#but nothing felt sufficient

[mmmairon]

All patched up

[sysig]

They done took my blood right outta my body

[bearsgrove]

,

[teaboot]

On of the less intuitive things about love, I've found, of any kind, is the importance of needing things.

I didn't realize it until recently, but I've always seen love as something requiring sacrifice, selflessness, patience, and generosity- to ask for nothing is to be the best person I can be, small and quiet and never in the way, always happy and helpful, self-sufficient and present when desired.

It's only as an adult, now, that I'm beginning to see the selfishness of wanting nothing.

I cut my friend's hair in my kitchen the other day. They wanted a trim and I had the skills, so I offered, and was genuinely excited when they stopped hesitating over "bothering me" and took me up on it. It was a peaceful afternoon, and we had tea and chatted for an hour or more.

My brother and I shared popcorn at the movies a while ago. When I came time to pay, I pulled my card out like a wild western sheriff and slapped it on the machine before he could fight me for it first. The satisfaction was delightful.

Someone called me crying on the phone the other day. Kept apologizing for disturbing me at work, talking about how they were bothering me on my lunch break. I was telling the truth when I told them that really, I was flattered and honored and relieved, knowing that if they were hurting I would know, that I didn't have to worry in silence. It felt good to hear them slowly come down, and to know that they knew it would be better soon, and to hear them laugh wetly on the other end. We're getting together for a visit next week.

It's hard to need things, if you've trained yourself not to. It's hard to want things, when you don't know how to want anymore. Trusting people is difficult, and so is relying on them, but I don't know where I'd be without the people who rely on me.

I've heard a lot of people say, "Nobody will love you unless you love yourself". I've had a lot of thoughts about it. It's not right, but it's not wrong, either, I think.

"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... I've always taken that to mean, "You will not be lovable until you develop a positive view of yourself as a person".

Now, I think it's sort of inside-out.

"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... because nobody can show their love to you in a way that you can accept until you treat yourself kindly, and learn what you need, and what you want, and how to ask for it, and then give that vulnerability away.

Love, for me, is someone I ask for a ride to the airport. Whether they end up doing this or not is irrelevant.

It's not needy, or selfish, or taking up energy. It's giving the gift of being wanted, and needed, and thought of. It's giving someone the security of being part of someone's life.

[sakebytheriver]

...

[headspace-hotel]

The reason "We (USamericans) should reduce our personal consumption of resources to save the planet!" won't change anything, is that there is no "we."

The average American does X amount of unnecessary shopping, but collapsing the wide range of wealth inequality into an average creates a vague call to action that sufficiently motivates 0 people.

Poor people feel guilty about buying stuff already. Even essential stuff. They have very little ability to adjust the amount they consume, and any adjustments that are possible would be almost negligible.

The moderately affluent and up vastly overestimate the impact of small adjustments to their lifestyle, and think of denying themselves any indulgence as extreme frugality. This is often the group that uses the "we" pronoun in the statement "We should consume less."

Most of the USA's carbon emissions come from heating and cooling and from cars. Since homelessness is treated as a crime, houses are not made sustainably or constructed smaller than a certain size, and it is virtually impossible to work or obtain basic needs without a car, there is a very solid and nearly impenetrable bottom to the scale of individual consumption.

So much consumption is near 100% impossible to opt out of, which means of course that the money that goes to it is never really yours, it just happens to pass through you on its way to its true destination.

This is obscured by the fact that the more privileged can ride a cushioned elevator below that bottom, play for as long as it takes for them to feel good about themselves, and take the elevator back up, and then write an article saying "See! I lived on 3 cents a day/lived in a 100sqft house/didn't use electricity for a week, and here's what I learned!"

Sure, you tried living a frugal life for a while. But you never doubted that the elevator would be there to take you back when you were tired of playing. You never felt the Fear. That's why you learned nothing.

[alexisomnias]

— "DOVES SING JUST LIKE YOU" . . . | twst

⤷ how they love your voice

characters | overblot boys

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

        he listens to your voice while studying, while sometimes its a distraction, he loves listening to you ramble while working. Too some its listening to music, but too him its listening to you. You're such a guiding voice for him and he can't help but want to cloud his head with you instead of the equations being put down. Sometimes even just the sound of your breath is sufficient to help him work more steadily. Perhaps its the overlooking hope to impress that is an encouragement, either way he's not hanging up the phone anytime soon! Nor is he EVER going to admit the affect your voice has on him!

"what do you mean, "why do you call me when your studying?" can I not worry about my dears day? In peace...!" 

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

        he listens to your voice before going to bed, as obvious as it is. He doesn't like having recordings of it, he'd much rather hear your voice in person. No matter how loud or soft it is he can fall asleep easily, so speak all you want, yap away he'd still sleep. Either way its a clearing of his head, and a purify of his dreams. He adores falling asleep to the sound of your voice, and if it has to be over call you better not hang up... He's also a fan of your breath, the sound of your breath relaxes him. He loves listening to yours voice! So never stop talking hm? you'd never annoy him even if you might think so. your his relaxant. 

"don't shut up, keep talking away as you normally do."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

        he's SO embarrassed about how much he adores listening to you speak. He keeps all your voicemails to keep and listen to while he works on paperwork. The tweels tease him far too much, but even then he'd never delete them. Don't tell anyone else either, but he falls asleep to them too. Voice messages are highly encouraged, he will save them! He may never bring it up other then in smooth talking and flirting, but oh the effect your voice has on him... is this how the land dweller felt when hearing the mermaid princesses voice? He's enchanted every time you speak... sometimes he'll even purposely call you when he knows you won't answer just to hear your voice message left after the tone. UGH! The effect you have is so unfair!

"89 saved voicemails..? what about them? as a business owner its... important to hold every detail said as a reminder!"

JAMIL VIPER

        Jamil will call you while he works. The sound of your voice and the knowing your presence is on the other end of the device motivates him to do whatever he's doing. Sometimes he'll invite you over, but he adores being on call too. Ramble away, please, he loves listening. He's a good listener, he swears. So please, yap away, he'll lovingly listen to it all. After all he adores listening to your voice. Don't tell him I told you, but he ADORES it when you whisper in his ear... just a thing that gets him flustered in ways nothing else could. He'll brush it off, but know he'll be replaying whatever you said for the rest of the 24 hour period.

"Would you mind repeating yourself? I think your voice is nice to listen to while cooking."

VIL SCHOENHEIT

        vil adores talking to you during routine. He'll call you in the morning, and night if your unable to stay over. Its apart of his everyday now, for you to be the first voice he hears and the last he hears that day. He wouldn't have it any other way though. He particularly adores hearing you ramble, or talk about whatever happened to you that day during makeup or skincare. Its on facetime or in person, he'll listen like your the only sound around. Conversation with you is always a highlight and he adores every word you say. Vil is also the type to hold onto voicemails if he can, he just likes hearing you speak.

"so how was your day? be sure to include every detail, I want to hear all about it."

IDIA SHROUD

        idia is the type to spam call you into vc. bros desperate. the first time he heard your voice he short circuited, and oh dear now is he getting thrown into the fantasies of falling asleep on call like the normies?! ARGH WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM!? this is unfair! he shouldn't be thinking about how silky,,, and nice,,, and amazing your voice sounds. get out of his head!! your voice is nice okay?! just get in the vc! Don't leave him waiting like a fool, like a desperate blundering fool!

"ah, y..your voice?! its not bad don't worry. no please don't mute! i'm not being sarcastic i swear!!"

MALLEUS DRACONIA

        malleus loves listening to you ramble. every word you say he holds dear, and sometimes he gets needy to hear it he'll even come all the way from his dorm to yours just to hear you talk! he's not a fan of phone calls, it doesn't feel as genuine as in person. He fucking adores listening to you, no matter what the hell your talking about. He'll just nod his head no matter, he's listening sure, but your voice lulls him into a trance he never wants to be pulled out of. Keeping singing him a lullaby with your wonderful voice! he loves listening to you, and if you love listening to him then oh dear the conversations would never end. 

"I love hearing what you have to contribute, its very insightful. So please, what about that topic again?"

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

Everyone from babies to young adults suddenly disappears from Amity Park, and the ghost portal self-destructs as well. The GIW and the Fentons obviously come to the conclusion that it’s ghosts but realize that this issue is way bigger than they can handle, so they call in the big guns, The Justice League.

Of course, they don’t tell the Justice League everything when they come. No matter how much they thought themselves to be heroes, they were simply glorified police in spandex. And with how they operate, they are all too small-minded and won’t be able to see the bigger picture. They also knew fully well that a lot of their methods weren’t even remotely close to being morally or ethically right, and if the JL found out, they would be screwed. So they simply told them enough to get them on their side. 

Besides, how could they not help with how many people were missing? This was going to be easy.

_______

The Justice League didn’t trust the GIW. Something about them was just off. But so many missing people were on the line, so many kids! 

Ghost?

Should they call in the JLD?

_______

Jason knew something was off with Crime Ally.

Nothing was wrong per se. In fact, everything was going great. Crime was at its lowest in like… forever. The general atmosphere was more calm, if not a bit chilly. He himself was calmer. And there were fewer kids on the streets. Which would have been a good thing if this wasn’t fuckin’ CRIME ALLY!

Jason’s been stressing himself out, trying to find out what was going on. He’s been searching up and down, talking to people left and right. No one was reporting anything amiss. Some even told him that they still saw the kids walking around, though not as often as before. And they also looked like they were being well taken care of.

He even saw and talked to some of the kids himself and it was the truth. 

But when he asked where they went, they only laughed and ran away from him. Shouting that he would know soon before they disappeared around the corner. At this point, he was sufficiently freaked out and was so close to getting Batman to contact the JLD, but something told him otherwise.

A few days later Jason was in bed. He had ended patrol early that night and intended to get a full eight hours if he could.

But as fate would have it, he would not. Because just before he could hit the hay he heard it. Well, felt it would be more accurate but how could you feel a siren’s song? Pulling you? Drawing you in. Telling you that it would give you your deepest desire.

He didn’t even bother to suit back up into Red Hood. He just followed it. Followed and followed, Until he got to a dead-end alleyway. But there was no ‘end’. All there was, was darkness. 

He began to get skeptical and took a few steps back. But the feeling was still there. Pulling, telling that all of his answers were in that darkness. Everything he wanted, needed, awaited beyond it. 

He did the stupid thing and went into the darkness.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t the feeling of walking through thick goop. But the feeling didn’t last long, and he eventually stepped out.

Again, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

Kids running around without a care in the world, unrestricted. Teenagers just hanging out and being kids too. Whatever adults he saw all looked pretty young, but they were all happy. 

He looked around and noticed that it looked like a weird mix between a suburb and a night market, but it worked quite well. The stalls were all unmanned, and it seemed whoever could just take whatever they wanted. Dim but pretty lights connected all the stalls to as far as his eyes could see. And the sky.

In Gotham, there’s so much smog and bad weather you’d be lucky to even see a piece of blue during the day so no wonder people often forget about the night. But this, the night sky wherever he was, was beautiful, beyond what words and even thoughts could convey.

“Hello, Mr. Red Hood.”

