look like. i say we need to eradicate those standards altogether! it’s up to catradora to decide what they are, if anything specific at all, not us as the audience — assuming they could’ve had the words at their disposal to knowingly describe it. going back to my earlier paragraph above about how limited they were in the fright zone, i’ll borrow a quote from a comment i made on one of my recent reblogged posts (which is a great meta on how their mutual desire was uh... definitely not platonic):

"Catra and Adora’s desire for one another is shown in a variety of ways, mostly indirect. There are a lot of glances - until season 5, not the kind of open leering at one another that we’d seen between other characters. Mostly it’s fairly playful - wiggled or cocked eyebrows, glances at each other while smirking, that kind of thing, or really intense and somewhat angry glares when they’re fighting."

it's really bothering me that i can't recall where i read this from before, but someone analyzed before how, growing up, catra & adora didn't have a good sense of how to label their relationship with accurate terminology despite being subconsciously aware that they, whether they knew the other reciprocated or not, loved each other "like that." unfortunately, they couldn't further explore it because such love & affection was seen as a punishable weakness in the horde, so they resorted to the only safe option they seemed to have, which was subtle body language and play-fighting as [testudoaubrei-blog] described above.

also, since this screenshot is included in that post... i would be amused to read an explanation of how THIS LOOK from catra is "platonic with a capital P", because i'm not even sure if it's up for debate to be quite honest with you:

ESPECIALLY with the "i always have!" line (which 4nt1s like to doubt, but i don't care, it's official!):

[t0asty1-writes]

O Sol e a Lua — Kaminari Denki x reader

notes: IM SORRY IF IT SUCKS JUST STICK WITH IT OK I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER iM reallly rlly sick rn and school is kicking my butt and im generally unhappy and very depressd right now BUT. the show must go on. my sole purpose in life right now is writing fanfic. so anyways the reader here is another oc of mine, they're erasermics daughter bcuz erasermic💗💗💗 is my dads💗💗💗💗💗 also i really like her quirk, its a combination of aizawa's and hizashi'ss quirks where she can yell really loud and it sends a shock that both disorients people and deactivates the quirks of everyone within her range, for an amount of time that depends on the length and the loudness of the yell. yeah im really proud of it lol anyways

stats!

word count: 1.3k

masterlist -> chapter 1 -> chapter 2 (still in progress!)

“Whatever you do, do NOT fall in love with a loud dumb blonde man.” 

Your dad gave you one rule before your first semester at U.A. started and made you promise to follow it.

Aizawa heaved a sigh, rubbing his eyes with one hand and the other on his hip. “Don’t end up like me, married to your father…”

You laughed at his teasing of your other dad, Hizashi. 

“Daaaad, i’m only 15. i don’t think i’ll even talk to anyone… like, at all… let alone fall in love!”

He pointed a finger at your face.

“Promise!”

“Ok, I promise.” You surrendered.

“Great!” Aizawa immediately relaxed knowing that you wouldn’t meet the same fate as him. “Now that that’s out of the way, are you up for mario kart night before tomorrow? Big day for all three of us, unfortunately.”

Hizashi was already waiting at the couch with the controllers. Blankets spilled over the edge of the couch, almost touching the floor.

“What was that secret meeting about?” He smiled knowingly.

“Nothingggg…” You and Aizawa shared a look and tried not to laugh.

Hizashi rolled his eyes. “Suuuure. I 100% believe that you weren’t making fun of me behind my back.”

You plopped down on the seat next to him and hugged his arm.

“Noooooo we love you!”

“Unfortunately, it’s true.” Aizawa eased himself into the seat on the other side of Hizashi. “Let’s play some friggin’ mario kart already.”

The room was filled with cheers, exclamations and yells during the game. You and your dads got maybe just a little bit competitive when it comes to mario kart. Just a little bit. Maybe. Hehe.

The game ended with you in first place, Hizashi in second and Aizawa in third. You reigned superior on the nintendo, no matter who tried to overthrow your rule.

You yawned and stretched your arms out over your head after the intense game. You were stressed beyond belief about tomorrow, but family game night did a surprisingly good job at melting away your worries with distractions that tire you out so you can’t use your brain to worry anymore.

Despite your insisting that you’re “15, way too old to be tucked into bed,” Hizashi still tucks you in every night, complete with head pats, forever treating you like his little girl never grew up.

“Oh so you’re too young to fall in love but too old to get tucked in, what stupid age are you?!” Hizashi jabbed with a lighthearted smile before turning the light out.

