#been wanting to draw these two for a while now

[semischarmed]

River

River was a walking enigma. 

Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.

When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.

During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him. 

My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.

The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly. 

River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-

“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.

He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness. 

I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark. 

As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night. 

That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.

= = = = 

“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.

Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.

I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out. 

The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.

Then came the day before the big presentation.

“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.

= = = =

“You can set your stuff down there”.

It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment. 

A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements. 

“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”

He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water. 

“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs. 

And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile. 

“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk. 

It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite. 

My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.

Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval. 

I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet. 

The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.

A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.

I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped. 

I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.

“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness. 

My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.

My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school. 

A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”

I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.

Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists. 

“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.

He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!” 

The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.

I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own. 

I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”

I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”

I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River. 

I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.

I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.

“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind. 

“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me. 

River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?

[myhaikyuuacademia]

Totally Fake | Ant Vaughn x reader (Heartbreak High) ||

This is officially a series haha, trying to make it slowburn-ish but let's see if i can hold myself back

Fake dating, fem!reader

@foxxyhun

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Thankfully you had managed to get Ant’s number by Friday, not so thankfully you spent all day chatting with him about stupid, irrelevant stuff and Not about what your gameplan was going to be. And if, IF, you were actually going to the party later this evening, he’d probably be too wasted to talk about it anyway.  Which means SLUTS was the last chance you had with him still sober and not hungover. Except you had no idea how to go about it, especially without drawing the attention of your friends who had been watching you like hawks all week. You were the first one in the classroom, anxiously ripping your notebook paper into tiny shreds while thinking about all the logistics. You didn’t get very far when you sensed someone sitting down next to you. “What did the poor paper do to deserve that?” Ant asked amusedly. “Wrong place, wrong time.” You grimaced and shrugged, immediately stopping and throwing all the paper shreds into your pencil case. “Oh no, don’t stop because of me, I’m sure it deserved it.” He joked before settling in his seat. “You don’t wanna sit next to your friends?” You asked, with a nod to the table they usually sat at. “Nah, I’d rather sit with my girlfriend.” He said casually. You didn’t feel very casual as you choked on your spit. God how embarrassing. It took you a minute to calm down, Ant worriedly asking if you were okay, and offering you some of his water, which you declined with a hand gesture as you were starting to calm down.  “Sorry, sorry, I’m fine.” You coughed out. “Actually, that’s what I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” He looked at you, almost disappointed, “You’re backing out?” He assumed. “What? No!” You hurried to say. “I wanted to talk about lining up our stories and everything, ground rules and stuff, you know?” Relief flooded his face, “Ah, okay gotcha!” He seemed much happier. The class was slowly filling up and you were dreading the moment your friends would enter. “Well I already told pretty much everyone that you’re my girlfriend.” He added, catching you completely offguard as you watched the doorway waiting for the inevitable arrival of your friends. “Oh.” Surprised you turned your head to look at him. “Okay.” You added after a second. “What about your mom?”

“Nah, not her yet. But like, Spider and Dusty.” He clarified. Your face felt warm. “Did you tell them it was fake too?” You leaned in closer to whisper it, now that the class was almost full. “No.” He grinned at you conspiringly. You grinned back at him, his answer, and the way he looked at you, making your whole body tingle. “Oh. My. God.” Darrens dramatic voice came from opposite the table. “You two totally ARE together.” Amerie beside them looked satisfied with herself, while Quinni stimmed excitedly, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. They sat down at your table while Ant put an arm around your shoulder, “Yeah, so what?” He asked. Your face was burning, as was the parts where his arm touched you. Darrens mouth wide agape, while Quinni looked just as excited as before. “Oh my god, y/n, that’s so cute!! Congrats!” She said, happily, but after a second she looked a little less happy and a little more confused. Disappointed, even. “But why didn’t you tell us?” She asked. “Thrill of a secret relationship I bet.” Amerie added, feeling much cooler than she actually was. “But really, him?” Darren pointed at Ant. Wow rude. Your brows furrowed and you leaned into the boy next to you a little more without noticing. “What do you mean? You don’t think he's cute?” Trying to paddle back Darren stuttered out something a long the lines of, “No, that’s not what I mean, I just, I didn’t think he was your type is all.” “well, to be fair, we never knew what her type was.” Quinni added. “She never told us who she was crushing on, or what she liked in a guy, or girl.” You nodded, she was telling the truth, you usually kept things like that to yourself. “Well, I for one, am happy for you two, though I totally didn’t get any vibes when I was asking for a slap band earlier this week.” Amerie said, crossing her arms. She sounded accusing, like she was about to interrogate the two of you, when thankfully Miss Obah asked everyone to pay attention and started class. Ant didn’t take his arm off your shoulder the whole time.

When he finally did, after class ended, you couldn’t suppress your pout. Logically, you understood it was so both of you could pack your things, but this whole thing didn’t feel very logical, no matter how hard you tried. So instead, once both of you had finished, you grabbed his hand and threaded your fingers with his. Still slightly pouting. He looked down at you and laughed, “What now?” “I think she’s upset you took your arm off of her.” Darren, eagle-eyed gossip lover they are, supplied. “Oh, really?” Ant seemed surprised and looked at you for confirmation. “Yeah, kinda.” You mumbled embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. He chuckled before leaning in close and whispering in your ear. “I’ll touch you all you want at the party later.” Your face was beet red. “Ant!” You whisper shouted, scandalized and wide-eyed. He just tugged you along with him, towards the school exit. “They’re so cute together.” You overheard Quinni say to Amerie and Darren behind you. “Something’s fishy.” Both of them replied in unison. You ignored it, keeping going with Ant. “What now?” You asked once outside the school gate, still holding his hand. Refusing to be the one to let go, actually. “Well, I have some time before the party starts, which, you totally are going to right?” He asked in such a way that you felt a no would break his heart, so you just nodded. How come you are immune to peer-pressure when it was your friends but not when it was the guy you’ve been fake-dating for less than a week. “Great! Well, wanna hang out until then?” You smiled. “Sure!! Oh, we can talk about the logistics of it all, like when did we even start dating and what church do I go to? Or is that even something that’s important to your mother?” You dragged him along, totally rambling at this point about all the different things you had to decide on for the story to be foolproof. When you turned to look at him, waiting for him to say something, you noticed the way he was smiling at you. “Oh, what? Am I overthinking?” You questioned out loud. “No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that much.” He still looked at you in a way you had trouble deciphering. “Oh. Well, I guess I don’t talk a lot. Usually. But also we haven’t really spoken before this week so…” You trailed off. “Hmmh, yeah, but we’ve been in the same year for a while now.” He said, before turning back to look at the way ahead. “You usually only talk when spoken to.” Oh. He had noticed that? He had noticed you? Before you ever talked to him? “Oh, um. I guess that’s right.” You squeezed his hand subconsciously. “I like hearing you talk.” He squeezed your hand back. “Plus, you’re so smart, I wouldn’t have thought about half of the things you mentioned. Maybe we should write it all down.” You nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

“Woah, your room is awesome.”  Ant was currently walking through your room looking at all the little trinkets that were… everywhere frankly. Picking them up and putting them down again. “Haha, thanks.” You sat on the edge of your bed, not knowing what to do with yourself as you watched him. “Woah, you like Marvel?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Uh yeah, I love it.” You laughed. He put the action figure down and turned around, very serious all of a sudden. “This calls for a movie night.” He explained. You grinned. “Sure, I’m always up for a movie.. But let’s talk business first.” You scooched to the side and patted the spot next to you. He groaned dramatically and walked over before sitting down. “Why does this feel like homework all of a sudden.” Your face scrunched up at that. “Sorry. But this is just so our story doesn’t fall apart.” He turned to look at you, head hanging to the side. “You really think it’s necessary?” “Well. Yeah.” You reply. “What if your mom asks us how we met, our what our first date was, and we say different things. Better to be prepared.” He pouts playfully, “Well, fine I guess.” In the end you agree on simple things, you met at school, duh, and worked a project together, after which you became friends, before Ant asked you on a date to the diner, and then a second date to the movies, before asking you to be his girlfriend. Easy enough. He said it was okay not to go to church as long as you were still acting Christian enough in front of his mom. Whatever that means. The reason he was only introducing you now was because you could disprove what was written on the map. You were scared of meeting his parents, so it had taken you a while to gather the courage, and he wanted to be sure before bringing a girlfriend home. Easy. Plausible. Good story. Boring, but believable. In the end you wrote it all down, twice, one copy for you and one for him, just in case you needed it. “Can we finally watch a movie?” He whined as you gave him his paper. “I don’t know, the party is soon, and I don’t know about you, but I definitely have to get ready. You think we can manage to squeeze a movie in?” He nodded, completely convinced. “How long can it take to get ready.” Not believing this was an issue. “Oh buddy…If only you knew.” You patted his shoulder before getting your remote and turning on the tv. It was difficult, at first, to concentrate on the movie, when he was so close and warm, shoulder against shoulder, and legs touching. Your body felt on fire. After a while he wrapped his arm around you too, pulling you ever so slightly closer, if that was even possible.

“Oh! I love this part.” He pointed towards the screen with the hand not resting on your hip. “What? No way, that’s my favorite part.” You looked up at him excitedly. “No way!” He turned to look at you too. You nodded emphatically. “You’re so cool.” He gave you a squeeze. He turned back towards the screen, and you did too, after staring at him for a little while longer. In the end, he ended up staying, watching you get ready, since there was no time for him to go home before Dusty’s band performed. “Whoa, wait, what is that?” You were about to put on your fake lashes, putting glue on the strip when Ant’s head popped up next to you, dangerously close to poking your lash with his finger. “My fake lashes.” You explained. “Your lashes are fake?” He turned to you, staring intensely into your eyes, inspecting your lashes. “No, well yes, sometimes. I have real lashes. The one you’re looking at right now.” You laughed. “But sometimes I put on fake lashes, which looks kinda-“ You  leaned towards the mirror to put your lashes on. “like this.” You said, leaning back to show him. “Oh my god that’s crazy.” He breathed out, totally stunned, which made you laugh even harder. After that he stayed next to you, watching you apply your makeup closely. “Hmmm..” You pursed your lips as you put the last thing in place. “I think that’s it.” You concluded.  Before you could even turn to the side to face him, his voice piped up as he asked: “Can you put some on me?” The request came unexpectedly, but you happily obliged. You opted for some chrome glimmery dark blue green ish, you didn’t really know how to describe it, glitter shadow to put on top of his eyelids. Dabbing it in softly, he leaned in closely and you could feel his breath on your skin. “Okay, try opening your eyes.” You requested softly, holding his chin in your hand and looking at him intensely, assessing your work. He opened his eyes hesitantly. Chewing on your lip you came to the conclusion that this look needed some black liner, so you added a line underneath his eyes on his waterline, dragging it out into a straight “wing”. A difficult job, with this being a sensitive area and Ant not used to having stuff put this close to his eyes. He kept squirming and blinking, but eventually you got the job done to your satisfaction. “This looks sick.” You say as you remove your hands from his face and lean back. Giving him time to admire himself in your mirror, you put away your brushes and powders and liners. “You want to do something to your hair too?” He turned to look at you at that. “Kinda.” You look on your phone to check the time, before grimacing. “Sorry, I don’t think we have time. Actually we really need to go if we wanna make it in time.” You stand up and hold your hand out to him, pulling him up from where he was sitting. Your friends were definitely going to give you shit about barely reaching out to them later.

[goingsunnythousandmerry]

Bedtime with Luffy and Co. @ Udon Prison-Wano

Watching Wano and just couldnt get over the idea of a cozy cuddle puddle after a hard days work. So here it is. Thoughts, ideas, feedback welcome.

Warnings: Just lots of fluff. Cuddling. Cold. Wano spoilers. SFW. Breast resting. Maybe a crush on your Captain.

Features: Luffy, Tama, Chopper, Momo, Luffy

Luffy fluff-Wano

Post taking over Udon prison. It’s before Momo and Tama go back to join the others at her masters house. You all spend the day at the newly freed Udon in different ways. Old man hyo is helping Luffy learn ryuo. Tama is helping Kiki and Raizo by taming the smile powered beast pirates and giving them orders. After helping with this Tama then spends her time playing with them ,of course. Momo is inspired by Luffy and thus, spends his free time training. Chopper and yourself, a nurse prior to joining the Strawhats, are helping heal the injured and those affected by the plague rounds. After a long day of doing your own things you all come together to settle in for the night.