Jason jumped. Was he so out of it that he didn’t even notice someone coming up behind-

Forget what he just said about the sky. The woman right here that was now standing before him? She- She-

“Are you single?”

There was silence. Then she giggled. Guess Jason didn’t need his helmet huh? His face was enough.

He also wanted to die again but hey, at least she laughed!

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (3) - Inconvenience

Chapter summary: It is poetic irony that sharing a prison cell with Astarion is what eventually gets the two of you attempting to have a much needed conversation...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Poison sucking. Blood. Angst.

Word count: 3.5k

Previous chapter . Series Masterlist . Ao3

"You're bleeding."

"I know."

"It's distracting."

"Then look away."

He scoffed. "I can smell it."

It really wasn't a desirable occurrence to end up in one of Baldur's Gate's prisons. The last time you had the displeasure of descending into one was to liberate Gortash's victims from the Iron Throne Prison.

You had rarely been on the side that needed rescuing.

But fate worked in strange ways and had you thrown into a cold and rusty cell, trying to figure out how you ended up in this situation to begin with.

The torches scattered along the pillars of stone outside the cell provided little to no sufficient light, and it only added to the looming sense of dread.

Ripping a scrap of cloth from your clothing, you wrapped it firmly around the bleeding slash across your wrist.

Astarion sat across from you, eyeing your every move with a faint smile on his lips.

"You could have just run away, you know," you began, bringing your knees up to your chin with a sigh. "You are immune to Sleep spells."

He scoffed again with an eye-roll. "Please. I allowed myself to get caught. Gods know you could use the help."

The throb in your head intensified and you winced as discomfort tore through your body, as his words hit you.

"What help? We're both trapped inside," you ground out in annoyance.

He lifted a finger. "That, my dear, is merely an inconvenience. I am quite sure I'd be able to lockpick our way out of this."

The damp-scented mattress underneath you squeaked as you leaned against the ragged wall. "Using what? Your fangs?"

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Creative, but no. I just need to find anything to help me get through that lock." He rose to his feet and moved to inspect the sturdy door with attentive eyes.

As promising as it sounded, you knew deep down that it wouldn't be an easy feat. The guards had stripped both of you down to only your shirts and trousers, and removed anything deemed too creative.

Besides, this whole ordeal had to be a misunderstanding of sorts. It would be wise to, at least, get some enlightenment.

"Maybe we should just wait for Wyll."

He turned to you, a touch of disbelief crossing his face. "His guards put us here, in case you need a reminder."

"We did nothing wrong," you said, clutching on to reason. "We are not criminals. It's all a misunderstanding, I'm sure."

Whether it was a case of you trying to believe your own words, or because there was truth to them, remained to be seen.

As a sorcerer, it would be rather easy to blast through the cell door and be done with it, but you would only entertain that option as a last resort.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," he said in resignation, curious fingers still prodding the lock. "At least, they didn't shove us in a cell with windows."

The lack of any opening to the outside had made it hard for you to keep track of time, but given the silence and snores from the inhabitants in the adjacent cells, you reckoned the sun had yet to rise.

Astarion would be safe from its scorching rays, for the time being.

You felt something trickling down your wrist, and upon closer inspection, you realised the cloth around it was soaked with your blood.

Odd.

Astarion was still very much entertained with the hinges and structure of the cell door to take notice of your finding.

You quickly brought another rag torn from your cloak and wrapped even tighter over the existing one, applying as much pressure as you could withstand through the pain.

Very odd.

He was now squatting down, taking a closer look at the lock, fingers tugging and rattling the device.

A true rogue at heart.

"Or, I could be sharing this cell with someone far less entertaining – like Gale," he continued. "I'd just beg the guards for a stake to rid myself of my misery."

He finished off with a dramatic laugh, but you found yourself scowling deeply.

"Can you give Gale some credit where it's due? He's helping you out."

His narrowed crimson eyes met yours. "By 'helping' you mean what, exactly? Cooking abhorrent meals and reading books that would put a screeching babe to sleep? Hardly helpful, darling."

You decided to fully ignore his taunt as patience slipped from your tired mind.

"He's going to Waterdeep in a fortnight to speak with someone willing to help out with the Wish spell," you informed as calmly as possible. "I was on my way to tell you that a couple of hours ago before… well, this happened."

His features eased and he rose to his full height, his undivided attention on you.

"Truly? That sounds promising, I suppose," he said, folding his arms. "And here I thought you were simply longing for my company. My apologies, darling."

He wasn't entirely wrong, but you would never let him know.

Suddenly, the sound of metal shrieking echoed throughout the room, and a jab of pain drummed steadily in your head.

"Wake up, you loiter-sacks!" One of the guards yelled.

Pandemonium ensued.

A wave of groggy protests were heard all around. The insults and taunts came immediately after, and your eyes widened at the vulgarity of all of it, while Astarion held the most amused smile you had ever seen on him in a long while.

He truly thrived in all things chaotic.

Another voice was heard. "Shut it, will ya?! Or no food!"

It effectively subsided most of the protests, though an occasional whispered 'fucker!' slipped through the mouths of some prisoners.

Squeaking wheels of a cart came to a halt just outside your cell, and you bolted out of the mattresses, gripping the vertical metal bars.

"Can you please call for Wyll. We need to talk to him."

The grumpy man frowned. "Am just delivering food, sweetheart. Now, have yours and get back."

He shoved a bowl of what looked like powdered wood shavings. The smell was positively nauseating , and your stomach twist and turn in revulsion.

You placed your meal on the floor, not daring to take a single bite.

A laugh burst from him before he attempted doing the same to Astarion, who visibly shuddered as he dodged the man's hand.

"Ugh. I'll pass."

He snorted, grinning maliciously. "Food strikes ain't going to get you out o' here, pretty boy."

Astarion's face twisted into an outraged look, but before he could voice out a snarky remark, the same man as before was heard.

"That one's the vampire spawn."

The guard came into view, and the atmosphere in the prison cell shifted considerably. Silence took over, only broken by some vague whispers.

"Give him pig's blood."

A few gasps erupted. 

"I prefer fresh blood, thank you very much," Astarion scoffed, visibly offended. "I am not feeding on scraps."

"Astarion…" you warned him lowly, not wanting things to spiral out of control.

The delivery man shrugged to the guard and pushed the food cart out of the way so he could attend to the other prisoners.

Another guard joined in, removing his helmet to take a closer look.

"Then you'll have nothing. You are in no position to make demands, spawn."

Astarion tensed by your side but merely pressed his lips as a reply. 

"Thought so," the guard chuckled.

You gripped the bars tighter, earning their attention. "Tell us what we are charged with, then."

They both exchanged looks and the first one bared his teeth. "Playing dumb, are we?"

"We didn't do anything that would warrant an arrest!" You nearly yelled in frustration. "Call for Wyll, please!"

The older man leaned in with a snarl. "The Grand Duke is absent. He might return later today."

Your heart dropped.

"Might?"

He nodded in indifference. "His duties don't bend to the will of his friends."

"We didn't do anything wrong," you said in a shaky retort, pressing your forehead against the bars. "We didn't…"

"Look, not to sound ungrateful given our luxurious abode," Astarion interjected light-heartedly, gripping your shoulders to have you take a few steps away from them. "But you do know who we are, don't you?"

"We do, and you are not above the law."

"And which law did we break, if you don't mind clarifying, of course."

The older guard was clearly running out of patience. "Killing a civilian."

Your eyes shot up immediately, and your mouth dropped in shock.

Astarion spoke before you could, his voice bearing confusion. "What? We didn't kill anyone." 

"We found the body in the alleyway."

You gripped the bars again. "No! I used a Sleep spell – and he wasn't a civilian! He attacked me!"

He was now dangerously close to your face. "Listen here, princess. You are both in a sticky situation, and I advise you to watch your words."

Astarion pushed you back with his arm once again. "Lay a finger on her, and you might just turn into a vampire meal."

Tension increased tenfold all of a sudden, and you could only glare at Astarion who remained unmoved and determined to hold his menacing gaze.

"Maybe you'd prefer an overground cell, hm?" The guard spat in amusement. "Having the sun to keep you company. I'm certain we'd be sweeping your ashes from the floor before midday."

An intense wave of anger burst through you, and you reached through the bars, nearly gripping one of them. "Fuck you!"

They both laughed hysterically at your failed attempt.

One of them reached for a pouch and threw a vial at you. "A healing potion. Drink it, princess. You're bleeding out."

"Unless you are to be his vampire meal."

The other guard cleared his throat. "Oh, and be on your best behaviour, and don't even think of escaping. This place is riddled with traps."

"And we have our own mages," the other glared at you.

They laughed obnoxiously loud again before turning on their feet and walking out.

You glanced at the vial in your hand, its crimson content undulating faintly.

Blood kept on seeping through the makeshift bandages around your wrist. The blood flow hadn't decreased, and a couple of droplets were dripping on the floor.

"Drink it," Astarion urged you, pulling his eyes away from the sanguine mess.

You could tell he was extremely tense all of a sudden, slowly pacing away from where you stood.

The compulsion to drink blood could be blinding at times, and you couldn't blame him for wanting to keep a distance given the current circumstances.

You quickly popped the lid off the container and downed the sweetened liquid, immediately feeling a rush of warmth coursing through your body with each pump of your heart.

Unwrapping the soaked pieces of cloth, you noticed the slash had barely healed at all, and that the blood kept pouring out.

Astarion had definitely noticed your confusion, gripping your forearm.

"Poison," he finally said upon inspecting the wound.

You stared at him wide-eyed, as the realisation hit you hard.

They had poisoned you?

"No wonder the flow didn't decrease with the potion."

Panic spread quickly. "Why would they poison me?"

"It was most likely unintentional," he concluded, smearing his thumb across the layer of blood near your wound. "They must have coated their weapons with it and slashed you by mistake."

"We need to call them for an antidote."

He shook his head. "I doubt they have one at hand – one that actually works. These idiots aren't well-versed in poisons to begin with."

Unlike him.

"What now?"

His eyes met yours. "Do you trust me?"

You stiffened, alarm bells going off in your head. He would never ask this unless… "You're about to do something questionable, aren't you?"

"Questionable, but potentially life-saving. How do you fancy your odds?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will suck the poison out."

Instinctively, you tried to yank your arm from his grip. "No."

He simply glared at you. "This is your best option, darling."

You eased slightly, knowing fully well he was far more experienced in poisons than you were, and between 'bleeding out to death' and 'trusting your vampire friend who also happens to know a lot about this subject', you were far more inclined to pick the latter.

But then…

"What about you? It can be dangerous."

He chuckled in amusement. "I'm undead. Besides, I won't swallow this blood. I am vehemently against wasting yours, but exceptions must be made."

"Just… be careful."

He nodded, and you watched in awe as he brought your wrist to his lips, enclosing them around the wound. As he started off with gentle suckles, you saw the first droplets of blood dribble down from the corner of his mouth.

His touch was cold as ice, and you felt his fangs lightly press against your skin, but not hard enough to break the barrier. After all, your open wound – even if not that deep or wide – was enough to draw blood.

Somewhere along the line, his eyes fluttered shut as he held you in place, and your heart skipped a few beats.

