#➤ visage┊ ❛ she looked like she was made up in a dream. ❜

[bleachification]

⸻ EVERYTHING IS BLUE

pairing: dabi x reader

word count: 2.2k

synopsis:  when life gave you a second chance to meet your supposedly dead childhood friend, you never expected it to be in the form of a villainous encounter. your once beloved toya is now dabi—a cruel, twisted silhouette of the gentle boy he used to be. 

note: includes mentions of grief and insomnia

+ + + + + + + + + + + +

There is a very famous saying: Love conquers all. 

Supposedly love transcends time. 

Space. 

Death. 

It buries sin and cures suffering, lightening the world and its burdens. It is presented with such a peculiar resemblance to what some herald as Heaven’s gift from above—a sublime feeling only justifiable by the overpowering divine or mystical. You see it in the stars; unreachable. In the sunsets and dawn; dazzling.

But you also see it in the darkness; for the act of love has made fools of many, robbing them blind of reason and humanity. It has made liars and killers—corrupted and instilled madness. And it seldom lets its victims go. 

Love creates weakness. 

You vowed to never let it make you weak again. 

After all, the last time almost killed you. But who could blame you? Toya was dear to you. Toya was special. The closest thing to a soulmate you could ever fathom. The boy was your childhood best friend and the earliest memory of happiness you can recall. Now, that is all he is—a distant, fleeting memory that whispers of fractured promises and bygone dreams. He is never more than a nostalgic breeze tickling your skin, or a particularly bright star on an early winter night. 

He exists between the lines of your past. Simply there. But never next to you. Never in arms reach. 

As time passed agonizingly, you had slowly begun to forget the most basic things, such as the bright tenor of his laugh and the soft sound of his steps—sensations you used to know by heart. 

Sometimes, you can only remember the features of his face by looking at an old photograph you had kept. It is one of black and white film, stained on the back and crinkled at the edges from the wear of time. In it, Toya is smiling, a small hand raised up in a wave at whoever was behind the camera. You can’t remember. 

Was it your mother? His? You hope it was the former. She always adored Toya.   

His left arm was slung over your shoulder and the both of you had cake and icing smudged on your faces, courtesy of one another. 

That day—your birthday—is one of the last times you saw him alive. 

So why on earth do you see that little boy in the eyes of a villain?

The face of a young man covered in gnarled purple scars is plastered across the city. Video footage from a high speed chase is being shown in an emergency broadcast on every single screen covering the downtown core. 

His name is Dabi. Prominent member of the League of Villains. It is an organization the Pro Heroes—your colleagues—are adamantly trying to dismantle. 

The man’s picture is blown up on the big screens alongside three other criminals, each involved in the chase currently carving through the city blocks.

Something about him is so familiar, but you can’t grasp exactly what. 

Grief and nostalgia must be playing tricks again. To see a dead child’s face in a villain’s visage is ridiculous.

Laughable. 

But it wouldn’t be the first time you had… hallucinated Toya’s image. 

With a sigh, you peel your dry eyes away from the ward’s television and shut the channel off. The room is eerily silent in the late night, void of the tv’s noise. You like it. Silence helps calm the mind. Settles the chaos. 

You stand and make your way out of the ward, down the empty hallway, and into your personal office. The room is clean and tidy, the only thing out of place is a stack of research papers strewn across your mahogany desk. You round the corner and settle into the soft velvet seat of your armchair before running your right hand along the underside of the table. A familiar click sounds as you locate the button and a small cabinet pops open from the left shelf. 

Three bottles sit inside. Unassuming white ones with generic labels. You pop the smallest bottle open and dump a pill out. The red medication tastes like chalk as it grazes your tongue. 

After a second of consideration, you take another, hoping these sleeping pills will be strong enough to stave off the nightmares and vivid hallucinations. 

Hope. It’s such a small word, but also such a large one. Hope was all you had at one point. It was the only thing grounding you to a reality without him. You had hoped it was all a mistake—a joke, even. Toya would pop his head from the corner and yell: “Gotcha!”

He would be fine. Alive. 

Anything but a husk of a human, burnt beyond recognition, suffocating in the flames of his own blood.

Now, hope is nothing but a pretty word to throw around when meaning is lost. 

You close your eyes and lose yourself to a dreamless sleep. 

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 　  

You are experiencing a startling sense of deja vu. The television glitches, interrupting regularly scheduled programming. A familiar figure appears. 

I, Toya Todorioki, was born as the eldest son of Endeavour. 

The world—your world freezes. The only thing you can comprehend is the man on your screen.

You stand up, shaking. Then, you run. Heroes and medical staff alike shout after you, but it all fades into a blur. There is only one destination in your mind—and it is a dangerous, painful place. 

It doesn’t take long for you to locate him. The city is in turmoil, buildings have been razed to the ground and rubble covers the once bustling space. You spot Shoto and his father up ahead, mere steps away. And in front of him stands Dabi—no—Toya. Your Toya. 

His hair is white now, the natural color no longer concealed once he revealed his identity. The scars have spread from the last time you saw him online. No matter. You knew it. You knew it was him. How could you forget?

Enji rasps out something in disbelief. 

Toya only smiles wide and responds with a sardonic confirmation. You could see it in their eyes—a living nightmare had come true for the Todoroki family.

But you? All you cared about was reaching Toya. None of them have seen you yet, so you take advantage of that by quietly making your way closer. The muffled voices turn clearer as the distance shrinks. Toya is speaking to his father and brother, words spilling out in frantic turmoil. The rawness of his voice rings through. Such intense anger and hatred cannot be faked. The two others are stricken by Toya’s address. You don’t blame them; the brutality of his language guts even you. 

Shoto notices you first. His eyes widen, almost imperceptibly, but Toya notices anyway. Your old friend whips around in your direction. You freeze as his eyes land on you. Recognition immediately flashes across his face.

His face. You feel as though you have been hurtled through space and time, brought back to simpler days. A scraped knee on the playground. Food fights in the cafeteria. A million pinky promises made.

A kid you called your best friend, reduced to ash and bones. 

These memories, both awful and radiant, wash over you with so much force you almost collapse. You silently praise yourself for keeping upright against the emotional onslaught. 

“Y/N, get out of here!” Shoto yells out, urging you away in a panic. 

You ignore him. Nothing else exists right now. Not Shoto. Not his father. Only him. 

“Y/N.” The way Toya says your name is almost questioning. As if he can’t believe you’re even here. 

You’ve somehow ended up right before him. Inches separate you, if barely. 

“Hi Toya,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. It would crack otherwise. 

He’s stunned, looking like the air was knocked from his lungs. Seconds fade into forever as his familiar gaze locks onto yours, searching—but for what, you can’t tell. It takes a moment for him to seemingly gather himself. The cynical persona quickly slides back into place.

“This is a nice surprise, but I’m afraid you have me all wrong. Toya is dead, Y/N. Dabi is all that is left—all that I am.”

You swallow. The air tastes of blood. “Somehow I don’t believe that.”

Don’t? Or won’t?

He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you believe. C’mon, Y/N! Don’t tell me you still have faith in who I used to be. That kid you knew is dead. Gone forever.”

You shake your head, refusing to take in his words.

“And yet, you’re standing right in front of me… how…?” Without thinking, you raise a hand up to touch his cheek. You’re operating on instinct, not logic. It's the instinct to comfort him—just like he did for you when you were children. 

But you stop yourself right before making contact with him, unsure. Toya’s gaze flits to your hand for a split second before returning to your face. There’s a question in his eyes—one you aren’t sure either of you can answer. 

“Why pretend you care? It’s cruel,” he murmurs, a subtle accusation coating his tone.

“What are you talking about? Of course I care.” You answer, bewildered. 

Pretend? How could he even begin to think that? When you’ve spent your entire life missing him?

“Then why did you move across the world the second you hit adulthood? You couldn’t even stay.”

“I thought you were dead. I mourned you. I grieved until what felt like my last breath. I left because every single second I stayed felt like reliving your death all over again.”

“And when you finally came back you were, what, healed? Moved on?” He laughs bitterly, arms spread in mockery. 

“Moved on?” You shake your head, the pain in your throat almost suffocating. “I saw you everywhere. Not just in dreams and nightmares. Hallucinating a dead person… I thought I was losing my mind! Even right now I’m praying this isn’t some sick, twisted nightmare.”

He drops his arms as well as the smile on his face. “Well, you’re in luck, Y/N. This is very much real. See, I thought things could change. That the consequences meant something to them. They lived my death and nothing happened! They saw what it did to me—the power, the ego, the fucking obsession that ruined this family—and did nothing!

“He’s a disease, don’t you get it? They all are. I’m simply here to rid the world of that sickness. I’m the cure, Y/N. I’ll burn the rot right out of the earth.”

Endeavour scrambles. “Son, don’t do this! Don’t—!”

“Son? Son?” Toya sneers. “You lost that right a long time ago, oh mighty Number One Hero.”

“Toya, please.”

He turns back to you. “No. Sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but you don’t get to participate in this dance.”

“What? No, Toya wait–”

An arm circles your waist before you can get another word out, and all of a sudden, you’re being carried away at breakneck speeds. 

Your screams are lost to the wind. 

An explosion in the distance. Red taints the sky and fills your vision. 

You have never felt so helpless.  

The next time you see Toya—the little that is left of him—is at the end of it all. He is confined. Half-alive. Burnt beyond recognition. It is like he is dying all over again. 

“I should hate you.”

You sit at his bedside, speaking your turn after his family just left. 

Toya is… tired. You can see it in his eyes—at the lack of fire. The passionate, ambitious boy you once knew is truly and utterly gone. 

But some of his kindness has returned. Or perhaps he has just accepted his fate, which is all the more heartbreaking. 

“You’ve done… terrible things. Hurt so many people,” you pause, considering your next words. Three tiny things lodged in your throat, struggling to be set free into the world. “You hurt me.”

He doesn’t look at you. You’re not sure if that’s any worse than his silence. 

“I didn’t think you would ever hurt me,” you whisper. 

Silence drags on for what feels like the longest minute of your life. He still has not turned his head. Still has not acknowledged you. Your heart sinks. Maybe this really is it. Maybe there’s no affection left—all of it burned up with the last of his lingering sentiments. 

You stand up, turning your back to him, ready to leave. For good. 

“I didn’t think I would either,” Toya murmurs. 

His soft voice breaks the silence—and it is overwhelming. 

You haven't turned around to face him yet. 

“In another life, would you have stayed?” 

“I…” he swallows, voice rasping. “I don’t want to leave this life. Don’t want to leave you behind… not again.”

Tears are streaming down your face. You don’t care; you sit back down right next to him, where you rightly belong. The ache in your chest is so heavy you think it might pull you to the ground and bury you below its surface to try and muffle your misery. You almost wish it did. 

Despite the pain, you muster out your next question. 

“You think we could be happy?” You take Toya’s wounded hand in yours and gently squeeze, careful not to hurt him. 

To your relief, he doesn’t let go. In fact, he squeezes back. It’s faint but the action is felt. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we could.”

And if another life exists, you are. 

Undoubtedly so. 

[faythsang]

tag dump

[princessbrunette]

NEVER LOSE ME ♡

♪ flo milli — never lose me ♪

TELL ME YOU DONT NEVER WANNA LOSE ME!

pairing: rafe cameron + bunny!reader જ⁀➴₊⊹ ♡

synopsis: being in a relationship with rafe, things are always easy on you and your bunny brain. until they’re not.

cw: butt stuff, violence, blood, alcohol mentions, reader is kind of a bimbo, kind of dumbification? mean!rafe, canon spoilers, shoupe, criminal activity, manipulation/threats, slut shaming, mentions of drugs. the ‘dad’ nickname and daddy kink ♡

Your vanity table was your place of peace.

Pink powder puffs and abused beauty blenders. Shimmery MAC gloss. That one blush pallette with the rabbit engraving that was too pretty to use. When you were sat at that table, everything was okay. You were in girl world, with glitter particles floating like fairies in the air around you and that one lipstick swatch on the back of your hand. It was easy to lose time, there were just so many important decisions to make. What lipliner with what gloss? Are you doing glitter in your inner corners today or not? Probably yes, there was never a wrong time for glitter. However it was only the country club you were visiting, and you were meant to be there twenty-five minutes ago. Being a girl is hard.

The country club was where you and Rafe had locked eyes for the first time. You remember it so clearly, not so much like a fairytale but more so like a sexy 2000s movie where the hot people end up together. You were new to the neighbourhood, a pretty young thing wandering into the Kook club with nothing but a shoulder bag and a skirt that clung to your ass cheeks.

Rafe did a double take when he first saw you, the sort they do in cartoons. You were the first girl he’d seen that dressed skimpy and yet still looked expensive, all dressed in virginal white with endless amounts of skin on display. He’d licked his lips, squinting across the golf course as he aimlessly swung his club in circles, tuning out of whatever-the-fuck it was Topper was complaining about this week. At first, for a few seconds anyway — he didn’t know if he wanted you or hated you for walking in here looking like that, knowing you’d be the talk of the town and the visage behind every guy at the country clubs wet dreams. You’d looked back at him and nervously bit at your manicured finger nail, offering a demure smile. There was something unsure and innocent about you, which confirmed how he felt — if his dick jumping in his pants wasn’t enough. He had to have you.

He vowed to get to know you, force his way into your life — and that’s exactly what he did. He would have felt like a creep, eyeing you from across the bar and asking everyone he could what they knew about the new girl — if you didn’t make it so apparent you were doing the same. You made friends quickly with that bubbly, ditsy, happy-go-lucky attitude of yours— and were soon to sit at the tables outside overlooking the golf course in clusters, whispering through cupped palms and giggles when Rafe and his crew would pass by. He’d act all nonchalant at first, but as he chews at his gum obnoxiously, he couldn’t stop the smirk from curling his lips up. Even his friends would shove at his shoulders excitably. This shit is so high school, he’d think. It was time to make a move.

And so he did — he made sure everyone saw too. Pulling up in his truck out the front of the club, graciously turning down the Future song booming from the speakers to wind his window down and lean out of it with that million-dollar Cameron-man smile. “You leavin’ here by yourself? Look, let me drive you, ‘kay? Been meaning to talk to you anyway, beautiful.”

He’d made sure everyone saw you climbing into the passenger seat of his car. Rafe and the new girl. If Rafe had swooped on her, she was pretty much off the market. Word spread fast, and you were his before he’d even asked you to be. Things took off fast, and with Rafes status came your own. You were untouchable, unpunishable, Kildares sweetheart. A mystery to some. Where did she come from? Is it true X tried to take a shot at her? Everyone knows she’s Rafe Cameron’s girl.

The rest is history — dates, excessive spoiling, meeting The famous Ward Cameron, Rafe breaking that virgin cunt in the same night. Things moved at the perfect pace and you couldn’t be happier. Rafe just made life so easy for you, to the point where around him — you were completely on auto pilot, letting your boyfriend do all the thinking. You figured that’s where you earned your nickname and likeness. A bunny, he’d always compare you to.

Whilst you had this Marylin Monroe sort of allure about you that never failed to draw him in, you were wide eyed and innocent like a bunny rabbit. That, and the way you bounced on his cock, and lest he forget the way your nose twitches when you’re upset. Those were recognised as bunny-like tendencies, so for Rafe — the designer shoe just seemed to fit. You sigh, reminiscing on when Rafe had pushed that bunny tail plug into your ass for the first time as you walk through the gates to the County club. Clearly, you were in a mood today.

“People are lookin’ at me.” You giggle with your cheek to his chest once you find him, careful not to smear your blush on the delicate fabric of his polo once more.

“Maybe it’s ‘cos they can practically see your tail stickin’ out the bottom of your skirt. Pull that shit down, would you?” He complains, but does it for you all the same— ringed hands sliding round down your ass to yank the material down enough for him to be satisfied. You let him, enjoying the feeling of his coarse hands on you— knowing the material was only due to slide right back up as soon as you take a few steps.

The sun burns bright that day, and as Topper approaches the two of you on the grassy hill of the golf course— he holds his golfing glove above his eyes as a makeshift protection from the sun. He wears that expression that’s 90% teeth, smiling as he slides over. “And will I be seeing this lovely lady at the party down at Crystals tonight?”

“A party?” Your back straightens in excitement, neck craning to look up at your boyfriend, who’s jaw tightened at his friend.

“I’m there on business, remember Top?” He blinks a couple of times like he was trying to send a message telepathically, and Toppers face falls a little. Your boyfriend looks to your hopeful expression, sighing a little exasperatedly. “Gonna be there for like an hour. Max. Just pushin’ product, baby. Shits boring.” He waves you off and your brows furrow, following him when he peels away to line up his ball.

“But I like parties! What product Rafey?” You mewl, laying a gentle hand on his playing arm, making him briefly stuff his tongue between his lips to concentrate extra hard. He looks around for listeners before turning his attention back to you.

“Got some yayo on me. ‘Kay? Gonna make us a shit tonne of money.”

You furrow your brows. You couldn’t remember which drug ‘yayo’ was, and you wasn’t even aware of the fact he was selling again. He said he was stopping all that, but as he constantly drilled into your head — you supposed Rafe knew best. It wasn’t your business, and wasn’t anything you had to worry about. Truthfully, you cared more about putting together an outfit to wear to the mentioned party in question.

“Can I still come? I wanna come.” You bounce on your glittery sandals with a ditsy smile, the action making your tits jostle in your little top. Perhaps that was what convinced him, the boy squinting thoughtfully out across the golf course.

“Aaah…” He stresses quietly, lifting his arm to scratch the clammy skin of his forehead beneath his floppy bangs.

“Please dad, won’t get in the way.” You pout, standing on your tiptoes pleadingly. Topper coughs awkwardly at the nickname, still standing near by, rifling through his clubs. Rafe licks his lips before rolling his eyes.

“Alright, okay. But no gettin’ involved, a’ight? Got a little chatty with my customers last time. No more of that, got it?” He warns, throwing you a look over his shoulder as he begins to stance up, gesturing for you to move back so he wouldn’t hit you with his club.

Truthfully, Rafe didn’t like bringing you to parties. As much as he loved parading you around, he knew what he was like — and seeing tens of guys ogling what rightfully belonged to him got tiring. Especially when you were so oblivious, bouncing around pool parties with your tits nearly escaping your bikini, or dancing with your friends to the point of your skirt flipping up — giving everyone a show. He knows you didn’t mean it, you were ditsy as it was so with alcohol added you were a complete loose cannon. However, with each sip he’d take— his rage would only grow, always having to deal with your pouting when he’d make the two of you leave early so he didn’t pummel someone’s face in.

Plus, he was trying to mature now. Step into his father’s shoes. He didn’t even like partying at all the way he used to— it was strictly business now. An in and out job. Was harder to do that with you there.

You always forgot how well loved Rafe Cameron was until he brings you along to a function. His hand staying glued to the small of your back as he walks you through, heads turning — his name being called from all angles like he’s a celebrity. It made you snuggle up harder to his side, which he was alright with — he had no problem being extra touchy with you tonight whilst you wore that baby pink IAMGIA Demie set like you were doing it a favour. It shows more skin than Rafe was okay with people that weren’t him seeing, but he’d be with you all night, so he assumed it would be fine.