Old man Hyo is passed out already from a long day with Luffy. Raizo and Kiku are standing watch. Luffy is finishing up training. You find yourself in one of the cells lying down to try to get some rest for the night. Momo is curled up against your chest (of course, your breasts make the best pillows). Chopper lays curled into your left side and Tama is against your right. Your arms rest around the three of them, cuddling them close. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. All you can think is how nice it is getting to help Tama and Momo feel safe and loved for a moment after what they’ve been through. You sigh with relief at the peace of the moment you find yourself in.

Suddenly, your eyes flick open to the sound of familiar flip flops drawing closer. You smile as you see Luffy enter the cell.

“Hey.” You say softly trying not to wake the children.

He stops dead in his tracks and grins at you cuddling the two kids and the reindeer against your chest.

“Hey, just wanted to see how you guys were doing. Guess they’re pretty beat, huh?” Luffy asks with a small chuckle.

Tama begins to stir at the sound of Luffy’s voice and sleepily sits up to look over at him.

“Big bro! Did you do it?” She asks with a soft smile while she rubs her eyes a bit.

“Not yet, but tomorrow’s my day, I can feel it!” He replies as he clenches his fists in determination.

“Can I watch?” Tama asks.

“Sure, but for now, let’s get you some rest.” He says sitting next to Tama and yourself.

Tama turns and hugs her big bro cuddling into his chest. He hugs her back. Luffy relaxes as he lays back on the ground next to you. He looks over at you with a smile. Tama looks up at Luffy, keeping her arms wrapped around him. Her eyelids grow heavy as she looks up at him, then nestles her head into his chest.

“Goodnight, big bro.” Tama whispers.

Luffy chuckles and you smile at him. As you look at Luffy, you watch him pet Tama’s head and in a few minutes she’s asleep. As you look at Luffy and Tama, Momo snuggles deeper into your chest and you begin to hear Chopper softly snore.

“You’re not coming back with us tomorrow?” You ask in a hushed tone.

“No, I want to train here a bit longer.”

“Alright, then I’ll stay too.”

“You’ll stay?”

“Someone has to make sure you eat and take breaks during this training, Luffy. Besides, I know you’ll do it, and I want to be here when you do.” You reply with a half smile that turns into a full grin as you watch your captain stare at the ceiling of the prison.

You recognize the familiar expression as you stare at his side profile. His look of determination he gets before all his big fights, furrowed eyebrows, jaw clench, constricted pupils, and clenched fists. Kaido didn’t stand a chance was all you could think.

His expression softens as he turns his head to look over at you, Momo, and Chopper. at You look at each other in silence a moment. Unspoken feelings wanting to burst off the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t speak, he was your captain after all.

As you rest next to Luffy, cuddling the kids, and blue nosed reindeer, a cold breeze blows through the cell. Tama snuggles deeper into Luffy’s chest and you pull the reindeer and boy laying against your chest closer to you. Luffy watches you shiver a moment and scoots closer to your right side where Tama used to be sleeping. His shoulder now rests against yours. You feel your body begin to heat up from the new found closeness. You turn your head to check on Chopper at your other side as you try to conceal a blush.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yeah. Body heat is a good way to stay warm.” You say softly.

Once again, a cold breeeze blows through the cell and you shiver. Luffy feels this and wraps an arm over your shoulder. You watch as he lifts Chopper from your side and rests him against his abdomen.

“Chopper’s got warm fur, he should be in the middle” He says with a sweet grin.

Luffy then stretches his arm back around you and pulls you and Momo into his side. You turn on your side and wrap your arm over Momo and Chopper setting it to rest on Luffy’s chest. You snuggle into his chest and snake your hand under his kimono to rest on his peck, without thinking. Your eyes flick open as you remember that this is captain. It’s just cold and he’s so… so warm was all you could think.

“Sorry Captain.” You say as you try to pull away and lay back at his side.

Luffy quickly pulls you back against him. You look up at him and his eyes are closed. He’s got a soft smile sitting across his face. You smile back at him taking it as permission to use him to fight the cold. You tuck your head under his chin and a few seconds later he lays his head on top of yours. You lay in silence and listen to his breathing and focus on the feeling of your body against his. You open your eyes and admire him and the small family you have cuddled with you. You grin from ear to ear and soften back against Luffy’s chest. You close your eyes again and begin to hear Luffy snore. You snuggle in deeper to him as you try to enjoy the moment of closeness, before you fall into a deep sleep.

[destructive-poet]

Your post about Tav helping Astarion with his hair and post bath cuddles sounds so adorable 🥺🥺 Could I request a full fic for that idea? ❤️

oh of course! I was actually already wanting to write it a bit ❤️ I hope you like it :)

Spa Treatment

astarion x gn! human tav fluff drabble (~400 words, short and sweet.)

“Hold still,” they say, wooden comb gripped in hand, gently detangling the Vampire’s silver locks.

rating: mature

tw: none? (I mean I guess just the smallest bit suggestive for a second.)

minors dni!

The bath had been an undoubtedly fantastic idea.

For the first time in what felt like ages they had been able to have a large, private, warm bath at their whims. And certainly, the two were going to take the fullest advantage of it.

“Fuck,” he said, lowering himself into the water with a groan. “Gods, I haven’t done this in… Well, as long as I can remember.” The human at his side simply slides in, sitting down completely in the stone pool, up to their chest in water. “It’s nice.” They say, simply, though the blissful look on their face suggests it is far better than nice.

“Come here,” they say, reaching towards Astarion to tuck his hair behind his ears. “Look at all of this,” they muse, gesturing to a wide variety of soaps, lotions, and cosmetic concoctions. “It’s beautiful. I could live in here.”

The vampire adds, “As nice as that sounds, I think you would prune up. And I can’t drink from a piece of shriveled fruit, my dear.”

“Oh, so that’s what I am to you? Only a free meal?” They say, turning away and crossing their arms, pretending to be upset. Quickly, a solid figure pulls their own against it’s chest, drawing them back into it. He begins kissing down the back of their neck and across their shoulders, hands settling into their hips. “Not at all, you sustain me in more than one way, dear.” He teases, and the human whips around to kiss him, tasting clean and warm, their arms wrapping around him. It lasts a good while, before they break away, hand trailing across his arm, moving away to look at the jars and bottles lining the side of the bath.

Hours later, they sit on the ground, perfumed in a variety of exotic scents, scrubbed and lotioned and damp. A fur rug separates the two lovers from the cold, tiled floor. The fireplace in front of them warms them, wet hair now almost dried. “Hold still,” the human says, wooden comb gripped in hand, gently detangling the Vampire’s silver locks.

Their eyes seem to drift closed throughout the process, and when it’s done, they set the comb to the side, laying down onto the rug. Astarion is quick to follow, resting his head on their chest and curving his body to cradle his companion’s. “Dearest,” he whispers, and they pull the thick towel over his body, wriggling closer, as if they could live in his skin. “Goodnight, Astarion,” they yawn, half lidded eyes adoringly gazing up at him, before succumbing to the darkness.

He kisses their lavender and jasmine tasting hair, soaking in the warmth of his love, the fire, the fabric. “Goodnight, darling.”

[pookietv]

helpful | george clarke

i just thought this was sweet, so have a little george looking after his drunk gf :3

as soon as you had said the words 'oh, it's just a casual little thing, haven't seen the girls in a while', george just knew the 'little casual thing' would end up with you plastered.

not that he minded, of course.

so when he recieved a call at one in the morning, it didn't quite surprise him. he had waited up for the 'got home safe' text, waiting patiently for you to get to your apartment safe.

"hiya, love, everything alright?" he spoke, his voice slightly thick, just coming with the fact it was a little later at night, but he wasn't too tired.

"hi george!" you giggled in response, "everything is fineee! i was just calling to see if i could come round.. was gonna uber home but then i was missing you and thought i could come pester youuu for a while," you spoke in between slight drunk hiccups.

he laughed a little down the phone in response, "sure, you can come round. you sure you're okay getting an uber, or you want me to come pick you up?" he asked, clearly a little concerned at her drunken state.

"no, no! i can uber fine, gonna share with one of my friends, just wanted to let you know before i just showed up," you murmured happily again.

"well, in future, you can show up at the flat whenever you want, you know i like your company, lovie, and i know the boys don't mind either,"

and so when half an hour later he heard stumbling through his front door, and soft laughs as he could hear her bashing herself against the wall for support, he left his bedroom, laughing at the sight of her, against the walls, trying to slip her shoes off with great struggle.

though, even plastered out of her mind, he thought she looked gorgeous.

"hey, you. need some help?" he jested slightly, and you giggled a little at the state of yourself.

"no, 'm sure i can... y'know, get em off, just these laces, who tied these damn laces?" you rambled as you slid down to the floor to try and untangle the laces that you had undoubtedly messed up earlier in the night.

george crouched down, unlacing the shoes with a lot more ease then you had, and once you had managed to pull the shoes off, you used him as a support to stand up, still giggling into the crook of his neck as you did.

"so, seems you had a good night?" he teased, and you rolled your eyes playfully with a nod.

"cocktails were two for one, so naturally i had eight," you laughed back, "don't even think 'm too drunk now, more just sleepy,"

george scoffed a little jokingly at that one, "i think you're still a little drunk, darling, but its fine. we'll get your makeup off and you into bed, hm?" he offered, and you nodded, letting him lead you into his room in the boys flat, where he had a bathroom attached.

as you stumbled through, rifling through the draw in his bathroom that had been claimed as yours for makeup remover, he laughed at the noise, before you produced it in your hands.

"i can help you take it off, if you like," george offered helpfully, and you looked at him with a drunken grin, a small nod as he gently helped you sit on the vanity, gently beginning to remove it with a damp cloth and the remover.

"thank you for being so helpful, george," you babbled out, your hands practically clasping against his arms for support as he checked to make sure all the makeup was gone.

"you've picked me up from enough pub golfs for me to owe you, trust me. plus, you know i don't mind looking after you at all," he smiled reassuringly back.

"did you eat when you were out? you want food?" he asked, but you shook your head.

"m good, got myself some drunk chips," you laughed a little, "just wanna go to sleep, to be honest,"

"thats fine, we can go to bed, don't worry, i'm just gonna get you some water, okay? you can go borrow a shirt or something to sleep in," he reassured, helping you down from the sink and watching you gently pad your way to his bed, whilst he headed into the kitchen.

when he returned, he found you, already spread on the side of his bed that had become classicly yours, in one of his shirts, head on its side on the pillow, giving him a slightly dumb smile as he placed the water on the bedside table.

"your bed always seems much comfier than mine," you murmured against the pillow, and he laughed with a shrug.

"i always thought your bed was more comfy," he said in response as he lay down, his arm going lazily to your waist, facing you as his head touched the pillow.

"yours is definitely better, it always smells like you and i like that, smells like... sweaty george," you giggled a little, and he grunted in a teasing response, rolling his eyes playfully.

the moment he was in the bed, he found it funny how you instantly curled into him, to be closer, and he pressed a small kiss against your forehead as you yawned softly.

"see? could fall asleep already, you just relax me," you murmured against his chest.

"so get some sleep then, night, love." he replied. though, he couldn't lie, the thought of him relaxing you filled his chest with a strangely warm feeling.

[ashesbreadandbutter]

Vox x Alastor || Tell Me Who Did This, Now.

So I know I know, commission work yes yes I'm getting to it BUT! I wrote a little blurb for that little comic @milariro drew for radiostatic which is literally like my favorite ship I think. 👀

Anyway hope y'all like it! ÙwÚ

Word Count: 2k

Rating: PG(?), maybe PG-13. Mostly angsty ish feel?

-

It isn't the first time he's lost track of him somewhere but every time it happens Alastor hopes it's the last. 

He hasn't seen Vox in days and considering how close they are… it's strange, worrisome. 

Vox usually keeps up with him, taking the time to send messages and letters and pop up at the most sudden of times and Alastor always responds. Life in hell has been growing on the two of them, Vox has been so excited recently… so eager to announce that he had a dream, one where he could publicize the two of them, where they could happily pursue their goals… together and Alastor both loved… and despised the very idea. 

Really he himself is fine with his little following; those few sinners, Vox included, who seemed to always tune in but he'd be a liar if he told himself that he didn't see this …new behavior that seemed to jump out of his friend. Vox was a big dreamer, they had spent many long hours talking to each other, laughing and joking while also spewing their deepest hopes and dreams…well usually it was Vox who did so while Alastor listened and encouraged him but he couldn't help but want to stop the other at the same time.