Oddly intimate.

He parted from you not long after, all bloodied, and spitting the remainder of the warm liquid on the floor. 

"What a terrible way to taint your blood," he said with a wince. "It tasted… rotten."

He then grabbed a hold of your cloak – or what was left of it – and wiped his lips and chin clean.

"Just horrid."

Under different circumstances, you would have reprimanded him for it, but it was a fair exchange.

The flow of blood had already begun to waver, and you heaved a sigh of relief.

"Are you well?"

He nodded dismissively with a shudder. "The things I do for you, honestly."

Surprisingly, that did bring a faint smile to your lips.

Even if only for a fleeting moment, you were reminded of the many perils you had faced alongside each other.

He had your back, and you had his. 

No matter what.

However, It still felt grim that it took an erroneous arrest and being shoved into a prison cell to catch a glimpse of the trusting bond you once shared.

One that wasn't built on a mere transaction.

He silently eyed you for a moment, with an expression that was hard to decipher.

Then, he cleared his throat and walked over to his own mattress, placing his cloak along the length of it as a way to keep the damp at bay, before taking a seat.

Classic Astarion.

"Do you reckon I can now blame Gale for us ending up in this situation?"

You arched an eyebrow, wrapping yet another piece of cloth over your closing wound. "If anything, I should be blaming you, no? We're all doing this for you."

He shrugged with a side-smile. "Fair enough."

"I didn't kill that man… I don't get it…"

"I know you didn't, but it's not me you need to convince."

You sat down in defeat, rubbing your temple. "None of this makes sense…"

"No point in dwelling on it now," he said with a click of his tongue, inspecting his nails. "Get some rest."

You blinked. "I cannot rest in a place like this."

His eyes lifted briefly. "Darling, we've had worse."

"... and better." You mumbled.

"I'll give you the 'better' once we get out of here, then. Happy now?"

You winced at his words.

"Why do you do this?" You asked, unable to contain yourself.

He dropped his hand to the side, brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"This! This constant push and pull," you said, feeling the impulsiveness take control. "I try to have a proper conversation with you, and you just… push me away."

Astarion scoffed dramatically. "This is hardly the time or the place to be having this conversation."

"I tried to have you come stay with us… even when you're feeling more… vulnerable… you never let me in," you said in exasperation, words stinging in your throat. "You just…"

The words died in your mouth at the look he gave you.

It wasn't a look of anger or annoyance or outrage.

Just… nothing.

Like he wasn't even listening to you.

"Astarion?"

As if you had just snapped him out of his thoughts, he shook his head briefly, but didn't look in your direction.

"Go get some rest."

Had you pushed too far? He didn't sound upset, but then again, he was a master in deception whenever the situation called for it.

"Astarion…"

He was gazing out of the cell door, as if something far more interesting was worthy of his attention.

"I wasn't the one who pushed you away."

You sat up straighter, heart hammering fast against your ribcag. "Then who?"

"You did."

"What?"

He turned his head to you this time. "Don't pin this on me. You had all of me, and you chose to walk away."

A growing feeling of discomfort began to rise within you, competing with the confusion that had taken root.

And then…

Moonrise Towers.

That night.

"You didn't need a lover."

He sneered. "What about what I wanted?"

"Astarion, you–"

He immediately cut you off. "Don't. I wanted to be with you. I yearned for you like I never did for anyone else, and you chose the easy way out."

You were at a loss for words.

The conversation with Gale the day before immediately came to mind.

"Easy way out? You actually think I didn't have feelings for you back then?"

"Gods, then you should have fought for me – with me!"

He was being unreasonable. The pain of rejection had certainly seeped deeply into him, and it was now resurfacing brutally.

"And I did that! By giving you time and space. Besides, we had more pressing matters back then that required our undivided attention."

He looked back at you coolly. "How many nights did we spend thinking it would be our last?"

That caught you off guard.

"How many nights did you cry yourself to sleep, not knowing if we'd live to see another day?"

You fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"Yet you preferred having that emptiness and despair for company instead of being with me," he went on, his words were as knives that cut through you ruthlessly. "So do not lecture me about pushing others away, when you so clearly excel at that."

It took you a moment to find your voice again amidst the concoction of emotions that swirled in your head.

His accusations were unfounded. You knew this. But realising that that was how he really felt about the entire situation made you feel sadness beyond comparison.

That he mistook your altruism for selfishness. 

"I did what was best for you… and for us."

You wouldn't cry. 

You couldn't cry.

"And was that what you wanted?"

"What you needed mattered more than what I wanted. That's how much I cared for you," you said, voice wavering. "And I still do. Even through all your deception and lies and manipulation… you still came first."

That seemed to have taken him by surprise, and his face softened.

"You constantly mistake what you want with what you need, not even caring about the possible consequences," you went on with newfound vigour.

He scowled yet again. "I constantly cast aside what I want in favour of others."

You scoffed in disbelief. "You're not the epitome of selflessness you think you are, Astarion."

"What I want still matters!"

"If you'd done what you wanted, you would have sacrificed the souls of seven thousand spawn!" You exploded in a fit of rage. 

You were met with silence.

Deafening silence.

"You would have become the Vampire Ascendant and lost yourself in the process."

After glaring at you for a while, he then had the nerve to laugh. "Maybe that would have been the better option."

A sudden wave of nausea settled in the pit of your stomach. "You don't mean that."

"Stop speaking for me," he said through gritted teeth, words dripping with poison. "I had enough of it for two hundred years under his command – stop it!"

Your mouth had dropped open, and you were left speechless.

"Oi! Lovebirds, quit the chit-chat." One of the nearby guards rattled on the metal bars with a mace. "I'm afraid marriage counselling is postponed until further notice."

The other prisoners laughed and whistled teasingly as he walked away. 

Decided you were done with this conversation, you leaned back and rolled down to your side, facing the wall and fighting back the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

You just couldn't stand looking at him.

Or even being near him.

You could only hope that Wyll would come back sooner rather than later, so you could finally get away from Astarion.

For good.

Disclaimer: sucking the poison from one's wound (in case of a snake bite, for example) has been discredited many decades ago. It's not really effective, and can do more harm than good, especially to the person doing the sucking. But for the purposes of this story, it works because fiction and magic and all that! Let's suspend our disbelief for a moment 😌

I don't keep taglists, so please consider adding this story to your alerts on Ao3 🩷

Next chapter: Solution

Series Masterlist . Masterlist

[lisafication]

For those who might happen across this, I'm an administrator for the forum 'Sufficient Velocity', a large old-school forum oriented around Creative Writing. I originally posted this on there (and any reference to 'here' will mean the forum), but I felt I might as well throw it up here, as well, even if I don't actually have any followers.

This week, I've been reading fanfiction on Archive of Our Own (AO3), a site run by the Organisation for Transformative Works (OTW), a non-profit. This isn't particularly exceptional, in and of itself — like many others on the site, I read a lot of fanfiction, both on Sufficient Velocity (SV) and elsewhere — however what was bizarre to me was encountering a new prefix on certain works, that of 'End OTW Racism'. While I'm sure a number of people were already familiar with this, I was not, so I looked into it.

What I found... wasn't great. And I don't think anyone involved realises that.

To summarise the details, the #EndOTWRacism campaign, of which you may find their manifesto here, is a campaign oriented towards seeing hateful or discriminatory works removed from AO3 — and believe me, there is a lot of it. To whit, they want the OTW to moderate them. A laudable goal, on the face of it — certainly, we do something similar on Sufficient Velocity with Rule 2 and, to be clear, nothing I say here is a critique of Rule 2 (or, indeed, Rule 6) on SV.

But it's not that simple, not when you're the size of Archive of Our Own. So, let's talk about the vagaries and little-known pitfalls of content moderation, particularly as it applies to digital fiction and at scale. Let's dig into some of the details — as far as credentials go, I have, unfortunately, been in moderation and/or administration on SV for about six years and this is something we have to grapple with regularly, so I would like to say I can speak with some degree of expertise on the subject.

So, what are the problems with moderating bad works from a site? Let's start with discovery— that is to say, how you find rule-breaching works in the first place. There are more-or-less two different ways to approach manual content moderation of open submissions on a digital platform: review-based and report-based (you could also call them curation-based and flag-based), with various combinations of the two. Automated content moderation isn't something I'm going to cover here — I feel I can safely assume I'm preaching to the choir when I say it's a bad idea, and if I'm not, I'll just note that the least absurd outcome we had when simulating AI moderation (mostly for the sake of an academic exercise) on SV was banning all the staff.

In a review-based system, you check someone's work and approve it to the site upon verifying that it doesn't breach your content rules. Generally pretty simple, we used to do something like it on request. Unfortunately, if you do that, it can void your safe harbour protections in the US per Myeress vs. Buzzfeed Inc. This case, if you weren't aware, is why we stopped offering content review on SV. Suffice to say, it's not really a realistic option for anyone large enough for the courts to notice, and extremely clunky and unpleasant for the users, to boot.

Report-based systems, on the other hand, are something we use today — users find works they think are in breach and alert the moderation team to their presence with a report. On SV, this works pretty well — a user or users flag a work as potentially troublesome, moderation investigate it and either action it or reject the report. Unfortunately, AO3 is not SV. I'll get into the details of that dreadful beast known as scaling later, but thankfully we do have a much better comparison point — fanfiction.net (FFN).

FFN has had two great purges over the years, with a... mixed amount of content moderation applied in between: one in 2002 when the NC-17 rating was removed, and one in 2012. Both, ostensibly, were targeted at adult content. In practice, many fics that wouldn't raise an eye on Spacebattles today or Sufficient Velocity prior to 2018 were also removed; a number of reports suggest that something as simple as having a swearword in your title or summary was enough to get you hit, even if you were a 'T' rated work. Most disturbingly of all, there are a number of — impossible to substantiate — accounts of groups such as the infamous Critics United 'mass reporting' works to trigger a strike to get them removed. I would suggest reading further on places like Fanlore if you are unfamiliar and want to know more.

Despite its flaws however, report-based moderation is more-or-less the only option, and this segues neatly into the next piece of the puzzle that is content moderation, that is to say, the rubric. How do you decide what is, and what isn't against the rules of your site?

Anyone who's complained to the staff about how vague the rules are on SV may have had this explained to them, but as that is likely not many of you, I'll summarise: the more precise and clear-cut your chosen rubric is, the more it will inevitably need to resemble a legal document — and the less readable it is to the layman. We'll return to SV for an example here: many newer users will not be aware of this, but SV used to have a much more 'line by line, clearly delineated' set of rules and... people kind of hated it! An infraction would reference 'Community Compact III.15.5' rather than Rule 3, because it was more or less written in the same manner as the Terms of Service (sans the legal terms of art). While it was a more legible rubric from a certain perspective, from the perspective of communicating expectations to the users it was inferior to our current set of rules  — even less of them read it,  and we don't have great uptake right now.