You fiddle nervously with the diamanté Hello Kitty sat on your chest when your boyfriend started to pull out the small bags with white powder inside. You didn’t quite understand the whole drug thing, but you knew for a fact you wasn’t the biggest fan of the way people acted when they were on it. They were loud, too grabby, scary. You push your cheek against Rafes side as people swarm him, asking for his supply. He’s cool and calm as ever, smirking in that way that made you want him all to himself.

“No hogging my shit this time a’ight? You get what you pay for.” He drawls playfully to the crowd, his hand thoughtlessly sliding to your waist to drag you gently out the way of the group that was forming near him. He turns his body a little, leaning down to your ear. “Wouldn’t mind grabbing me a beer would you baby? Got big boy business to attend to.”

You swan off to complete this task in a bit of a haze, you always got sort of dazed when you were with Rafe— mostly because being with him meant you got to switch your brain off and have him do all the thinking for you. It was a blessing and a curse, because now it’s been an hour and you forgot all about getting Rafe his drink, having found some friends to take some shots with instead.

You’re warm, stumbling giddily away from where everyone else is dancing as you approach the drinks table, pondering another. As you feel a presence appear up by your side, you tug your top up thoughtlessly, humming as you rub your glossy lips together. The strangers eyes fall to your little get-up, lip clamped beneath his top set of straight white teeth like a predator.

“I really love that little outfit. Looks great on you.” He calls out, with a friendly voice matching a friendly smile. It captures your attention and you whip your head to him, earrings jangling from the movement. You take the chance to look down at your ensemble before raising your glassy gaze up to him, ends of your lashes kissing your eyebrows.

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” You grin, wiping your clammy hands on the ruffle of your skirt. It was a compliment, sure — but in the back of your mind you surveyed the situation and he truly seemed like he liked the outfit, and didn’t seem creepy at all. He’s polite, keeps his gaze respectful (until you turn away, and he can catch a glimpse at your cleavage.) and friendly. You exchange names, before he ensues with the conversation.

“So where’s your friends? Left you all by yourself?” He reaches forward, pulling a piece of rogue fluff from your hair, chuckling adoringly at your carelessness as he tosses it aside. You spin around to where they previously were, met with no familiar faces and an empty space. You frown, glossy bottom lip sticking out when you turn back to him. Of course, it’s adorable.

Too adorable, thinks your boyfriend who watches you from across the room. He’s tightly clutching his own beer, stood chatting with his friends as he observes the situation — losing interest in the surrounding conversation all together. It had been an hour since he’d last seen you, and now here you were — parallel to him with some guy in your ear, making you laugh, fluttering those eyelashes like you always did. He ticks his jaw, tongue in his cheek as he stares you down. Waiting for you to come running over all guilty, ready to fawn over him.

The guy is suggesting your friends disappeared upstairs, perhaps a bathroom, a bedroom — anywhere he can get you alone to eventually work you out of your panties. You’re totally oblivious to it, shaking your head — having a reason against each of his suggestions. It’s frustrating, the way you won’t take the hint— but also the whole ‘bimbo’ thing was kind of doing it for him, unable to work out if you were a total slut or a total virgin, those doe eyes and innocent aura contrasting too heavily on the way your tits practically spill out of your top for either to give him a clear conclusion.

Rafe is mildly irritated, watching the way you bounce with each move you make— one wrong pose from your ass cheeks spilling from the bottom of your skirt. He keeps a watchful eye, until finally — your dopey expression meets his and your face lights up, traipsing over. Much to the Cameron’s surprise— you audaciously loop your arm around the guys bicep, dragging him with you.

“Rafey! Hi! Sorry about your drink, I forgot all about it.” You blink up at him, happy as a clam as you free your arms to affectionately stroke at his chest. He nods, lips parted as his eyes flicker over to the guy at your side— who’s face is slowly dropping in realisation.

“Yeah.” He responds, and doesn’t get to say much else because you’re dropping this sucker in it.

“This is my new friend! He’s helping me find my girls ‘cos I lost them.” You pout, and Rafe’s lip curls up into a smirk— gaze now completely fixated on the stranger.

“Friends huh? You uh, you makin’ friends with my girl, man?” He smiles, but it’s malicious— taking a step forward causing you to move aside. Your brows furrow, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, especially when Rafes two Kook attack dogs, Topper and Kelce tune into the conversation, which attracted even more eyes.

“I didn’t know, dude.” The boy seems to have lost all his confidence from before, shrinking several sizes as your tall boyfriend closes in on him.

“Ah, he didn’t know.” Rafe shrugs theatrically before turning to his friends— smarmy smiles on both of their faces at the interaction. “Guys he didn’t know.”

“Come on, man.” The stranger seems uncomfortable with the amount of attention the scene is already creating, more and more heads turning by the moment. You fiddle with your necklace again, twirling the thin chain around a manicured finger as you watch— unsure just what was happening. Your boyfriend claps a seemingly friendly hand onto the man’s shoulder, holding him tightly.

“Nah, man— tell me. You usually walk around at parties… alone… making friends with drunk chicks? That’s uh, yeah that’s a little weird man.” Rafe laughs, so naturally everyone laughs. It’s clear your boyfriend is set on humiliating this guy for talking to you, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t let your girl walk around dressed like a hooker if you don’t want guys—” The boy doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because in a moments notice — Rafe has swung his fist back and pummelled it into his face, hard. A crowd forms, and you nearly get shoved out the way by the sudden rush of jeering, drunk party goers. You gasp, watching the way Rafe straddles his squirming body, a meek attempt at fighting back.

“What was that? You wanna say that shit again, huh? Huh?” Rafe continues to beat on the guy who insult you, teeth grit, jaw tense. The victim attempts to push Rafe off, but Rafe pins him again — bigger and stronger by a mile. This only seems to anger him more, and you watch as Rafe wraps two hands around the guys neck, holding down until his face turned pink.

That’s when you notice that Topper and Kelce aren’t smiling anymore, instead pushing through the crowd suddenly to grab a hold of their friend, yanking him off the man on the ground. Rafe only shrugs them off once before letting them drag him away.

“Yeah? Yeah? Maybe you’ll think next time you try ‘n make some fuckin’ friends, bitch.” He spits as his farewell, before shaking free of his friends and grabbing a hold of your upper arm, all but hauling you out of that party at a speed and strength to where you were certain your feet were barely touching the ground.

The drive home is silent, and only then you start to realise that you might be in trouble too. You didn’t like when Rafe got like this, mad and scary. His temper was no surprise to you, he was always storming around with a sour look on his face, or slamming doors after the daily argument he’d hash out with Ward. All of these examples seemed like mild irritation in comparison to the rage you saw him succumb to only moments prior. He had this look in his eye when his hands were around that man’s neck, his pupil overtaking his iris. It was like he really didn’t mind hurting this guy real bad, and you wondered what would have happened if no one stopped him. Usually, for the most part he kept his anger relatively far from you. Now, with just the two of you alone— you were facing it head on.

The car is even more silent once he puts it in park on the Tannyhill drive. Both of his hands are on the steering wheel, knuckles split and bloody still from his attack, and you notice a speck of blood that didn’t belong to him on Rafes cheek, making you pout— fighting the urge to reach out and brush it away. Instead you stare, waiting for him to speak.

“You know, you — you really gotta be more careful with who you make friends with, baby. Look at this shit I… I had to beat his ass because of you bein’ too friendly. Me. I had to handle shit.” He bites, and you sink back into the seat, ashamed and upset. Perhaps he was right, maybe you did need to keep your wits about you more.

“Oh…” Is all you manage, sad and whiny like a kicked puppy. He licks his lips, shaking his head and finally turning his body to face you.

“What did I say about making friends with guys? Huh? Tell me what I said.” He tilts his head, blinking at you with wide impatient eyes as he waits for an answer. You suck in a shaky breath, wracking your brain for the last time you’d had this conversation.

“Um… I don’t—” You swallow thickly but it’s cut off by your boyfriend grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. As if he’d hit some kind of panic button, two fat tears roll down your cheeks, bottom lip wobbling.

“What did I say?” He raises his voice and you let out a sad sob, sniffling as you try to compose yourself— speaking as clearly as you can.

“You— you said— any guy that approaches me doesn’t wanna be friends. He just…” You sniffle.

“He just what? Go on, finish that shit.”

“He just wants to fuck me.” You cry and he nods, letting go of your face to push his floppy, slightly sweaty bangs away from his face, puffing out a breath through his mouth.

“Get your ass inside.” He mutters, and you’re quick to do so, hopping up out your seat and to the front door, fumbling for your obnoxious keychains in your shoulder bag.

He follows closely once you’re by the door, oddly gentle hands on your waist from behind that guide you all the way to the stair case, giving your ass a pat as he sends you off to his room. You’re standing pathetically when he enters a moment or so after you.

You clasp your hands at your front, the picture of innocence. You weren’t crying anymore, but still looking devastated by Rafes unfortunate mood. He approaches you, looming over you with an unreadable expression and you yearned to reach out and touch the warmth of his skin through his shirt, or to kiss his naturally flushed lips— but you wanted to be a good girl for him. Make things right.

“Y’know the polite thing to do is apologise, sweetheart.” He drawls and you nod vigorously, words taking a moment to find you.

“M’sorry daddy! Really didn’t mean—”

“Actions…” He cuts you off, eyes fluttering. He places two hands on your bare shoulders. “Speak louder than words. Understand?”

“Huh?” You pout, and he presses on your shoulders just a little.

“You know what to do. On your knees.” One hand leaves you, beginning to work at his belt making you have a Pavlovian-like reaction, mouth filling with drool. You realise you’re just staring and he blinks at you. “What are you waiting for, huh? Now, please.”

You quietly drop, shuffling to get as comfortable as possible and begin eagerly fumbling to help with his belt, blinking up at him with wet doe eyes. You were surprised to see that your boyfriend was already hard — not just a halfie as things begin, fully hard. Maybe something to do with the adrenaline, maybe he thought you were sexy when you cried— who knew.

His pants drop to his ankles and he widens his stance a little, licking over his sore lips and softly grasping the back of your head, easing you closer to press kisses to his covered cock. Your need to please got the better of you and you impatiently tugged off his boxers too, starting to leave a trail of glossy pink kiss prints all over him as you let out your own moan of relief.

You were thrilled he was letting you do this. You didn’t like arguing, never able to think of the right words and always crying too much just like a baby. You couldn’t stay cross with Rafe, you simply loved him too much — so you were happy to skip all the hard parts and head straight to the end, where you got to make it all better and earn his forgiveness. Rafe was always happy after you gave him head, especially when you worked super hard, giving him plenty of attention where he needs it. You couldn’t wait to watch him relax.

It wasn’t long before you had the tip of his cock bruising your throat, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth when you gag around him, trying your very best to get him to cum. It seemed he was close, letting out quiet groans and even stroking your cheeks with his thumbs soothingly which was your favourite thing he did. Your nose twitches, sore and watery as you pull back once more — gazing up at him with gloopy eyelashes and flooded eyes, all sweetly, searching for his approval. He gives you a lazy smile and it’s enough to encourage you to head back down to take him as deep as he’ll go.

You clutch his balls and massage as you deep throat him once more, and this time — the burning of your mascara infiltrating your eyes gets too much to handle and you close them, squeezing them tight as you pull back ever so slightly to work your tongue over his shaft. You’re met with a light slap on the jaw, causing your eyes to spring open— staring up all wide like you’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar instead of wrapping round his ballsack.

“Open your eyes, yeah— fuckin’ look at me. Good girl.” He grits his teeth, and you know he must be close. You keep sucking until he’s milked dry, Rafes pretty bunny and her favourite carrot — swallowing every drop he had to offer.

All is forgiven, and the incident is forgotten about within a few weeks. It was a hectic time, Rafe barely having the time to bring up something that seemed so menial whilst dealing with the death of his father and the feud between his sister and the ‘pogues’ he always seemed to complain about. Rafe seemed to believe there was something gold that he was owed, a cross or something like that. You wasn’t sure. You’d only picked up enough information through overhearing phone calls to his old dealer Barry, in which he’d promptly close the door to obstruct your thoughtless eavesdropping when he’d realise you might be listening.

He seemed to have moved on very quickly from his father’s demise. Oddly enough, his grieving period only seemed to last a few days. You didnt press him on it, it didn’t feel right to do so. You’d learnt from some reality TV show about rich housewives that sometimes when someone loses a person close to them, they don’t even act that sad at all because they don’t want to deal with the big feelings. You wondered if that’s how Rafe was feeling. However, you couldn’t help but also wonder if your boyfriend was in a way relieved to finally be the man of the house. Maybe that’s why he’d started wearing some of Ward’s clothes, demanding you call him ‘dad’ more often.

♪ ‘WHEN I SUCK IT I LOOK IN YOUR EYES

YOU BETTER FUCK ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!’ ♪

You hum along happily the song you’d grown so fond of playing from the AUX of Rafes truck. Saturday, your favourite day of the week. Your boyfriend had been doing a lot of stuff, lately. Going to a lot of places without you. There was something secretive about the way he’d disappear into his father’s office with Barry, ‘handling business’ for hours and hours on end. Again, it became clear that all of this kerfuffle was clearly about the mysterious gold you’d hear about. Honestly, you didn’t care to ask questions. The only gold you cared about was the glitzy gold chain delicately wrapped around your ankle, a sparkling ‘RC’ pendant dangling off it, Rafes initials. You stretch your leg out in the car, admiring the way it hangs off your smooth limb.

He could spend all week handling business and getting shit done, but Saturdays? They were your days. Days and nights spent out together, always winding up back at your place where he’d stay round. You always had a free house at the weekends, so what better way to spend it than wailing into a pillow with your boyfriend balls deep inside of you?

The journey is cut short when Rafe slowly pulls up outside your house, putting it in park and yet making no move to even remove his seatbelt. You look out the window at the familiar setting before whipping round to look at him in confusion, batting your fluffy eyelashes.

“I’m… afraid you’re gonna be on your own tonight, bun.” He scratches his cheek, a guilty habit you were usually too flustered to pick up on.

“Huh?” You mewl, brows furrowing, body sinking down into the seat in refusal. “But… it’s Saturday. Did you forget, silly?” You pout, your words doing nothing to convince either of you that he had simply forgotten.

“I’ve got business to handle tonight. Really important stuff that you cannot get involved in. Okay? Need you to be at home, and stay out of it alright?” He’s serious, wide eyed and speaking slowly to ensure not a drop of information slips away from you as you blink at him all lost and sweet. He didn’t like disappointing you, and sure — he would rather spend his evening with his dick nestled in your wet warmth, but this was something that had to be done— whatever it was.

“But Rafe—” You go to protest, but he cuts you off with a firm hand on your jaw stopping your speech all together.

“Alright?” He searches your eyes for confirmation. The way he grabbed you reminded you of the time he was mad at you, and if he was really going to leave you lonely tonight — you figured it was best you leave things on a positive note and behave yourself. You blink sulkily at him and nod.

“Yes, dad.” You sigh out your nose and his expression softens, nodding in approval with a small smile.

“Thats my good girl.” He uses his grip on your jaw to pull you in, delivering a sloppy kiss to your lips and even rewarding you with the wet warm muscle of his tongue rolling over yours a few times for good measure — yet pulling away before you got too needy, because then he knew you’d never let him leave.

You’ll admit, you started to huff and puff once you’d left his side. It was Saturday, your Saturday — and maybe you were spoiled, but going out for brunch with your boyfriend and then having him drop you home was not nearly enough to satisfy your needs, especially after he’d been gone so frequently lately. You’d gotten yourself into quite a mood, nearly stomping right past the package that had arrived through your door.

You tear it open, alone in your house and for a brief moment your face lights up — the new butt plug Rafe had purchased for you online after you’d begged and begged sat in the cardboard box. Much like your other one, it was a bunnies tail— but instead of pink, the obnoxious puff on the end was fluffy and white, like a real Easter bunny. Your grin melts off your face right back into a sullen pout when you remember that Rafe wasn’t here to help you put it in, or play with it, or tell you how pretty it looks in your ass. You stomp your foot, anklet jangling. This wasn’t fair.

The sun goes down after hours upon hours of boredom, and you try to preoccupy yourself. You redo your hair all pretty, you fix up your makeup, you play dress up in your closet. The new plug is slicked up between your fingers, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you ready yourself. You never had to put your own bunny tail in, Rafe was always around to do it for you — have you sprawled over his lap, his hand pulling your cheeks apart and saying “Good job, stop tensing up would you?” You’re squirmy and whiny all alone, upset and petulant about the fact he wasn’t around. You felt… what was the word again? Neglected.

You press your cheek to your pristine bed covers, arching your ass in the air with an arm snaked uncomfortably round yourself, the difficult angle making it hard to push your tail in. You groan at the stretch from the cool metal, pussy drooling as your eyes flutter closed and you imagine your boyfriend doing it all for you, as intended. When it was snugly pressed inside of you, you giggle hazily — waving it in the mirror to get a good view. Pretty, you can almost hear his voice tell you how pretty that tight ass is, and you yearn to hear it in person.

You decided you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Rafe needed you, you knew it — perhaps he’d been isolating himself to deal with his big feelings, and you couldn’t take it any longer. You’d come to the decision that you were going to dress up so sweetly for him, march over there and make him feel all better with the warm embrace that was your cunt— or your mouth, or even your hand. Whatever your man needed, you would deliver.

You slide on some white, lacy lingerie. When you’d purchased it, you’d hoped it would remind him of wedding-wear, planting the idea that he should totally marry you, put a big glittery rock on your finger. Something that signified that he never, ever wanted to lose you. It was bunny-like in nature too, a hole slotted in the panties especially to fit the puff of your bunny tail through it— perfectly cohesive with your whole look. You’re quick to drag on more white, taking the form of a tight crop top and a skirt that unsurprisingly barely covered the fold of your ass cheeks where your thighs begin. In no time, you’re tottering down the street in kitten heels, clutching your purse to your side. You’d decided to walk— and by decided, you meant you didn’t have much choice — bound to being Rafe’s pretty passenger princess, full time.

An all white outfit was innocent, virginal, wedding-like. He couldn’t say no to you like this, surely not— you convince yourself as you stride street to street beneath the lights of street lamps. Kildare was safe, you seemed to think so anyway. Rafe disagreed, said there was lots of stuff you didn’t know— but you’d never seen anything too bad with your own two eyes.

Half way into your journey, your quiet muttering to yourself going over what you’d say when you got to Tannyhill was interrupted by your surroundings suddenly being tainted with a flashing blue and red glow. The rumble of a car pulling up beside you alerts your attention and you whip around to look, being met with the concerned gaze of Shoupe in his Sheriff car.

“Hi officer.” You wave politely.

“Can I ask what you’re doin’ wandering the streets at night by yourself? Not safe to be walkin’ about with next to nothing on, young lady.” He appears stern and your brows furrow, wondering if you’re in trouble. You hadn’t been questioned by a police officer before, they had come sniffing around after Wards death, but Rafe was always there to answer all the tricky questions for you. You whimper like a confused puppy.