Hours passed while you tossed and turned in bed thinking about every possible scenario that could happen tomorrow. The lights were off. The house was quiet. You were tired. It was well past midnight. You wanted to sleep. Why can’t you fall asleep? You adjusted your position for what must’ve been the 100th time that night.

Since you got accepted into U.A., your perfectionism has increased every day. Everything you do needs to be perfect. You train excessively, wearing your body out each day and then going at it again like you’ve never been tired the next.

Finally, you close your eyes. Losing sleep worrying about the entrance exam is not going to help you pass. Whatever happens tomorrow happens, and for now you’ve done all you can to prepare. You feel yourself growing more and more tired, and gradually fade out of consciousness until sleep hits you all at once.

The entrance exam went really well! You scored on the higher end and made it into the hero course where both of your dads are teaching (thank god, you couldn’t handle being away from them.)

Now you sat in homeroom, waiting for class to start. Your body was tense, your head flooded with anxiety, so it took the boy sitting next to you a couple tries poking your before he could get your attention.

“Psst!”

“Psst! Hey!”

You finally registered the pen poking into your arm and your head snapped to look at the person trying to get your attention.

Next to you sat a small yellow-haired boy with sharp upturned eyes. He had his head down on his desk, using his arm as a soft barrier between his face and the hard surface. He smiled when you finally looked at him.

“Hey, you’re Aizawa’s kid, right?”

You eyed him skeptically. Great opening line, weirdo. You thought to yourself.

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool! You look a lot like him, you know! It’s almost scary…”

You looked back down at your desk, hair falling over your shoulder, obstructing your face from view.

You really do resemble your father. You get told so all the time. You have the same long, dark hair, tired eyes, the same deep mumble of a voice. You look just like him.

You exhaled loudly, annoyance building in your chest. “Yeah. I get that a lot. Thanks for pointing it out.”

Your voice came out a little harsher than you meant it to. Whatever, you’re not here to get friendly with people, so you might as well start sending the message.

The boy winced at your tone. “Oh, uh, sorry… I just wanted something to talk about. Anyways, I’m Kaminari Denki. Call me Denki! I really hope that we can be friends because—“

You cut him off the moment you heard the word friends. “I don’t intend to make friends here. If that’s your intention, talk to someone else. I’m here to become a pro hero and I don’t need distractions.”

Distractions.

That’s all that people really are to you. They’re always dragging you into their drama, messing with your head with faulty words and feigned emotions, and you’re fed up with it. All you need are your dads, anyway—they’re enough. You have to say that they did a good job at raising you because you’re much more mature than any other kid your age, and most adults you know, too. You suspect that the reason for everyone’s mass immaturity is too much socialization. People aren’t introspective enough, at least according to your standards.

You stared at the chalkboard with an intensity that could set the Arctic on fire. Your hands were clenched into tight fists on your desk and you were trying to steady your breathing. The guy next to you did not catch onto your “this conversation is over” signals.

“Oh yeah? Well my intention is to make friends with every single person! Even you! Especially you, actually, you basically just challenged me! I’m gonna friend you so hard you won’t know what hit you!”

He leaned back in his seat, hands clasped behind his head and a confident expression resting on his face. Your fists were trembling from how tightly you clenched them.

“Shut up.”

Your face got more and more scrunched up with annoyance with every word he said to you. You were staring daggers at the wall in front of you, already trying to erase his face from your memory.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off yet again by Aizawa’s tired shuffle into the classroom.

“Good morning, class.” He mumbled under his breath. The class answered his greeting unnecessarily loudly. You’re starting to hate your classmates already, like damn it’s literally the first day—no, it’s not even the first day it’s like 8 in the morning.

You just need to get through this class. And then another class. And then another class. And then it’s lunchtime and you get to hang out with your dads! And then there’s another class. And then it’s Hizashi’s class! Just get through the day, that’s all you need to do for now.

taglist: @luvseraphh @simp-plague @seros-girl @blue-sky336

[melkyt]

More Lawlu Mpreg vibes

Cravings, that's what Law is most worried about. Anyone who met Luffy knows how much he loves food. Law is reading all the medical journals he can get his hands on in regards to pregnancy, so he is ready for anything.

So he thinks anyway. They are all having dinner on some island, both ships parked nearby, as Law is not going to leave alone, so they have just started traveling together.

Its all going the usual. They are chatting, its loud and happy, though Luffy is more pouty than usual, he is about three months in and starting to show.