And it still wasn't really an improvement over our current set-up when it comes to 'moderation consistency'. Even without getting into the nuts and bolts of "how do you define a racist work in a way that does not, at any point, say words to the effect of 'I know it when I see it'" — which is itself very, very difficult don't get me wrong I'm not dismissing this — you are stuck with finding an appropriate footing between a spectrum of 'the US penal code' and 'don't be a dick' as your rubric. Going for the penal code side doesn't help nearly as much as you might expect with moderation consistency, either — no matter what, you will never have a 100% correct call rate. You have the impossible task of writing a rubric that is easy for users to comprehend, extremely clear for moderation and capable of cleanly defining what is and what isn't racist without relying on moderator judgement, something which you cannot trust when operating at scale.

Speaking of scale, it's time to move on to the third prong — and the last covered in this ramble, which is more of a brief overview than anything truly in-depth — which is resources. Moderation is not a magic wand, you can't conjure it out of nowhere: you need to spend an enormous amount of time, effort and money on building, training and equipping a moderation staff, even a volunteer one, and it is far, far from an instant process. Our most recent tranche of moderators spent several months in training and it will likely be some months more before they're fully comfortable in the role — and that's with a relatively robust bureaucracy and a number of highly experienced mentors supporting them, something that is not going to be available to a new moderation branch with little to no experience. Beyond that, there's the matter of sheer numbers.

Combining both moderation and arbitration — because for volunteer staff, pure moderation is in actuality less efficient in my eyes, for a variety of reasons beyond the scope of this post, but we'll treat it as if they're both just 'moderators' — SV presently has 34 dedicated moderation volunteers. SV hosts ~785 million words of creative writing.

AO3 hosts ~32 billion.

These are some very rough and simplified figures, but if you completely ignore all the usual problems of scaling manpower in a business (or pseudo-business), such as (but not limited to) geometrically increasing bureaucratic complexity and administrative burden, along with all the particular issues of volunteer moderation... AO3 would still need well over one thousand volunteer moderators to be able to match SV's moderator-to-creative-wordcount ratio.

Paid moderation, of course, you can get away with less — my estimate is that you could fully moderate SV with, at best, ~8 full-time moderators, still ignoring administrative burden above the level of team leader. This leaves AO3 only needing a much more modest ~350 moderators. At the US minimum wage of ~$15k p.a. — which is, in my eyes, deeply unethical to pay moderators as full-time moderation is an intensely gruelling role with extremely high rates of PTSD and other stress-related conditions — that is approximately ~$5.25m p.a. costs on moderator wages. Their average annual budget is a bit over $500k.

So, that's obviously not on the table, and we return to volunteer staffing. Which... let's examine that scenario and the questions it leaves us with, as our conclusion.

Let's say, through some miracle, AO3 succeeds in finding those hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of volunteer moderators. We'll even say none of them are malicious actors or sufficiently incompetent as to be indistinguishable, and that they manage to replicate something on the level of or superior to our moderation tooling near-instantly at no cost. We still have several questions to be answered:

How are you maintaining consistency? Have you managed to define racism to the point that moderator judgment no longer enters the equation? And to be clear, you cannot allow moderator judgment to be a significant decision maker at this scale, or you will end with absurd results.

How are you handling staff mental health? Some reading on the matter, to save me a lengthy and unrelated explanation of some of the steps involved in ensuring mental health for commercial-scale content moderators.

How are you handling your failures? No moderation in the world has ever succeeded in a 100% accuracy rate, what are you doing about that?

Using report-based discovery, how are you preventing 'report brigading', such as the theories surrounding Critics United mentioned above? It is a natural human response to take into account the amount and severity of feedback. While SV moderators are well trained on the matter, the rare times something is receiving enough reports to potentially be classified as a 'brigade' on that scale will nearly always be escalated to administration, something completely infeasible at (you're learning to hate this word, I'm sure) scale.

How are you communicating expectations to your user base? If you're relying on a flag-based system, your users' understanding of the rules is a critical facet of your moderation system — how have you managed to make them legible to a layman while still managing to somehow 'truly' define racism?

How are you managing over one thousand moderators? Like even beyond all the concerns with consistency, how are you keeping track of that many moving parts as a volunteer organisation without dozens or even hundreds of professional managers? I've ignored the scaling administrative burden up until now, but it has to be addressed in reality.

What are you doing to sweep through your archives? SV is more-or-less on-top of 'old' works as far as rule-breaking goes, with the occasional forgotten tidbit popping up every 18 months or so — and that's what we're extrapolating from. These thousand-plus moderators are mostly going to be addressing current or near-current content, are you going to spin up that many again to comb through the 32 billion words already posted?

I could go on for a fair bit here, but this has already stretched out to over two thousand words.

I think the people behind this movement have their hearts in the right place and the sentiment is laudable, but in practice it is simply 'won't someone think of the children' in a funny hat. It cannot be done.

Even if you could somehow meet the bare minimum thresholds, you are simply not going to manage a ruleset of sufficient clarity so as to prevent a much-worse repeat of the 2012 FF.net massacre, you are not going to be able to manage a moderation staff of that size and you are not going to be able to ensure a coherent understanding among all your users (we haven't managed that after nearly ten years and a much smaller and more engaged userbase). There's a serious number of other issues I haven't covered here as well, as this really is just an attempt at giving some insight into the sheer number of moving parts behind content moderation:  the movement wants off-site content to be policed which isn't so much its own barrel of fish as it is its own barrel of Cthulhu; AO3 is far from English-only and would in actuality need moderators for almost every language it supports — and most damning of all,  if Section 230 is wiped out by the Supreme Court  it is not unlikely that engaging in content moderation at all could simply see AO3 shut down.

As sucky as it seems, the current status quo really is the best situation possible. Sorry about that.

[luminiamore]

plug connie springer x black stripper reader

warnings: boy is down bad, a little bit of mikasa x reader??, mikasa is famous heree, connie is a tease, he’s also hispanic asf, ya’ll didn’t even make it to the club, hints of yandere, mirror action, he fucks u while he’s crossfaded, wall sex, he talks a lot, dude is rambling, good ole cream pie, gotta love breeding

a/n: i got carried away (⌒_⌒;)

can you guys tell i like my men desperate lol, this is so long i might make this a series (4.9k words)

one down, like five more to goooo

The lifestyle of stripping was something you truly couldn’t get enough of. The late nights. The smooth poles. Dancing on those smooth poles. And most importantly, the money. Oh fuck, how you loved the money. Living the fast life gave you such a rush that you adored it just as much as you hated it.

It’s not your first choice, not by a long shot. You were raised in Jamaica, New York. And your parents., you loved them. Honestly, you did, but you would probably be the most miserable person in the world if you kept heeding their strict Christian views.

You tried everything to reach up to their impossibly high standards. They wanted you to get an A in every assignment? Try A+. They wanted you to wear less revealing clothes because ‘No man will ever want you’? You’re showing up to your classes in turtlenecks just to keep their mouths shut.

You even made it a routine to clean the entire house top to bottom on Sundays since they started complaining that ‘You never do anything around this house.’ It was beyond annoying. You were fucking tired.

Growing up in Notre Dame School of Manhattan was nothing short of horrible. Proclaimed ‘good girls’ snorting more than half a line of coke in the school bathrooms. Drugs you aren’t even sure how they got access to, but then again, they are rich white kids. Teachers and hypocritical professors pretend to be oblivious to the bullshit drama their students are in. Your parents’ oblivion for keeping you here is even greater. Even after sharing stories with them, they would advise you to be more like the students at your school.

It was a miracle you didn’t turn out that far gone, despite what your profession is currently. You’ve smoked a little weed here and there. Experience some sort of awakening tripping off shrooms the weekend your parents took a trip to Barbados.

Without you, of course. Despite this, you were always taken care of. Your differences in opinion would never justify their abandonment of you. You knew they loved you when they got you a ticket to see The Weeknd live after you got a perfect score on your final, not after telling you their opinions on the matter, of course.

‘I don’t know why you listen to such devil music.’

‘I should’ve never gotten you this trash.’

The guilt you felt for wanting to have fun kept you from almost going. You went anyway, choosing to avoid allowing their misery to affect you.

Everything was fine; you played along with this draining game, and everything was fine. Until they decided to kick you out for finding a small baggie of blow (that wasn’t even yours) peeking out from the top of your purse. You don’t even know how it got there.

Honestly, you didn’t. You tried to communicate that while they were packing all the clothes they could find in your closet into two medium-sized luggage bags. But they wouldn’t listen, opting for screaming so loud you could see the neighbors peeking through the window. At the very least, they were kind enough not to throw them onto the concrete ground. Their stubbornness was unyielding. You just couldn’t get through to them.

You were able to rent an apartment you had put a deposit on a month before this happened because of the money in your savings account. Unfortunately, your funds were only sufficient for rent for two months due to groceries and other necessities.

When graduation came, your parents were nowhere to be found, so you realized that you had to find a means of earning money before you ended up sleeping on the streets.

You tried looking for a ’regular’ job -- a barista, a waitress, even applied to be a fucking bartender. It’s not as easy as it seems when those who already have one talk about finding a job. Why do they claim that they need to hire immediately and yet still reject you? Considering that your lack of work experience prevents you from being hired, you feign a little on your resume. Turns out, you’re not a very good liar.

Where was pretty privilege when you needed it?!

Despite applying to 500 companies, none could offer you a job within the next two weeks, which happened to be when your rent was due.

You really had no other option. You took your pretty ass and marched to the nearest club. Which happened to be the... Hustlers club? Why did that sound familiar? 

Upon entering, you outright demanded to speak with the person in charge, and when you saw him, he demanded that he offer you a job. Lucky for you, the owner happened to be there that day. He observed the little moment you had when you stormed in..well, he observed the way your tits bounced in your low-cut tee and immediately pulled you into his office.

He had the thought that you would make him a lot of money if you worked for him, and he’s sure his business partner would agree if she saw you. He just had to make sure.

A figure appeared in the corner, striking up from the edge of his desk and making a slight sniffling noise. A girl, a beautiful one with distinct Asian features. Her leather skirt was short, only barely covering past 2 inches of her thigh. Her tits were pushed up to a necklace in a black corset-like top. An ornamental gold necklace.. with the letter M.

Wait. Is that-

That’s where it dawned on you why the name of this club sounded so familiar. On a random Tuesday afternoon, you find yourself standing in front of a celebrity. You were standing in front of Mikasa Ackerman. The Mikasa Ackerman. As in, owner of Mirror Palais, the highest-paid model in Japan, co-owner of one of the best clubs in New York, Mikasa Ackerman. Oh shit.

You remember seeing her on an Instagram reel in front of this very club, along with the other owner. The other owner, his name was.. what was it again? He swivels you around to face him, almost as if he hears your thoughts,

“Eren Yeager, sweetheart.”

A soft handshake accompanied by a gentle tone. He was quick to introduce you to the beautiful eyes that stayed fixed on your face since you walked into the dimly lit room. Eren guides you towards the brown leather couch where his friend is sitting,

“And, this is the lovely Mikasa. I’m sure you sure you know who she is.”

Feeling intimidated by her intense gaze, you nodded quickly and stumbled a bit when introducing yourself. Her following words didn’t calm your nerves anyhow,

“A real pleasure meeting you, beautiful.”