“I—I missed my boyfriend so I wanted to go n’see him.” You whine, fists balled nervously at your side. It probably didn’t help that you were already riled up, so this was just immediately too much for you.

Shoupe recognised Rafe Cameron as your boyfriend and his eyebrows raise, purely at the fact that whilst he respected the Cameron family — he couldn’t fathom missing a spoilt brat like that.

“You know I got a niece of my own, about your age — I wouldn’t be lettin’ her walk the streets like this alright? Why don’t you give someone a call? Where are your parents?” He shakes his head, and now you’re super fed up.

“I don’t — am I in trouble? I had to walk because I failed my driving test and— and my parents go away on weekends I— I just miss my boyfriend and I want to go to his house! I don’t understand why you’re asking me stuff—” You start to cry, stomping a mini heel on the ground making the officer sigh, closing his eyes for a moment regretting stopping all together.

“Not my circus, not my monkeys. Don’t get paid enough for this crap.” He mutters to himself before opening his eyes and plastering on a forced smile and leaning his elbow out the open window. “‘Know what? Don’t you worry that head, young lady. Be safe, I’ll let you get on with it.” He waves before pulling out the parking space, leaving you waving him off tearfully— continuing your journey.

You wipe your tears, happy that you’re finally approaching Tannyhill— not long now until you’re back in your boyfriend’s arms. Sure, you were directly disobeying his one rule to stay home and mind your business tonight, but it wouldn’t be the first punishment you’d faced from Rafe — and the thought of having his hands on you in any way was delightful — so you’d be more than happy to pay the price.

Your shoes crunch carefully down the drive, blinking up at the grand historical home before you. You always loved being there. Being at Tannyhill with Rafe made you feel like he was the president and you were his first lady, ruling over Kildare in your very own White House. The fantasy whisks you away for a moment, and it takes you a couple of slow seconds to realise no one has responded to your knock at the front door. You wiggle the handle, and for once — it doesn’t open. You frown. Rafe was home, right?

You hum in confusion, trailing around to each window — looking for any signs of life as you call his name. “Rafey, are you home? It’s me…” You all but whine, growing increasingly more frustrated. Had you really walked all that way in the dark for nothing?

You puff out a dramatic breath, gathering yourself. Take a look around, you command yourself — use your big girl brain for once. Rafes truck was on the drive, and the lights were on in the house — so you figured it was fair to assume he was indeed home. The only thing out of place was the large van parked haphazardly on the drive. It wasn’t unheard of for unknown vehicles to be at Tannyhill. All sorts of people were in and out the gates for transport purposes whenever Ward would find something new and extravagant to auction off— but Ward wasn’t around anymore, and something tickled your curiosity enough to step towards it, questioning what it contained.

The large back doors are left ajar, so nosily you tiptoe over— fingers wrapping around one to pry it open some more, standing on the toes of your kitten heels to look at what would remain inside. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and for a few seconds you’re not met with anything of interest. Boxes, crates— nothing extraordinary. Your eyes drop down to the floor of the van, and you freeze. Surely not.

The body of a man lies dormant in a pool of distinctive crimson. He’s frozen up, like he’s scared or had been turned into a statue. His skin is pale, and his eyes are open— unblinking. You hadn’t seen many bad things in your life, hell— Rafe had even put you on a restriction from horror movies because you just couldn’t handle them — but what you were looking at was unmistakable. You were staring at a dead body.

You draw in a shaky gasp, and a heat wave of panic overcomes your body. It begins in your chest, and spreads through you like a virus — to your stomach, and then your arms and legs all the way to frozen stiff fingers and toes. You jerk back, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you stumble back a few steps, fresh hot tears brewing in your waterline. “Oh my g—”

Your whimper is cut short, the sound punched right out of you when you back up into something hard and firm. You jump out of your skin, yelping as what you walked into sprouts arms and whips you around at lightening speed to face it. Rafe, your boyfriend holds you infront of him, enraged. For the first time in your life, he terrifies you. “Told you to stay home, kid.” He spits out before spinning you back around and manhandling you into a lift, arms round tightly around you as he lifts you off the ground.

You go to scream, you even go to run— from your own boyfriend, something even a few moments prior you wouldn’t be able to fathom. He only grips you tighter, and this time covers your mewling mouth with a firm hand as he wrestles you inside, dragging you through the house.

As he tugs your flailing, panicking body up the stairs — you catch sight of Rose who lingers on the stairwell, watching with wide eyes.

“Rafe? Rafe what did she see?” She hisses urgently, alarmed by the way her step-son was handling his girlfriend.

“I’m handlin’ it.” He drawls out, seemingly irritated by her presence as he pushes you down the hallway.

“Don’t hurt her, Rafe.” Hurt her?

He all but launches you into the bedroom and you fly away from him, on the verge of hyperventilation. You paw at your eyes, wiping away the tears as you sniffle watching his every move. He moves slower now, locking the door which causes your heartrate to spike once more.

“Why the hell are you here?” He blinks at you irritably. “Huh? After I specifically told you to stay home.”

“I missed you.” You cough out a wet sob, trying to gather your thoughts enough to ask the valuable questions. Like, what was going on? Who was the dead body?

“You missed m— so we’re just… disregarding my rules now. The — the shit I tell you to keep you safe? Keep you out of allllll the dirty work I gotta do to keep shit afloat?” He’s mad, squinting and shaking his head.

“Did you kill that man?” You raise your voice ever so slightly, coming right out with it. The forwardness shocks you, but Rafes expression simply flattens, shoulders dropping a little before he sighs, shaking his head with his hands on his hips.

“No, I didn’t.” He makes a point to emphasise the ‘I’, which only reels you off into more confusion. “But… it’s my problem now. A’ight? So — so I gotta step up and handle it alright, look at — hey, look at me baby— okay, I’m a proactive person — I — I was handed a problem, and now I’m fixin’ it. Me. You understand that?” He’s walked right over to you now, and you’ve backed up away until your legs hit his bed causing you to sit down with a bounce. He crouches over you as he rambles, a hand on your shoulder to keep your attention. He has thrown a lot of information your way, and you try to follow along — eyes wide and head shaking slightly in response.

“Rafe— you’re scaring me. That person was dead you — you have to tell the police! I saw Shoupe on the way here, even talked to him — why — why don’t you just call him up n’tell him?” You whimper, breath catching in your throat between every couple of words.

Your boyfriend stands up straight suddenly, blinking like he’d been snapped out of his wide, watery eyed trance.

“You— you saw— what do you mean you saw Shoupe on the way here?” He glares and you shrink, feeling like you’ve done something wrong but not quite knowing what.

“He stopped me on the way here n’I told him I was comin��� to see you.” You pout.

“Oh, that’s…” He begins to pace, before barking out a soft laugh, hand rising to scratch his cheek. “Yeah that’s uh, that’s perfect really.”

You tilt your head, jostling your hoop earrings in the act. “What are you talking about?” You felt nervous for his answer, and unsure as to why that was.

He stops his incessant pacing, turning to you with an amused and yet somewhat deranged grin. “You’re in this now, baby. You n’me.” He gestures to the two of you with a finger as he slowly prowls closer. “So— so Shoupe knows you were on the way here at,” he lifts his arm, checking the watch beneath his Northface fleece. “Around this time frame. Right? So really…” He closes in on you fully once more, bending at the waist to look at you eye to eye. “If… if you turn me in, we’re goin’ down together. How’s that sound, huh— think you could handle jail baby? You think they do mani-pedis in prison?” He jokes, smirk only growing when your eyes widen. He was being cruel.

“Stop! I— I would never tell on you Rafey!” You start to cry again, and he nods slowly in approval, licking his lips. “Don’t wanna get locked up.”

“Yeah, well. All you gotta do is keep that pretty mouth shut. Think you can do that for me baby? Think you could… keep this little secret just for me?” Even now, he had a way with words. He made you feel special, like teaming up with him was something to be so proud of. There’s a warmth in your chest from the way he speaks to you, but a pit in your stomach at the guilt from feeling this way. You were dizzy with conflict.

“S’just too much, daddy. I dunno, what if I make a mistake? Just so dumb sometimes.” You sniffle, going to cover your face but he bats your delicate hands out the way with his own palms, cupping your cheeks to force your attention on him.

“Hey, hey. Gotta… use that bunny brain sometimes baby. Yeah? Gotta think about what might happen… if anyone finds out.” His voice softens with each word, invading your personal space until his warm breath fanned over your face comfortingly. He had a way of breaking you down to something so regressed and yet primal, pure putty in his criminal hands. Somewhere in the back of your hazy brain you felt this might be a tactic to get you on his side with all of this, but the words wouldn’t find you. “You’re my good girl, alright? Know you can do it…” His lips softly press to yours, and he starts to kiss you slowly, sensually, like he had all the time in the world.

You get lost in the kiss, it’s only natural — with the way his tongue wrapped itself skilfully around yours. He finds himself sat on the bed beside you, pulling you to perch on his leg as you succumb to the makeout session. He was really good at it, so talented at getting you wet and squirmy with just his mouth on yours. It feels like ten minutes of this have possibly passed by when your brain starts to ring out the alarm bells once more, warning you of your predicament. Your heart starts to pound and you pull back a little, eyes shiny and wide as they gaze into his lustful pair.

“M’scared.” It comes out quiet and he shakes his head, in total refusal of this.

“Shh, shh. How ‘bout you turn that brain off for a while. Yeah? Let me handle it.”

You suck in a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as you try to keep the panic at bay in his tight hold. “Can’t.”

“Yeah. You can. Can start by taking all these clothes off.” He drags his hands over your body, messing up the fabric in its wake. “Came over just lookin’ all pretty… would hate to ruin a night like this, right?” He talks slowly like you’re dumb and it only makes you ooze more, finding yourself nodding eagerly, sniffing back the tears and hopping onto your feet to kick off the kitten heels, dropping an inch or so in height.

Rafe tugs your skirt down as you pull your top over your head, and he hums in appreciation at the white lace adorning your body. “Mm, s’fuckin’ sexy.” He whispers, turning you by your hips to do a little spin for him, not able to help himself from giving your ass a sharp little smack and jiggle when he spots the new bunny tail poking through. “This one’s new, huh?” He drawls, giving it a little tug making your knees buckle, turning to clamber back onto his leg.

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. Wanna keep these on, yeah?”

You nod, and he’s kissing you again, handsy as ever as he caresses your soft skin. He’s being nice, for now. It usually started off this way before he’d get too impatient but you knew he was being extra nice for the purpose of persuading you to side with his unforgivable actions. Your criminal boyfriend drags his hand down your stomach, two finger pads rubbing circles over your clit through the lace making you groan out a cracked and desperate sound against him.

“Turn around.” He whispers, aiding you to sit between his legs, leaning back against him. Once in this compromising position, he peels your soaked underwear to the side— sliding his fingers through your messy folds. “God damn, weren’t lyin’ when you said you missed daddy— that right?”

“Just… just missed you so much.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you do find yourself relaxing more and more against his warm body, a clammy hand clutching the zip of his grey fleece, shuddering from his skilful touch.

After stroking your clit, causing you to clench and cream around nothing for a while, desperate moans sure to be heard by Rose if she was worriedly lurking in the hallway, Rafe started to push his thick fingers in, humming and licking his lips hungrily as your greedy hole swallowed him up, the long digits squelching from your copious tsunami of arousal.

“Oh daddy!” Is all you can say as he curls them just right, working you quickly towards your finishing point. As you drop into that Rafe-obsessed headspace, nearly at the crowning of your orgasm— his deep nasally voice rumbles from behind you, attracting your attention. As he speaks, he pulls his fingers back just so only the tips still remained inside you, and kept them there even when you wriggled your hips trying to get them in further.

“So… what are you gonna say if someone asks you where you were tonight? Huh?” His voice carries a threatening tone, which makes you pout at how totally unfair of him it was to work you into brainless mush and then ask you such an important question.

“I— uhm, I don’t—” You whimper as you writhe in his lap. He pulls his fingers out of you completely and in one fluid movement slaps your pussy, causing you to cry out in sensitivity at the harshness on the cunt he had spread open on top of him.

“Where?” He grits his teeth and you pant.

“At home, daddy!”

He seems satisfied, and slowly he sinks his fingers back inside you, causing you to release a relieved whine, liquifying against his body once more. “See? Not as dumb as you look, bunny girl.”

The words cause tingles to run through your very being, and as he continues to finger fuck you— you’re brought very close to the edge, very soon.

“Mmph— dad, g’nna cum!”

“Yeah? Gonna cum just for dad?” He lilts sympathetically in response.

“Yeah!”

“Yeah?”

Just like that, he pulls his fingers out of you — and before you have the chance to complain or even let out a petulant whine, he’s forcing your mouth open and stuffing his soaked fingers inside, all the way down your throat.

You slap at his wrist, gagging wetly as he holds your head against him keeping him still. “Yeah, that fuckin’ hurt? They’ll do a lot worse to you in prison, sweetheart. Can tell you that for free.” He finger fucks your throat for a few quick beats before drawing them out, letting you suck in harsh breaths. He wipes his fingers on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pat. “Haven’t earned the right to cum just yet. You understand right?”

You sniffle, starting to cry again. This whole ordeal was clearly upsetting to you, and Rafe was just treating it like it was one big loyalty test. All you wanted was to be with him, kiss him, touch him — and he was just being so mean.

Your tears do nothing for your case. Suddenly and aggressively, your boyfriend grips the back of your neck and forces you down into the mattress on the bed, your ass lifted obscenely in the air — panties still forced to the side with your tail-stuffed hole and drooling pussy on full display to him. Glitter refracts off your cheek when you turn your head on the bed, trying to get a look at him.

“Would you look at that?” He twiddles with the fluffy tail and you groan, body softening slightly and pussy dribbling. “Doesn’t take much. Does it baby? Yeah. Dressed up all sweet for me, you uh—” He chuckles at the cruel joke before it leaves his mouth. “Wouldnt take you for an accessory to a crime.”

You let out a pitiful sob and his jaw ticks in irritation, leaning right over you, jostling you a little so he could talk right in your ear. “Quit. That guy you saw in the truck was a bad man, alright? Worlds better off without scumbags like him. I don’t… I don’t wanna hear you’re feelin’ all bad about it. I always make the decisions, right? Daddy always knows what to do, right?” He demands aggressively, spanking your ass hard when you don’t respond immediately.

“Yes daddy you— you always know!” You wail, distraught and he nods, lips parted and jaw slightly agape — fighting his belt off his body to yank his pants down just enough to pull his dick out.

As much as you enjoyed showing your tail off to Rafe, wiggling it against his pelvis, tickling his tanned skin with the fluff each time he draws his hips in — you were actually a little disappointed you weren’t getting to be on your back today. You craved the closeness, the kisses, getting to see his pretty cock collect all your glittery slick as he fucks into your glossy hole. Instead, he pushes in from behind and sets a punishing pace, balls slapping against you as he holds you down, forcing your arch into place. With each thrust, comes a quiet grunt of his own exertion — the days frustration being worked out on you.

This lasts for a few minutes, Rafe slightly changing things up like adjusting your position or putting a foot up on the bed to dig you out even deeper. Your cunt was so sloppy it was audible, squelching with each roll of his agile hips. From the way he had previously stolen your much needed orgasm, you could tell you weren’t going to last much longer, fucking desperately back against him as you sobbed.

“Shit, why you fuckin’ crying so much huh? This not enough for you, princess?” He taunts breathlessly, squeezing your hips for an answer.

“Miss you Rafe, want you— want you nice!” You’re shaky, forcing in a painful breath as you cry— mascara making a mess of his sheets but he didn’t care about that right now— too focused on the way your ass jiggled against him with each thrust. As perfect of a view this was, he couldn’t tolerate the tears and flipped you onto your back, forcing your legs up over his shoulders.

As he slots himself back in, he shakes his head— floppy hair sweaty, some of it stuck to his forehead. “There? Happy? Y’gonna stop cryin’ now, hm?” He drawls, speeding up his pace once more, indulging in the way your tits are escaping the lacy cups of your bra. He palms at them greedily, helping free them out the top and he disappears into your neck, groaning as he hits a new spot, your hole sucking him in like it had a mind of its own.

He sucks marks on your neck. Proof you were here, he thinks in the back of his mind. He draws back to admire his work and is met with your tear-stricken, devastated face. All pretty with doe like eyes, gloopy runny mascara framing them, a single mink lash on your cheek. He swipes it away, unable to control the urge to press his body right onto yours and envelop your lips with his own.

He sucks on your tongue, holding you there with a hand gently round your neck as he possesses you entirely. The continuous slapping sound of his cock bruising your insides becomes music to your ears as you float away on a cloud, eyes struggling to stay open from the sheer amount of pleasure you were facing. As he softly holds you by your throat, like a farmer handling its first baby bunny — he feels that remaining amount of tension coursing through you. That last inkling of resistance, even if you didn’t know it was there. He slows his pace, grinding his cock inside you, massaging the tension out.

“Oh, little girl. Poor bunny, huh?” He coo’s, cradling your shaking, clammy body as you whimper, puffy walls spasming around his length. “All caught up in big bad Rafe’s problems, aren’t you. Yeah… well, it’s okay. I got you baby. You’re never gonna lose me, okay? You’re all mine.”

With your bodies connected, you gaze up into his eyes. All his, the words you adored more than anything. Your eyes drift over to his left shoulder where your anklet swings with each jostle of your body. ‘R.C’, the initials catch the light through blurry tearful eyes. All his.

A hand snakes between you, and when he presses down on your clit — your body finally gives in and you squeeze out a gut wrenching moan, legs shaking violently as you grip him, cumming hard and abundantly around his slick cock. He’s talking you through it, rolling his hips determinedly as you cum. You briefly catch his voice groaning out a “Thats my good girl. S’me and you baby. Don’t you forget it. Me n’you.”

You squirt out around him, soaking his abdomen, and whilst you might usually be concerned and embarrassed— you can’t think straight enough to consider that. He doesn’t seem to mind either, fucking into you as he chases his own high, mumbling words you couldn’t hear into your neck or mouthing at the fat of your tits as he’s spurting out his own thick, hot release.

Everything feels dreamlike after that, from the way he pulls out and smothers your hot face in sloppy kisses — to the way he lazily mops you up with a towel. You can’t process the pleasure you endured, and soon you fall asleep right there on Rafe’s bed, hot and feverish.

It must’ve been a good few hours you slept for, because when you wake to the soft warm touch of your boyfriend and his rings gliding up your back— your bleary eyes find the clock at his bedside to read 5:30AM. Rafe is dressed differently to how he was before, a black shirt you recall noticing in your immediate vision. He’s scooping you in his arms, sitting you up as you let out a disorientated whine, having trouble letting your brain catch up.

One hand strokes your cheek, to keep you awake— and the other strokes the fat of your hip, self indulgently. “So turns out, we’re uh— goin’ on a little trip. You like vacations, huh?”