To tell him that he didn't need to go out there and get big and famous or whatever because Alastor likes the way Vox already is but his friend, his silly friend had his hopes for their pitiful, shameful lives down here so who would Alastor really be to stop him?

To put it lightly, Alastor is anxious over the other demon who was still just hardly taller than Alastor's own shoulder. He's worried that something might have happened to his friend considering how long he's been missing now. After all, Alastor had noticed the way they seemed to draw more attention these days when they were out together… the sneaky glances and judging gazes the other sinners would give them.

Alastor doesn't care, couldn't care less especially considering how easy most demons are to get rid of but… Vox had seemed to grow rather conscious of his presence outside because of it all. 

There's been times where he's even mentioned it, brought it up when it was just him and Alastor together.. Alastor could never forget it, the first time it was ever brought up… the way that Vox seemed to look over his shoulder and double check locks and doors with the excuse of making sure they were ‘safe’. 

It angers Alastor. 

Annoys him so bad to the point that he'd kill them, split their skulls and the ground they walked and before Vox’s very own feet but… for some reason whenever Alastor gets to that point… the point of nearly no return, Vox will lightly brush his hand against his own and while that kind, warm smile and tell Alastor that it was okay. 

That they didn't matter. 

That he didn't care. 

And so on and so forth. 

Alastor moves through the room now, annoyance dripping into the air around him as he seems to get ready to go somewhere… to go look for him because after everything they've been through so far he could admit that he didn't… like it when he couldn't keep tabs on Vox. When they weren't together so Alastor could defend him if needed. When he couldn't hover around Vox like a hawk threatening to peck out anyone's eyes who dared to even spill a drop of liquor on his shoes. He's smiling but he's anything but happy as he gets dressed to go out and hunt down Vox himself..

It's not until he's all ready, a clawed hand reaching out to his front door when his ears suddenly perk as the sound of knocking from the other side fills the room. 

Alastor freezes for a moment, his mind simply going blank in that very moment except for the thought of Vox that lingered and as he shifted gears and continued to reach out and turn the door before another knock could be heard, Alastor found himself faced with Vox. 

Immediately there's a surge of electricity that rushes through his body at being faced with his friend. 

He's relieved, for starters, just seeing him but then that turns into confusion, then slowly into unbridled rage when he takes in the sight of the other more closely. 

“Al..” Vox chuckles softly, that little chuckle that Alastor had grown rather fond of over their time of knowing each other even in those moments when he did it after telling some stupid joke or when it happened when they seemed to press close to each other in the moments when they could. He usually loves hearing it but this time he does not. 

Especially because it's glitchy, corrupted from what he can see. 

Not while Vox stands before him looking like a stray, beaten dog who practically limped its way back to its owner.

“I know I'm later than I said I'd be but hey, I'm here now yeah?” Vox starts off, or at least attempts to through riggidy default settings and his scratchy voice box though Alastor seems to understand him anyway. 

He doesn't want to though. 

He doesn't want to be faced by him when he's like this and all Alastor manages to do is let out a glitchy sound himself though unlike Vox he's not tired or worn, he's energized, livid. 

His eyes move over Vox's form; looking at his heavily dirtied and wrinkled shirt that seemed to be missing a few buttons then they look at the way Vox seems to cradle one of his arms and of course Alastor takes in his screen which seemed shattered, clearly punched in. 

Rightfully so, Vox seems to grow self conscious as the way Alastor hasn't responded yet. He knew that appearing like this at such a late hour would be one thing for the man but it's so strange to see Alastor so… serious. Vox laughs a little, lowering his gaze as if shy, unwilling to show his face as he slowly looks down to his shoes.

A moment of silence washes over them and Vox can't help but rub his already sore arm.

Maybe he shouldn't have come after all? Perhaps Alastor was even angry with him for doing so after already being hours late… Vox knew he shouldn't have come, should have just dealt with this on his own like he preferred to do so but they both knew Alastor would have come looking for him if he hadn't shown up because that's just who Alastor was when it came to Vox. 

His rushing thoughts come in bundles, so much so that the silence becomes deafening and Vox can't help the way his body wants to just naturally step back and walk away as if he never came to begin with, and maybe that was for the best? He hates bothering Alastor, hated not being strong enough to always hold his ground or to scare others away like Alastor so easily seemed to do and maybe it makes him feel inferior, unworthy of being with the other man which always makes his heart ache when he comes down to such a conclusion. He has so many dreams for them but at times much like these ones he wondered if he was just getting reality messed up with said dreams. 

It's not until a finger slips under his screen and lifts it to make Vox's gaze focus on Alastor's once more but this time… Vox seemed to freeze at what he saw on the other's face, his functioning eye growing wider at the scene as he finds himself suddenly holding his breath. 

He's distorted, glitching and reversing, sigils forming in the air behind him as his eyes look into Vox's. His neck twisted over to the side and eyes big, red, and ticking in a way that makes it seem that Alastor is just barely clinging to patience… like he could burst at any moment in a fit of claws and teeth and as Vox stares up at him, shocked, he can feel shivers run up his back as Alastor continues to hold his head in place. He's gentle but firm, refusing to let this go which was something Vox would also say to him..

To just forget it and move on but no, nonono.

Alastor refused not to be pissed and as far as he knew, he had worked to do..

People to punish, bitches to burn. 

“Who… Did this.. to you?” He says and with the way the room seems to shake it's clear that Alastor is not in fact asking but instead demanding to know. Vox can feel the bloodlust leaking off of the other demon, the fury he carries and Vox was sure that if he was anyone else in hell in that very moment that Alastor probably…wouldn't have hesitated to spill his blood and the ground he stood on. 

Vox recognized the look, his eyes slowly lowering again now while Alastor shifts his hand to caress the side of Vox's face, running his thumb over the undamaged side and though it's a kind gesture Vox can feel the way Alastor's hand seems to lightly shake. 

Vox makes a soft sound, something that he didn't make often and closes the gap between the two of them, wrapping his arms around Alastor and clinging to him and at first the taller of the two freezes at the reaction before slowly but surely… calming, at least as much as he could right now. 

It takes a moment for Alastor to immediately respond but Vox doesn't mind, not when he can feel how warm Alastor was and smell his scent so closely and after everything it seems to take some pressure off the TV demon. When Alastor does hug him back his hold is a bit firmer, a bit tighter, like he may get upset if Vox dares to pull away from him now. 

“Alastor, please…” Vox sighs softly,  brokenly and though Vox's voice box is fucked Alastor still makes out those words and the gentle way Vox seems to speak to him. 

“Please just…just leave it.” He says next, moving to bury his head in Alastor's chest and stepping in closer only to tumble forward onto a knee making Alastor jolt and quickly grip him closer before he finds himself in both of them. “Please let it go… I'll be okay, I'll recover. I always do don't I?” he says, practically begging the other man and Alastor feels his face twitch and he's never before more angry at his own curse for not being able to show just how upset he is right now. Yes of course he was sure Vox would be okay but he despised the idea of the other growing used to being treated this way by others...

“I'll be okay see?” Vox tries to convince the other or maybe… he's trying to convince himself now as he lifts his head and gives Alastor that silly, stupid smile again and it both annoys the deer demon but also convinces him enough to not leave right now and go hunt down however did this for there was all the time in the world to do such later. 

Vox had come to him at this time for a reason and even if the reason was simply because Vox had no one else Alastor didn't care. He'd help him just like he always did… and so with a huff Alastor looks down to Vox with that everlasting smile though it does seem strained. 

“Come inside… I'll take care of you.” He says and though Vox still feels guilty for showing up and possibly ruining Alastor's day with his appearance he also feels… grateful knowing Alastor was there just like he always was. So Vox gives in, sighing and nodding softly, gathering himself and getting to his feet and as Alastor holds the door wide open for him he trails in before the door closes back and snaps shut behind the two of them now allowing them to be alone together, where they were always guaranteed safety from the hellish world around them. 

Where Alastor could continue to keep a close eye on him for just a while longer. 

~

[justivik]

CARE FOR A DANCE...?

; italian boyfriend! yandere x fem! reader

english isn't my first language

You finished your work day very tired, you had been moving all over the place and your feet hurt. Hair was a mess and you only had a moment to fix it but the whole work nightmare was over and you were close to get home where your boyfriend was waiting for you with dinner ready. He was very good at cooking and a typical Italian meal that was Gnocchi di Patate, you loved the taste and the dedication Matthew put into its preparation.

Thinking about the delicious dinner that awaited you, you arrive at your front door and it doesn't take long for the smell of potatoes to permeate your nostrils.

“Hi, honey, I'm here”

In the distance you heard how Matt greeted you with music in the background and the sound of the wooden board making contact with the kitchen knife. You went downstairs to get to the room you share with him so you could change your shoes for more comfortable ones and more comfortable clothes, you wanted to go to bed to sleep but your boyfriend was waiting for some kisses of welcome and you quickly went downstairs to enter the kitchen that had an incredible smell.

You looked at his intense eyes and shiny hair, his nose was beautiful in profile and it was a part of his face that you adored madly. His head turned to your side and a smile appeared on his face.

“Amore mio, how was work?” He quickly stopped what he was doing to wash his hands and went in your direction to hug and kiss you.

“Awful, Kate leave me all her work to go to a new store that opened near work.”

“I hate how she take advantage of you, doll. You should quit your job. I can take good care of you.” He said.

Your boyfriend's proposal was not strange to you, you know very well what kind of man he is but you want to show him that you can stand on your own and that not everything you ask for or touch has to be bought for you.

“It's okay, honey. I don't want to think about her anymore, I just want to eat your delicious food..”

You touched his cheeks and let go of his grip to mix some more of the pasta that was almost ready.

“It's almost ready” Matt replied and then followed interrupted by a familiar tune. The song that Matt always told you could be a short answer to the meaning of the great love he feels for you...

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

Matt turns off the stove and looks at you with the cutest smile he's ever shown you. Every time he smiles that cute, innocent smile, he goes back to being that 16-year-old boy you met at summer camp.

“Our song, isn't it?”

You walked up to him, placed your hands together behind the back of his neck and rested your arms on his shoulders. His hands ran along your hips drawing you closer to him, his eyes shining like a thousand stars. Matt's lips hummed the rhythm of the song.

“I only have eyes” he stretched out the last two words “for youuuuu...” he stretched out the u, making a cute expression.

While you two dance to the romantic ballad like teenagers in love, each other's lips met. It was a kiss of intensity, possession and love. You pulled away gently to quietly watch his expression, he looked at you in the sweetest way and you smiled as you brushed his hair.

“Do you want to eat now, or are we still dancing and adoring each other's presence?”

You turned up the volume on the radio and Matt laughed.

request !!

[em-harlsnow]

Something I’ve had in my mind for a while, so I did a little speed-write:

When he gets back from his therapist, Mickey’s on the couch with his laptop open in front of him.

He doesn’t make a big deal of anything, just looks up, smiles and asks how it went. Today it wasn’t too taxing, just one of the fortnightly appointments that they can afford now. Ian smiles back.

“It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Mickey looks up from the laptop, paying full attention.

He blows out a breath. “Yeah. It was fine, really. Nothing huge.” He says, because nothing huge was revealed, nothing huge was said. Therapy just takes a lot out of him energy-wise.

“Okay.” Mickey replies, placing a hand on his knee, squeezing, and then returns to the screen.

“What are you looking at?” Ian asks, trying to peak.

“That stupid shit you like. Pin Interest or whatever the fuck.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “You like it, Mick. And I know you know it’s called Pinterest.”

Mickey shrugs.

“So, what are you looking at on Pin Interest?” He smirks and Mickey snorts.

“Tattoo ideas. I was thinkin’ of getting another one.” Mickey’s gaze is laser focused as he scans through images, saving some and scowling at others as if they personally offend him.

Ian’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Where do you want it?” He tries to picture his husband with more tattoos and very much likes the image. He likes his current ones too much to not want him to get more.

“I dunno, man. Some sleeves are cool. But they take ages to build up. Maybe just one on my shoulder to start.”

“That sounds good.” Ian tries to get closer, but he still can’t really see what Mickey’s looking at. “Can I see?” He asks, pointing at the device.

Mickey sighs like he’s the most annoying fucker on the planet, but he tilts the screen towards him anyway.

He can see now that Mickey’s searched up ‘black tattoo shoulder men’ and there are just piles on piles of buff men with shoulder tats.