Eren could tell that Mikasa already liked you; the girl was practically fucking you with her eyes. But he wasn’t here for that; he cleared his throat to draw attention to him in the room. He had a goal in mind: to get you signed up. Eren wanted you dancing in his club today.

He sits you down and swiftly gets into business mode.

‘What kind of position are you looking for?’

‘What’s the minimum salary you want to earn here?’

He tries to get a sense of what you’re looking for before proposing to work as a stripper. Although he wants you to, he can compromise. Server position and the minimum salary you asked for was $65,000.

“And I’m not leaving til I get that or something better.”

Well, you wanted better, right? Eren explains to you that his club didn’t have any more waitress positions and Mikasa...

Well, that day, you found out that she was really good with words. She did a great job at convincing you that you’d make double the amount you asked for moving your perfect body on the pole. I mean...

“Look at that body of yours. You’d be pretty famous here, sweetheart.”

And shit, she was right. You really couldn’t blame the girls who never wanted to leave, simply too addicted to the drugs, to the fast life, especially to the money. The amount of money you made every night was simply insurmountable. And you found it funny because it wasn’t just the money. Really, it wasn’t.

The sensation that occurs when your lower body rotates on the pole. The art of dancing like this ignited such a passion from you. The attention, from the men and the women. One of the most popular clubs in the city had you as a crowd favorite. You knew it shouldn’t be something you liked; you never wanted to get too wrapped up in a life like this. But shit, it was sensational.

You didn’t let it slip, even though you shined on the stage. There are people who would take advantage of you even more if they knew you actually enjoyed what you do; you know this. When it was time to go, you left with no hesitation. You had to remind yourself of what you were here for, to provide and care for yourself until you find a better job.

And you stuck to that goal for a solid five months; nothing deterred you. Of course, that’s what you’re thinking. In reality, from the very first moment Eren had you on that pole, you found yourself coming back for one reason. Even if you weren’t subconsciously aware of it, him.

Connie, you heard the owner greet one day. He was definitely attractive. There was something about him, something about how he threw money at you and only you. Your body shivered without fail due to the gray eyes that watched your every move. The way he man spreads and tilts his head back when taking a hit, revealing neck tattoos that you know cover his stomach under that black Nike Tech hoodie. He was so fucking fine.

Only a few men can pull off a buzz cut. How does he do it so effortlessly? Maybe it was the color? How would he change it like it was nothing every two weeks?

You noticed he had a thin mustache, and when you got closer to his face.. Fuck. Was that a diamond nose ring?

He was a drug dealer. You caught that three months ago. Around that point, he began asking for you to exclusively serve his section. Eren had no problem with that; after all, this was his friend. But Connie started getting.. greedy. He wanted more than that. He started getting bold. He wanted your body on that twirling solely for him.

“Hell no.”

Eren filled the quiet section. Your body was followed by both green and gray eyes as you moved on the stage, with Connie’s eyes being more intense and focused compared to the other. The thriving club was filled with both of them enjoying a glass of Richard Hennessy Cognac in the VIP area.

Connie never had a good relationship with mixing Henny and weed. He was aware of that. He has a tendency to indulge in sinful thoughts. He didn’t let that stop him from rolling the blunt anyway.

His mind would get drawn towards dangerous places, mainly when he saw you. The way your thong disappeared between your cheeks under your lacey two-piece made him ready to fuck you right there. To show those perverted and prickly eyes that stuck like glue onto you that they could never have you. That you were his. Or, you will be.

Connie hasn’t even fucked you yet. Hasn’t gone anywhere near the sticky wetness he knows you have in between your legs.

You two indulge in what you could only describe as subtle grinding in the back rooms. All the dancing that you’re supposed to be doing on the pole, you’re doing on his lap instead. It was against the rules; you especially knew this. That didn’t stop either of you. Well, more so Connie than you.

At first, his best friend was against it. The customers you brought in were earning him at least $100k a night. While his other show girls were beautiful, you radiated a different type of aura onto the stage. You were something different. It was genuinely insane how you could move, you didn’t even have prior training. You found that every night, you got better than the previous; it was a natural talent.

Connie, being Connie, offered Eren twice that amount for every night he gets to spend with you alone. That was every night you were on the clock, besides, he had no problem making that back by the next day. When it came to his girl, there was never a problem for him.

And Connie never regretted the amount he spent on you. Being alone with you was something he had grown to crave incessantly. To him? It was worth it. He’d get so excited to just walk into the back room and find you waiting for him. All pretty, just tempting him to ruin you. Then, when you start performing in front of him, your body moves in a way that would hypnotize the stoic man.

And it wasn’t just your body to Connie. There was a certain allure to you. He was observant of the way you moved, spoke, and behaved. He understood that someone like you doesn’t come by every day. He just had to have you, own you. Your body, your fucking soul, everything you possessed, he wanted it for himself. He didn’t care if it sounded selfish; he’s okay with being that when it comes to you.

It’s reasonable to assume that he would have the final say on what you wear for him since he was the only person you would dance for, right? That was the route he took to get your number. That’s the reason you got a text from him while you were getting ready to shower for your night shift.

One of his friends- Was he talking about Mikasa?

You could have given it more thought, but your shift was only an hour away, and Connie was on his way. Using a small gray towel, you drape it onto the fat of your wet boobs. Your hands lather your Shea Butter oil on the top of your left thigh quickly, but you stop when your doorbell rings.

“Coming!”

You yelp, quickly slip on your slippers, and move toward the door. The man had always taken you home, and on the other side of the coin, he always took you to work. You didn’t bother asking how he knew your address the first time, afraid that it would spark an answer you’re not ready to hear. Occasionally, if you were too intoxicated to carry yourself to your apartment, he would act as your knight in shining armor and hold you in bridal fashion to your door without saying a word.

It should have been simple enough: he goes in and gets out. And it would have been that simple if he hadn’t seen your pink lacy thong loosely hanging off your door knob. He was simply a man, one who desired to feel every part of you. The tip of that thong was hanging out of his pockets when Connie left your apartment that night.

Swinging your door open makes you almost breathless. Connie was a tall person. Everything about him just screamed: big. He was easily over 6 feet 2 inches tall, and he came to your door carrying a medium-sized shopping bag. You step back, observing as he comes in right after taking his slides off by your door.

“You’re here early, Con. I’m not ready yet.” You whisper, still a little perplexed he’s already here. Despite the amount of money you know he has, you rarely ever see him in anything other than a white tee and black sweats. Today was no different. Minor differences in each pair made it clear that they were different every time. You suppose it had something to do with his dangerous line of work.

He hands you the cream-colored bag, and his eyes never leave your lips all the while. You suddenly became very conscious that you were breathing the same air as Connie, who appeared right in front of you. He leans in, the ghost of his lips felt against your collarbone,

“You smell good,” His tatted hands sneakily climbed their way onto your wide hips. Before muttering a curse under his breath, he squeezes once. For the first time since meeting you, Connie isn’t being truthful. He didn’t come to your apartment to take you to your job. Tonight, he had different intentions.

He came tonight to put a full stop to the cat-and-mouse game that you guys have been playing for the past five months. Two fully packed blunts and three shots of Don Julio convinced him that his attraction towards you was not going away.

He should’ve realized it when he started making a habit of watching over you outside of the strip club. She needs someone to protect her, he thinks. You don’t pay attention to your surroundings. You have no idea, don’t you? Your beauty could easily lead to someone from the club becoming obsessed and following you. Anyone who wasn’t him.

He also should’ve realized it when he started beating his dick into overstimulation to your pictures on Instagram. And after your shift. Of course, before your shift. Eren witnessed him having to excuse himself during your shift because his dick was painfully throbbing against his boxers.

Connie really liked you. And somewhere in that twisted mind of his, he believed that you two were truly meant for each other. He should’ve never waited this long, “Put this on, ma.”

He pushes the bag towards your chest and moves your hips in the direction of your room. Your thighs twitch as you hum and make a little run to the end of your hall. He follows after you slowly, eyes shifting to the way your ass peaks out from under the towel.

This scene feels oddly familiar. A predator stalking its prey, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. You didn’t know what Connie came here to do; in your mind, you were just getting ready for work. He almost felt sorry for you, almost felt sorry for how he was going to ruin you, almost.

He made sure to take his time approaching your door so that you could be ready and prepared for him when he arrived. And you didn’t disappoint. In front of your vanity makeup mirror, you were sat on the cushion chair. Applying what looked like oil from a flower bottle onto your neck.

You look better in the dress than he expected. Your fat tits sitting so perfectly, and the lace meshing with your skin. You pretended to ignore him behind your seat, starting to feel the weight of his presence around you. This was probably the thinnest item you had ever owned, yet his hands pressing on your shoulders made your skin feel like it was on hot volcanic soil.

You catch his eye in the mirror, and despite your flustered state, he doesn’t grant you the satisfaction of looking away. Not even while his hands lower down to your rib cage, right under your plush boobs. Especially not even while his giant palms wrap around the fabric covering your nipple in a tight grip.

You gasp, a moan bottling in your throat, “C-Con!”

It could have been the way you uttered his name or the way your head pressed against his chest. Regardless, Connie lost control and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, beginning to sprinkle small, wet kisses. He grips harder, and you... you get louder.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Your flesh is now exposed to his hands as they slip into the dress. “Skin so soft,” He kneads his hands into your chest, squeezing as if he’s hoping milk will pour out of them. He groans, “God, you’re so perfect mama.” The thought of that makes a shiver run down his body.

Poor Mikasa, she spent all night working on that dress once she heard it was for you. Connie didn’t even let it last for a good ten minutes before you heard a faint rip sound in the midst of your whimpers.

Your brain is struggling to keep up with the speed of everything happening. You attempt to tilt your head back, but he shuts it down right away. “Eyes on the mirror.” He moves one hand to your throat, keeping you still. You feel your body shake under his hold, twitching slightly from his small attack. You didn’t have the courage to look away, not even as far as you could.

“I’ve been so patient.” Squeezing your left nipple, he drops his fingers down the ripped material until they reach the top of your pussy lips. “Cumming to the thought of your pretty face like a fucking teenager,” His words bring a mewl to your lips. Your body starts sweating, nervous at the way his fingers are just rubbing circles around your skin.

Would he pull away if your hips jerked against his hand? You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t. You’ve never allowed yourself to feel this desperate for anyone, but being around Connie left you like this. You were at a loss for what to do. Your thoughts were racing to find something, anything, that would bring him closer to you.

It’s unclear what motivated him to answer your prayers. But in the next moment, he pushed his middle finger into the center of where your slick was overflowing onto the cushion. He creates slight tap sounds with the puddle between your fat lips, playing with you.

Your eyes close for just a second and burst wide open when you feel a sudden intrusion in your sticky hole. “A-Ah!” A sob leaves your lips, your eyes falling back to your face in the mirror when you register his next words,

“Eyes on the mirror, mama. I haven’t done anything to you yet,” As Connie slowly moves his fingers into and out of your dripping core, his eyes struggle to keep track of your face in the mirror or the stain you’re beginning to make on his digits.

He settles with the stain you’re creating. He’s massaging your walls in a way that you can’t help but cover them in a creamy white. It’s impossible not to moan with shaky breaths, whispering his name. He figures the wait was worth it. His dreams couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing. It was more noisy, was more sticky, and it was.. real.