You blink your sticky eyes at him, hand grazing the buttons of his shirt as your voice attempts to croak out a response. “Rafe, what’s —” Your brain starts to catch up, an unfamiliar and harrowing feeling spreading through your stomach— sinister and dooming as you remember the events that occurred before he’d fucked you and gotten you to fall asleep on his bed. Where had he been? So many hours had passed.

He cuts you off with a smile, a relieved smile — like all his problems had vanished, the corpse you’d found having just gotten up and walked away.

“Goin’ on a big boat. How’d you feel about the Bahamas, baby?”

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

Okay I have had this theory for months but I never actually laid it out before now. However it's well past time I actually do that considering episode 115 all but confirmed its truth (theres still wiggle room for me to be wrong, but honestly not much)

THE FERIN FAMILY ARE AASIMAR, AND HERES WHY:

The thing that originally made me go Hey Wait A Damn Minute was the visions of the original prophecy and its history that gillion got from that tree: "Another flash, and you see these red-haired olympian looking humans and elves and all kinds of different races that are flying with their own wings". And I heard that and thought about how much that sounds like aasimar, and then the weird dreams jay had and then captain widow insisting she has powerful blood and then star saying she sensed divinity on jay and then the whole ferin family's affinity for fire magic and everything just clicked into place.

Then in episode 114 we got the recording of Faye Ferin saying "hail the solar mother" and i was like no fucking way- BUT i set it aside because it felt like I could be reaching with that evidence. It could just be a religious phrasing, not necessarily something literal.

Then episode 115 happened and I got confirmation of my theory.

Grizzly doesn’t outright say "yes the ferin are aasimars”, but he gives us all the last few pieces of the puzzle.

Here's a link to the episode that should start where the confirmation is - the two tablets: https://youtu.be/M9ig9XCUrvU?si=oYdisYFxTqx6ogbb&t=868

Transcript of the tablets: Tablet One: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. We are descendants of the sun. Thus, we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail. Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history. Tablet Two: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes. Unity is the key to prosperity. Our elders will raise generations that burn with vigorous radiance.

NOW ON TO MY EXPLANATION!!

The thing that confirmed it outright for me is literally the line "We are descendants of the sun", because there are no ifs ands or buts about it - aasimar are descended from celestials. The aasimar entry for Monsters of the Multiverse states "Whether descended from a celestial being or infused with heavenly power, aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls." the tablet Jay stole from her grandmother is written in celestial, and says they are descended from the sun(aster), ergo, descended from a celestial.

Next up is the whole "Thus we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail." bit. The entry for Protector Aasimar (the subrace i believe Jay fits best) in Volos Guide to Monsters reads "Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness."

Then there's "Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history." Which then in the MotM entry it says "aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls. They can fan that spark to bring light, ease wounds, and unleash the fury of the heavens."

THEN THERES THE REAL FUCKING GIVEAWAY!!! THIS LINE: "Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes."

MotM says "They resemble their parents, but … often have features that hint at their celestial heritage." and VGtM says "They are a people of otherworldly visages, with luminous features that reveal their celestial heritage."

OF THE CELESTIAL FEATURES OPTIONS OFFERED BY MOTM, ENTRY 2 IS "METALLIC, LUMINOUS, OR DARK EYES" AND ENTRY 3 IS "STARKLY COLORED HAIR". THE FERINS ARE WELL KNOWN FOR HAVING BOTH.

The tablets are, of course, not my only evidence.

the ferins arent born with The Ferin Eye as revealed by Jay having to earn hers and Drey talking about when he got his. "now icarus," i hear you say "wouldnt that mean they dont actually fit the celestial features requirement?" and to that i answer "NO! IT IN FACT FITS IT BETTER!"

In discussing aasimar celestial features, MotM says "These [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature." Jay didn’t have the Ferin eye until she earned it and its subsequent abilities. And we all remember how she earned it, right?

A weird ass fucking dream.

Now let’s look at that. According to VGtM “An aasimar, except for one who has turned to evil, has a link to an angelic being. That being … provides guidance to the aasimar, though this connection functions only in dreams. As such, the guidance is not a direct command or a simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.”

In Jay's first sun dream (Juice Roll With It // Episode #88), Grizzly describes the sun and says "You feel like its presence is trying to reach you. And as you notice, you feel almost like you want it to.”

And then the core of the dream itself:

Grizzly: “Do you think Jay can withstand this impossible heat of the sun as you get just barely one step closer?” Condi: “I’m gonna say no… but she would try anyways, if that is, like, what the feeling is kinda giving her, you know?” Grizzly: “This powerful presence, as hot as it is - you can’t help but think of your sister. You can’t help but think of your friends. But then, you think of your mother, and then you think of your father, and then you think of your grandmother” (makes condi roll con save with disadvantage, condi got an 11) “with an 11, you take that step forward, but this overwhelming pressure, anxiousness, fear, handcuffs your spirit, closes your mind, and you just feel the heat of the sun overcome you. And you are jolted awake back in the reality. … but you know that in this dream you lost. You lost to the heat.”

Then the second dream (Happy Wife Happy Life // Episode 102), where the sun is hotter and larger than before and excruciatingly painful:

Grizzly: “You just can’t help but stare at it with both eyes wide open. And behind you you feel another heat.” (Condi asks if Jay can see this heat or if Jay is too focused on the sun) “You know that this heat signifies that backing away and falling is not an option this time. But as you look at the sun, you once again think about your family: your mother, who said she was sick; your father, who called you naive; your grandmother, who threatens the safety of your friends. You think of your friends. So I ask again, this time: do you think Jay can withstand that heat? That pressure and that fire?” Condi: “I think as Jay is staring up at this sort of immense fireball that represents… obviously her pressure, and she feels that heat at her back… I don’t think she would look at the heat as, like, something preventing her from stepping back and falling anymore. But in this metaphorical sense - since a lot of this is a metaphor - she’d probably look at it as what she basically can’t turn her back on, what she can’t leave behind. Basically like her new hope. You know, what she wants to protect. So she’s in between this and this giant fireball. Um. And I think with that in mind she would take a step forward and, um. While maybe not fully confident in herself, she would jump into the fireball with all her might, doing her best. ... I think she can handle it. She thinks she can handle it.” Grizzly: “Fair enough. That’s all I asked. You jump in- go ahead and roll a con save with advantage.” (Condi got a 19) “You leap with almost like a raging fire of conviction even if you doubt yourself, jay. And the sun almost seems to open up to welcome you in. And at first, the searing pain of the fireball’s heat feels like it’s melting your skin. You scream until it feels like it’s melting away that doubt. And then, all of the pain subsides. There’s a calming sense that kind of overtakes, jay, in your subconscious. And it’s all white at this point - your whole vision.”

So the sun reached out to jay through a dream, as aasimar’s celestial links tend to do, and gave her a test of strength that she had to figure out for herself (“as such, the guidance is not a direct command or simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.” - VGtM). She only passed it by remembering she had people she needed to protect (“Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness.” - VGtM). And when she passed this test given to her in a dream: “speaking of your vision, you begin to feel a warmth behind one of your eyelids. And the next day comes as you’re the first to wake at the very crack of dawn. The sun rises, and you rise with it. And you blink a few times - you feel something different. … This time, you look into a mirror and, just like your dad, just like Drey, you see this bright orange glowing eye on one of the sides. And you feel whatever that was: you passed it.”

This, therefore, perfectly fits Jay into the aasimar’s celestial features description that “these [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature.” Jay had to prove herself to the goddess to earn another celestial trait.

And once more, “Icarus!” I hear you cry. “You keep saying Jay fits the Protector Aasimar subrace, but don’t Protector Aasimar have incorporeal wings that come from their celestial heritage? Jay’s wings are from a tattoo! That doesn’t work!” To which I say, “Are you sure?”

The Protector Aasimar’s subrace ability is called Radiant Soul and allows the aasimar to “unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing your eyes to glimmer and two luminous, incorporeal wings to sprout from your back.”

Jay’s wings come from enchanted tattoos with which she can cast Fly. These were a deliberate choice Jay made and are not celestial in origin. However, in the first sun dream, when Jay reaches out for the sun Grizzly says “You begin to feel the tattoo on your upper back sting.” When condi asks to clarify if it’s the Niklaus tattoo, Grizzly only says “Just the upper back.”

This, of course, leads me to believe that those dreams will or already have affected her wings in some way - perhaps leaving space for her to unlock more of her celestial heritage and power as she earns it. It’s something we’ll just have to watch and see for.

Either way the Ferins are aasimar, Jay's gonna be the first one in generations to earn their true celestial power from Aster, and i will Die On This Hill

[atrueneutral]

Bath, Bed & Beyond - Raphael x Tav

After weeks of constant battles and near-death-experiences, it was a slap in the face that the Crown of Karsus ended up in the Chionthar.

It could have fallen anywhere else but in the river.

It could have been easy.

Had it landed on the docks, Tav would have plucked it from the ground like any other item she pilfered. She’d have put it in her pack and would have promptly gone off to deliver the all-powerful Netherese artifact to Raphael - satisfying the terms of her contract.

But no! Nothing was ever as easy as it could have been; it wasn’t easy convincing Rolan to spend time on the docks casting spells on her and supplying her with potions; it wasn’t easy deep diving into the murky river waters for days on end; and it certainly wasn’t easy finding the godsdamn Crown of Karsus!

Bloody thing was a pain in her ass…

She should have listened to her friends, and she shouldn’t have made a deal with a devil…

Much to Rolan’s chagrin, Raphael had shown a number of times over the course of her search. He, apparently, “wanted to see how she was faring”, and, according to the wizard, seemed to find amusement in her desperation of trying to find the object that would see him rule the Hells.

One night, after failing to find her missing treasure, Tav wondered out loud why Raphael didn’t help her; it didn’t make sense that he’d prolong his ambitions after all of the salivating he did whenever he spoke of the Crown. 

Rolan suggested maybe there was a secret time limit buried in the nooks and crannies of her contract. Maybe Raphael wanted her to fail because he wanted her soul.

“He’s waited this long, I’m sure he can afford to wait a bit longer to ensure he gets both you and the Crown of Karsus. He’s a devil - are you really so surprised that he’d desire to keep you as well?”

To that, she called Rolan crazy, but Tav searched harder in the days that followed (out of fear that she was racing an invisible clock), and she eventually found what she was looking for.

—

Tav entered the Devil’s Den without knocking. She cared not that it was rude. She cared little about anything outside of fulfilling her contract, taking a bath, and sleeping for a very, very long time. Fatigue wreaked havoc on her body after recent events and days of stressful swimming, and the too long of a walk that brought her to Rivington drained her to the brink of wanting to fall over.

She ambled into the suite, and Raphael’s mortal visage made a face at her appearance - namely her water-logged countenance of damp hair and damp clothes that reeked of river water.

She hoped her exhaustion came off as apathy.

“Your message stated you had something specific for me?” he asked.

He was referencing the message she sent with a Scroll of Sending roughly an hour and a half ago. With it, she said: “I have your stupid Crown. Where should I meet you? Are you coming to the docks? Please come to the docks.”

Panting had, unfortunately, been included in-between some of her words.

Tav blinked, and her eyes went from staring longingly at the steaming bath littered with flower petals to the cambion who appraised her with a raised brow.

“I do,” she answered, and Tav reached into her pack for the Crown. She crossed over to him, revealed the artifact, and Raphael’s mask of composure cracked. 

Ambition bled from the fissures - his dreams would not remain dreams much longer…

With the current most important dream realized, a shaky breath left Raphael as he accepted and held the Crown in his hand. Tav rummaged around for the Netherstones, and she placed them on a nearby desk when it became clear that Raphael was having a moment between himself and his new shiny and dangerous toy.

She glanced down to see if he had an erection, and sure enough, a bulge was forming from inside his pants.

“Raphael?” she prompted.

“Hm?”

The Crown and fantasies of grandeur had successfully enthralled him.

“Is my contract fulfilled?”

“Yes.”

When he did not procure said contract, Tav sighed.

“Can I trust that you’ll see to completing my contract… when you’re done?”

“Mm, yes.”

Rolan was wrong; he did not want her or her soul. Raphael’s interest in his little mouse was purely in being a delivery tool for his precious artifact, and Tav found herself feeling oddly crestfallen at the verdict. It was nothing more than devilish amusement (or a form of punishment) that kept him from helping her fetch the Crown from the Chionthar.

“Great, thank you. Goodbye, Raphael.”

She turned and took a step for the door.

“Leaving so soon, Little Mouse?”

The rich purr of his voice stilled her.

“The delivery has been made, and you are preoccupied,” she answered, facing him again.

“Pardon my momentary lapse - I assure you it won’t happen again.” As if to make a point, he went to where the Netherstones were gathered and placed the Crown beside them. He leaned against the desk, blocking the artifact’s view from him and her. “Thank you for bringing me the Crown. I knew you wouldn’t fail - just as you knew failure wasn’t an option. You must regale me what the depths of the Chionthar look like sometime over dinner. The smell of the river, however, I could do without.”

Understanding his insinuation that she smelled, she gave him a thin lipped smile. “Then I shall be on my way...”

“You misunderstand, my dear!” Raphael gestured theatrically for the bath, and his features became predatory. “Stay awhile, won’t you? I will fulfill your contract before your very eyes, and you will sleep soundly tonight knowing you made the right choice in bargaining with a devil.”

The bath did look inviting…

“If you’d like, you have my permission to rest your weary head in this room,” he continued. “The bed is quite cozy - not nearly as comfortable as the bed in my House of Hope, but you know that already, don’t you?”

Tav’s blood went cold at his mention of her uninvited visit.

“Sorry about that…” she offered sheepishly, meaning it. Haarlep’s use of her body had become a nuisance, yet it often aroused her to think it was Raphael who benefitted and used the unintentional gift she left behind.

Based on the look in his eyes, he did.

Snap!

A contract materialized from within a plume of smoke and embers, and the infernal words etched into the parchment glowed. At Raphael’s behest and a wave of his hand, a new emblem-like symbol was magically inscribed before the parchment went up in flames.

“It’s been an Absolute pleasure doing business with you, Little Mouse.”

Oh no - his stare was making her feel warm in places.

Maybe Rolan was right in some regard.

Maybe Raphael did want her.

“Likewise,” Tav responded. “And I appreciate you loaning me the room.”

She waited for him to leave.

She expected him to leave.

Oh no.

He wasn’t leaving.

“Aren’t you leaving?” she questioned, intending on taking advantage of his offer to stay and use the room’s bath and bed.

“Leave? And miss the sight of you bathing? I think not.”

She flushed. 

“Ah.” Tav peered at the bath, then back at Raphael. “You’re not planning on joining me are you?”

He smiled devilishly. “Would you like me to?”

Yes.

“No, that’s alright.” Tav went to the bath and began to shed her pack and gear. When it came time to remove her boots, she decided to test the waters by turning the act of undressing into a show. She sat upon the bath’s edge and, with deliberate slowness, gracefully peeled away her footwear. “Are the flower petals your idea or are they an added flourish from the staff?”

“Do you like them?”

“I do.”

“They are my personal touch - just for you.”

The expression she threw at him while she undressed was filled with skepticism.

“You can stop trying to charm me, Raphael. The contract is done, you got what you wanted, and I’m in the middle of taking my clothes off.” Somewhere along the way her voice became decidedly more… seductive. “I wouldn’t normally allow you to watch the latter, but it’s conjecture to think that you’ve already seen me naked.”

It was thrilling to see that she enthralled him just as much as the Crown of Karsus. He was silent, his eyes blazing as he watched her stand and push her breeches down. Tav’s thumbs next hooked into the top of her panties and she slowly, teasingly, shimmied the undergarment past her thighs. They pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of them and her breeches, pushing both aside to be with the rest of her stripped attire.

He could not yet see her sex, as it was hidden by her tunic, but the shirt was soon gracefully pulled over her head and thrown onto the pile.

Raphael visibly swallowed.

Tav reached around to undo the fastenings of her brasserie. The undergarment went slack, and she quickly held the front to her with a hand before it could fall away.

She turned to face the bathwater and discarded the top with a flick of the wrist. 

The cambion let out a low hum. Whether in approval of seeing her bare backside or in disapproval or not seeing her nude state in its entirety, she couldn’t tell.

“Was this your plan?” Tav asked innocently as she bravely stepped into the steaming water. It was hot - excessively hot, but after waging and winning a war against a Netherbrain, after spending too long in the cold Chionthar, and after completing a deal with a devil…

It was heaven.

“What plan are you speaking of, my dear? I have many.”

Tav waded to the center of the bath, water rippling up to her thighs. She glanced at the cambion from over her shoulder with a smirk, and then rotated to give him a full-frontal view.

A deep-rooted hunger befell Raphael, and Tav mentally marked a point under her name: where the Crown failed in fully arousing him, she succeeded.

“When I sent my message to you, you sounded insistent on meeting here and advised that I shouldn’t tarry. You could have come to the docks, which, by the sound of things, you were fond of doing.” Tav lowered into the water while wincing and biting her lip at the temperature. “I was going to accuse you of wanting me smelly and exhausted so you could easily persuade me to take a bath as you watched, but, now that I’m thinking about it, I do recall there being a full bath and a smattering of flower petals when I initially met you here and signed the contract. Who was the bath for then? Voss? My companions and I?”

“I was merely setting the scene for my most important client of the day! I would never go to such efforts for Voss, nor your companions - nor for any other mortal whose name is but a tiny drop in the ocean of souls I’ve collected. It was all for you, Little Mouse.” Raphael crept towards the bath - a predator moving in on his prey. “Today I wished again to set the scene - with a reward. Now that you are without your troublesome friends and an even more troublesome tadpole, you can relax and enjoy without impediment! Soak, my dear! Soak and be content in your hard-earned and well-deserved bath, then off to bed with you…”

Tav reached for a fresh bar of soap that smelled distinctly like cherries and she ran it across her chest after wetting it. She batted eyelashes that suddenly felt heavy due to the talk of bed.

“Are you going to tuck me in, Raphael?”

His chuckle was downright sinful.

“Yes, I’ll even read you a bedtime story.”

“Oh?” Tav languidly rubbed aromatic suds into her skin. “What’s the story about?”

His eyes followed her hands.

“A fox who secured all that he wanted.”

Tav smiled and she briefly submerged herself.

“Did the fox secure the woods?” she asked after breaking through the water’s surface.

“He did, and the neighboring woods.”

She placed the bar of soap back onto the edge, and Tav scratched at her scalp and combed fingers through her hair.

“I presume he secured the animals inside of the woods as well?”

“Every single one.”

She made a point to stare into brown, dilated eyes.

“Including the mouse?”

“You’re going to spoil the story for yourself…”

It was at that moment that a yawn formed in her throat. She did her best to ignore the symptom of drowsiness (things were becoming interesting), but the yawn was persistent enough to force an escape. Tav covered what she could, but it was the kind of yawn that made her eyes water. When she blearily looked at the cambion, the desire on his face had been replaced with warm humor.

“I was wondering how long you would be able to keep your guise up,” he remarked.

Another smaller and shorter yawn broke through.

“Finish up,” Raphael ordered, and he walked away - disappearing to the other half of the room.