Sanji brings the good, and everyone digs in. Except for Luffy. Zoro notices immediately and points it out.

Law is by his side immediately, asking questions, checking on Luffy and the baby using room. His main worry is that his childhood disease would affect the kiddo.

Luffy grumbles and oushes him away. "Im just not hungry, okay!"

A collective gasp, followed by dead silence falls across both crews. Not hungry, what is this? They are used to Law not eating, but Luffy, nuh-uh, it might as well be the end of the world.

Strawhats accusing Law of doing this to their captain (true), its lighthearted bickering for the most part, they arent going to pass up giving Law some grief for knocking up their captain, and this is a good chance as any, (also they are worried and this helps). The heart pirates arguing right back, gotta defnd their captains honor xd.

Luffy laughs.

Law groans. "You need to eat"

"But I dont wanna," Luffy pouts. "Nothing smells good" he huffs. "Baby, dont like food," He nods. "She takes after you like that, Traffy." Luffy laughs again.

"I'll force feed you if I have to," Law grumbles even though he won't

Luffy tilts his head with a smirk. "Promise? Shishishi" He licks his lips, slowly dragging his tongue across.

Law blushes, "dammit, Luff." he looks over the table. There is all sorts of food. He gets an idea, taking a piece of meat between his teeth. Then, pulling Luffy close for a kiss.

Luffy is surprised but takes the food swallowing before returning the slow kiss.

"Hows that, hungry yet, strawhat-ya?" Law takes another piece of food between his fingers, its messier then he would usually eat but if it helps Luffy, then he doesnt care.

"Mmm, maybe, if i get to kiss you again, Traffy." He chuckles, bitting down on the food between Law's fingers and then licking up the juice.

They ignore their crews telling them to get a room xd.

Luffy still gets the opposite of cravings since he always gets what he wants and indulges his desires, so his body, when with baby, just goes full in on food aversion.

Law has instead come up with creative ways of getting Luffy to eat and being forced to eat better as well. Luffy only eating as long as it's on Law's plate, also means the heart pirates have to tag along even longer with the strawhats xd

[changeling-ethereal]

Reader // Stim critic - 1 // Dr. Facilier

___________________________________________

A few words from author: Hello, guys!

So here I am with some new content for Disney villains after a really long time.

Today I don't have much to say, it's pointless anyways cuz I doubt anyone reads these.

_

Type: Scenario

Scenario summary: Introduction to how Facilier decides to start rating your autistic stims as if he were a... well... stim critic

Settings: Can be read as both platonic and romantic, although there are some romantic vibes cuz c'mon it's Facilier,

Genre: Fluff, lighthearted

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Aside from typical Facilier stuff (like voodoo etc) there should be none!

Sidenote: Reader's gender is not specified, but if reader description leans more towards feminine sense then it's purely unintentional and I apologize!

Sidenote: This specific scenario will have more parts, so expect more of "Stim critic" to come!

_

That's all,

Enjoy,

___________________________________________

Rambling like there's no tomorrow,

You stand in front of Facilier,

Your body moving on its own accord,

You don't take much notice of how you begin to sway,

But someone else does,

And he watches you with pure adoration before suddenly speaking,

"Five stars," Facilier says, making you stop in your rambles and swaying,

"What?" you say with your brows furrowing, confused,

And Facilier smiles slyly, his shadow matching that,

"That swaying thing you have going on, chérie/chéri," he address casually, making you realize you were, in fact, swaying the whole time you spoke,

"What about it?" you ask anxiously, worried your stimming left a bad taste in Facilier's mouth,

Just like it always is with your family, and well most people,

But the voodoo man surprises you greatly,

"I give it five stars, it's very endearing, very innocent looking," he tells you, making your eyes widen,

And as you look at Facilier, your brows furrow and you ask: "Did you just rate my stimming like a restaurant?",

And Facilier hums, smirking: "Mhm, that I just did, dear,",

That response makes you playfully roll your eyes before you shake your head and laugh,

"You're unbelievable, Faci," you say, shaking your head, unable to not smile at the silliness of your companion,

"What?" Facilier gasped, dramatically putting a hand on his chest and feigning a hurt expression,

"But ma chérie/mon chéri, I'm just stating what's true, you can't blame me for that, can you?" he told you, giving you the innocent act,

And his words and way of speaking make you playfully roll your eyes yet again,

"Okay, okay, stim critic," you chuckle, shaking your head at how funnily obnoxious he was being,

"while you're at it you might as well rate my other stims, no?" you suggest jokingly,

But that wasn't the best idea,

Because the suggestion has Facilier's face light up, but in the worst way possible,

That grin of his isn't a grin of an innocent child being invited to play,

It is the grin of the devil being set free,

"Why, I very much could do that, now couldn't I darlin'?" he draws out, and his shadow quite literally grows horns as both of them grin wider,

And only then you realized what your lighthearted invitation has just gotten you into,

___________________________________________

[teenytinyjimin]

snow day (k. seokjin)

summary: being snowed in isn't always the most fun, but when you're stuck with the love of your life, there's very little you can complain about.