What do you taste like?

Your hips shake as he suddenly removes his fingers from you. You whimper, annoyed by the absence of the touch of fingers on your wet walls, but you stop yourself when you see his movements in the mirror. His mouth wraps around his middle and ring finger, sucking your juices to the fullest. Your breathing stops when he moans, “You taste so fucking good.”

Connie silently pulls you up from your seat and presses you against the nearest wall, causing the ripped dress to fall to the floor. Instantly, your back arched into the prominent bulge that was pressing on your bare ass. Your thoughts wander back to your last session with Connie in the backroom. All that desperate grinding.

“You were squeezing so tight around my fingers,” He pushes his sweat down to remove his throbbing hard dick with a little effort. “Y’gonna squeeze my dick like that next?”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

You jump every time the base of his cock slaps down on your ass. Both of his hands grip your sides, his eyes rolling back as he slides his dick back and forth in between your leaking pussy lips.

“Oh f-fuck! Connie,”

Your voice cracks when you call out for him, and he smiles. He cannot deny that this is the perfect thing; it was always meant to be like this. He spreads your cheeks as wide as he can, lining his tip up to your hole that’s clenching around nothing.

“Yeah, b-baby?” Fuck, you were so wet. “Want me to fuck you? Want- Oh fuck. Want Connie to make you scream?”

Your lips tremble, and you try to slide his dick inside you by pushing your hips back. He lets you, too weak himself, to stop you from taking what you wanted. All you can think right now is Connie, Connie, fucking Connie.

“Shittt. Want y-y’to to make me cum! P-please!”

Pushing him even further inside without his help proves to him that you truly want him to make you scream. You’re barely making it halfway with his thick and long build. Connie is incredibly proud of you right now, taking his dick like a desperate bitch and moaning to fuck the rest of his inches in.

He pulls a little of himself out of you, only to flush his hips abruptly against yours with one single push. Groaning at the same time you gasp out, he whispers in your ear, “Scream for daddy, mama.”

You were so full. His cock tip was touching places that you’ve never been to on your own before, causing your mind to go haywire. His pressure against your cervix was so intense it would have been painful if you weren’t so wet. You oblige almost embarrassingly quickly the moment you feel his dick drag at a steady pace inside of you.

Connie regrets not having done this sooner, as the drugs he took earlier are still mixing in his system, alternating and speeding up his thoughts. His body was ablaze. You’re covering the entire length of his dick with your juices, causing him to become frantic and desperate to get more out of you. His thrusts match his crave. You were warm, and your cries were heaven to his ears, “Big! Y’re so b-big, daddy!”

You’re not complaining, far from it, as he tears your pussy to shreds. In fact, you’re taking him so well, and he praises you for it. Like he said, you were made for this moment, for him. You’re such a,

“Good girl. Fuck! My g-good girl takes me so well,”

He can hear your slick drip on the floor below you despite the smacking sound in your room. You’re so needy for him, as he is for you. The walls echoed with your wailing sounds as you fucked him back, making Connie shudder.

He’s gonna cum. He can feel his balls churning as they slap repeatedly against your twitching clit. Fuck. He’s gonna cum so deep inside you he prays it reaches your womb. Although it’s his first time exploring the depths of your perfect cunt, he recognizes that you’re also going to cum.

He can tell by the way your legs are shaking rapidly, by the way, your moans get higher in pitch, by the way, you’re whispering his name out like a prayer. And he’s determined to make you cum before him. Do you squirt? Do you cream? He thinks he’ll die and go to heaven if it’s both. Your next plea erupts another groan to tumble out his mouth,

“M’gonna- M’gonna cum! O-oh fuck- M’gonna cum so h-hard.”

Holding your arms behind your back with his tatted hand, he moves his hips inside you at a faster pace than ever before. “Shit. Me t-too, mama.” He angles his waist to keep pressing into that spongy spot that makes you tremble. “Just like that. Cum, baby. C-cum all over this fat dick.”

Small tears start to fall down your brown cheeks, and your back arches sharply on Connie, causing your stomach to clench at once. The man above you receives both your cream and squirt splashing from your sweet core, and you weep. Your muffled moans fill the air as he cranes your neck towards him for a nasty, drooling kiss.

As he gets closer to his orgasm, his rapid thrusts become sloppy and crazed, and his heart beats twice as fast as he sees the beauty fucked out underneath him. The more Connie moved inside of you, the more he swayed. Your essence was covering his lower half so much that he couldn’t wait another minute before dumping his kids against your cervix, a shaky moan accompanying his release.

His thrusts slow down, causing tiny drops to spill onto the floor, but his lips never leave yours, and he has to remind himself to let you breathe when you start to whine against his mouth. He lets you go and instead presses tiny kisses against your panting mouth.

Both of you, Connie in particular, were on cloud nine. Your clenching onto him brings Connie’s mind back to Earth, but he is not satisfied. He wanted to go again. He needed it, so it was only natural he started moving at a steadfast pace inside you again.

“Again. Let’s go a-again, mama. Shitt. Your pussy is so-”

Before that night, you’ve never experienced pleasure on this level. Connie took you, on every corner of the house. Both of you left unaware of Eren’s multiple missed calls as he fucked his cum into you like a dog in heat. It’s safe to say that you didn’t show up for work that night or the night after. Connie made sure you never danced at a strip club again.

@hatake05 @thickbihhwitdagapp 🫶🏾

[gogobootz1]

At War

Luke Castellan x Reader [fem!daughter of Apollo]

Summary: There's nothing like some friendly competition, but when planning rival parties, you and Luke are a little less than friendly.

Word count: 2k

Every year, there came a time for the retreats- a chance for children of the gods to bond and have some special fun. One big retreat seemed pointless, so camp faculty allowed two. The two retreats accidentally split the boys and girls, and naturally, they turned into an (unofficial) competition. As one of the oldest and most experienced campers- you’d been volunteering to champion a retreat for years. Traditionally, you’ve hosted a slumber party equipped with PJs, dancing, games, movies, braid trains, nail polish, and basically anything anyone could want. You also, of course, have the best food. Each year, it’s been a hit, and it’s only gotten better with time. 

The only problem is that you have tough competition. The day after the retreats, you always hear about what happened at the other one. Paintball, camping, fishing, mad romps through the wood, scary stories- barbecue. Everyone loved it. And every year, you’ve had to quietly conceal your anger and jealousy. It pains you to admit that Luke sure can throw a party (maybe even better than you can). But this year, you are more determined than ever to outdo him. 

The two of you have long been in competition, and things have only escalated. As hilarious as Mr. D found both your antics last year, Chiron was extremely unhappy about the fact the two of you had exceeded the budget by miles. He’d told you both to reign it in this year or no more retreats. When he felt that didn’t sufficiently move you, he threatened to let other people plan them. You both caved and vowed to stick to the budget this year. 

You’re always a little frantic the day of, and today is no different. To your chagrin, Luke is cool as a cucumber. It pisses you off to no end. 

“Nervous?” A smug voice voice asks from behind your back. You drop the spoon you were using to push mashed potatoes around your plate. 

You turn slowly on the bench, “Why should I be?"

“Usually, you’re pulling out your hair before the retreats,” he says skeptically, “perfectionism taking its toll.”

“Yeah? Well, my perfectionism makes my parties perfect,” you flaunt. The few sisters that can stand to be around you when you’re stressed roll their eyes. It’s clear to them this is escalating. 

“What about when Susie vomited in your bouncy house last year?” He taunts, and you glare at him. That girl should not have been jumping after four bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and two Redbulls- it was hardly your fault. 

“How about when Aidan got a concussion after falling off the mechanical bull?” You snap back. 

You don’t notice Luke’s shadow until he pipes in, “Are these people okay?” 

“They signed waivers!” You say at the same time, and the new Poseidon kid takes a defensive step back. You send Luke a glare when you realize you spoke in sync. He huffs before smirking at you. 

“Good luck with your sleepover,” he mocks, “You’re gonna need it.” Before you can reply, he marches away, protégée in tow. 

“Eat shit!” You call out after him. 

“That was weak, girl,” one of your sisters says.  

“Shut up, I know,” you shake your head at her, “now come help me set up.” You drag her up by her elbow to make your sacrifices, then get to work. 

Five hours later, the main hall looks great. Your disco ball is glimmering, the mini photo booth is equipped with feather boas and pink cowboy hats, the food is all laid out, and the stage you bribed some Hephaestus kids to build looks great. 

“Perfect,” you whisper, pleased at your surroundings. 

“Fucking finally!” Your sister throws her hands up and walks away. You’ve very likely driven most of your half-siblings insane today. 

“Thanks for your help!” You call after her, and as she goes, you spot some prying eyes through the window. Percy, you think his name is, looks afraid now that you’ve caught him peering in through the window. In a few swift moves, you leave the room and block his exit from the patio. 

“Can I help you?” You ask suspiciously. 

“Just admiring your excellent disco theme,” he says, putting an ultra-sweet smile on his face. As charming as the boy is, you take your retreat very seriously and feel a deep-seated urge to protect it from potential sabotage. 

“Mhmmm,” you nod, “and you wouldn’t happen to be reporting back to anyone about what you’ve seen?” 

“Whaaaaaat?” Percy asks, awkwardly chuckling. 

Your shoulders drop, of course, Luke would stoop to employing spies. You dig into your pocket and pull out a ten-dollar bill, “I’ll give you this if you act as a double agent.” 

He eyes your money suspiciously, “Do you really think I can be bought?” 

You roll your eyes and pull out another bill, “How’s twenty?” 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he grabs both bills from your hand and shakes it. Percy happily walks past you, shoving his new earnings into his pocket. 

You grin, “Make sure he hears all about how awesome my party is!”

“I’m on it, boss,” he calls over his shoulder. After a short walk, he’s back to the boathouse lounge where Luke has been waiting for his report. 

“Well?” The older boy asks him, jumping up from his spot on the couch. 

Percy shakes his head solemnly, “Bad news, boss.” 

“What?!” He asks, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me she went over budget. She didn't get another mariachi band, did she?” Percy shakes his head and files this new information away. With what he’s been hearing about the last few retreats, he’s almost sad to have missed them. 

“No, but it does look super cool,” he nods, and it really wasn’t a lie- he saw a chocolate fountain on that snack table. 

“Damn,” Luke’s face twitches in annoyance. 

“But your party will be great too, I’m sure,” he smiles, nodding reassuringly. 

“Of course, it will,” he says defensively, “make sure you check back in over there from time to time. I want to know how it’s progressing.” 

“Sure,” Percy nods, but his concern at the competitiveness underlying this event grows. He wonders just how bad this will get tonight. But check back in he does, and he won’t deny he enjoys himself at the sleepover. Every time he visits, you give him a new sparkly mocktail, and the Aphrodite girls give him a new feather boa. At one point, he’s wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and eating some cake. He was very impressed when M&Ms fell out of the middle as you cut it. Apparently, it’s also one of your newest sisters’ birthdays- he’s heard whisperings of some big special present for her yet to come. 