Tav complied. She rinsed out her hair, finished scrubbing in all the necessary places, and by the time she was done, Raphael had returned. He held out a plush red towel for her to take when she moseyed to the bath’s edge and climbed out.

“Thanks,” Tav said, fighting back what could possibly be an endless string of yawns. The towel was soft and thick, smelled like Raphael, and she made a note to steal it in the morning as she wrung out her hair and dried herself off.

“I won’t miss it,” Raphael said knowingly.

“How - I don’t steal everything, you know,” she scoffed.

“I am aware.”

Tav made a new mental note - to not steal the towel in the morning.

Sufficiently dried, she cheekily dropped the towel to the floor and peered at a bed that had been prepped for sleeping.

The urge to sprint and throw herself into the covers was extinguished when she was unexpectedly scooped up by arms and swept off her feet.

“This is becoming ridiculous,” Tav muttered. Despite her tone, and against her better judgment, she foolishly liked the feeling of being held by the cambion - the feeling of his hands on her...

“Did you not ask to be tucked in?” Raphael retorted, carrying her naked body up the couple steps that led to the bedroom portion of the suite.

She was too tired to think of a witty comeback, so Tav stayed silent while Raphael transferred her over to the bed.

“What do you normally sleep in, Little Mouse?”

Usually just her smallclothes.

Tav glanced up at him. “I sleep naked, of course.”

His eyes flared, and she could read that he wanted to do far more than simply tuck her in.

He gently laid her upon the satin bedding. A fluffy pillow was beneath her head, and the sheets were smooth against her skin. Raphael reached over to draw the top sheet and comforter over her, and Tav was enveloped by heavenly, toasty warmth.

“Would it be possible to have the room for the next day or two?” she murmured, making herself snug under the covers.

Her eyes closed as the fox smiled brightly.

“Oh, my Little Mouse, stay as long as you’d-”

And she was out.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Vil, Jack: a Strength that Shines

Ayyy, it’s the childhood friends (?) from the Shaftlands!! It feels like forever since we last got any significant interactions between Vil and Jack. Nice to see them chatting again~

bdjwvsjsGuabs THAT GROOVY THOUGH… Vil looks so judgmental and dismissive 😭 Channeling all his Mean Girl energy to diss Neige Snow White, lol

A Tale as Old as Time.

Four sides drew together to form a glittering box. A lovely maiden rested within the coffin-like casing of the photo frame. Her lips as red as blood, her hair as dark as ebony, and her skin as fair as snow.

She was circled by foliage, her sun-dappled face tilting up, disarmed by some distant call. The girl cupped her dainty hands together, housing a small baby blue bird in her palms. Kindness, goodness, grace—she exuded all of them.

Vil scoffed, tossing golden hair over his shoulder. Her smile was reminiscent of a rival celebrity, one pure as a dove's feathers.

So carefree, so cheery.

How irritating, he sighed.

"One ought to be more cautious in the woods. Who knows what dangers might lurk nearby, wishing to enact harm upon her.

"For a glamour shot though... Hmm, yes. This composition is acceptable. The sunlight is angled upon her face in a pleasing way—it casts a golden glow on her pale visage and highlights the highest points: cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. The impression is one of total innocence.”

A soft grunt sounded from beside him.

"She's... shining," Jack commented plainly. His critique, clipped. “Didn’t you do a photo shoot like this recently? Similar place and everything.”

Vil’s beauty was momentarily marred by a grimace. “Yes, as promotional material for an upcoming film. However, the feel of it was completely different than what you see here.”

Shadows instead of sunlight. Temptation in the place of innocence.

He, poised amid the creeping branches and dark leaves, a tatter cloak clinging to his curves. A single, crimson apple in his grasp, a sultry look directed at the camera.

He tried to picture himself like the girl in the frame countless times over. Kneeling among the woodland creatures, smiling so serenely. Any pro could pull it off—he included.

But the image never turned out right in his mind.

Not the right amount of sweetness, not natural enough.

Not quite the same.

Not at all.

Blood, sweat, tears. Sacrifices made at the altar. Yet still, the world yielded nothing but broken promises and shattered dreams. The splintered parts and shambles of them, he gathered, forming his own makeshift hope and determination.

He couldn’t give in here.

Vil’s perfectly groomed brows scrunched up.

“I shall have to endeavor to work even harder. I’m not satisfied with things as they are now.”

“Heh.” Jack cocked a small, lopsided grin. “Keeping on the grind… That’s just like you. You've got this."

“Obviously. Nothing will get accomplished otherwise.” Vil’s eyes passed over to the beastmen. “Presumably, you are doing the same."

"Yeah. Haven't skipped a day of my training regimen." Jack slapped a hand on his bicep, which fit snuggly in his glittering white sleeve. "We'll take out RSA next track and field meet!"

"I'd certainly hope so. If I am to taste sweet revenge, I'd prefer it be by my own hand... but I trust you to deliver in my place. I expect good news when next we speak. Do not disappoint me."

"Yessir!" Jack's tail wagged enthusiastically. He stood alert, saluting like a loyal knight. “I'll do my best!"

“Then it looks as though we both have our long-term goals set.” The dorm leader planted his hands on his waist—slim, cinched.

"Yours is...?"

"To surpass myself." Vil jerked his chin toward the girl in the painting. "To shine so brightly that my name not only goes down in history, but overshadows that which was written before."

"That's some big dream you have." Jack shook his head. "The scale's beyond what I can imagine. But knowing how stubborn you are, Vil-senpai... You seriously won't quit until you make that dream come true."

"My, my. Stubborn, am I?" He smirked, arms crossed. "I do believe it takes one to know one.

"You stand back and watch. I'll show you just how dazzling I can be."

His eyes held a steeliness to them. It was matched only by the same in Jack’s. Two strong men and their wills, meeting on equal grounds.

Jack simply nodded—an acknowledgment, an acceptance, of his upperclassman’s confidence. Overwhelming, like a powerful wave, a strong storm, a blazing inferno. He almost felt compelled to drop to one knee, to kneel before such a presence.

Vil turned away from the painting, his arms unraveling from one another. His movements were graceful, nearly ballet-like. And his expression—

Jack caught him mid-laugh. The snooty, airy kind, half-sincere, half-sarcastic. Brows upturned, mouth twisted in a faux sympathetic smile. Flaxen waves framing his lovely features.

His lips moved.

“I’ll topple you from your throne,” Vil vowed.

It was then that Jack noticed.

Vil-senpai's shining like the fair maiden.

[shinsmarlboro]

Come around. - A Manjiro Sano Twoshot

TAGS: AFAB!reader, stripper!reader, club setting, slight mentions of Izana

Finding out that you worked for him had felt like you had been shot in the gut. Year after year of running away from everything that you saw in him, dreaming about him and waking up yearning. Yearning for something that would never happen, not in a millennium.

He made it clear 12 years ago. The memory of what he said had failed you tremendously, except for the ache in your heart that grows in your chest when you try to recall that day - the heavy rain, drenched half-conscious bodies & blood mixed with water from the downpour. You were in the midst of it all, staring at the faceless culprit as he grinned, like some psycho, at the thought of inflicting pain to his friends.

The rest of the memory is history, or maybe that's what your brain wants you to think. Perhaps it is doing you good, shielding you away from the remains of the horrid memory.

Oh well.

You had better things to do, better things to worry about like putting food on the table with this capricious job of yours.

You stared at the dolled-up visage in the mirror, before deciding to pick up the fashion magazine on your stylist's vanity table to distract yourself from the impending event to commence in an hour.

As Vivian's hands worked on styling your tresses, you flipped through the pages only stopping to admire the haute couture designs and the vibrant colours used in them while simultaneously keeping an ear out for gossip from her chatterbox co-workers who were also getting pretty and primp.

You couldn't shake off the feeling that you were being watched, you blamed it on the jitters you get before going into the spotlight even after three years in the industry.

You still weren't used to it, the whole experience was different from the previous service jobs you had picked up during your time in college. As someone who kept to themself most of the times, it would take quite a while before you got used to it - that's if, you don't end up quitting from the soul crushing pressure.

But, the pay was good. You had to admit it, and it seemed your quiet allure captured the eyes of a few affluent customers with suitcases.

Minutes passed by like a flash, you could tell Vivian had finished up with the final touch ups when she placed her hands on your bare shoulders. You peered in the mirror once again, admiring the sleek bouncing curls that cascaded down your shoulders, with the help of authentic extensions.

“You look amazing, angel,” Vivian cooed.

“Thanks to you.” You sighed, brushing away the tendrils from your delicate face.

She just shook her head, a small smile adorning her crimson lips before walking away to tend to another worker. Slowly, you rose from the chair feeling an ache in your rear from sitting down for too long and returned the magazine back on the table. No way you could afford skipping your stretching routine now.

You exited the room, unbeknownst to the pair of ebon eyes staring at your retreating form through the screen.

***

To say Izana was angry would be an understatement; IIzana was livid.

“I don't think I'm understanding you, wait.” He adjusted his phone from his shoulder to his left hand. An annoyed chuckle escaped from his mouth. “You mean to tell me that you aren't on the plane to Manila?”

Manjiro picked at his fingernails, clearly not in the mood for Izana's tantrums. “Something came up.”

“I always make sure that Haruchiyo clears out your schedule, Huwag mo akong subukan!”

A crease formed between his brows. “You know I'm still learning Tagalog. I would appreciate it if you didn't use big words with me.” He spoke dryly, brushing back his long ebony tresses.

“Manjiro…” He warned, his tone sounding unamused. The aforementioned could sense he had the grip on his phone on a tight hold as a way to restrain his ire.

“I'll make it up to you, big bro. Say hi to Isadora for me.” He made sure to quickly hang up, letting out a languid sigh as he reclined against the back seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

Knowing how petty Izana was, Manjiro won't hear the end of this. It had been a while since they had last seen each other in five months at least. Izana had business to deal with some prominent gangs in Manila, whilst he stayed back in Tokyo with Kisaki to accompany him on business trips, a decision that had the older brother feeling bitter.

He couldn't be bothered with his antics, he had more important things to do.

But, he couldn't just tell Izana that the stuff it entailed was sauntering into Club Nocturne at 10 PM with a concerned Kakucho. Though he wore a stoic expression, Manjiro could feel it from the corner of his eye, his muscles seemed taut, straining against the fabric of his black trenchcoat.

“Loosen up a little,” Manjiro told him curtly.

It wasn't his fault, his job was to pick him up and escort him to the airport, however now he happened to be acting as his bodyguard as his number two was unavailable at the moment.

He made sure to keep his workers in the dark about his appearance as not only was it a decision made on a while, he wanted to see the look on your face. Were you still the person that lights up at the sight of him, after all these years?

A voice in his head told him that you had moved on, yet the other tempted him with the scenario of a lovestruck expression on your pretty little face, a glimpse of how lovely and warm you were during your teenhood even after he pushed you away.

He hoped he hadn't withered your good spirit with his sombre presence, yet at the same time he wanted to taint you with his madness - have you get drunk off of it.

As they made their way to the VIP room, his eyes never stopped searching for your familiar face. Then again he could always go backstage and pull you aside, but where was the fun in that? He'd just have to wait.

side note: likes & reblogs are STRONGLY appreciated, ily ♥︎

[haravath0t]

𝐀 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝’𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧-𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐬

𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚗𝚎𝚞𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎, 𝚣𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒, 𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚝𝚘, 𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚊

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 - 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟹

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : ̗̀➛ meeting the in-laws during the holidays…how does that work? (genshin men x Filipino!reader)

☕🤍🌿 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ! 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 ! ☕🤍🌿

₊˚.༄ 𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦

Oh, they’d love him.

The minute he walks through the door, his aura is undeniable. He’s practically the dream son-in-law any Filipino parent can ask for.

Taking off shoes at the front door? Check. A put together outfit? Check. Going up to your parents immediately to take their hand and doing the “mano”? Check. Your parents would eat it all up too! 

“Ayyy, wow! Mabait s’ya!” (Wow! He’s polite!) “Ang galing naman! Ay thank you, thank you!”

They would even notice that he took care of the refreshments too, it seems. By refreshments, we mean water bottles. Lots of it. It undeniably will be the brand that he likes the best. No, it is not the crystal geyser, no it’s not dasani, just a bunch of “flavored water with the best aftertaste.” (Don’t get your hopes up, it’s good ol’ mineral water.)

It’s all nice and all, but when he sits down? He may not look like it, but he’s a nervous wreck. “Is this alright?” “Perhaps I can say something. But what?” “Hmm, no, not that.” In truth, he’s amazed that he even landed on a beautiful partner, that is you, someone who has exercised so much patience and has taught him ways to express himself. However, to practice all he has learned from you in the face of other people, especially that it’s your parents? It is safe to say even the Iudex himself cannot help but feel queasy. 

He cannot bring himself to really start any conversation as much as he would like to, even the bustle of your family slowly trickling in cannot take away the unspoken worries he has. It is thanks to you holding his hand below the table that his worries ease even a little, as well as your inquisitive parents. 

The fact that your parents start off by asking questions eases Neuvillette, his posture as elegant as he looks, relax ever so slightly, something you notice by the slightest shift in his seat. The longer they talk to the quiet Iudex, the more your parents are comforted as well. Perhaps their daughter is in good hands, after all. 

“Please, do not worry. I shall swear to you that your daughter will live every day knowing how much she means to me.”

ᨒ ₊ ⊹ 𝘻𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪

Like Neuvillette, he’d have an aura that one cannot deny. It’s as though he carries himself with a quiet yet powerful sense of confidence, truly the definition of finesse as he steps in. It’s as though a higher power has stepped into the party. (hah!)

He was well-dressed, having his dress shirt with a nicely placed tie, some nice slacks, and a trench coat that only accentuates his lean visage. As always, his long brown hair was in a ponytail, and he came in with leather gloves. 

The way he takes off his shoes and the way he practically bows down to your parents to “mano” them is pretty second nature to him. “Greetings. Thank you for hosting this night for us.” He’d say, and his deep voice along with the gentle tone he uses amuses your parents and even your cousins. Sure they knew he was a good man for you to be married to, and sure they have heard him speak before, but to hear him and be within his vicinity is such a shocker to them!

The titas are fawning over him already, trying to lean closer to hear this man talk, even approaching so that way they can greet him as well. His smile was so kind, his amber eyes something no one can look away from, and his stature made him look much taller than he already is. 

In his hands were a container of dumplings that you and he had made together, a suggestion made by him to thank the hosts, your parents. “Ay! Thank you!” Your parents seemed more than pleased. It is when he takes off his gloves and holds your hand does your wedding rings shine in the light, a reminder to the family just who he was happily married to. 

They cannot help but talk about you both now, watching Zhongli catch up with your parents quietly, all the while his hand subconsciously places itself on the small of your back, letting you take a plate and dig into the various foods and desserts you would like. Though your parents have talked to Zhongli several times before on smaller visits, they still cannot help but feel some form of intimidation towards the man, feeling as though it was too good to be true. 

Your titas love him alright, but your titos? Oh, they envy him. Almost every man in that party does. They felt as though Zhongli needed to be eased in, and what better way than through drinks and games? Mayhaps mahjong? Oh, that’s where they had made a mistake. 

Zhongli refuses beer, settling on tea while he talks to the titos with ease, though he wouldn’t hesitate to give out his opinions on some topics, which undeniably tarnish some of the pride your titos came into this party with. The worst part? He’s winning the mahjong matches no matter how many times the titos or your guy cousins switch. The man at this point seems unshakeable! He didn’t show it, but he was getting a hoot out of it. 

However, even if it may be so, he’s always coming back to you. Even amidst the noise, his smile truly appears when you’re near. Your parents don’t miss how easily you two reciprocate, and they cannot help but feel relaxed. 

“Salamat sa diyos,” (“Thank god”) Your mom sighs, looking at your father. “She’s taken care of.”

₊˚.༄ 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘵𝘰

Unlike the previous husbands, Kamisato Ayato is an intimidating type. Rather than him being a bit nervous around your parents, it’s more of them being nervous around him. 

They immediately approved of your marriage with him, his name alone already ringing a bell to both your mom and dad. When he met them, asking their blessing in your marriage? Oh, they cannot help but become nervous. They tried to dress their best, you came in with an extra spotless looking household, and the biggest array of Filipino dishes you can even recall. Admittedly, it was a little too much, that you even got a bit annoyed of how they were putting much more effort into this than they should, but you had to just let Ayato be, letting him praise your parents in turn. 

When you called your parents to notify them that you two were coming to this year’s Christmas party, it was the same reaction. Even though Ayato does his best to reassure them that he’s just “your husband”, it seems to never be so. 

And so, he’s dressed in a simple yet elevated outfit: a light blue collared shirt, paired with a black tie and vest, and a long black trench coat. 

The kids loved him, of course, but you can see your parents practically curl up. He greeted your relatives and your parents with ease, amusing them each time he even spoke to you so lovingly. 

“My love, let’s grab something delicious to eat.” He’s heard saying to you with a smile, gently guiding you through the crowded house where the trays of food are lined up. 

Though many are in awe of the famed Kamisato, they are undeniably going to think of your comparability with the young man too. The titas talk to your parents, and it’s a whole round table in itself. 

“Ang pangit ng damit ng anak mo!” (“Your daughter’s clothes look ugly”) A Tita whispers to your mother. “Lalo na sa tabi n’ya.” (“Especially next to him.”)

“Couldn’t your daughter have a better job?” “I feel like this is some joke.” “He could leave her one day, watch…let’s see if she can keep her act together.”

Your ears catch it pretty quickly, the women talking so loud. Undeniably it hurts your mother, but she lets them talk, trying to toughen it out. Ayato is quick to notice your concern. 

“Hey,” Ayato chuckles from behind, kissing your temple. “Why don’t you find us a seat? I’ll get us your favorite drink, hm?” His voice, as always, was so sweet, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Fine, fine,” you sigh. “I’ll be in the living room.” Ayato can only smile and look at you with loving eyes. “Good girl.”

And so, you opt to find a cozy seat on the couch in the other room, somewhere by the corner and by the window. Ayato was going to get your drinks from the freezer, yes, but also to make a quick stop. 

“Ahh,” Ayato chuckles, standing beside the circle of titas and your own mother. Immediately the chatter dies down, and he practically commands the flow of the topic, all the while he holds onto your drinks. “I don’t want to be so intruding, but I cannot help but overhear what you all are talking about!” It is only then that the titas start to feel a tinge of guilt, and Ayato stops them before they even come up with an excuse.  

“Why, if I may add my own contribution, I’d like to offer that before you begin to judge what my wife and I have with one another, that you all consider just what type of people you all are that makes you all so capable of passing judgment, hm? You won’t tarnish my impression of my wife, but you are tarnishing my impression towards you all.”

₊˚.༄ 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘢

Oh, your parents had their doubts when they met Childe. They couldn’t help but wonder if he was a bad influence or not, but they decided that they can’t really sway you to reconsider or to think about it a bit more. So alas, when you and your husband come in for the Christmas party, Childe, or rather, Ajax, was already having a happy face. 

He looked so cozy in your eyes, dawning a red crew neck sweater with gray pants, all put together with a black belt and a beige coat. No doubt he was handsome, and yet the elders can only stare at this rather loud and rambunctious man that was your husband. 