“I like the snake one.” Mickey tells him, pointing at the picture he means. It’s a serpent winding around the top of the guy’s arm, tangling together and going down to the bottom of his bicep.

“Yeah, that one’s cool.” Ian agrees. “What about that one?” He points at one with a fine lined dragon reaching onto the guy’s peck.

“I guess, but I don’t want it too thin, you know? When they do it too intricate, the lines all blur together.” Ian hums in assent.

“Show me what you already have saved.”

Mickey clicks through the website, and Ian catches a glimpse of his pre-existing boards before he goes to the tattoo one. There’s one called ‘wedding’ and one called ‘apartment’ and one called ‘dope shit’. The cover photo of ‘dope shit’ is an aesthetic image of two beers and two cigarettes clasped in two hands. Ian’s not really surprised that this is what Mickey considers to be ‘dope shit’.

In the folder is a lot of similar things. Snakes, dragons, one cat with bat wings. One looks like a weird cross between a gun and a dagger. They’re all pretty hot, and Ian tells him about his favourites.

“I was thinkin’ of drawing it myself. I don’t wanna just copy what someone else has.”

“What did you do for this one?” Ian asks, grasping Mickey’s forearm.

“Drew it.” He explains simply, eyes not leaving the screen.

“Yeah? It’s good. You should draw the next one, too then.”

Mickey hums in agreement but continues to browse the website, probably looking for ideas.

Ian clicks on the TV, starting up an episode of New Girl while Mickey’s distracted.

They sit in peaceful silence for a while, until Mickey speaks again.

“There’s a tattoo place up the street. The reviews seem good. Don’t wanna go somewhere if they’ll just fuck it up.”

“That’s true.” Ian pauses. “If you’re getting one, I might get one too.”

Mickey raises his eyes brows in that expressive way of his. “You want a new tat? Fuckin’ copy cat.” He grumbles, but with the way he looks Ian up and down he can tell he’s not opposed.

“Yeah, been thinkin about it for a bit.”

“Oh yeah? What you thinkin, tough guy, I’ll look up some ideas.” Mickey suggests, already looking back at ‘Pin Interest’.

“Don’t worry, I already know what I want.”

When he doesn’t say more, Mickey huffs impatiently. “Gonna keep me waiting all night or what?”

Ian smirks and leans forward. “I was thinkin’ of an ‘MM’ tattoo, right here.” He tells him, pointing at a spot on the inside of his wrist.

Mickey looks surprised, and fond, and happy all at once. Even so, he tuts at him. “Tshc, you don’t have to do that just because I got your name.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “I fuckin’ know that, dork. I like the idea of having a more permanent thing than the rings.”

“Yeah, coz you keep fuckin’ losing your rings.”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want it to fall down a drain or something, Mick.” He laughs, exasperated. “But a tattoo won’t fall down the drain.”

Mickey looks at him, and he’s so happy that Ian can’t help but wind their fingers together.

“You don’t want it to look like Mandy Milkovich, though. Gotta get my middle initial, too.”

“Wouldn’t her initials be ‘AM’? For Amanda?” Ian raises his eyebrows. Mickey scrunches his.

“Oh yeah.”

“You hate your middle name, anyway. And ‘MAM’ looks like I got something for my mum, I want this for you.”

“Yeah, you already got those titties for Monica.” Mickey jokes lightly and Ian pushes his side.

<3333

i might write a next part, where they actually go get them!

[camusscigarette]

do u have any headcanons for hannibal :3

Hannibal HeadCanons!!

Some trigger warnings maybe? It gets a bit..smutty at the end. Just a bit. Nothing too explicit.

His favorite designers are Christian Dior and Elie Saab. Why? Well, Dior has a unique way of creating such feminine clothes that captivates the eye while Elie Saab makes everything look so ethereal and mythological, it inspires him to draw both Bedelia and Will in such clothes

He went once to Lebanon for the purpose of visiting the last traces of the Roman empire and somehow managed to befriend a nice elderly man on the Beach in Byblos where he offered him a Glass of Aarak and from now on, Hannibal invests in Aarak. Because as the elderly man told him, "Aarak tastes better when you eat it with raw meat".

It's true he's a vile man in his own and twisted sense due to his acts of cannibalism, but Hannibal absolutely hates a lot of well known Serial killers. Why? Because he thinks their motives were weak. He finds their killing styles vulgar and absolutely untasteful. To him, killing is an art. Done is a messy way and disfiguring one's body and leaving it in utter ruins is foul. He thinks that, if you want to disfigure a body, turn it into a statuette or something artistic, not clumps of flesh.

He thinks Rosé is a wannabee Wine. It's his least favorite wine because he finds it rather simple and so vague in taste.. It's a knockoff White wine mixed with water.

He loves Bvlgari. Why? Snakes. He loves snakes. Because they remind him of Bedelia but also Will. Snakes are harmless unless provoked. And their bite can either be deadly or merely a scratch.

HE'S A GOLD GIRLIE.

He's been to Romania many times, even speaks the language. Finds Dracula's castle boring. Loves Castel Peleș because it has every architecture in the world from different societies and civilisations.

His favorite chocolate is Terry's chocolate orange in Dark Chocolate.

He'll always be the big spoon. He finds that holding tightly onto someone he loves reassures him and his anxieties. He likes to tend to people's injuries as well. Bathing them. It's more comforting to him then them.

He secretly loved Bedelia but she wasn't enough for him. She'd never allow her person suit to slip and dwell into madness like him and Will.

He liked Avatar the Last Airbender AND The Legend of Korra. PS. He thinks that Lin and Kya should be a thing.

He's an existentialist, but absolutely HATES Jean Paul Sartre. He'd much rather prefer Simone De Beauvoir and Fyodor Dostoevsky's existentialism.

He enjoys Albert Camus' works. Often quoting his letters to Maria Casarès to those he shared a liking to.

Thinks Sigmund Freud was right.

He low-key has a breeding kink..lowkey..

And overstimulating. He likes to test other's limits by pushing them over the edge, even when he knows it's becoming painfully unbearable.

He hated the Cookie-Croissant thing until he was forced to try one and absolutely loved. Still publicly hates it but secretly..

Red nail theory? Biggest victim of it.

He doesn't like any modern artist, but you'd catch him singing "Happiness is a Butterfly" in the shower. Because "its speaks to him"

He indulges in self flagellation.

HE LOVES ARABIC POETRY MORE THAN ANYTHING .

Hope you liked it! Part Two?

[bestworstcase]

the only purpose of the shock collar was to subjugate, enforce cinder’s status as an object the madame owned. she neither chose it nor wanted it—and in the end, it was just a necklace. cinder breaks it with ease, with one hand. anyone might have set her free at any time with, literally, no more effort than it would take to lift a finger.

(do not try the bullshit nonsense about cinder’s enslavement being legal with me. slavery was abolished after the great war, and when the madame is displeased she brings cinder into the kitchen to torture her behind closed doors. adopting an impoverished orphan from a foreign country and using a collar made to look like a pretty necklace is how she gets away with it, enabled by the complete indifference of her wealthy patrons to the plight of the "adopted child."

the thematic point of rhodes is that he enforces the law only when it’s convenient for him to do so: he knows cinder is being abused, but he’s a regular patron of the hotel and he chooses not to say or do anything to intervene until he recognizes cinder as a threat to the madame. “hurting them won’t make your life any easier.”

we see this pattern reoccur again and again in atlas, that those who hold political or economic power flout the law without consequence or contort it to work for them while those beneath are subjected to strict, unforgiving enforcement. everything robyn does before the election is legal and above-board but the ace-ops openly treat her like a criminal and hound her about obeying the law, while ironwood misappropriates construction materials earmarked for mantle. this is the idea that rhodes embodies.)

so the greatest injustice of the collar is that it had no real power, by itself, over cinder. she could take it off whenever she wanted, except that she was not allowed to; no one willing to help her, no safe haven where she could find refuge after, and when she becomes desperate enough to resort to violence to free herself she is immediately prevented from doing so by a huntsmen—exemplars of moral virtue as they are intended to be—who tells her that in order to be good she must endure seven more years before she is allowed to leave without her guardian’s permission.

as an instrument of control, the collar can exist only through the willingness of the hotel’s patrons to participate in the fiction that cinder, having been lifted out of poverty by the madame’s generosity (look, she even gave the girl a lovely necklace!), is now earning her keep, learning the value of hard work. pay the scars no mind. rhodes intervenes to keep protect the madame, and his fondness for cinder is circumscribed by that motive.

the first time he leaves after he begins to train her, rhodes says goodbye by placing his hand on top of her head; cinder flinches—

—and the scene cuts right to the collar:

in the same mode, the madame electrocutes cinder in a panic as cinder strangles her, and rhodes’ final act is to place his hand on cinder’s head, scaring her—

—after which she cuts him down and stands upright to remove her collar:

the collar and the gentle (unwanted) hand are one and the same, two faces of a single instrument. carrot, stick. neither figures cinder as a human being. rhodes is only gentle until she disobeys him, whereupon the covert violence of their first meeting is reified: he enters her only ‘safe’ place to catch her in an unlawful act; his first action is to pass judgment; his second, to draw his weapons.

now, that’s not yours, is it?—huntsmen are called to embody a heroic ideal, to protect others who cannot protect themselves. rhodes places his own weapons into cinder’s hands and declares that he will train her as a huntress on the condition that she agrees not to protect herself; he releases himself from his duty to protect her by moving her into the category of people who do not need to be protected, and thereby makes her both guardian and grimm: as a child who will become a huntress it falls to her to protect her family from the monster of herself.

thus she’s forced to become an active participant in her own abuse; before she can break free of the collar, she has to bite the hand that held it in place.

now to the grimm. during the montage of cinder’s training-and-abuse, there is a particular sequence that goes like this: rhodes and cinder spar with wasters late one night, he disengages and gives her an approving nod; we cut to cinder kneeling before the madame in the empty lobby, dusting a glass statuette of a sabyr for inspection. her work is found inadequate, and the madame finds quiet satisfaction in reminding cinder of the power she has over cinder:

then the madame walks away, and although cinder strives to maintain the performance of being unaffected—indifferent—she can’t:

in contrast to the scenes preceding cinder’s bargain with rhodes—wherein the larger-than-life glass statues looming over the lobby alternate between prominently visible or just protruding into frame and cinder’s face is an open book of angry resentment—this is the only instance of a grimm figurine being clearly visible and in focus during the montage, and also the one time cinder’s mask slips to reveal her anger.

similarly, in the time-skip at the end of the montage, the glass sphinx sitting on the coffee table in the mid-left is removed to signal the passage of time, with no other changes made to the decor:

but guess who’s back as soon as the situation reaches critical mass?

glass wolf. glass dragon. glass shoes.

the point is, throughout the flashback midnight leverages these glass-grimm to symbolize cinder’s true self, her anger which protects her and which the gentle hand demands she extinguish. the fantastical gilded opulence of the glass unicorn depends on cinder staying quietly in her cage. no, it isn’t fair—the gentle hand admits this—but it is her moral imperative to serve others. in this distorted unreality the defenseless and the indefensible become commingled. a huntress, as salem would have it, is a defender who lives and dies to protect a lifestyle. or she is, as ozpin defines it, one who guards the peace by killing monsters.

cinder’s instinctive understanding that this is not fair—that she is not nothing—that she has been wronged—is the monster she must slay to become the hero of this story, the story of the glass unicorn and madame and rhodes and all of atlas. and in the end she can’t.

rwby has never been precious about depicting blood, but there is no blood in this scene: not not on the floor, not on the bodies, not on her weapons, not a single drop upon her white shirt. her hands are clean. in shadow, the monster snaps the chain around her throat and turns to looks up at the moon—and its light reveals what is true. her tears, her scars. a child who deserved better than she was given. a child who did nothing wrong.

ahem.