Each time Percy returns to the other retreat, he can see Luke get a little more tense. The fact that he’s exaggerating doesn’t help either. When he tells the older boy that you have an ice sculpture spitting Dr. Pepper, he thinks he sees steam pour from Luke’s ears. It’s not like people aren’t enjoying his party, but Percy can that Luke wants to one-up you and feels like he’s falling short. 

“And I’ve heard she has a special surprise in store for Sophie since it’s her birthday. Apparently, she’s the newest addition to their cabin, so she wants to do something special,” Percy nods at him, eating a taco he had brought back from your party. Luke cuts him off by grabbing the taco from his hand just as he’s about to take another bite. “Hey!” He protests when Luke puts it right in the trash. 

“When is this surprise?” He asks the twelve-year-old. 

“The Aphrodite girls told me I should be back in like twenty minutes so I wouldn’t miss it,” Percy tells him. 

“And when was that?” 

“Like twenty minutes ago,” he shrugs, and Luke just stares at him. “Ohhhhh,” he says when he realizes how long it’s been. 

“Come on,” Luke shakes his head and starts out the door, Percy in tow. They can hear the surprise before they see it, an ABBA song blasting out of the building. Only, they don’t realize who's performing it until they walk in. Along with two of your musically-inclined Apollo sisters, you’re dressed in bell bottoms and sleeves. And you look like you’re having the time of your life- until you spot them, that is. 

“Look, look, look, look,” you pull the microphone away to mutter to Tanya. Her shock is visible, but you both keep performing anyway. The crowd goes wild at the end, and Sophie runs up on stage to give you a big hug. You let Tanya take over host duties and make your way through the crowd to the party crasher. 

“That was,” Luke starts, but you are not keen to hear whatever he has to say about your outfit, or your performance, or your party. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

His expression instantly sours, “I wanted some Dr. Pepper from your ice sculpture, where is it?” 

“What are you talking about?” You’re highly confused until Percy gives you the cut-it-out motion from behind Luke’s back. “We put it back in the freezer,” you say, and Percy gives you the thumbs up. No matter what you think of him, Luke’s not an idiot. He turns around in time to spot Percy’s gestures. 

“Wait a second, are you two colluding?” He looks between the two of you in shock. 

“You were colluding with him first,” you shrug, crossing your arms. “You really earned that twenty dollars, by the way,” you compliment the kid, and he gives you a pleased nod. 

“Dude,” Luke turns toward Percy, betrayed. 

“She outbid you,” he shrugs. “Hey, what if you guys just went to each other’s parties?” 

You both eye the boy suspiciously, “Why would we do that?” You ask him, and Luke nods in agreement.

“Well, you’re both so desperate to know about the other’s party, so why don’t you just experience it for yourselves?” Percy asks, and when he feels you aren’t sufficiently moved by it, he tries again. “If you attend both parties, you can decide who wins.” 

“Good enough for me,” Luke wanders off into your party.

“Yeah, okay,” you head for the door. 

“Hopeless,” Percy mumbles, shaking his head. 

An hour later, you and Luke meet in the middle of your respective parties. You stare at each other for a minute before you admit in sync, “I had fun.” 

“We have to stop doing that,” you shake your head. 

“Agreed.” 

You’re both silent again for a minute. “The slip and slide was a good idea,” you say reluctantly, soap still in your hair, “low budget but lots of fun. Tubing was good too. And the campfire.” You had changed out of the disco attire and into shorts and a T-shirt over your swimsuit. 

“Did you try-“

“Chris can really grill,” you nod. After some hesitance, you finally choke out a confession, “I am very displeased to call you the winner.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. 

“What?”

“You totally won,” he shrugs, “the disco was killer.” You only now realize he changed into pajamas. 

“You actually embraced the sleepover?” 

He flicks some grass off your shoulder, “You gave my party a fair shot.” That’s true, and you nod, looking away for a second. “The chocolate fountain was a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“And I was trying to tell you earlier, but your performance was really cool,” he admits. 

“Yeah?” A genuine grin grows on your face at this. Most everyone in the Apollo cabin loves music, but some of your half-siblings are more keen to perform than you. Hearing this, and from him especially, means a lot. 

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling now too. “You’re the winner here.” 

“Let’s call it a draw?” You offer, and he nods. 

“What if we just worked together and planned one party next year?” He asked, and you pretend to consider it for a moment. 

“That could be cool,” you nod, “imagine what we could do with the combined budget.” 

He grins and scrunches his nose, “How about we enjoy this year’s party until then?”

“We could do that,” you nod, “where to?”

He swiftly wraps an arm over your shoulder and starts guiding you back to your party, “Let’s boogie.” You laugh, and he thinks it’s a sound he could get used to. 

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

I've been awake for too long so idk if this is coherent but I had fun <3

[kykyonthemoon]

How to take care of your on-period girlfriend

During that time of the month, you receive special treatment from him.

ಇ. Character x Female Reader

with Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne and Caleb.

ಇ. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, pain & comfort

ಇ. Word count: 3k4

ಇ. Note: Some details in this fic are inspired by in game Tender Moments.

ಇ. Requested by Mỗi ngày nhặt một anh làm chồng and an anonymous reader on my ask box.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

In the middle of the night, you awoke with such discomfort in your lower belly and an aching feeling throughout your body. You knew it was that time of the month; in fact, it was a few days late due to recent work-related stress. You didn't expect to have your period today, so waking up at this hour with discomfort all over your body was quite uncomfortable to you.

Your hand found the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. Rafayel has left you several messages and missed calls. Perhaps you fell asleep without realizing it due to fatigue. You decided to get up and use the bathroom for a while. That's when you discovered you were missing what you needed most at home.

You grumbled and switched the phone screen back on. You were reluctant to disturb him at this time, especially because he was attending an exhibition in another city and you were not sure if he had returned yet. But you were upset and missed the times like this when he took care of you. Just before dialing his number, your phone rang.

"I've seen you online for a while. What's up? Can't sleep?"

Rafayel's voice rang out from the other end of the line, full of energy still. You just answered with a few short phrases, summarizing the current situation for him and told him that you were about to go out and get the necessary supplies.

"Just stay there." Rafayel stopped you. "Do not go anywhere. Wait for me."

You were a little confused why he had told you to stay home. But just now, you were too tired to have the strength to ask. Besides, you could not go out in this state, when you just wanted to faint on the floor.

You washed and changed into a new set of pajamas. Luckily, you found a spare sanitary pad left over in the closet that was sufficient for your needs. As soon as you got out of the bathroom, you heard the front door open. Rafayel appeared there, with a bunch of bags wrapped in both hands.

“How are you now? Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head, primarily to reassure him. But glancing at your pallid face, he knew you were lying. And you were taken aback when he arrived here, at this hour.

“Didn't you leave Linkon for the exhibition a few days ago?”

“That event was nothing special. I was on my way home when you called. I stopped to get you a few things before coming here.”

"Just a few things?" You gazed at the mound of items Rafayel had just purchased and set on the floor. "Why does it look like you bought everything in the store?"

Rafayel grinned at you. He softly aided you in getting down, leaning your back against the cushion and placing your feet on the couch. After that, he began taking out everything from those bags, which startled you a lot.

He had purchased you sanitary products in the form of pads, panties, tampons and even menstrual cups. One of each type and brand. There were also several pain relievers, vitamins and more. When he noticed your amazement, he said:

“Since I don't know which type you usually use, I bought one of each.”

Rafayel laughed. And you, even though your face was pale, felt so content due to his silliness.

“You could have just asked me.” You responded.

“I won't be able to see your surprised smile then. Since I've made you laugh, I must be a fantastic boyfriend, right?”

You slumped entirely back on the couch, still laughing but murmuring: "You must be a fantastic fool."

Lemurians' bodies are not like humans, you appreciated Rafayel's efforts to learn about your cycle and care for you in this manner. He plopped down on the couch next to you, lifted your legs and placed them on his lap. His slender hands rubbed them gently.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

You shook your head. “It doesn't hurt much. Just mild cramps.”

Rafayel nodded. He still remembered you often got cramps in your legs every time your period came. He continued massaging your legs before moving on to your tummy.

“What about this place?”

When your lower abdominal contractions resumed, you let out a tiny cry. Rafayel immediately withdrew his hand. “Sorry… Did I hurt you?”

“I-It's okay…” You tried to smile. “I'll probably feel better after a good rest.”

Rafayel's expression shifted slightly. His hand returned to your lower abdomen, continuing to gently rub it. “There you go again. Just say you're hurt when you're in pain. No need to try to act strong in front of me. Did you forget about our agreement last month? Whenever you have your period and are so weak like this, I will become your bodyguard.”

In the lying position, you could see half of Rafayel's face illuminated in the warm glow of the nightlight. His eyes were both concentrated and kind as he continued to ease the pain in your stomach. Suddenly, you couldn't help but jab your finger into his face. He pouted and puffed out both cheeks. Just like a puffer fish.

“Okay, it's all my fault. Now I will let Rafayel take care of me without worrying that I'd bother you.”

"Good. Even though I don't know how to take care of humans, I guarantee you'll be satisfied!”

Rafayel joyfully grasped your hand and kissed the palm to make it less cold. He continued rubbing your abdomen, singing a melody that put you at peace.

“Get some sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, I will still be here, right next to you.”

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓 

As a child, you imagined your knight arriving in shining armor on a white horse.

It turned out that your knight did not have a horse, but rather a white Hunter's uniform and a coat that he had just removed to wrap around your waist.

It happened when Xavier and you had just finished dealing with the Wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon City. Late at night, an unusual incident occurred. You hurriedly arrived to take on the task, unaware as that time of the month had come.

Perhaps you were too preoccupied with work to remember when your period would start. After finishing the task, you were dismayed to realize that the blood on your dress was not the blood of the Wanderers at all.

Xavier discovered it through your frightened eyes and trembling body. Immediately, he took off his coat, wrapped it around your waist to cover the blood stains, and even carried you a long way home on his back.

Your arms were wrapped around Xavier's neck, your face completely hidden in his shoulder. You felt so embarrassed to let him catch you in such a messy state. However, Xavier continued to soothe and console you. He said:

"It's not a problem at all. You don't need to be embarrassed about this very normal thing."

Even though it still did not feel right, you said nothing more. You were exhausted enough, and your aching body was screaming for a rest.

Xavier took you back to your apartment. You thanked him profusely and quickly went to take a shower. After that, sensing the silence outside, you assumed that Xavier had returned to his home. Unexpectedly, you caught a pack of painkillers on the table. Next to it was his phone.

You did not intend to peek, but because the phone screen was still on, you accidentally saw the content that Xavier was reading: How to take care of your girlfriend during her periods.

You chuckled to yourself. It turned out Xavier was learning how to take care of you. Then, his hand appeared out of nowhere to take the phone back.

“Are you done? Take your pill now."

Xavier gave you a cup of warm water. You smiled: "I thought you went home."

He slowly dropped himself into the seat next to you. “You are so hurt. How can I go home?”

"I'm alright. I'm going to sleep soon, tomorrow I'll feel better.”

Xavier did not seem to take your word for it. He grasped your hands.

“Aren't you going to be in pain for two or three days to a week?”

“Did you just read that on the internet?”