Your parents greet him, but he hugs them! It’s quite a shocker to them, but they couldn’t deny, his charisma was something that had them soften up. “If you don’t mind, I also brought along someone else!” He says to your parents, and before they can question him, out peeps a smaller boy behind his legs, someone who looked similar to Ajax. He had the same red hair and blue eyes, the same freckles, and your parents’ eyes went wide. 

Was this his kid? Your stepson? But the questions were immediately answered when your husband spoke: “This is Teucer! My little brother! He has been missing us, so I figured he can come along!” 

This made your parents second guess their previous view of Ajax. Did he really speak so highly of you and your parents that he trusted his little brother to come along? Yes, yes he did. The implication alone made them smile. Maybe they needed to rethink this. 

“No, it’s okay! Come, go eat na! There’s so much food!” Your mother beckons to Teucer, leaving you and him alone. He’s very affectionate with you, and openly so, that it makes your parents blush. They watch you two settle, watch Ajax sit you down on his lap while he feeds you food from a plate you two are sharing, all while Teucer fights his older brother to snuggle up to you. 

That’s only temporary, though, especially when the little boy gets whisked away by your own young nieces and nephews, causing the kids to be even louder than usual. Still, this gets your father and mother to talk to him. 

“So Ajax…” They start asking him questions one by one, and each makes them slowly relax. He’s ticking all the requirements: he’s making a steady income, you and him are getting along fine, and that you’re also being well received by his own family. 

But then comes a dreaded distraction: a yelling noise from a chorus of men that was your Tito’s. And Ajax’s head snaps in curiosity. “Oh, don’t mind them,” your father waves dismissively. “Pacquiao is fighting tonight.” It was then you see Ajax’s eyes widen. “Wait. Like the boxer?!” “YES!”

Your father did an immediate 180 if he hadn’t already. For all you know, Ajax wasn’t yours any longer, for he was already given a bottle of beer and within the crowd of various Tito’s, seeing him mimic punches as though Pacquiao himself was being coached by this man. 

Your mother couldn’t help but laugh with you, seeing the Tito’s and a now buzzed Ajax talk amongst themselves as though they have known each other as long as you and him have. 

“You know, anak?” Your mother starts, looking over at the sight of all these men gathered around the TV while your husband screams alongside your mother’s husband. “You were right. You married a good guy, a good family oriented guy. I like it.”

[wonysugar]

i’ll wake you up | son hyeju

synopsis : she looked just like the moon.. maybe that’s why you took her gaze as an invitation to doze off.

pairing : stranger!hyeju x sleepdeprived!femreader

genre : fluffy! strangers to… NOT strangers? idk reader thinks hyeju is pretty

tags : subway, reader is TIREDDD, fluff, one shot, that’s basically it lmfao

word count : 1k (?)

12:29 am.

you thought that living so far away from your university was going to help romanticize your studies more, yknow! make you wanna glam up and actually wanna go on campus in the first place. turns out, after a couple of semesters, you were more than wrong,

and you realized that just now, especially since it’s, again, 12:29 am and you’re trying to get back home using public transport whilst also running on barely 2 hours of sleep!

being in this type of situation made you rethink your whole original thought process; romanticizing my ass, you thought, i don’t even have a car, who made me think getting into a university that far away from my home was a good idea??

as you pondered, you didn’t realize how your eyes seemed to close by themselves, almost like they were being forcefully shut tight by some invisible force; despite the numerous loud noises assaulting your ears, the ones that would prevent you from falling asleep in an average context, you were getting dangerously close to snoozing. you fought back and mentally slapped yourself to stay conscious, of course, not wanting to doze off in the middle of some practically empty subway, (especially not this late into the night). the thought of finally getting some rest, however, no mind the place, was very tempting. 

god, what you would’ve done to be in your bed at that moment.

as time passed, you were getting more and more absorbed by your own progressively ambiguous thoughts and felt your eyes get heavier, eventually falling deeper into a state of deep and extreme fatigue. 

it wouldn’t hurt to rest your eyes for a few minutes, right? you thought.

giving into the desire, you finally allowed your eyes to take a break and closed them, feeling almost immediate relief when you did.

until that relief turned into annoyance.

your eyes attempted to rest for what felt like only a small minute, the only thing preventing you from fully falling into a deep state of slumber being the movement of the transport and the stress of potentially missing your stop.

this was useless, only thing you could do was push through the whole ride and crash into your bed as soon as you get home.

when your eyes eventually fluttered back open, you raised your head back up and blinked away the sleepiness, allowing yourself to get used to reality, the setting and environment of the subway becoming familiar to you again. because, despite that break being short, it was enough for you to feel like you were dreaming. 

you cluelessly looked around, from the left to your right; the latter being the direction that your head was strangely leaning into. you were immediately greeted by an unexpected sight. 

a woman that looked about your age, but something about her somehow radiated maturity. her visage was coated with nothing but gentleness, yet her gaze was so strangely stern and tense, offering a balanced contrast to her face; she looked intimidating, yet had more than a welcoming aura. the girl’s facial structure was beautiful, too, but you mostly noticed how her long, wavy and healthy-looking black hair gracefully fell onto the slightly chubby sides of her face before you observed all of her other features with close attention. 

her mouth had somewhat of a downward triangular shape, it almost looked like a natural pout; you still could barely register anything in front of you at that moment, but you knew it was captivating.

man, you thought, she’s really pretty.

then, you realized that the reason why she was staring at you in that worried, puzzled manner.

you fell asleep on her shoulder.

“a-are you okay—“

before she could finish her sentence, that realization made you quickly snap back into reality and freak, very clearly embarrassed out of your damn mind, “shit, i’m so so sorry i didn’t mean to doze off like that, dear god i’m sorry—“

“i-it’s fine. i promise, it’s okay.” she waved her hands around wearing a subtle and compassionate smile, nervously trying to make you understand that what you did was completely harmless. 

you? you rubbed your eyes, groaning. you were still mentally slapping yourself for doing something that embarrassing; you rested your head and slept on a stranger’s shoulder. a stranger. it may not seem like that big of a deal, but to someone as socially awkward and anxious as yourself? this was suicide.

giggling to herself at your visible and quite frankly unnecessary distress, she slightly tugged on your shirt as a way to catch your attention. once she had it, she proceeded,

“you’re okay, it didn’t bother me at all, i swear. if anything, you probably need to get more hours of sleep if you just take naps on people’s shoulders like that.”

all you could do was look away in a guilty and embarrassed manner, she was right.

then, she spoke up again. “i’ll tell you what,” she smiled, before asking, “which one’s your stop?” 

you stumbled on your words, still slightly fatigued, before answering, “uh.. l-lampfield.”

“ah,” she said softly, smiling politely, “that’s my stop too. it won’t be a while till we get there, so.. you can sleep some more.” 

“but—“

“i insist. seriously don’t worry about it.” 

“o-okay… alright.” you shyly nodded.

she gently wrapped her arm around you and placed her hand behind your head, carefully pushing it onto her shoulder yet again. a sense of relief and comfort invaded your entire body upon being in small contact with her hands, especially when her fingers nicely massaged your scalp.

with every word she softly spoke, she lit up the entire dark subway with light. she radiated light with her presence alone; not sunlight, though… something more discreet than sunlight, something that quietly heals you and keeps you safe from the nearby darkness, unlike the sun that exhibits it for everyone to see. something like… moonlight.

yeah, you figured it out, that’s what she looked like. 

she looked like the moon. 

maybe that’s why it was so effortless to just fall asleep around her.

you let yourself get comfortable as you leaned against her for support. and before you felt yourself get sleepy once again, this time from her tender touch, you heard her same familiar voice place in a few words. words that made you feel safer than any lullaby ever could, words that made you wonder if you would get the chance to ever ask her name.

“i’ll wake you up.”

[ruinsof-rome]

My theories on the album covers

okay, I'm having many thougts based on the posts on tiredandlonelymuse and I'm trying to articulate everything so hear me out:

the standart cover is the only one that the face isn't interchangeable, and it's also the only one that we see only the face, covered in makeup in a way that evokes tenderness, innocence, melancholy, doll vibes. it could also be like when a child tries to do their makeup to try to emulate being older, playing pretend, but you can still see that's only a child, an innocent being. (i wanted to articulate more on this but i'm having trouble expressing myself in english)

now to the expression on her face. it feels like they're daydreaming, or dissassociating. the gaze looking far away, as if she's not mentally here anymore. see, this is their "tender core", who as a child "became such a skilled dis-associator that I split in two".

“Leave your body, and go somewhere else.”

so this cover we see Ashley, putting makeup on to play pretend as if she's someone else, dissassociating from their reality.

also i want to include this excerpt because i feel like it relates somehow: "My therapist once told me, “You are the guiltiest feeling person I’ve ever met” and just to prove her right, I took it to heart. An astrologer said, “You have so much water in your chart. What is it like to feel the emotions of every single person alive, everyday?” and I wept because I sensed he was displeased. A teacher told my parents “She’s very sensitive. Far more than the other kids in her class.” I took my SATs at 9 years old, but they encouraged my mother to hold me back because of how my eyes glistened when I heard the word no."

ok, so now onto the variants.

for the empty faces, we have "I will always reassemble to fit perfectly for you" "Someone new peeking through the room. I fear the name you whispered is mine, I’ll know it soon. I’m headless, I’m just limbs. I think they’re coming in. I already died, so this is extra time."

and if the empty space is a mirror, "Her voice and visage a reflection of your deepest dreams and darkest fears." "Standing now, in the mirror that i built myself"

on the covers with the faces on, i read some posts on @inthenameofloveforthesakeofpower that made me think

the only variant that's looking away and is expressing some emotion is the 70's one. the others are looking directly to the camera, displaying no emotions.

but at the same time, they all relate to this part "In a confusing chain of events, my maladaptive daydream became my full time reality. My armor can walk and talk and they look just like me."

and these variants showcase the "ability of a woman who can become anyone, anything your heart desires. Friend, lover, foe. She transforms before your very eyes."

we establish that the variants are the Halsey persona, the armor, that protects the core of Ashley while also being able to transform in every form imaginable.

OK NOW TO THE FUN PART: why is blonde halsey the only one looking away?

her face on this particular cover looks A LOT like the close up on the standart one. it's not the same photo, but both of them have this look of melancholy and dissassociation. andd i just noticed that the eye makeup is the same on both covers!! the eyelashes and the black liner are exactly the same.

blonde halsey is related to the song The End, the most personal song released, talking about their health struggles. This comes from ashley, the person who is sick. but she's releasing the song under the cover of halsey, as if she's the child that's putting make up on to appeal to the world. that's why we can see her with the same expression, looking away in fear when becoming this other persona. she's too scared to tell these big news by herself.

then we get to the other covers, where her maladaptive daydream became their full time reality. that's why they all are looking directly to the camera, because they created their conciousness, they're the reality now, they are in the present.

i'm seeing as if the covers are progressing, as in each one that passes she's getting more and more into the halsey persona

pink halsey, the last on the scale, represents the songs Lucky and Lonely is the Muse, both of wich feels like it's Halsey talking from their experience. She's a popstar, she's so lucky, but why is she still so sad? She's a muse, built from special pieces that can always reassemble to fit perfectly for you.

also back to blonde halsey x the others, i have this other theory where there's this part "I already died, so now I see it open eyed. I already died, so I am justified." she could be the only one with conciousness, seeing it open eyed

ok that's it for now!!! i'm sleepy but my head was bubbling with these thoughts so i needed to write them down! i'm sorry for any errors or if i couldn't express myself correctly, i'm writing on my second language so some thoughts are difficult to translate. i'm probably super wrong about all of this, but i had fun writing!!

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Lost in Your Echos -Prologue teaser

❥ ┊𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; Dawnbreaker!Zayne × Hunter!Reader

❥ ┊𝐀𝐔; This one is gonna get weird folks. Canon Divergent as fuck, but will use a lot of the canon lore.

❥ ┊𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; NSFW, reader is afab using she/her pronouns, reader's skin/hair/body will not be described (this will be Black reader friendly!!) violence, mentions of torture but no descriptions, beloved character deaths (I'm serious I'm gonna kill 'em), slow burn, obsessive behavior, Dawnbreaker is kind of a creep but he's trying he just doesn't know how, trauma, ptsd, nightmares/night terrors, poorly managed grief and depression, sexual situations (more specific tags for that when we get to those chapters later).

❥ ┊𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; In the far future, Dawnbreaker fights a lone man war against an ever growing hoard of human born wanderer abominations, spawned from an unchecked protocore sickness run rampant. 2 weeks after the death of Georgie, Zayne has an all too vivid dream of the Doctor that abruptly brings an end to his dreams of the Doctor and you.

Several months later, Detective Ivan reaches out to him again, informing him that a woman has come forward requesting help with information about the abominations. Knowing he can't help her, he sends Dawnbreaker her info and suggests Zayne meet up with her. What he finds shatters the delicate reality he has built for himself, but for the first time in his bleak life he can feel the warmth of the sun.

❥ ┊𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭; Lost in Your Echos

"It's you.” Truly the last place he expected to see the haunted expression of his own warped visage was in his once quiet office at Akso hospital, but Zayne already knew this was no ordinary meeting. The mid-morning sun shone through the open windows, washing everything in a beautiful golden glow, but there was no warmth to be found here.

How long had it been since he'd sat behind this desk? 6, 7, 8 weeks? Even now there was a force in his mind that wanted to drift to the many patients he'd left in the care of Dr. Greyson, and their varied outcomes, but the man that stood before him like a specter was the only thing left to take care of now. He wore his face, but so discordant were the expression and mannerisms that they made every part of his being feel like he was staring down the executioner.

This was his grim reaper.

He'd experienced his presence a hundred times in his dreams, yet nothing in those half lucid moments compared to this. 

“You've come for me then, finally.” He watched the unchanging face of his twisted reflection for any sign of recognition or acceptance. Instead, the apparition finally spoke, his expression as frigid as his tone. 

“You called me here.” His voice was quieter than the Doctor's, with the slight rasp of disuse, but otherwise, he thinks they sound too similar for his liking. Zayne watches as the figure cut in black shifts, movements awkward like he takes up space in a room he is not part of. He is a person all too real in a dream or simulation, and it reminds Zayne that his own body is slipping from his grasp. 

“I didn't call anyone here. I'm not even sure where ‘here’ is. If you're not the grim reaper then who exactly are you, and where are we?” Zayne doesn't miss the slightest crinkle of the other's eyes at the use of his macabre ‘nickname’, but all the same he doesn't object.

With a small effort he stands, the unease in his gut growing and gnawing as he realizes now they are exactly the same height as well. It didn't bother him before how perfectly stacked all the logs were, or how healthy all the plants looked. How all the pillows on the couch were fully fluffed and every photo on his desk was fingerprint free. However, the longer he stood here in the eerie silence with his doppelganger, the more his surroundings began to feel suffocating and uncanny. He knows his heart should be racing with the discomfort he's experiencing yet it felt alarmingly calm. His fingers itched to call the familiar ice for his own protection only to find the terrifyingly numb sensation of nothingness. 

He really was dead. But what about-

“I was dreaming.” The other starts softly, temporarily snapping Zayne from his spiral. “I saw… us in an explosion and we called out for help. I …. reached out.” The caution and cadence in his voice made him sound confused, and Zayne follows his flickering gaze downward as they both look to his trembling hands that now tightly grip the photo that sat on his desk of the two of you in your finest evening wear at his last award ceremony dinner. Your smile, so radiant and warm, was forever seared into his memory. This seemed so long ago now. Had the last few months truly aged you both that much?

Wait, when did he even grab this?

No, that didn't matter. He didn't have time to waste now. If he could reach out to him then maybe-

“Can you reach out to her? Is she still alive?” Zayne no longer cared to police his tone or expression, and the reaction of his double was proof enough as he watched his eyes blow wide for just a second. He could feel the frantic tone cracking in his throat like a fading fire but pushed forward despite the strain, slamming his free hand on the desk between them, alarmed by the lack of pain or feedback from it. “Like you are right now with me? She was with me in the-”

“I saw her, yes.” There is a consuming reverence on his tongue when he speaks of you, and if Zayne had any other option, he'd have gladly taken it over him at this moment. The way his eyes soften and soothe at the mere mention of you is enough to trip more than one warning flag, but he lacks the time you desperately need. He knows he's not the first man to die for you, and while he doesn't understand what this body double even is, he's a wise enough man to know his own heart. His own devotion to you, left unchecked, could border on obsession. 

He has no choices left. There is no more time, and his only parting gift to you is hopefully giving you the time necessary to make your plan work. So many had put their faith in you, himself included, and he would be a fool to look this 11th hour gift in the eye and deny its aid. 

Xavier, Jeremiah, Caleb, Thomas, Yvonne… so many more names of the lost had faded from his memory and the thought made him sick, the ghost of the taste of bile on the back of his tongue. How many had he forgotten already? 

“Do it. Please.” Voice raw, he begged. For you, he begged the grim reaper. 

[queengiuliettafirstlady]

Magical charms under the moon

Magical charms under the moon

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Kicho x OC (Juliet)                                                                   

Prompt : Festival After Dark

Part of : Sunshine and Starlight hosted by @violettduchess and @lorei-writes

Tag: Platonic Love Festival Dancing

Word Count : 1.261

Author’s Note: A festival turn into so much more, love spurt under the stars as destiny meddle with two people seemingly at odds but more similar than what they thought, bringing them closer into a relationship created to change the world and themselves in unpredictable way, powerful and weird like the emotion binding them together. 🤩

Side Note: All the images were found on Pinterest-Google and I was unable to find the source, please if any of you know the owner tell me and I will provide to give the artist the credit for the image.

Tag list

@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @lordsisterxotome  @aquagirl1978 @violettduchess @natimiles @nightghoul381 @dragon-liquorice @candied-boys

You can find me on AO3 as QueenJuliet 😊

Thank you for everyone who will like, reblog, or comment please be gentle with me english is not my first language so please do not leave rude comments I apologise for eventual errors I hope you will like it😊

He was a yaksha. She was a yōsei.

They should never have met.

But they did.

That meeting was only the beginning of something that was destined to change them.

Moonless curls cascaded over her shoulder, scattered in the wind adorning a gorgeous visage, big and round tourmaline eyes, a canvas of emotions, glimmering just like the gem itself as the light flickered and swam in them sheltering under the feeble shadow of her long and graceful eyelashes, her lips a rose bud curled in gentle, albeit shy, half-confident, ever kind, smiles.

She alone shone bright in the night like a star with her fair complexion and her emerald kimono, that hugged luscious feminine curves he was unused to, moving so gracefully as she walked with a touch of innocent sensuality that it was hard to tame and impossible to resist, bewitching him to get closer and get burn in her light.

Like a moth was drawn to a flame even though it hurt its wings, he was drawn to her irresistibly because he didn't know any other way to live.

A mad desire burned in him to know more about that mermaid, that enchantress that put a spell on him bewitching his every sense against any rationality.

In what maybe everyone else would have seen the bud of love he saw his ruin, and yet this too was not enough to pull him away from her.