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fluff, romance, winter fic, lots of cuddles (it's cold, what else are you meant to do?), chef!seokjin (as expected), teasing (in the lighthearted and romantic way), kisses!!!!! lots of kisses!!!!!

warnings: none! enjoy some sweet fluff!

author’s note: hey guys!! finals are this week (bleh) and then i’ll be on vacation two-ish weeks from now so i won’t be posting a lot i’m afraid :( i’ll plan to have another fic out by tuesday next week and then i probably won’t post again for a week or two after that. hope yall enjoy what i make in the meantime but im sorry it won’t be a lot :(

anyway, this is dedicated to @kskskskskskskskss i hope you enjoy my love <3

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

There was no doubt that winter was your favorite season. Despite the gloom it tended to cast across your cozy town tucked into middle-of-nowhere Korea, it was always wintertime when its true beauty shone. The glimmering streetlights making the snow look like glitter falling from the sky was one of the most beautiful sights, especially on days when the sun was struggling to peek through the clouds and left the town dim.

Alas, the beauty of the snow on this particular day didn't take away the fact that it was completely snowing you in, to the point where you were afraid that opening the front door would cause a mountain of white powder to fall into the entryway of your warm abode. Actually, you were more than willing to leave the house and go enjoy the beauty of winter, it was just your boyfriend, who is too overprotective for his own good, who persuaded you into not leaving and just enjoying it from the comfort of your own home.

So here you were, peacefully obliging to your darling Seokjin's wishes to stay inside. If you were to choose between the snow outside and the love of your life, it would be him a million times over again. So at the cost of not making snow angels, you were instead sprawled across the couch, cuddled into a cozy blanket with your eyes shut as you listened to the sounds of him cooking in the kitchen. You weren't quite sure what he was making, but you knew it had to be good because nothing he ever made was anything less than perfect.

The only other thing you could have wished for in this very moment was to be in front of a crackling fireplace – that would have made this snow day beyond extraordinary. But alas the heat radiating from the furnaces spread out throughout the house would have to be good enough for now. Wishful thinking, you thought. Maybe one day we can live in a nice little home with a beautiful fireplace.

"Alright, you ready for some absolutely incredible kimchi jjigae?!" Jin called from the kitchen, his voice enthusiastic and bright. Mm. Kimchi jjigae. Your mouth was practically watering just at the thought of the delicious stew. However, your body wasn't as enthused at the thought of having to move from the comfort of the couch.

You let out a groan. "Mmh, can't move," You sighed in frustration, pulling the blanket over your head so that you could bury yourself into an even deeper state of comfort. This was followed by silence except for the sound of a few dishes clinking, before you heard a pair of footsteps come your way. "Come, dear, you need to eat,” Seokjin said softly, nudging you with a gentle hand. You refused to pull the blanket down from your face and remained silent, causing your partner to let out a deep sigh. "Alright, I'll just eat it all myself. More for me."

The last sentence set you off as you let out a desperate and breathy whine. You wanted to eat, you did, but that involved sacrificing the state of bliss you were currently in. Silence ensued yet again for a couple of minutes, to the point where you couldn't even hear your own breathing, before you were suddenly lifted off of the couch, blanket and all, and into Jin's arms. Letting out a squeal, you pulled the blanket down from your face to look up at him, his beautiful features a mere couple inches from your own as he now had you lifted up in bridal style.

Rather than wrapping your arms around his neck for support, you decided to drape yourself over him like a limp doll, causing the silliest of smiles to creep onto his face. "You know, I can carry you to the kitchen with no problem like this, but I'm not going to feed you like a baby. Even though you're cute like one." Ignoring his words, you let out a deep sigh, inhaling the scents that flooded the house. "It smells amazing in here. If I were to die right now, I'd be completely happy."