Keeping [grimm] in captivity has proved to be an understandably difficult task, as the creatures tend to either die, or kill those who imprisoned them in the first place.

hm! anyway. the narrative function of this flashback is to provide context and contrast with the scenes that follow.

to review:

the collar’s power is enforced by communal indifference and complicity.

the madame, though unaware of him, depends on rhodes to keep cinder under her control; rhodes intervenes to protect the madame from cinder.

the gentle hand is an equal to the collar, a mechanism of control by which cinder is made to participate in her own abuse, and when she disobeys, it turns to iron and inflicts violent punishment. even when he is gentle, cinder flinches under his touch.

by training cinder to fight but forbidding her to defend herself, rhodes casts her into the role of both guardian and grimm: she is expected to protect the madame by slaying her anger and turning the other cheek.

the glass grimm figurines symbolize cinder’s anger, which protects her. when she defends herself, cinder metaphorically becomes grimm: the monster of the glass unicorn is destined to be hated and hunted for the rest of her life, and the monster of the glass unicorn is a blameless child who refused to let herself be hurt. grimm, in this story, are good.

also note

the similar framing here.

now!—from the moment cinder wakes up, it is abundantly clear that she expects to be met with brutal punishment for her failure. “you—you brought me back here… we failed.” she’s horror-stricken at finding herself in this place and that hardens into terror as the reality sinks in that she is within salem’s reach.

later, on the bridge, she affects calm until salem pauses in front of her; her eyes snap open. she shrinks into herself at the sound of salem’s voice but hangs on every word. when salem mentions the winter maiden, cinder grits her teeth and braces herself.

cinder associates salem with the madame: that is why without you, i am nothing falls out of her mouth so easily when salem tears her down in 8.1 and again when salem threatens her in 8.4—those are the words to make the pain stop, to appease, to demonstrate that she is contrite and repentant and grateful. she believes that this is what salem wants to hear when cinder has displeased her. and she is, at the top of the bridge scene, waiting for the torture to begin so that she can choke it out again and survive this humiliating ordeal.

except that is not what salem wants to hear.

by now salem knows beyond any doubt that “without you, i am nothing” is what cinder believes she wants to hear, and it is obvious to anyone with eyes that cinder expects to be tortured. whether salem knows cinder’s history or not—i don’t think she does, not in any great detail—she knows people well enough to put two and two together. salem knows, then, that cinder expects to be tortured into groveling self-denigration.

she doesn’t want cinder to expect that from her. there’s no other reason for salem to be so thorough in dismantling the expectation.

if she wanted to make cinder afraid, the more effective way is to decline to torture her at all: cinder is so certain that salem will hurt her that withholding punishment entirely will only convince her that salem intends to wait until the moment she lets her guard down, or some other form of deferred retribution all the worse for being delayed.

whereas the most efficient way to puncture cinder’s terror of being tortured is—somewhat perversely—to actually torture her a little bit. because cinder does not BELIEVE there is any possible outcome in which salem spares her, if salem wants to introduce the possibility of mercy she first needs to enter cinder’s reality, where mercy doesn’t exist, by proving she can and will inflict pain to answer both defiance (“you chose to disobey my specific instructions”) and failure (“just to fail again…”)

a brief burst of pain to express displeasure instead of holding cinder under torture until she breaks isn’t really merciful, but it’s the lower bound of what cinder will be able to trust and it eases her into the idea that salem is lenient.

then, “and i’ve realized it’s all my fault. you’ve fought your whole life unwaveringly for what you want, and here i am holding you back, instead of lifting you up; you deserve so much more than i’ve given you.”

aside from being a straightforward subversion of cinder’s clear expectation—cinder thinks she will be abused without mercy until she breaks, salem stops and absolves cinder by reframing cinder’s disobedience as a natural consequence of her own failures—salem has a few specific things in mind here.

the most obvious is the reversal of what she said to cinder in 4.11: “i thought you were the girl who wanted power. did you lie to me? then stop holding back.” and she’s also pointedly walking back things she said yesterday, in 8.1 and 8.4: “all you need concern yourself with is your ability to act when i tell you to” and the “she thinks; she wants…” bit are here flipped into implicit praise for cinder’s tenacity in pursuing what she wants and implicit apology for standing in her way.

but the most interesting angle to consider is that this is salem’s response to “without you, i am nothing.” salem does not verbally respond either of the times cinder says that to her in 8.1 and 8.4; the first time, she dismisses everyone with a gesture, and the second time she just walks away. both reactions are in line with what cinder expects—after all, the point is to remind cinder that she is nothing.

however, cinder has—from what we’ve seen—never spoken to salem this way before, and given she seems genuinely taken aback when salem shuts her down in 8.1 i do think it’s likelier than not that salem has never demeaned her like this before, and that together with having been in atlas for months is what surfaces the trauma association with the madame and thence the appeasing behavior.

so consider how this looks to salem.

the last time she spoke to cinder, she said “you’re free to speak your mind,” and cinder whipped around from the window without hesitation, outraged: “i don’t understand! working with bandits? leaving ruby alive? what’s the point? we’re strong enough to take what we want by force!”—not even a ma’am in there. cinder addressed her like she saw herself and salem as equals, notwithstanding that salem had final say, and salem clearly didn’t have a problem with that.

several months pass. salem is displeased about the loss at haven but trusts that cinder will make an effort to recover the lamp; she is also worried enough for cinder to toss her plans and divert nearly everything to atlas, not that she’s willing to admit that’s why.

cinder walks onto the bridge and the first words out of her mouth are “my queen.” a few minutes in salem curtly informs her that no she will not go rampaging after the winter maiden and cinder’s answer is a demure, “of course; without you, i am nothing.” and then a few hours later they quarrel about it and cinder repeats those exact words in exactly the same tone again.

unless salem knows cinder’s history in far more granular detail than i believe cinder would be willing to divulge, that’s… a really strange shift in behavior with no clear reason; yes, she had to make up the loss at haven (and she did), and yes, salem was unusually mean to her, but neither of those things add up to this plainly well-practiced self-abasement from the girl who only a few months ago did not appear to have a humble bone in her body. once might have been sarcasm; but twice within a few hours?

whereafter cinder ran off to attack the winter maiden and almost died again and salem had six hours to pick all of this apart in her head while cinder lay unconscious.

why didn’t she respond to cinder saying “without you, i am nothing,” if that is not what she wants from cinder? well,

“you disobeyed my specific instructions, just to fail again, and i’ve realized it’s all my fault.” both times cinder said that, it was in response to the specific instructions that cinder disobeyed when she went after penny: you will act when i tell you to, and you will remain here. six hours, salem had to think about this. “you’ve fought your whole life unwaveringly for what you want, and here i am holding you back, instead of lifting you up; you deserve so much more than i’ve given you.”

salem does not think of cinder as nothing. even when she is deliberately being mean, she makes a point to say that she values cinder (“just because you’re more valuable to me than a pawn–”). cinder holds the key to her victory and cinder is also important to her in ways she cannot bring herself to admit except that she keeps bending her plans further and further for cinder’s sake. the first time cinder says “without you, i am nothing” to her, she seems bemused (brows up) and then wry. the second time, she doesn’t react at all.

then because she left it there, cinder nearly dies and is unconscious for hours. and once she wakes up salem hits her with:

this is my fault

what you want matters

i should be lifting you up

you deserve better

i will help you

IN A CLASSIC SALEM MOVE she does not actually say what she means, which is “you are not nothing,” but she finds an impressive number of ways to say it without saying it in just a handful of lines. and:

she doesn’t touch cinder, but instead she offers, gives cinder a choice to take her hand or not, and this matters because no other character has ever given cinder that.

in 2.1 cinder touches roman’s face to assert her power over him; she does the same to pyrrha in 3.12 right before killing her; she slaps emerald in 3.7.

in 5.9, cinder reacts to watts grabbing her wrist like this—

—and then sets his hand on fire. in 8.1, emerald starts to run over to embrace her, cinder snaps her head around and snarls “quiet.,” stopping her in her tracks. and after she wakes up in midnight, when emerald rushes into the room and grabs her, cinder tenses and verbally lashes out before jerking her hand away.

cinder really does not like to be touched and that all traces back to:

rhodes patting her head. which is what he’s reaching down for when cinder kills him, because this time she senses him moving to touch her and can’t take it.

cinder bristles and retaliates whenever anyone touches her, and outside of grappling during fights the only times cinder ever touches other people is to hurt them or to remind them of her power to hurt them, because that is what touch means to her; it’s something those with power do to those beneath them, and something the weak must endure.

for salem to offer her hand to help cinder up is strange and unsettling; it breaks the rules. and cinder is very hesitant to take it—her fingers shake—but she does, and it isn’t a trick, salem pulls her to her feet without hurting her.

whereupon cinder’s whole demeanor transforms from terrified incredulity to calculation. she doesn’t understand what just happened, but she knows touch is an instrument of coercion and a way to inflict pain. if salem were like the madame, she would not have done any of that; if salem didn’t touch her with the intent to harm her, then there are only two possibilities:

one, that salem’s resemblance to the madame is superficial and she is actually much more like rhodes; or two, that salem is the weak one and cinder holds some unknown degree of power over her.

the instant this thought enters cinder’s head, it becomes urgently important to figure out which it is, hence the murdering of colleagues and stepsisters and lying to salem’s face that cinder gets up to immediately afterward. BUT THAT IS NOT WHAT THIS POST IS ABOUT THIS IS A POST ABOUT THE GRIMM ARM. AND THEMES.

wheeze. okay

in the glass unicorn, cinder has two parental figures—the madame and rhodes—who act in synchronicity to keep her in her place. shock collar, pat on the head. stick, carrot. she is tortured and made to refract this violence inwards, against herself, by turning the other cheek. within this narrative, the symbolic purpose of the grimm is to protect cinder and cinder herself is symbolically identified as grimm; just as black glass is her signature in in the present, the white glass of the hotel’s grimm figurines reflects cinder’s starkly white-and-grey uniform.

glass, cinder. glass grimm, glass shoes.

unicorns, classically, are said to be ferociously wild and dangerous beasts tamable only by the touch of a maiden. those who hunt unicorns, then, should solicit a maiden’s assistance. she goes out into the woods alone; the unicorn finds her and docilely, fearlessly lays its head upon her lap and goes to sleep; and thus the hunters take it. this manner of hunting unicorns is called entrapment, and among medieval and renaissance depictions of unicorns it is by far the most common motif.

in the world of remnant, if unicorns are real then they are undoubtedly a kind of grimm.

gestures at cinder, the fall maiden, who can tame the grimm. who feels for them. maiden. unicorn. maiden. unicorn.

the story of the glass unicorn is a story about a maiden-monster whom a huntsman instructs to tame herself lest she be hunted forever; an entrapment of the self; in the end she hears the baying of hunting dogs in the distance and awakens to the truth that she too will be killed, in spirit if not in body, if she obeys the huntsman. the unicorn is not to blame, and the maiden is right to protect it, and the unicorn is, has always been, grimm.

bearing all of this in mind,

is the grimm arm another collar?

i don’t think it…is, actually, in any sense except that cinder forms an association between the madame and salem in 8.1—the collar and the arm are diametric opposites, mirror-images of each other:

where the collar was fragile and easily removed, the grimm arm is part of cinder’s body. where the collar derived all its power from pretense (it’s only a pretty necklace!), the grimm arm is impossible to mistake for something other than what it is. where the collar’s sole purpose was to inflict pain and remind cinder of her place, the foremost purpose of the arm is to replace cinder’s missing limb. where the collar was forced upon her and she hated it, cinder trained hard to master her new arm and has grown more comfortable with it in every new volume.

paired with the way grimm function symbolically within the glass unicorn narrative, as representations of cinder’s justified anger and desire to protect herself… well. maiden, unicorn. lol

is it then an iteration of the gentle hand? that’s a more interesting question, because salem’s abuse of cinder is really quite a lot more like rhodes than the madame, but then there’s also… the reversal. rhodes’ affection for cinder is restricted by his interest in protecting the madame, and when cinder disobeys him he attacks her presumably with the intent to arrest her for murder. whereas salem has repeatedly and increasingly rearranged her plans for cinder’s benefit, and when cinder disobeys her, she reconsiders her treatment of cinder and offers an apology.

and obviously—

—we have the way rhodes touches cinder’s head, which at best makes her tense up in discomfort and at worst scares her so much she kills him to make him stop, mirrored in the same episode by salem offering her hand and cinder choosing to take it.

salem is not by any stretch of the imagination good to cinder, but midnight places her in juxtaposition with the madame and rhodes in order to clarify the difference between salem and the parent-figures of cinder’s childhood. it’s salem who tells cinder that she isn’t nothing, that she deserves better, that she was right to become defiant when salem was cruel to her. it’s salem who gives cinder a choice to let salem touch her or not.

everyone who gets where the wind is blowing with cinder understands, because it is obvious, that her turnaround is going to be incited by someone showing her mercy, which will shatter her view of the world and open a door for her to change. but… that “someone” is salem. it is literally already happening.

the first crack is salem telling her you deserve so much more than i’ve given you, as she pulls cinder to her feet.

and cinder doesn’t know how to parse that, she has no frame of reference except the madame and rhodes and she’s superimposed them both onto salem; the discrepancies, the pieces that don’t fit, are small right now. they will get larger, and the cracks will keep widening until the looking glass breaks.

which is why the grimm arm is related to the collar in the specific way that it is, with cinder flashing back to her childhood and the pain salem inflicts ending when cinder shifts emotionally from helpless fear to defiance and salem then explicitly affirming the rightness of cinder’s anger. the moral of the glass unicorn narrative according to rhodes is that what cinder did is unforgivable, and she will never escape it; the moral according to salem is that cinder did the right thing, and deserves better. the symbolic function of the grimm figurines in the glass unicorn narrative is to represent cinder’s self-protective anger. salem, grimm, uses cinder’s grimm arm to make a point that cinder should get angry when salem mistreats her, and then rewards her for being defiant.

is that a really fucked up way for salem to make that point YES OBVIOUSLY but no one else is even trying. lol

little steps.