Her quick wits and curious nature luring him in to discover more of her, to ask, to seek, to understand that entrancing mystery she was to him, forbidden desires kept him awake until late at night, picturing all that could have been between them.

He was defenseless caught in strange ideas in a daze between dreams and reality, until Morphoeus coaxed him to sleep dreaming of her in vivid real dreams he woke up from sweating, shook to the core with an inexplicable yearn to make them real, to have her in his house as she was in his heart.

The only thing preventing him from pursuing his dreams was the fact that his plan, inevitably, would have upset her.

But this too was not enough to pull him away from her, unconsciously scanning the crowd looking for her like a man gone mad with love.

And maybe he was.

Little did he care about that, even though his business partner couldn’t say the same, but nothing ever stopped his determination.

Or so he thought.

Deep down he knew that if she had said so much of a word against his plan he would have tried to listen, that's how much of a fool love made of him.

In the end he was no better than his sister, damning himself for love.

His past self would have mocked such a thing, but he was no longer the man he was before meeting her and he surely couldn’t go back to being.

Their meeting was a chance.

Their love destiny.

It happened on a visit to a nearby village, way too close to Azuchi for his liking, but business was like that and he had no intention to let anything stop that trip from going on smoothly.

But he hadn’t taken her into account.

It was sunset, the meeting had just ended and he really couldn’t wait to go home at once but the roads were stuck for a festival.

He frowned in annoyance, deeming better to walk by foot than to wait for who knows how long to cross the city on horseback thus he gave up on the idea of borrowing one, grateful for the fact his loyal white mane stayed at the inn while he reached the merchant’s house by rickshaw.

It was then he saw her, standing like the sun at the center of everything.

“It must be a festival, what a bother they are holding it today of all days.”

His companion rebuffed annoyed but he couldn’t hear him bewitched as he was from that sight.

Beautiful like the moon, and as much as unreachable, was her dancing with a man with rosy hair, who judging by his expression, was coaxed in the dance by her.

And in the moment she smiled he knew exactly why.

There was no doubt any man would have fallen on his knees giving up all for her if she smiled, he knew because he felt the same way, fact soon proved as he looked around seeing women and men alike enraptured by her.

A yōsei casting her good grace and kindness like a rain of cherry blossom petals in spring, her laugh tingling like the rain caressing the trees’ leaves during a warm summer storm.

As long as she allowed him, he would have bathed in her light.

The moment their eyes met he felt destiny had been set in motion and there would have been no going back.

Shining like the star she was, she beckoned him to come closer, an invitation to share, be it for a fleeting moment, the warmth of what could have been.

Of what could still be if he was brave enough to pursue it.

A spell he could not resist, and a part of him did not want to.

He took her hand in his, letting her smile seep into him, allowing himself, for that night alone, to be happy, not caring nor thinking about anything but that moment.

He let her guide him in a frenetic dance, enraptured by the carefree happiness of the festival, switching position at every turn giving him a better view of each facet of her.

The music gets louder in time with his heartbeats as they spin around faster, in a frenzy of motion that leaves no space to think, to breath, to see, anything but her.

To think a yaksha would have been enchanted by a yōsei was laughable in itself but he didn’t care if this was what happiness felt like that so be it.

He would have done everything he could have to stay with her, and even though he knew it was forbidden and maybe wrong, all that mattered to him was getting to know her better, doing his best to protect her all the same.

A contradiction he would have done his best to resolve.

In an instant their gazes met and held, tourmaline meeting chartreuse glimmering with the same warm light of the lanterns and something dangerously akin to curiosity that set his heart ablaze.

Their lips were close, Oh so close it could have been sinful.

And in a way it was.

Ever gallant he pulled back bowing to her as she did the same, reluctant to step back from the sun, he bought himself time taking her hand in his only to leave a gentlemanly kiss on its back, revelling, for a minute longer, in the adorable rosy blush that spread on her fairy cheeks, already reddened from the dance so much to resemble a strawberry, one he wouldn’t have minded kissing to savour its sweetness.

“I hope we will meet again.”

“Me too.”

Her voice sweet as a persimmon and as much as refreshing to his heart, accompanied him all the way back to their inn.

Upon their return to Sakai her memory was all but vanished from his mind, more determined than ever he went to work to find more about that peculiar westerner girl that awakened his every sense as nothing ever did, a strange sensation, but not unwanted, spread in his heart as he greeted the morning with a smile.

[paroslineage]

Mistake Aftermath

Shinichiro Sano x

F!Reader

TW : Blood, Reader Death, Canon Divergence.

This is my own original idea and the characters of TR do not belong to me but Ken Wakui. Do not steal :/

Genre : Bittersweet.

The Incident.

It seemed like the skies and the rain mourned and sympathized with Shinichiro.

It had three days since your passing took place at S.S Motors.

The little ones were absolutely devastated

Emma wailed heart breakingly, mourning for her beloved sister-in-law.

...

"Ne ne Y/N Nee-Chan?"

"Hm? Yes Emma-Chan what's wrong?" you asked as you caressed Emma's soft and fluffy blonde hair while coddling her gently to your bosom.

"Why are the birds rushing here and there?"

"See Emma-Chan when the sun dims low the birds return to their nest that is back to their families."

"Ohh.. Am I your family Nee-Chan?"

"Yes baby I'm your family and always will be." You nuzzled her cheek affectionately with your nose causing a heart warming giggle to break out from her mouth.

...

Izana was eerily silent than usual. His head down, bangs covering his darkened expression and a lone tear trailing down his cheek.

...

"Ne... Y/N Nee..?"

"Yes 'Zana?"

"Will you go to the park with me" Izana asked you in a shy tone.

"Why yes of course we can lil guy" you said in a gentle tone.

Izana's amethyst eyes lit up like a Christmas tree and cheered

"Yay! Thank you so much Y/N-Nee!"

"No worries at all 'Zana."

...

Mikey also stood unchracterstically quiet his onyx eyes dark as he stared at your visage peeking from inside of the casket.

...

"Hey Mikey don't you get stomach ache eating those all day long?"

"Hm. No not at all Y/N Nee-Chan."

"Tell me why do you eat so much Tayaki and Dorayaki?"

"To get taller Nee-Chan." Mikey's eyes twinkled as he claimed seriously.

Not able to take Mikey serious at all you burst out laughing sweetly.

"Hey that's not nice Nee-Chan!"

"I know dearie but that does not work like that but if you continue you will get tall enough."

"Really Nee-Chan?!"

"Yes from the side."

"Nee-Chan!!"

...

Shinichiro was mumbling insanely for you.

his Y/N..

Wakasa and Takeomi held him from the sides incase his knees decided on giving out.

...

Ryoko had slapped Keisuke hard that his face snapped to the side his own bangs covering his dark expression.

Ryoko grasped the white shirt collar of Keisuke and shook him hard.

"What were you thinking Keisuke?! why..why did this happen?!" She yelled at him angrily but her loses her composure in between not being able to keep her emotions at bay and finally breaking down.

She lets go of him and turns to the direction your casket was kept and stumbled her way and eventually fell to her knees distraught bronze eyes looking brokenly inside the casket, at you.

You still looked beautiful, like a dream and possibly a to be bride...

Oh yeah and...

Your marriage with Shinichiro was supposed to be tommorow.

But that's all shattered glass now...

"My..-my...baby...you were supposed to get married tomorrow.. and yet you are here lying in this cold casket-" Not being able to keep it in anymore she broke down wailing only to be consoled by an equally distraught Emma.

Keisuke just stood where he was left, his once mischief sparkled bronze eyes now reduced to a dull hue like the color itself lost its lustre bore into your pale expressionless face.

"Nee-chan ... Gomen.. gomen...." Keisuke mumbled with pain as his eyes grew misty as he stared at your expressionless face.

He walked shakingly towards the casket looking in it and grabbing your hand.. Holding it tightly. Never wanting to let go of his beloved nee chan.

Keisuke started to sob alone...until two hands slapped him on both side of his shoulder looking up he saw draken and mitsuya looking at him solemnly offering their condolences to the broken boy but it made him cry more harder.

From the sidelines Mikey ominously stared at you same with the owner of amethyst eyes, Izana.

Wanting to kill Kazutora for Taking away their beloved Onee-Chan.

Meanwhile in the juvie

"I didn't mean to hit her... I really didn't... I'm sorry... Y/N nee chan.... Forgive me.."

Kazutora rocked back and forth, apologizing for killing you.

you were so sweet, a fiancée of someone.. But he shattered that dream and for that

he was terribly sorry...

[etherealiity]

Modern cultivation fem ranwan mo ran has a minor qi deviation her heads messed up, she tries to propose to the gorgeous cultivator lady with phoenix eyes and the lady ? Is married? Mr can fight ! Not sure why her insistence on this makes the lady laugh but ohhh its a beautiful laugh

I loved this one! I was giggling every five minutes, thank you sm for your beautiful mind<3 I hope you enjoy this one!

-

Mo Ran’s eyes fought to open against the stickiness of sleep. A moment later, she was sorry she had wasted her efforts, her gritty eyes immediately assaulted by the blindingly bright light. Didn’t she have curtains in her room she drew every night? And what was with the cloying smell of antiseptic in the air?

A moment after that, Mo Ran was no longer sorry. In fact, her eyes opened as wide as they could - she swore she would never blink again. Not if it meant missing a second of the breathtaking beauty sat by her bedside. 

Mo Ran asked without thinking, her voice hazy like a dream, “Am I in heaven?”

Amber, phoenix eyes darted up to look at her then, and Mo Ran’s breath snagged almost painfully in her throat. Oh. Oh, she was not only beautiful - she was divinity incarnate. Caught off guard, the woman’s expression was incomparably soft, soft as a spring breeze and gentle, overwhelmingly so, just like the pale morning light dappling her elegant features.

Then, Mo Ran’s question registered, and those petal-pink lips quirked down into a frown. 

“What?”

“Because you’re a goddess,” Mo Ran murmured, skinned so raw by this woman’s beauty that she had no choice but to be honest. “Or did you come down to lead me there yourself?”

The woman cocked her head, her ponytail swishing with the movement. Mo Ran wanted to know what it felt like to tug, to hold it wrapped around her hand.

“....Mo Ran?”

Mo Ran’s heart thumped almost painfully against her breastbone. “You know my name?”

“Mn,” the woman’s eyebrows dipped, a look of quiet but clear confusion write plain as day on her visage. Mo Ran hadn’t the mind to question it - she hadn’t the mind for much of anything. That vernal visage had ensnared her, unraveled her.   

“What’s yours?”

“Chu Wanning?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners, a sight that drew Mo Ran’s enraptured eyes. 

“Wanning,” Mo Ran breathed out the name as if it were worship. “It suits you. You know, I always hoped my wife would have a beautiful name like that. Chu Wanning. It must be fate.”

“Are you thirsty?” Chu Wanning asked then, disregarding Mo Ran’s declaration. She proffered a paper cup of water. “Does your head hurt?”

Mo Ran took the water, because her throat was dry, and not only because of the beauty by her bedside. Her head also kind of hurt, too. But these matters were ultimately unimportant in the face of the question burning on the tip of her tongue. 

Mo Ran had to ask, “Look, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, and maybe it’s crazy, but - but I like you, okay? You’re so beautiful, and you have such a gentle face, and you have such a soft voice and you brought me water and fuck you have the nicest fingers….”

Mo Ran’s breath hitched as the back of Chu Wanning’s hand touched her forehead, and the rest of her question poured from her lips like the reawakening of a river breaking free of the winter’s ice that had encased it. 

“Wanning, will you marry me?”

Chu Wanning slowly shook her head and Mo Ran’s heart sank, sinking further and further before finally hitting cold, hard rock bottom as the beautiful, ethereal woman held up her left hand, her ring finger already claimed.

“What?” Of course, someone as elegant and refined and charming as Chu Wanning would be married. Who wouldn’t want to spend the rest of their life by her side? Mo Ran’s dream of two minutes had been shattered, but she refused to believe this wasn’t salvageable. “So? I’ll bet they aren’t as good as me. Wait - do you have a husband, or a wife?” Mo Ran had to be sure before she made her argument.

Chu Wanning tucked a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear. “I have a wife.”

“Pfft, and where is she? She left you all alone? She sounds like a real bitch. Wanning, if you were mine, I would never leave you alone. To part with you for even a single moment would feel like an agonizing eternity. I wouldn’t be able to bear such a separation - not from the one who holds my heart.”

Chu Wanning looked away, her rosy cheeks darkening sanguine. 

“Mo Ran…..”

“No, really, hear me out!” If Mo Ran wasn’t connected to a bunch of wires and also feeling dangerously light-headed, she would have gone down onto her knees to beg, that's how desperate she was for this woman. “Um, can she cook?”

“She can.”

Mo Ran scoffed. “I’ll bet I’m way better at it than her. I could cook you anything. Just say the word and it’s yours.”

Chu Wanning cocked her head, “What if I only like very mild dishes?”

“Baby, there won’t be a chili pepper in sight,” Mo Ran said earnestly. “I’m prepared to fight for you, you know. Oh! Can she fight? I have muscles. I could totally take her.”

“My wife is very strong,” Chu Wanning said solemnly. “She’s a peerless zongshi who has fought countless monsters and evil spirits.”

“I’m sure I could still kick her ass,” Mo Ran said with unearned confidence, considering she was currently laid up in a hospital bed because of an apparent illness she hadn’t even thought to ask about, yet. “I’d do it, if it meant I had a chance to hold your heart.”

Chu Wanning shook her head, that mesmerizing ponytail, while clearly disheveled, still somehow looking as soft as silk. “Ridiculous.”

“It’s really not!” Mo Ran’s voice broke as she folded her hands in prayer. Her heart was beating a painful beat, thrashing where it was kept trapped inside its cage of bone, held back from the one whose careful, safe hands it desired. “Wanning, I feel we’re meant to be together. Don’t you feel the same?”

“I’m sorry,” Chu Wanning said, dark lashes turning down as she pursed her lips. “But I love my wife,” she added in a mere whisper, her voice warm with love. “More than anything.”

Mo Ran could practically hear the exact moment her heart finally shattered, irrevocably. That was it, then. Such love, spoken with such deep, aching affection….

How could Mo Ran compete?

“Then…just stay with me. Please. Even - even if you love your wife, promise I can still stay by your side?”

Chu Wanning looked stricken, and Mo Ran hated that she’d been the one to put that look on her face. She’d kiss it away, if she could. But before she could apologize, or even hope to attempt to remedy such a seemingly hopeless situation, a cursory knock sounded before a doctor strode into the room. Mo Ran glared at the intruder, who looked steadily back, entirely nonplussed.

“Good. You’re awake. How are you feeling?” The doctor asked, though he didn’t seem to care either way. Chu Wanning’s glance flicked briefly towards the doctor, before seemingly tugged back by Mo Ran. 

“She seems to have….gaps in her memory.”

“Well, that’s to be expected,” he nodded. “It should only last a few hours. A day, at most. The qi deviation she suffered was relatively mild, as far as these things go. You’re lucky.”

Qi deviation? Mo Ran did vaguely remember flashes of light tearing through her vision, the feeling of fire coursing through her veins before it all disintegrated into a perfect, pitch black….

“Remember, when she’s discharged she’s not allowed to operate any heavy machinery or sign any legally binding documents for at least the next 48 hours. I recommend medicine, some hot tea and nourishing, mild food, and lots of rest.” The doctor fixed Mo Ran with a stern, no-nonsense look. “I trust you’ll allow your wife to take care of you?”

Wife? Mo Ran was married too? But she didn’t want any wife that wasn’t Chu Wanning! Was she going to have to get divorced now? She’d have to! And she very well should! After all, it wasn’t her wife who had waited steadfastly by her bedside, but an angel dressed in all white-

Mo Ran suddenly realized the doctor had gestured to Chu Wanning after these words were spoken. And it was only then Mo Ran realized Chu Wanning wasn’t holding back tears, but laughter. 

“Dummy,” Chu Wanning scoffed as Mo Ran turned her wide eyes onto her, but she was smiling, a soft, almost imperceptible, but breathtaking thing. “Look at your own hand.”

Mo Ran’s eyes darted down and widened impossibly further as the light caught on the matching band adorning her finger, the diamond glistening like a star. That light could rival the one that had just pierced the cracks running up and down her heart, filling her body with a radiant joy. 

“I’m married!” Mo Ran gasped, elation coursing through her veins like honey, warm and rich and syrupy-sweet. “I’m married to the most beautiful woman in the world!”

And Chu Wanning laughed, a soft, sweet sound that was perhaps the most beautiful sound to be found in all of the universe. That laugh left Mo Ran grasping for her, eager to pull this angelic creature into her arms to hold onto her, forever. To never forget her ever again. 

“That’s the happiest I’ve ever seen someone after a qi deviation,” the doctor muttered. Mo Ran paid him no mind, lavishing Chu Wanning’s face with tiny, greedy kisses, ignoring her half-hearted protests and the doctor’s scoffs about ‘newlyweds’ as he beat a hasty retreat from the room. 

“I’d still do anything to make you mine,” Mo Ran whispered against Chu Wanning’s trembling lips, lashes catching on her wife’s, their noses pressed together. “Even if it meant kicking my own ass.”

“Silly, that’s what you are,” Chu Wanning murmured fondly, pulling away to flick Mo Ran on the nose. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

Mo Ran couldn’t promise that, of course. Not with the lives they led. But she captured Chu Wanning’s hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a kiss to her skin, a wordless promise to always return, through hell and back.

[80s-music-tourney]

The video list

Pet Shop Boys - Always on my mind

Michael Jackson - Thriller

Queen - I Want To Break Free

Bronski Beat - Smalltown Boy

Cyndi Lauper - Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

USA For Africa - We Are The World

Talking Heads - Once In A Lifetime

Peter Gabriel - Sledgehammer

Neneh Cherry - Buffalo Stance

The Art of Noise - Paranoimia

Strawberry Switchblade - Since Yesterday

Frankie Goes To Hollywood - Relax

Visage - Fade to Grey

Genesis - Land of Confusion

Kate Bush - Babooshka

It’s Tricky - RUN-DMC

Dire Straits - Money for Nothing

A-ha - Take On Me

Michael Jackson - Bad

Prince - Batdance

Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers - Don't Come Around Here No More

Dexys Midnight Runners - Come On Eileen

Beastie Boys - Fight For Your Right

Tom Tom Club - Genius of Love

Men At Work - Down Under

Paula Abdul - Opposites Attract

Weird Al Yankovic - Eat It

Janet Jackson - Miss You Much

Madonna - Like A Prayer

George Michael - Careless Whisper

Pat Benatar - Love Is A Battlefield

Dead Or Alive - You Spin Me Round

Herbie Hancock - Rockit

Toni Basil - Mickey

U2 - Where The Streets Have No Name

David Bowie - Let’s Dance

ABC - The Look of Love

Paul Simons - You Can Call Me Al

Sparks with Jane Wiedlin - Cool Places

Freddie Mercury - Made In Heaven

They Might Be Giants - Ana Ng

The Clash - Rock The Casbah

R.E.M. - The One I Love

Pixies - Here Comes Your Man

Thomas Dolby - She Blinded Me With Science

Oingo Boingo - Weird Science

Cher - If I Could Turn Back Time

Go-Bang’s - Special Boyfriend

Nine Inch Nails - Head Like A Hole

Billy Idol - White Wedding

Talking Heads - (Nothing But) Flowers

Falco - Rock Me Amadeus

The Smiths - This Charming Man

Siouxsie and the Banshees - Spellbound

Bobby McFerrin - Don’t Worry, Be Happy

Grace Jones - Slave To The Rhythm

Culture Club - Karma Chameleon 

Men Without Hats - The Safety Dance

Klaus Nomi - Simple Man

Rockwell - Somebody’s Watching Me

Madonna - Express Yourself

Divine - You Think You’re A Man?