As you arrived at the kitchen, Jin pulled out one of the dining chairs with his leg and propped you onto it, giving you a soft kiss on your nose before bringing you a bowl of jjigae. "Please don't do that. I need you to clean the dishes." Letting out a gasp, you glared at your boyfriend, who appeared to be pretty proud of his last statement. "Excuse me? Is that all you take me for?" You asked, feigning offense. As he pulled the chair next to you out and sat himself in it, he grinned and shrugged. "Well, you're also a good girlfriend."

"With that attitude, you might as well call the couch your bed for tonight. And you'll be doing the dishes." As you went to go scoop up your first bite of jjigae, you were stopped by a swift hand that took the bowl away from you. You let out a shocked noise as you looked over to Jin, who had absolutely no intention of giving you the food back. "Looks like I was right about there being more for me," He said, beginning to playfully spoon at your bowl.

"Hey! No, I'm sorry," You tried to bargain with him, even going as far as to give him puppy eyes. When it came to food, you did not mess around, and you were ready to take everything you said back if it meant that you'd still be able to eat. As you watched him take a spoonful of your portion into his mouth, you let out a pleading whine. He looked over at you with confusion, pretending that he didn't hear a word you said. "Huh?" He asked. "Sorry, did you say something? I was enjoying my jjigae."

"Give me my bowl back," You insisted, no longer playing around. If this went on any longer, you'd be declaring war. Smug look on his face, he pretended to innocently tilt his head. "I'm going to need something in return…” He said, his voice trailing off towards the end as he continued to spoon at your jjigae. You knew exactly what he was asking for and unfortunately there was no way that you were going to get that food back unless you gave it to him.

Letting out a soft sigh, you reached over to caress his cheek and guide his face towards yours before planting a soft kiss to his lips. And then another. But just as you were about to pull away and kindly ask for your food back he grabbed your face and pulled you in again for a gazillion more kisses. Squealing between each one, you attempted to playfully push him away but he just kept going, kissing your lips, and then your forehead, and then your cheek, and then back to your lips again, all the while a bright red blush creeping to your cheeks.

“J… Jin! The jjigae will get cold!” You finally got out, successfully pushing him away. He let out a defeated (and quite sad) sigh as he pushed your bowl back to you and returned to his own. “I could’ve reheated it…” He muttered, but you shushed him with a firm squeeze to his knee from under the table as you both began to dig in to the delicious meal.

Following the initial playful moment that you two shared during your meal, the food was nothing short of amazing and you both thoroughly enjoyed your dinner ‘date’. After every couple of bites you never failed to compliment Seokjin on his incredible cooking, each and every time resulting in a shy giggle erupting from his throat. He never knew what to say when you complimented him – although his confidence was never bad, hearing such high words of praise coming from the love of his life never failed to make him timid and unable to react. It was the fact that he saw you as absolutely perfect that made him unable to comprehend how you could feel the same about him, because hearing such kind and honest words come from someone he’s head over heels for is like hearing the sweetest song in the world.

After you took the time to clean up the dishes your chef used to create such a fantastic meal, you found yourselves flopped down onto the couch. With two bodies plus the blanket that was previously covering you before dinner, it was simply impossible to see which limb belonged to whom because you were tangled up with one another. The only thing that mattered to you, though, was that you felt safe, loved, and extremely cozy.

"I don't think I'll be moving anytime soon," You huffed out, head on your boyfriend's chest. "I can hardly breathe with the amount of food in my stomach right now." Letting out a satisfied hum, Jin brought a hand to your head as he gently brushed through your hair with his fingers. You felt him move slightly as he turned to look out the window and you did the same, admiring the snow that continued to fall outside. "It really is pretty," You commented, taking a deep breath as you not only tried to make yourself feel slightly more comfortable but also took in your lover's scent. "Never as pretty as you." Jin hummed without skipping a beat. "Plus it's cold. You're warm. Warm is always better."

"Are you telling me you'd rather be warm than cold?" You asked. In your mind, being too warm was a lot more unbearable than being too cold. As you felt Jin wrap his arms around you and give you a tight squeeze, he sighed. "No no, being cold is better. Because that means I can warm up by cuddling with you. The best cuddler there ever was." You let out a soft giggle as you buried your face deeper into his chest and he tightened the grip he had on you. It didn't feel too tight or restrictive in any way, shape, or form – being so tightly wrapped in his arms felt more comforting than anything else in the world.

"Thank you for spending the day with me," You mumbled into his shirt as you felt his lips gently kiss the top of your head. "There's nothing else I'd rather do, my love."