(whispers into a cup) the grimm arm is also a metaphor for learning to be vulnerable and trust others not to harm you

cinder feels its pain. when it’s severed, it hurts, but also grows back. it’s both powerful (superbly strong, inhuman flexibility) and vulnerable (aura can’t protect it). salem can use it to hurt her; it connects them both together, so salem knows she’s alive and cinder knows when she’s back. it refused to bond with cinder until she let go of her fear and welcomed it.

the shattering trauma that made her what she is now was rhodes telling her that defending herself made her an irredeemable monster. the grimm figurines in her childhood story symbolize cinder’s desire to defend herself. the grimm arm is part of her body that connects her to salem in a way that salem can abuse to hurt her, but salem is also the first character to look cinder in the eye and tell her that she is right to defend herself. both cinder and salem are in the early stages of developing villain -> hero arcs.

your newfound strength brings with it a crippling weakness, salem says. remember that it comes with a cost. take care to protect yourself; there is only so much i can do to aid you. cinder wants to be strong, but she is terrified of weakness, and it is the terror of weakness that drives her, that must be faced, that must be resolved before she can find peace. her story isn’t about “learning to be satisfied with the power she already has” it’s about learning to be okay with being vulnerable. with having weaknesses.

like an arm she can’t shield with aura, that grows back when it’s severed, which she feared and then hid in discomfort and now accepts as a part of herself. just because salem can hurt her doesn’t mean that salem is incapable of choosing not to. salem could also, like, smash cinder into a gory pancake with a snap of her fingers.

it’s a story. about trust.

[daydreamalley]

A Ramble about Phase 19 of the Fifteen Manga Ft. Storm Bringer spoilers

Just absolutely cannot get over the 15 manga. I love the light novel so much, but this manga adaptation is so ridiculously amazing. Dazai and Chuuya’s proximity/touching has been amazing of course. I adore the way Hoshikawa draws Dazai and Chuuya as well (my baby boys, especially Chuuya). But these last two chapters with Rimbaud and Verlaine. Like, fuck. The whole “At least, one of them felt that way,” part just hits so much harder in the manga for me, with the art and page placement. And this whole most recent chapter. Like firstly, you don’t have to end every chapter with like Chuuya getting stabbed okay, help me out here.

Comparing the last page of phase 18 with Verlaine and the first page of phase 19 with Chuuya makes it so obvious that Rimbaud is seeing the similarities between them with just that parallel, which is confirmed later with Rimbaud quite literally seeing Verlaine standing behind Chuuya. 

Not to mention in phase 18 the “That’s right Paul, I remember you,” in conjunction with him seeing Verlaine in Chuuya.

Then that flashback with Verlaine carrying Chuuya and Chuuya’s just so small I could cry.

Like, I knew he was small, but he's just so young, I can't. People were experimenting on him. Like, how??

The way Rimbaud wants to ask Chuuya something and Chuuya crouches down to him. Which leads to Rimbaud putting a hand around Chuuya as he tells him to live. How close and personal they are when Rimbaud says all of this just make it feel so much more impactful for Chuuya. Kinda love too that Chuuya isn't just standing over Rimbaud. He's making it obvious he's open to listening.

Rimbaud says a lot of shitty things to Chuuya up to this point, even complaining that he has to kill a kid while only referring to Dazai, completely not acknowledging Chuuya as anything more than Arahabaki. But once he fully remembers what happened with Verlaine, I feel like that’s when Rimbaud remembers what he truly believed about Verlaine and his humanity and how that extends to Chuuya’s humanity. Because Rimbaud’s whole final speech is most definitely things he’d also thought of or told Verlaine before (as I think is confirmed in SB). I think those are Rimbaud’s true thoughts and beliefs on the matter, it just took that long for him to remember the full story and how he felt about it all. Rimbaud saw Verlaine’s struggles with humanity, and now he also remembers why Verlaine betrayed him. And so he tells Chuuya to live, just as Verlaine wanted him to back then, live without the burden of worrying about your humanity or where you came from, because “you are you.” It doesn’t matter if Chuuya (and Verlaine) “are but a pattern etched on the surface of raw power.” In Rimbaud’s mind, and honestly where we eventually end up at the end of SB, is that it really doesn’t matter what your origins are, whether someone is an artificial personality (aka pattern) etched onto raw power, because really everything is some version of a pattern upon the world. And in a word with abilities, a lot of people are a pattern connected to a power. Just as in SB Chuuya decides that even though Adam isn’t human and he knows it, it doesn’t take away from Adam’s actions, his sacrifices, or his dreams. Same goes for Chuuya and Verlaine. Their origins don't affect how human they truly are. Their humanity is significant no matter what. It just took a bit more convincing for Chuuya to get there, a little more than what Rimbaud could offer on his (almost) deathbed.

Anyway, Chuuya holding Rimbaud’s hand as he dies just does things to me. Like, the book described that “Both Chuuya and Dazai quietly listened as if there was something in what Randou (Rimbaud) was saying that they couldn’t allow themselves to miss… Some things, however, would not return to normal: the body of a man who no longer felt the cold, and the hearts of two boys who stood rooted to the spot, staring at him. A gust of wind peered through their souls as it passed them by.”

This page just so well depicts that last line. It truly feels these boys have heard something so monumental, that they won’t ever forget. Standing in the aftermath of their first fight together, hearing these words about humanity that both mean so much to both of them. Dazai’s expressions really convey this to me in the manga, and convey it just so beautifully. And Chuuya being so close to Rimbaud when he speak those words just makes it feel like those words truly are so monumental for him. And also this means that Chuuya fought to kill a man, that to be entirely fair and clear was trying to kill him first, and then held to his hand as he dies, and there’s just something about this added detail that’s so significant to me in portraying the weight of it on Chuuya. Chuuya's connection to Rimbaud is a complicated but important one. But really these words are important for both boys, because let’s not forget that Dazai also struggles with his humanity. Even if he doesn’t have a physical reason to doubt his humanity, like Chuuya, there are many other reasons that he does doubt it. So hearing that all people and all of humanity are really just patterns within the physical world, human or not that’s true of everyone and everything, and that’s important for Dazai to hear too. I think both boys think back to Rimbaud’s final speech quite a bit, if I’m being honest or did for a while.

I am NOT getting over the detail that someone (Chuuya??) put Rimbaud’s scarf on his grave. I just… it does something to me and I love that detail so much. And cutting back to that “You are you” line while Chuuya’s talking to the grave is just so perfect in my opinion, and again just shows the significance of it so, so well. It’s like, he's talking to Rimbaud, complaining about his actions really, and then it cuts to that “you are you” and it just shows almost the contrast I guess between Chuuya feeling unrest at not finding stuff about his past that Rimbaud could’ve given him, but maybe wouldn’t have anyway, and Rimbaud’s statement that those things don’t matter because Chuuya is who he is beyond all that. Also the little dandelion blowing into the wind, to me also signifying a wish being spread.

Anyway, entirely unnecessary to end the chapter with a big knife in Chuuya’s back, thanks. Especially after Chuuya mentions how he’s still exhausted from everything. Like let’s just, stop, please.

He's just a boy, leave him alone for the sake of all things good.

[stinkypeanutbutter]

‘ Tick

Tick

Tick ‘

The light sound of ticking from the clock could be heard from Aiden’s bed , which Aiden has been laying on for the past 40 minutes , or so . His parents had gotten him it quite a while ago . He wasn’t sure why , because he knew he wouldn’t be able to figure it out or have enough focus to remember , but it was something along the lines of “ Not having to use a phone or digital clock when it’s around . “ ‘ Tick

Tick

Tick ‘

He didn’t like that clock . It felt loud , felt repulsive and it bothered him so . Yes , it felt loud , he could feel it . Each time it ticked it felt like it slowly crept into his ears like a bug and started chewing at his brain .

. What time was it ?

He couldn’t remember . Maybe he should , it seems like something he should know of but he doesn’t . Not right now . .

.

Aiden didn’t really feel loved . Wow ! That was random , gotta be all edgy don’t we . .

Well , it was true . But of course he’s wrong , he has to be . His parents were there , sometimes , and showered him with gifts whenever they came back from traveling for work . .

Annoying . It’s all so irritating . His parents love him , he’ll keep telling himself that to make sure it sounds true enough to believe , even if the truth may hurt more then the lies .

. . Lies ? No no , there weren’t any lies . They never said anything to lie , did they ? He couldn’t remember . Hungry . He was hungry . or bored ? One of the two fit .

Maybe he’s lying to himself just as much as he believed they were . But he wasn’t , he was sure his friends cared for him . I thought this was about his parents ? He’s sure it was , that’s what got him thinking more in the first place , since around 2 : 33 pm . .

It was 2 : 33 . Was it ? Maybe it’s a minute before , maybe after but he couldn’t check the clock if he wanted .

‘ Tick ‘

He wanted to die . No , no he didn’t . Maybe . He hadn’t put much thought into that in a while . Maybe he does , or he’s sure he just doesn’t care if he dies or not . Risk is fun . The risk or the thrill ? The risk is what gives him the thrill . What does he like more ? Hm .

Parents , family , yada yada . He wished they had bothered to call him back once , just once anytime they were away to check in on him , make sure he’s fine . He’s always fine , he’ll always be fine , what ELSE is there to be ? Not sad , he can’t be that it would worry everyone . Would it ? He wished his parents worried more . Called more , appreciated him more , cared about him more he doesn’t care if they love him or not anymore all he wanted was they’re stupid attention , not coming back every few months with a ton of pricey , dumb gifts to make up for lost time . Lost time they barley bother to recover because it’s all just gifts he never asked , never wanted once , and yet he never bothered to speak up about it . He felt tired . Hungry ? Bored ? He went over this already .

They loved him , but he has a feeling they at least love him for being a family member more then their son .

But he can’t help but wonder what they truly cared most for . Himself , or the fortune that was brought upon them .

.

. Caring . They were caring , his friends were so caring to him . He brang them up again . How many times has he did that ?

2 ?

It was 2 : 33 . No , he’s wrong , several minutes passed already . Several hours ? No , it’s still light out . He feels cold . Deathly cold . But the fans not on . Is it ? He doesn’t want to turn his head to check , he’s tired . He feels too under - stimulated . He wants to move , draw , run , jump , dance , but he can’t . He wants to . Will he ? He doesn’t care right now . Care ? If he asked that to anyone , everyone , how many answers will he receive . . Or how many will differ from the rest . Everyone has different feelings , different reactions , different expectations towards whatever . What would his friends say ? His parents ?

‘ tick ‘

.

.

What time was it again ?

[tragedybunny]

Pretty Baby 2

༺Summary༻

Astarion is a brat on several occasions and is duly punished for it. In between, he and Mommy (Fina) deal with some emotional issues.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Tav

༺Warnings༻ NSFW - PiV Sex, Anal Play, Femdom, Mommy Kink, Feminization, Forced Orgasm, Chastity Cage, Porn with Feelings, Porn streaming, Pegging, Astarion being a brat

༺Word Count༻ 3783

༺A/N༻

So, it's chapter 2 of a fic I never planned to write. Lol. And somewhow now we've got plot and feelings involved. Hope you all enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing it. And huge thank you to the best of betas and friends, @icybluepenguin

The chat is populated by Tav's and other characters from my friends, they all helped makes this a delight.