Prince - 1999

Paul McCartney - Coming Up

Bananarama - Cruel Summer

Duran Duran - Rio

Elton John - I’m Still Standing

Simply Red - Holding Back The Years

Biz Markie - Just A Friend

Robert Palmer - Simply Irrestiable

Bonnie Tyler - Total Eclipse of the Heart

Slick Rick - Children’s Story

The Police - Don’t Stand So Close To Me

George Michael - I Want Your Sex

Mick Jagger & David Bowie - Dancing In The Street

Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up

Technotronic - Pump Up The Jam

The Timelords (The KLF) - Doctorin’ the Tardis

The J. Geils Band - Love Stinks

Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams

Madness - Night Boat to Cairo

The Cure - Lullaby

[miasmaghoul]

chewing on swiss and cumulus

uh oh

i was bitten by the somno bug

swiss using his spooky shadows for nefarious (but consensual) purposes under the cut

She looks so pretty when she sleeps.

Well, she always looks pretty, but especially like this.

Bathed in moonlight, pale skin and snow white curls shimmering against deep navy sheets. Her ample chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, pale pink lips parted just enough for him to hear her soft sighs. She's uncovered, blanket bunched by her feet, clad only in a set of thin shorts and matching camisole.

She looks so peaceful. So delicate.

So vulnerable.

In truth he's been waiting since Cumulus got his attention in the common room. Since she wound her tail around his calf while they watched a baking show with Aurora and Mountain. Since she'd given his leg a surreptitious squeeze, just enough to draw his attention, before loosing an exaggerated yawn.

He's been here for a while now, leaning by her open window and simply...watching. Well, waiting may be a more apt term, but both apply.

"Think I'm gonna turn in early," she'd murmured, stretching enough that her shirt slid up, exposing her soft tummy and the bare undersides of her breasts.

Swiss had pretended to keep watching the show, but all of his attention was squarely on the ghoulette at his side. On the way she squeezed his hand, the way her tail slid up his leg. The way its feathery tip brushed over his crotch.

"Aww, c'mon Lulu," Aurora had pouted, raising her head from Mountain's thigh, "it's the semi-final! Don't you wanna see?"

"I've watched this season four times, snowflake," she'd replied with a chuckle. "Don't worry, I'll watch more with you tomorrow."

She'd sauntered over to plant a quick kiss on the other ghoulette's cheek, leaving Swiss no option but to stare at her ass. Mountain had made a soft chuffing sound, and of course she'd had to give him one too. Swiss had smirked.

"What, no love for me, Lus?"

Swiss had put on his best puppy dog eyes, and all three of them had snorted. Everyone knew those only worked on Rain. Maybe Dew, on a good day. Still, though, it had the desired effect. Cumulus had swished her way behind the couch he was on, leaning over to plant a kiss on his temple.

"Knew I was your favorite," he'd said, and had earned a playful smack to the back of his head for his troubles. She'd yawned again then, just as obvious and showy as before, and Swiss knew that the sparkle in her entrancing silver eyes was meant just for him.

"Good night," she'd sighed to the room in general. Mountain had echoed the sentiment, while Swiss gave her a wink that the others couldn't see.

"Sweet dreams," Aurora had called after her, blowing a kiss that Cumulus happily caught. Her smile was lazy, sweet, and aimed right at Swiss.

"I'm sure they will be."

Finding her door unlocked an hour later had been the only further invitation he'd needed.

A cool spring breeze rolls through Cumulus's open window, rustles sheer drapes, and when it ghosts over her ethereal form Swiss has the singular pleasure of watching her nipples stiffen. They poke through the pale blue silk of her camisole in a drool-worthy way, and the ghoulette gives an unconscious shiver. Poor thing must be chilly.

Swiss will make sure she doesn't stay that way much longer.

He likes to take his time when Cumulus allows him this freedom. Likes to watch, to absorb. To burn her serene visage into his memory for later use. Someday he'll have to ask if he can photograph her like this; she's just so beautiful, it's a crime she can't see for herself.

Swiss smiles to himself when she shifts, readjusting so one arm rests over her belly and the other by her side. Her soft curls have fallen into her face, and he can just make out the edge of a drool stain on her pillow. Deep asleep and completely oblivious.

Perfection.

Swiss palms himself as he pushes off the wall, striding on silent feet to the foot of the bed. He's been chubbed up since Cumulus teased him with her tail, had to hide it from Aurora and Mountain with a strategically placed pillow. One he certainly hadn't been tempted to hump, not even a little.

His shadows follow, a hazy aura of darkness gathered around his shoulders and dripping down his arms. They float when he moves, fluid in the way smoke is. It's rare that he gets to flaunt this little skill of his - few know about it, and he'd like to keep it that way. Every ghoul has their secrets, it's true, but getting to let loose always sets his skin buzzing.

Swiss takes a deep breath and focuses on the scent of the air, the feel of hardwood beneath his feet, the sound of Cumulus's gentle breathing. Makes himself one with the space around him in every way possible. Slowly, so very slowly, the shadows begin to move, to spread. They coat his arms, his chest, weaving intricate patterns over his skin. He doesn't really need to be naked for this, but it's not surprising that he is.

Dark whorls snake their way down his thighs, his calves, bleeding into the shadows at his feet. It's a jarring feeling, but not an entirely unpleasant one - his influence may be magickal, but the shadows themselves are like an extension of himself. He can feel all manner of things through them, depending on his point of focus. Can slip them into someone's silhouette to parse their emotions. Can smell bitter fear and taste sugary-sweet elation. He can listen too, sliding his unearthly ears wherever the dark allows.

If Imperator knew the secrets Swiss carries with him, he'd be banished before he could blink.

He sighs heavy through his nose when they find warm skin, a thin snake of darkness slithering its way over Cumulus's outstretched ankle. It shouldn't be so warm, wouldn't be if he were just using his hand, but like this? Like this she feels hotter than Dew.

His favorite thing, though, is this.

Touching. Feeling. Exploring. Letting his wispy tendrils get acquainted with his surroundings. It's easier now than it once was, Cumulus's chambers have long since become familiar territory, and in no time at all Swiss can guide his shadows creep up the legs of the bed frame. Onto the mattress. Over the sheets.

It takes no effort at all to guide his magick up her leg, tattooing her with his power in delicate swirls and ripples. He's gotten more adept at directing them since they started doing this, and Swiss takes a moment to draw a sweet little heart on her knee just because he can. It won't stay, of course, but it's the thought that counts.

The shadows continue, slipping up her plush thigh to tease the edge of her shorts. They sit high on her hips, exposing so much decadent skin. Swiss focuses, licks at the air, and finds his mouth filled with the taste of honey and lavender - Cumulus's body oil, the one Mountain makes just for her. No wonder she's shimmering in the moonlight. It suits her.

Cumulus adjusts in her sleep again, smacking her lips and making a soft sound that can't quite be called a word. Dreaming, he imagines. He can't tell, that falls more into Aether and Aeon's realm of expertise. His own sliver of quintessence gets him this far, and Swiss can't complain. Would he like to see inside her mind? Of course. Will he complain about sneakily getting in her pants instead? Abso-fucking-lutely not.

It's easy to slide under the hem of her shorts, reaching into the little pocket of darkness beneath them. A second shadow creeps its way up towards Cumulus's arm while the first explores the hidden skin beneath soft silk, wrapping itself around her elegant fingers as if it wants to hold her hand. A little bit of tenderness goes a long way, Swiss thinks. Even at times like this.

His own hands are busy doing some exploring of their own. Impossible not to when every fiber of his being can feel Cumulus's warmth. It radiates from his toes to his scalp and everywhere in between - Swiss would be concerned for anyone who could keep their hands off of their dick under these circumstances. He holds his at the base, twisting two fingers around the last inch or so just for the sake of pressure. His other hand mirrors the path of his first shadow, creeping up his own thigh, over his hip, up to his happy trail. He should be feeling coarse hair and his own delicately twitching stomach muscles.

Instead, all he feels is her.

His second sliver of shadow slips over her shoulder just as the first wriggles its way out from under the waistband of her shorts. It curls along her belly, just visible where her top has ridden up. Her breasts spill out from the edges of the camisole, pale fabric hugging the soft mounds, their tips still peaked with the chill of the room. That worming shadow sneaks along her neck - Swiss finds his nose filled with sweet perfume - and down over her chest, sliding beneath lace and silk to trace her curves.

He takes a moment to drink her in, coated in his power and yet still sleeping soundly. No reason she shouldn't be, this part is more for him than it is for her. It allows him to surround himself in the ghoulette, to revel in everything she is. Sometimes he'll take a few extra minutes to glide his magick along her horns, her tail, her feather-tipped ears. Really soak in the sensation, occassionally sending pulses of magick through the shadowy appendages to find her sensitive spots so he knows just where to press.

Tonight, though, he's already leaking onto the hardwood floor. Besides, he's done this enough to know her body. Better than she does, even. Cumulus would argue that fact whenever she needed a quick cum - after all, Swiss was more than eager to prove himself.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, fills his lungs with a heady combination of lavendar and ozone, and on exhale pushes more magick into those searching tendrils. Inch by inch they thicken, gain density. They shift from dark but translucent to opaque black, the new weight of them settling into her skin and forming bulges beneath her pajamas. The rush of it makes him dizzy - this is Swiss's newest skill, he's still not an expert - and the ghoul has to catch himself on one of the bedposts. It's hung with gauzy white fabric held by shiny blue rope, and Swiss briefly finds himself wondering if Cumulus would let him use them on her.

A thought for another day, surely. It makes his balls ache just the same, and Swiss has to give himself a lazy tug. Not too much, the best part is coming up. He wouldn't want to ruin it by getting too excited now.

Cumulus makes a soft sound when Swiss nudges the bed, but doesn't wake. He cocks his head as he takes in the shape of her, the curves and lines of her body. His tentacles - that really is a better word for them in this solid state, Swiss thinks - follow them, so striking against her skin. Gently, slowly, he urges the one in her top to move. To slither its tapered end up the curve of her breast, his eyes tracking each movement under that silk as it moves. As the flexible tip wraps around the stiff bud of her nipple, Swiss rubs his own. The sensation of it still reflects on his own body, but its dulled now that the shadows have solid form. It's something he's grown to expect, but Swiss likes to think he's come up with a creative solution.

He may not be able to feel all of Cumulus's pleasure, but he can sure as hell imitate its cause.

With a shivery exhale from Swiss, a third dark tentacle sprouts from the pool at his feet. It wraps its way up his calf just as Cumulus's tail had done earlier in the night, cool and smooth against his skin. He watches it crawl upwards, looping around his thigh and brushing against his heavy sack in the process. Swiss groans with it, a barely audible sound, guiding its length up his chest to tease his nipple. He makes it squeeze, makes the one on Cumulus do the same, and the combined sensation takes Swiss's breath away.

He can feel how heavy his eyelids have gotten, knows his breaths are already coming in harder. He can't help it, playing like this does something incomparable to his brain and body alike. And it's not like Cumulus isn't getting something out of it too; she'll wake up with wet shorts in the morning and know exactly why.

Swiss swirls a finger in the air and the slender appendage at her chest wraps itself around her full breast, squeezes, and Swiss mirrors every bit of it on his own pec. It's unconscious now, syncing them up. He'd struggled at first, made things a touch awkward, but now it's second nature.

Just like the fourth tentacle now coursing its way up his other leg, the thing wasting no time in matching how its twin rests on Cumulus's stomach. Hers wriggles over her beautiful pudge to press into her navel, prodding at the divot with teasing intent. Swiss smiles when his does the same, mostly because he feels the way it tickles her.

Cumulus makes her first real noise when Swiss rubs at her nipple again, the thin tip of his shadow flicking over the taut nub. It's no more than a soft, sudden inhale, barely noticable, but Swiss feels it in every inch of his body. She's never really noisy like this, but he's learned the ones she does make by heart.

The gasp she looses when he squeezes her nipples.

The quiet "nnh" sound that escapes when the second tentacle curls around the side of her shorts and tugs them slowly down just enough to expose her pretty pink cunt.

The breathy "oh" that marks the moment that dark, squirming arm slides its tip along her slit.

That one is his favorite.

She's slick to the eye, and Swiss's stomach swoops when he thinks about Cumulus touching herself before she dozed off. Got herself worked up, probably got so close, but didn't let herself cum. Probably stroked that gorgeous, fat clit of hers until it was aching and her whole body quivered. Until she was nice and slippery and open for him. Just for him.

Oh, Swiss will let her do whatever the fuck she wants to him tomorrow.

His own tentacle still follows, gliding up over his hip to settle at the base of his cock, replacing his tight fist. Swiss immediately grips the bed frame instead, still holding its post with the other, hunching with a choked gasp. It all feels so much better than it has any right to, he swears it. Even still, he allows the tentacles to move; Cumulus's dips itself between blushing lips to gather her slick, glistening in the low light, before Swiss directs it to the beautiful length of her clit. It's still reddened and puffy from Cumulus's own ministrations, and the second that tentacle glides over it, his own tickles his rapidly purpling tip.

They both make sounds then, Swiss a nearly-silent curse and Cumulus a low "ooh". Her tongue pokes out between her fangs when he repeats the motion, the corner of her eye twitching. He sucks his lip between his teeth when she starts getting stiff for him, that little bit of length going firm the more he works her. His own matches it, working his thick head and wriggling against his frenulum enough to milk drop after slippery drop of pre onto her soft sheets. His cock bounces with each one, Swiss giving a wholly involuntary rock of his hips when Cumulus throbs. He watches her hole clench and knows for certain that this will not be a long session.

Good thing he knows her so well.

The tip of the tentacle between her thighs stays at their apex, but further down, where things get just a bit thicker, the body of the thing starts to bend. To fold over on itself, doubling up into a curve of not-small girth. Not as thick as Swiss, of course, but enough to feel and a thousand times more flexible. His cock gives a hard twitch when the rounded end of it slips between her folds, his own working it's way down his shaft in response.

Fuck she's so warm inside, so velvety. He feels it tenfold like this, heat blooming low in his belly when his shadow presses into her welcoming hole. She lets out a brief groan at the stretch, the pressure, but Swiss doesn't relent. He invades her body with his power, matches it on his own, and only stops when the end of his tentacle wraps around the thick base of his cock. A pale imitation of the real thing, perhaps, but something about fucking her like this makes Swiss ache.

The first shallow rock of his hips is a revelation.

Evey time they do this, he swears he'll make it last. Tells himself that this time he won't fall apart so quickly. That he won't lose his composure like a teenager sticking his dick in a warm hole for the first time. He tries, he swears he tries, but -

"Fuck," he squeaks out, throat tighter than the slippery length squeezing his cock, "so wet, you're so wet Lus, shit."

She can't hear him, he knows she can't, but the way she flutters around him and huffs seems to suggest otherwise. She's so responsive like this, weak to every twitch of the ropes of darkness helping themselves to her body. Her chest has started to heave just enough to notice, her cheeks stained pale pink, and Swiss can't hope to keep himself from rolling his hips.

He's close so quick, the tentacle writhing around him in a perfect facsimile of Cumulus's wonderous body dragging him swiftly higher. He moans deep in his chest as his balls start to tighten, gritting his teeth and focusing all his attention on the ghoulette before him.

The tentacle on her chest has since wrapped itself around her other breast, rock hard nipples still jutting against the fabric as it teases them. Swiss's matching one does the same, little shocks of pleasure zipping straight to his groin with each touch.

The one between her legs works expertly to draw utterly unconscious moans from her parted lips, Swiss curving it just enough to drag over the places that he knows will have her soaking the sheets. Cumulus has started getting noisier with each thrust, so Swiss keeps them slow and even. The only measure of control he has left.

It doesn't make him last longer, though. The feel of it is too maddening - Swiss has to let himself go, he simply has no other choice. But he's nothing if not a gentleman, and he's certainly not going to cum before she does.

That wouldn't be proper.

Swiss has the tip of that slick tentacle working her clit again in a rabbit-quick heartbeat, flicking over the stiff head of it just the way she likes best. Swiss mirrors it with his tongue and drools as the taste of her fills his mouth, hips stuttering when his dick kicks hard. Honey-sweet musk overwhelms his senses, and Swiss has to hang his head as he humps the air with jerky, amateurish motions.

It's no time before the tentacle undulating around him goes telltale tight, and Swiss's whimper is impossible to hold back. He chokes on his exhale when Cumulus's breathing goes harsh, and with one last pump of his eager hips he's shooting hard and heavy onto her bed.

It hits him like a truck, an orgasm that feels like it starts in his toes and ends at the tips of his hair. Swiss paints her sheets with pearly white stripes as his cock bobs and jerks around, leaving a huge mess behind. He couldn't care less, not when Cumulus shudders and grunts through her own orgasm, a hot rush of fluid coating his shadow while her thighs quiver. Every inch of him throbs with it, his cock drooling out everything has.

He's so dazed he can hardly see straight, entranced by the way she twitches through it, the way her breath catches. He works himself right into writhing oversensitivity in the name of wringing every last drop of pleasure from her. He'd stay like this forever if he could, lost in their combined buzz of sensation and blessed relief.

One of these days he'll last more than five minutes.

Swiss waits until she's breathing normally before he lets his shadows retreat, sighing as they slip slowly back into the dark. The one that slides from her cunt leaves a shiny, wet trail along her thigh and Swiss drools down his chin.

Exhaustion hits hard once the magick fades away, makes him sway in place, and with a mighty yawn Swiss forces himself away from the bed. He shuffles alongside it as he blinks impending sleep from his eyes, a dopey smile firmly place as he takes in Cumulus's lovely face. Perfectly relax and deeply satisfied, obvious even in her sleep. He leans down to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, and has to press a quick kiss to her forehead on his way back up.

Swiss gathers her bunched up blanket then, tucks the ghoulette in right up to her neck. Blocks out the returning chill and relishes the soft hum she gives in return.

He doesn't fix her pajamas, though. Leaves her top askew and her shorts around her thighs. A little something to make her throb when she wakes up, before she even feels evidence of him. He knows it'll pull the loveliest chiming giggle from her, one he's heard before, and even the thought sends a delightful shiver down his spine.

He stumbles back to his room on drunken legs, flops face first into bed, and knows that when he wakes up in about a dozen hours it'll be to her mouth on his cock.

Swiss falls asleep with a smile on his face.