Check out two similar fics if you dig mine. Decadent Torture and Careless Whisper

Read On AO3 Chapter 1

“Hush, a little more, then your punishment is over.” I let go of his cock, turn off the plug vibrating in his ass, and give him a short reprieve. 

Drawing gasping breaths, he looks up at me with pleading, tear filled eyes. God, his eyes are pretty; startling crimson, soft, and round. Normally, I cave when they're all watery like this. But not tonight - tonight is for lessons. 

I play with the little pink bow on his white thigh high stocking. Leaving him with only those, his white bra, and of course his collar, made him such a fetching picture for our little teaching session.

He'd spent most of the night on his knees in the naughty corner, those stockings peeking out of his pleated white skirt, a little pink cashmere sweater completing his look. I'd posted a few pictures that had his audience nice and worked up.

Demi_g0ddess: oh looks like Little Star was very bad today can’t wait to see what Mommy does to the little brat Bookworm420: didn’t realize Mommy was a thicc queen this might be too much for my ovaries

The chat had been crowded when we set up for the stream. Before the camera went on, I told him what to take off and how to prep, but not what I was planning. 

We went live and I made him give a little introduction. 

“I've had a very bad attitude lately and Mommy wants to make sure I'm thoroughly punished, so she's letting you all watch.” Every word was said petulantly as he leaned into playing the brat. 

Ari147: wonder what he did… Drag-onme: who cares, as long we get to watch the aftermath BardlockLongdick: is that a leather couch animal cruelty is not sexy.

“Go on,” I prompted, gesturing for him to get ready. 

The clothes he stripped were folded and set to the side, the chat cheering him on. When he kneeled down, I handed him a vibrating plug that made his eyes go wide. 

“Mommy, please…” he pleaded, but obediently went to work prepping and inserting it, cheeks flushed a deep red. I let him position himself in my lap, head propped on the arm of the couch. Then I started typing, Astarion watching with dawning horror.  

Mommy: Little Star has been an absolute brat about wearing a chastity cage while I’m out of town, because he wouldn’t be able to touch himself. So, tonight, I’m making him come as many times as I think he can handle. 

Demonbbyy: poor little thing got himself into a lot of trouble  TestyZesty: Mommy is way too nice about it but I’m still going to watch.

And here we were- Astarion, covered in his own semen, whimpering in my arms. I drag my finger along his cock, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. One more and I think he’ll have learned his lesson. I push the button on the remote for the plug.

“Fuck,” he whines the word. 

Penguino: aww, Mommy, I think he’s had enough  TestyZesty: nah, he’s still coherent  keep going Demi_g0ddess: Zesty, we’re sharing a brain cell  DrowDaddy: this chat is very mean tonight

I put a generous coating of lube on my hand and begin to work his shaft again. He pants and moans, desperate sounds falling from his lips as he builds to another orgasm. 

The chat continues to go feral as he whines and cries. I'm gentle this last round, languidly rubbing, letting the plug do its work. “That's it, one more for me. You've been so good for your punishment.”

He squirms at the praise, tearfully whimpering, hips weakly bucking as I take him to climax again. My other hand turns up the intensity on the plug. 

“Pleeeease,” he cries, voice ragged.

Another spurt of cum and he goes limp. I turn off the plug and lean down to kiss his sweat soaked forehead, letting him recover for a moment. He's so pretty like this, spent and helpless in my lap.  “Now, are you ready to apologize for being such a little brat the past couple of days?” 

He doesn't hesitate. “I'm sorry, Mommy,” he whimpers, tears running down his face. 

“Good baby. Almost done.” 

He tenses. “But...”

“Shh. They get to see because of the attitude.” He makes a noise. “Don't turn this into a spanking session,” I warn and he gets quiet. 

I take a warm, moist towel I'd set up earlier and clean up his pretty cock. The chat is losing it. 

KneelForMeSweets: and we get to see the cage  can he act up every night 

It's a pretty pink little chastity cage, just perfect for him. I slide the ring on first, then put the tube over his cock before locking it down. He's so quiet, I can hear every breath and the sniffles he's still fighting. 

Once they get a good look, I shut down the stream. 

Mommy: I'm going to go get this little brat cleaned up. Hopefully, he's learned his lesson.

Bitchybambi: I hope not, I want to see what you do next  KneelForMeSweets: she can DM me for ideas.

I kill the video and give him a proper kiss as he clings to me, spent and shivering. “Come on, you. Bath time.”

Astarion is unusually quiet during our aftercare session, and when he's settled into bed in a pair of oversized pajamas, I pull him close, and he snuggles into my neck on instinct. 

“You know, if you think it's too much to wear it, you don't have to.” I run my fingers through his curls and cover his face in soft kisses. He's done stints in the cage before, but I'm starting to doubt myself on this one. It would kill me to ever hurt him for real. 

He doesn't move; if anything, he burrows deeper into the crook of my neck. “It's not, and I am sorry for being a pain. It's just…”

He makes a small, frustrated noise and I keep petting him. “Take your time.” 

For a few minutes, he just takes shaky breaths, and then he speaks. “It’s this whole going back to school thing. I'm nervous, and you're going to be gone for the next two days. And what if this is a dumb idea and I can't do it.”

“It's not a dumb idea, you really like fashion design, baby. And why do you think you can't do it?” 

“Remember the last time I was in school? I failed out.” 

“Astarion, you didn't want to be a lawyer and you hated law school. You only went because Caz-” I feel him tense in my arms, “because he made you.” 

“I know.” He sounds teary again. “But it doesn't mean I don't feel stupid.”

“Love, my pretty little wife, you are not stupid. You’re capable and creative. And you know I won’t have time on this stupid team building trip, otherwise I’d bring you with.” 

“Still going to miss you, though.” 

“I know, baby. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The next morning, Astarion drives me to the airport. I put the keys for his collar and the cage in my jewelry box in case of an emergency or if it’s too much for him. It's cold and rainy, and he’s adorable in oversize sweats with sleepy eyes. After he unloads my bag, I pull him in for a hug and feel it pressed against me. A wave of lust courses through me; I can’t wait to come back and have a nice little session with him. 

“Call me when you land, Fina.” 

I don’t know if he realizes how much I’ll miss him. Astarion and I have rarely been apart since we met in grad school. It's just as hard on me to get on that plane and be without him.

We get one quick call before I’m off to the first of many “activities” the firm planned. I can’t be too angry about it, they pay a ton, and it finances my trophy wife’s lifestyle. I tell Astarion I’ll call him after dinner and karaoke hour. 

The whole day isn't that tortuous, and most of my coworkers get into the spirit of things for karaoke. I still make my exit as soon as I can to get some time in with Astarion. 

To my surprise, I see he's streaming. Sprawled out on the bed in a sheer black satin chemise that's ridden up his thighs enough to show off his beautifully caged cock. 

Instead of anything salacious, he's painting his nails. Not every stream is as action filled as last night. Some of them are just mundane things like now. I can’t fault the audience, I'd still pay to see him too, if he wasn’t mine already. I slide into the chat without announcing myself. 

Ari147: nothing fun tonight? :( 

“I’m afraid not, darling. If I don’t get any fun, neither do you.” He blows a cheeky kiss to the camera, and readjusts, spreading his legs more. One hand idly traces unpainted nails along a thigh while he blows on the ones he just painted. 

He’s such a filthy little tease. 

Mommy: glad to see you’re behaving yourself tonight

He sits up straighter, eyes lighting up. “Hi, Mommy. Missing all this?” His hand climbs higher, running up his abdomen to his chest. 

Demonbbyy: if she isn’t, I’ll take him   Mommy: settle yourselves down

Astarion leans over, getting on all fours to look directly into the camera, licking his lips. “Well, are you?” he pouts. 

Mommy: you know I am, and I’ll prove it when I get home 

His breath hitches. “That’s all for tonight, darlings. I want to give Mommy all my… attention.” 

The stream goes blank and he’s video-calling me seconds later. “Hi.” He smiles giddily. “I thought you might be a little later.”

“What can I say, I do actually miss you a lot. How was your day?”

We chat for a while and I watch him finish his nails, still in his chemise, which hides nothing as he shifts around. He seems less nervous about the school situation, which I chalk up to actually talking about it. 

“Alright, I should probably get to sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.” 

The morning call goes smooth enough, but the day is filled with seminars and an afternoon paintball session. Why do HR departments always think that’s a good idea? Astarion starts texting me around lunch, chatty little messages that I don’t have time to properly answer. Then the attitude creeps in. 

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk to me.”

“I. Am. Busy. Astarion. I’ll call after dinner.”

I forgot dinner is an awards banquet that traps me for longer than I’d anticipated. It never seems to end, and I start trying to text him during it. No response, and a part of me begins to stress that he’s not doing well. He’d tell me though if he wasn’t, I’m pretty sure. 

I practically run up to my room after dinner, skipping the cocktail hour after and all the great networking. All because he has me nearly panicked with worry. So of course, when he doesn’t answer his phone, I’m furious to find him on stream. 

He’s not actually wearing anything, sitting on the plush white rug, a cozy glow from the fireplace providing ambient lighting.

BaasaNova: weren’t you supposed to be in a chastity cage while Mommy is gone 

He gives his hard cock a firm stroke and moans dramatically, red eyes dancing with mischief. “If I’m getting ignored, I’m not going to listen. Besides, she’s busy, so what she doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt her.”

Bookworm420: this seems like a bad idea I don't want to see you get in trouble. 

It isn’t about disobeying me, or any other kink related thing. He really thinks I’d ignore him on purpose. And that stings like nothing else I've ever felt. 

I wait and lurk while he continues to touch himself. He's bubbly and flamboyant, basking in the praise of the chat. Normally, I'd be entranced by his hand working that gorgeous shaft, now I'm getting more furious. 

Finally, with an exaggerated cry, he comes all over himself. While his hand gives a few more lazy pumps, he glances at the chat. 

Mommy: I hope that was worth it 

His eyes get wide and he sits up straight. “Shit.” 

The stream dies just as he starts calling me.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…” he whimpers before I can say anything.

“Astarion,” I cut him off. “I want you to know that I still love you and that isn't going to change. But I'm so hurt and angry right now that you could decide I would ignore you on purpose.”

“Please, I just…” 

“No, we're not going to talk about this now. I'm going to give you until I get home tomorrow to get your thoughts together. But right now I'm too angry to talk to you. So I'm going to go to bed and will call you in the morning.”

 He sobs. “No, stay on the phone with me. Please, Fina.”

I sigh and relent. “I love you, Star.”

We lay in silence for a long time, the occasional sniffle coming from his end. Finally, I'm too exhausted and have to sleep, and reluctantly tell him goodnight.  

There's a subdued call in the morning and I tell him I'll get a cab at the airport, I don't think he should be driving while that upset. Then I'm on the way home. The anger has mostly worn off but this stunt of his still hurts. 

When I get home, hev hasn't left the bed, completely naked, almost hiding under the covers. I don't even think twice before getting under them with him and pulling him to me.

“I'm sorry,” he says softly into my neck, reminding me so much of the day we first kissed. The day I'd needed to take care of him after what Cazador had done to him. 

“I know. Tell me what happened.” I bury my face in his curls and kiss his head. 

“I started getting nervous again and started to panic, and I wanted to talk to you. And I got upset that I couldn't. I know you wouldn't just ignore me.”

“Then why didn't you say you were anxious? I could have made time if I had known you were panicking.”

“I didn't want you to think I was weak. Especially after you told me that you believed in me.”

“Astarion, love, you are always going to be one of the strongest people I've ever met.” My hands rub his back, fingers finding the scars of years of his adopted father's “discipline.” “I'm sorry too, I think I pushed you into something you didn't need while you were nervous. Even if you said you were alright with it.” 

He gets quiet for a moment before answering. “It isn’t your fault. You’re always the best you can be to me.” 

“Still, maybe we should take a break from some of the more performative things.” I feel him tense and kiss his cheek to reassure him. 

“No, it makes me so happy to be like that, to be so completely yours. Don’t take that away.” 

“Let's talk some more tomorrow. There's no need to rush anything.”

“Alright. And, well, you did say that you were going to show me how much you missed me?” His voice pitches soft and breathy. 

“Astarion, you horny little gremlin,” I tease. 

“Please, Mommy. I know I was very naughty, but don't I deserve a little treat?” 

I already feel slick between my legs, even if I'm not sure that I should let him do this. 

“I know what you're thinking, but I can handle some relatively vanilla sex right now. I want to be loved.” He gives me his best wide-eyed pleading look. 

“Alright, baby.” 

I sit up, and he helps me undress, leaving kisses wherever he can reach. My hand reaches out to wrap around his stiffened cock and give a few languid strokes. I catch his eyes wandering down to my breasts with naked longing. 

Relatively vanilla, he said.

“Come here.” 

I lay back, and he follows, slotting between my legs. His cock pushes into me as his lips latch onto a nipple, and he sucks frantically. “There you go.” I stroke his hair, and he starts fucking me with wild, desperate thrusts. “That's what you needed, huh, baby.”

He whines and sucks harder, teeth scraping until pleasure blends with pain. Molten heat builds in my core with each snap of his hips, and I doubt either of us will last long. 

“So good for me,” I pant as I feel myself contract around him and my body tingle with bliss. That does it, and he gives one last jerky thrust as I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him in tight to take every drop of him. 

He collapses on top of me, still suckling, and I let him stay that way, fucked and comforted.

After a very nice Saturday in our pajamas, we talk and settle some things between us. Astarion is still very nervous about school in a couple of weeks, but doesn't want to change the things he loves about our relationship. He even insists on punishment for his bad behavior.

We agree on three days with the chastity cage, the two he originally was supposed to have and one extra. No clothing at home, so I can see it at all times. It kills me not being able to play with my wife's pretty cock. But you know, discipline hurts me more than it hurts him, or something.  

And at the end of the third day, a very serious lesson. So, I arrange something special, to be shared with his audience, like he shared his misbehavior. He's been waiting in the bedroom while I set things up.

“Safe word, wifey,” I order when I come to collect him. 

He stares at my too short, black latex dress with my pale pink strap-on visible where it rides up over my thighs, and blushes. “Objection.” 

“Good, baby.” I lead him to the living room where the camera is already at the right angle to watch as I bend him over the couch arm, pushing his face into the cushion right next to the waiting paddle. I watch him shiver with anticipation and spare a glance at the chat. They’re in rare form tonight. 

DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Back from my two week ban just in time.  Thornyonmain: Hggnnnnnn, god he looks so good like that am I enjoying the impending pain too much Bitchybambi: Nah, he's asked for this  Demi_g0ddess : You're so right, bestie Penguino: Aww, you guys, have a little sympathy

Picking up the paddle, I run it over the curve of his ass and hear him whimper. My hand pushes down on his back, commanding and reassuring. The first smack is light and I give him a moment. He trembles but says nothing. 

Another one, slightly harder, he whines but doesn’t say anything. I keep going, watching his pale skin burst into red blossoms with each impact. I can feel him shaking under my hand and hear when he starts to cry. 

“You’re being so good,” I coo.

He sobs in response. It’s been awhile since he had a serious spanking session. I keep whispering praise as I go, letting him know how well he’s doing, how much I love him. He’s a teary mess when I’m done, and I can feel the warmth coming from his skin. 

“I’m sorry I was naughty, Mommy,” he whines through tears.

“Shh, shh, I know. I think you deserve a little reward for taking the punishment so well.”

l take the lube I have waiting and coat my fingers. He whines for a totally different reason when I spread him open and push a finger inside his tight hole.

“Fuck,” he mewls when the second one enters. 

He pants through clenched teeth while I work them inside of him, getting him ready to take me. Each stretch and flex draws a new noise and when he’s ready, I coat the strap in lube and press the tip of it against his entrance. Even with a stinging ass, he rolls his hips into it, desperate and needy. 

I gave him a little playful smack on the marks darkening to bruises. “Behave.” 

He yelps but stills. Slowly, I slide it into him, relishing each little moan as I fill him. Then my hips rock, and I thrust deeply, before stilling again. 

“Please,” he begs, desperately. 

“Please what?”

“Fuck me, Mommy.” 

I reward him with another deep thrust, and began to move my hips with a quick rhythm. Under me, Astarion is losing himself, keening wails and pleading whimpers accompany my every movement. 

I'm aware just how achingly empty I am; later we’ll take care of me. Right now, I focus on making him properly blissed out. 

I know his cock is straining against the cage, leaking helplessly, as he reaches the edge. My fingers dig into his hips and I fuck him as deep as I can until a wordless shout rips from him and his whole body is shaking again. I press my hips tight to his, as deep into him as I can while his orgasm ebbs away with multiple whimpers, only pulling out when he’s stilled. 

Turning back, I give the chat a good-bye and end the stream.

SquidDomme: He has in fact not learned anything DrowDaddyG: I think he'll try to be better, he's such a sweet boy BardlockLongdick: Maybe you all should try opening a Bible instead of this website DM_ME_UR_SYRUP: Anyone know how I can get an air horn noise to play in chat (I'm joking, please don't ban me again)

Then I remove the strap-on and save it for later clean up. “Come here, wifey,” I say, sitting on the couch. 

Sluggishly, he obeys, coming to rest his head in my lap. I run my fingers through his hair and let him come  down from the experience. 

“I love you,” he murmurs into my thighs.

“I love you too. No more bratty behavior, right?” 

I feel the little smirk he makes. “Absolutely, lesson learned.” 

We both know he's lying, but I trust none of it will be super hurtful again. “Good little wife.”

Tag list:

@micropoe10  @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

 @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin 

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved

@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @misscrissfemmefatale @bg3obsessedsideblogg @captainaceofspades @wickedwitchofthewilds @asterordinary @talented-bitch @waking-electric @snowfolly

[tgmsunmontue]

Where do I know you from? 2/?

Hangster crackfic. There are too many Jakes and Bradleys for Jake and Bradley to be dealing with. Or the Universe is just as fed up with them being blind.

PART ONE

PART TWO

                Answers do not miraculously present themselves and he decides to switch to water so that he can at least try and track what’s going on, wants to hear the answers to whatever Rooster Three is asking Rooster Four, who is apparently a tattoo artist. Okay then. At least that will be easy enough to remember.

                Then Rooster number five walks in and Jake thought Rooster was tall, but this Rooster is taller, several inches taller and Jake looks around helplessly. He’s not strong enough to resist looking at this many Roosters, everywhere he turns there is at least one in his line of sight and his brain is noting that they’re all unfairly attractive, while another part is wondering whether an orgy with versions of the same person is really an orgy.

                “I wonder why you ended up so tall,” Rooster Three is saying, head tilted as he studies Rooster Five and Jake wonders if everything remained proportional.

                “I ate all my vegetables. What’s going on? Where are we?”

                “This is a Navy bar. I’m guessing parallel universes, but we’re all being pulled here for a reason.”

                “Wow. This is fascinating. What have you discovered so far?”

                “Well, none of us are in the Navy.”

                “What?” Jake interrupts, looking at Rooster Three.

                “Florist, forensic accountant, tattoo artist…” Rooster Three says, pointing at Rooster One, Two and Four.

                “And you?” Rooster Five asks Rooster Three.

                Jake’s head is starting to hurt.

                “I’m an engineer, but I’m also a professor.”

                “Huh. Cool. I got my PhD in physics, but only so I could figure out how to jump out of planes better.”

                “And your Jake? What does he do?”

                “He’s a naval aviator.”

                “Same as mine. Interesting.”

                “Why? Why is that interesting?” Jake interrupts, trying to follow the volley of words back and forth.

                “What does your Bradley do here?”

                “He’s a naval aviator. Why?”

                “Oh shit… a universe where he went to boat school.”

                “No. No he enlisted.”

                “What?” Rooster Three and Five say simultaneously and Jake draws back a little.

                “Uh. He enlisted?”

                “Why did he need to enlist?”

                Jake shifts in his seat, because he only knows about all of this because he saw Bradshaw and Maverick’s fractured relationship and then saw how it has slowly been getting stitched back together, slowly and painfully.

                “Uh. Maverick pulled his papers from USNA.”

                “And Ice let him?”

                “Ice?” Jake asks.

                “Iceman. Tom Kazansky?”

                “Uh… he’s dead?”

                Both Roosters go pale, shaking their heads in denial and Jake wonders if he needs to remind them that this isn’t apparently their universe anyway, so no harm no foul.

                “This is fucked up,” Rooster Five mutters, looking close to tears.

                “But you know who he is,” Rooster Three says to Jake. “I need a bigger piece of paper.”

                Jake needs a drink.

                Screw drinking water so he can deal with the situation better.

                Maybe it will make more sense if he’s drunk.

                Yet another Rooster has walked in, raised an eyebrow and then just politely asked Penny if she needs a hand behind the bar. She’s accepted and told him that he could deal with all his own people, and now Rooster Six is mixing cocktails, clearly knows his way around behind a bar. He slides one across to Jake and nods his head, lips twitching in amusement.

                “You look like you need this.”

                “Thanks,” Jake says, and he doesn’t normally drink cocktails, but this is fresh and sweet, hints of pineapple and he takes another sip, salutes Rooster Six with it and gets a wink back.

                He is so fucked.

                Nope. No. He was wrong. Now he’s fucked. A new Rooster has arrived, wearing scrubs, and that shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Doctor Bradshaw? Nurse Bradshaw? God. Regardless he looks good. Rooster Three and Five have acquired paper and tape, sticking multiple pieces together to make one large sheet. There are columns. And different colored pens.  They’re asking questions in the name of science and Jake learns that Rooster Seven is in fact a vet and has no idea what has happened.

                Well that makes two of them.

                Although he knows that all the other Roosters also have no idea, with the exception of Three and Five.

                Weirdos.

                The door to the Hard Deck slams open then, and his breath catches. It’s Rooster in uniform, the first Rooster to walk in and be a naval aviator and he hopes like hell this is his Rooster. Rooster waves his hand, looking annoyed.

                “Why does the weird shit always happen to me?”

                Rooster Three and Five both seem to perk up, turning towards Rooster Eight who looks like he just wants to turn around and walk out.

                “For fucks sake… start from the top of the list again I guess.”

                “What?” Jake asks, but then Rooster Eight is kissing him and Jake doesn’t have time to even begin kissing back before Rooster Eight is pulling back and frowning.

                “Huh. That’s didn’t work.”

                “Did you expect it to?” Rooster Three asks, leaning forward with interest.

                “Well, no. But I hoped. We don’t even know what made us swap bodies…”

                “Wait, you’ve swapped bodies? With who?”

                “Jake.”

                Jake is shaking his head, mouthing no no no, hands held up in supplication but both Rooster Three and Five look fascinated.

                “Not you!” Rooster Eight states. “Although, you do look pretty much exactly like my Jake. But you don’t know ASL.”

                “Uh. No?”

                “Hmm. I greeted you in ASL when I arrived and you just blanked me. It’s how I knew.”

                Jake looks confused.

                “I know ASL in your universe huh?”

                “Yeah, you’ve been teaching me so I can communicate with Ice better.”

                “Ice is deaf?”

                “No, the cancer.”

                “The what now? Cancer? He got cancer? Is that what he died of here?”

                “Wait. Ice is dead here?” Rooster Eight asks, looking just a upset as Three and Five had earlier. Jake is so confused.

                “Uh. Admiral Kazansky? Yeah… about a year ago. Why?”

                That seems to cause a flurry of conversation and questions and Rooster Three and Five are adding a column.

                “So eight of us so far and only one has become a naval aviator. And I’m guessing your universe and this one are… maybe similar? No USNA and papers pulled? But your Ice is alive,” Rooster Three says, pointing at Rooster Eight, who nods.

                Jake doesn’t understand why the late Admiral Kazansky is so important to this many Roosters.

                “Uh… do you have a column for no-one being dead and no-one in the navy?” Rooster Six asks.

                “Pivot points. There have to be pivot points –” Rooster Five is muttering.

                “Or timeline splitting points right? My dad dying, my mom dying, then Maverick pulling my papers and then Ice’s cancer and then the mission…”

                “Jesus that sounds like an awful universe…” the Rooster behind the bar says, his eyes wide and multiple pairs of eyes swing his way.

                “What?”

                “What’s it like in your Universe then?”

                “Uh. Well. For a start my parents are both alive. And I have… a big family I guess? And Pete and Tom are also both alive and together.”

                “Maverick and Admiral Kazansky? Together?” Jake asks.

                “They’re together in my universe as well,” Rooster Three states, and Rooster Five is nodding in agreement and Jake bites his lip, wonders how badly Iceman’s death hurt Rooster or Maverick in this universe if he was so important in all these other ones.

[kabukiaku]

malewife + girlboss dynamic.

[rheakira]

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For @northstarscowboyhat ! ✨