Xavier pondered for a time before nodding: “I... am not very familiar with these things. But I'll stay here until you feel better. Is that okay?"

You gave him a nod and a smile. Xavier got you a painkiller. After taking it he let you lean on the sofa, held your hands tightly, rubbed and breathed on them to bring some warmth.

After a while, your lower abdomen started to hurt. Xavier expressed concern as he noticed your expression:

“It hurts a lot, doesn't it? May I give you a massage?”

He waited for your approval with a nod before placing his hand on your tummy. He gently stroked it clockwise and inquired: "Is this better?"

You shook your head. One hand pointed to the lower abdomen, somewhat below where Xavier's hand was lying. “Here.”

“I see.”

Xavier's fingers went lower, causing you to flush slightly. Xavier said again:

“I only have two hands. One is warming your right hand, the other is massaging your belly. What should I do with your left hand?"

You gazed down at your hand. It wasn't chilly enough to warrant staying warm, but Xavier insisted on it. He also came up with a new idea:

“How about you put your left hand on me.”

You were astonished for a second. "Put it… on you?"

"Yes. Here..." Xavier raised his shirt slightly, showing his abdomen, and glanced at you with anticipation. You sheepishly placed your hand there, and he pulled his shirt down again. “Is it warm?”

You nodded, not sure what else to say. The warmth from his body made you feel heated within. Xavier proceeded to rub your hand and belly. Your hand, which had been put on his body for a short period of time, now became restless. It crept gently upward, to where you could feel his heartbeat quickening.

Xavier stared at you, considered for a time, then said nothing. Since he had let it slide, your hand glided down, past a layer of firm muscles, and then a bit further…

“If you continue to be so naughty, I'll get angry.”

Xavier leaned close to your ear and murmured, his tone irritated, but his gestures seemed to lean heavily on you.

Your fingers twitched slightly as you attentively watched Xavier's slightly furrowed expression. He went on to say: "When I'm angry, it will be quite terrifying. So be a good girl for me.”

Your hand, which was resting in Xavier's, was drawn to his lips as he pressed gentle kisses against it with heated breath. His eyes darkened somewhat; perhaps it was simply the light. You whispered an apology and returned your hand to its previous position. Xavier gazed at you with a small smile.

"If you're sleepy, just lean on me."

"Yes." You responded gently, placing your head on his shoulder and yawning loudly. No matter what the situation was, with him by your side, you would always be safe.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 

You were astonished when Zayne showed up at your door late at night after his shift. Seeing your pale and fragile appearance, he asked you to go to the bedroom for some rest. After faltering a few steps, you nearly collapsed to the floor.

Fortunately, Zayne's dominant arms caught you in time. With one quick movement, he lifted you up with ease.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

Zayne said, and you obediently followed. He carried you to your room, put you on the bed, and drew the blanket over you.

"Give me your hands." You placed your hands on his. Zayne stroked your hands briefly to warm them up before placing them beneath the blanket. "I will make you some tea. Remember to keep yourself warm."

You nodded sheepishly. Your eyes followed Zayne's wide back as it vanished beyond the bedroom door, and you wondered how he knew you were on your period.

You were not convinced this was a coincidence since Zayne prepared you a cup of jujube tea that he had brought with him. He used to give you that drink on days like this. He said it would make the pain less severe. And it was true.

"Drink this. Then eat the red dates, too."

Zayne handed you a cup of tea that he had just blown to cool down the heat. He sat down next to you on the bed. You ate a jujube, turned to look at him, and noticed his palm was already open in front of you.

“Spill it out here.” He said. You looked at him for a moment and then did what you were told. Zayne smiled with satisfaction, patted on your head, then took back the almost empty cup of tea from your hand to it on the night table.

“Feeling better?” Zayne inquired pleasantly as he assisted you in lying back on the bed. 

You smiled faintly and said:

“Just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle bit better.”

He laughed at your childish behavior. “If it hurts too much, you'll have to go to the hospital.”

You frowned and shook your head vigorously.

“Don't want to? If so, you need to get a good night's sleep. When you wake up, you will definitely be better.”

You gently tugged on Zayne's arm, whispering: "So... Can I get special care from Dr. Zayne? That way I'll get better faster..."

He looked at you with smiling eyes then nodded. You shifted slightly to the opposite side of the bed, making room for him to lie next to you. He instructed. He said:

“Turn around. Then slightly bend your knees closer to your stomach.”

You did what he told you. Your back turned to him, and very soon, you felt the warmth from his body enveloping you.

Zayne embraced you from behind. One of his hands went under the pillow to lift your head up a bit, the other was placed on your stomach. His hand appeared to be large enough to cover your entire stomach. With a delicate touch, his hand began to travel in a circular rhythm on your lower belly.

At first, you felt ticklish and heated given the embarrassment caused by his touch. In addition, Zayne's steady breath was blowing on your hair from behind. He asked:

“Feeling better yet?”

"Yes." You replied softly. “Doctor Zayne's hand is so warm…”

You caught his quiet laughter. He pressed his body closer to you, while you just wanted to hide your face in the pillow. Then, you suddenly remembered what you had wanted to ask him just now:

“How did you know my period would start tonight? You even brought me tea.”

“Can you guess how?”

“Hmm… Let's see. You knew the exact date last month even though I didn't tell you about it... And the month before that too..."

Doctor Zayne allowed you to think about it for a minute. Zayne's knowledge of the days your menstrual cycle would start was most likely due to his perfect memory. Thinking about this, you turned around and his lips brushed your forehead.

"Eh…"

You froze for a second. Doctor Zayne gazed at you. He was so near that you forgot what you were about to say.

"You've got the answer yet?"

Your face became as crimson as the jujube tea. His breath danced over your cheeks as you responded:

“Um… I already knew the answer… Dr. Zayne is so busy, yet he still remembers my cycle?”

“I remember everything related to you.” Zayne spoke, his expression very serious and full of concern. You reluctantly turned aside.

"T-Thank you…"

You noticed Zayne's body pressing closer to yours. He buried his face in your hair and the nape of your neck, his hand continuing to rub your lower abdomen. He whispered:

“Get well soon. Although I hope that what makes you better is not painkillers or tea… but me…”

The corners of your mouth stretched out, smiling so widely that you could not close it. You grabbed his rough hand that was placed on your stomach and replied:

“Doctor Zayne has always been my elixir!”

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

The door to your room opened in the middle of the night, and Caleb emerged, blocking the entire entrance. He was holding a hot compress bag, a glass of milk, and sanitary pads.

"I'm here to rescue you, Pipsqueak."

Caleb turned on the nightlight to see your pale face and unkempt hair. You were writhing on the bed, in anguish from your period. You could only send him a text message with the strawberry emoji and a sobbing expression. He arrived at your bedside about five minutes later.

He assisted you up, gave you some painkillers, and then pressed the hot compress bag on your stomach. You frowned.

"Do you need to be so harsh with someone who is sick?"

"It's on you for not listening to me. Even though you knew you were about to start your period, you still had the urge to drink lots of cold drinks. You only listen to me when you're in pain?"

You grimaced and rolled over on the bed. Due to your sudden movement, you got cramps in your shoulder blades. You cried loudly for help. Caleb just sighed in helplessness. He helped you lie upright again and rubbed your shoulders.

“If I'm not here, who would you whine to?”

Since you knew Caleb was home, you texted him. However, you did not say anything after that. The anguish had utterly drained you. Caleb couldn't stand to torment you any longer after knowing about your situation. He leaned you on his lap and helped you sip your pain reliever and warm milk. The hand on your back kept rubbing you.

"Is it so painful? "Can you try to get some sleep?"

You replied by shaking your head. Caleb patted you some more. "Then I will stay here with you. Okay?"

This time you nodded. Caleb drew you closer. He removed the hot compress bag from your tummy and began rubbing it with his hand. All of a sudden, your childhood came back, when you had your period for the first time and Grandma was not home; there was only Caleb. Even though you had learnt in advance that all girls would have to go through her period every month, you were nevertheless terrified when it arrived. Fortunately, Caleb was by your side. He raced to get sanitary pads for you, poured hot tea, and helped you warm your hands and feet.

At that time, you were really timid. And perhaps from there you saw the differences between you and Caleb. Both of you were no longer innocent children. This unusual feeling also steadily grew since. 

"Lucky you're here…" You whispered, a hand softly tapped on Caleb's.

"Of course. I'm always by your side, pipsqueak." He responded, then lavished you with several delicate kisses on your hair.

"Caleb… Don't disappear, okay?"

Surprised, he said, "Where can I disappear to?I still have to comfort you with your favorite meals tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…" You instantly recalled having a date with Caleb at the amusement park. But this unexpected menstrual cycle ruined that plan. "I'm sorry…"

"No problem." Caleb stroked you on the head. “You can compensate me another day. For now, you just need to rest well.”

“But I still feel like it's my fault… It's been a while since you could have a day off, yet we can't go out…”

Caleb smiled gently. He tucked your loose hair behind your ear. When he looked into your eyes, he said:

“If you're bored, we can watch the series you like together tomorrow. Or play some games.”

Upon hearing that, your mood brightened a little. You loved spending with Caleb, whether it was a date outside or just hanging out at home. They all brought joy to you.

Caleb placed a kiss on your forehead. He went on:

“Don't think too much about it. Go to sleep now so you'll have the strength to bother me again tomorrow."

You laughed. Caleb was always such a teaser, but that was the reason why you were so happy around him.

Coaxing you for a while, when you started to fall into a deep sleep, Caleb whispered softly in your ear:

“Being able to come home and be with my pipsqueak, that's the best kind of vacation for me.”

[princessjojo-x]

8th House Synastry ✨

eight house rules sex, transformations, merged energies, deep attachments & bonding at the deepest level. this is a a highly intense, fated, addictive, intoxicating, sexual & sometimes frightening rxship. expect obsession, control, friendly competition & high physical attraction. the potency of this aspect can be felt the moment partners meet one another & will intensify the more partners get to know one another. but if partners can handle it, this connection can lead to a beautiful & long lasting rxship, with great learning & genuine devotion. the concept of soul mates being found in eighth house synastry can be true.

within this synastry, everything is felt too much & seems more intense; even a simple glance can send shivers down one’s spine, even small disputes will be hard to forgive & forget. partners will have the highest of highs together & the lowest of lows together. platonic or sexual, interactions with one another will have a very intense undertone. it can even be an enemies to lovers dynamic or a love/hate rxship that hurts so good. the connection becomes much deeper than partner’s anticipated. they planned to have a noncommittal & fun arrangement. but they suddenly want to have an official rxship & hate when that cant be fulfilled. it’s hard for partners to just be “cool” or “superficial” with each other.

if second house is self sufficiency, eight house is merging with someone else. within this emotionally deep rxship, there’s a depth that pervades the connection & binds the partners together, for better or worse. partners suddenly want to change their life path to align with the other. for example, changing their location or career just to be interlocked with one another. it can be so painful if the attraction isn’t mutual which can lead you to act in ways you never thought you’d act (stalking, love spells, extremely possessive behaviour). but if the attraction is mutual it can be one of the most beautiful & deepest rxships.

one subconsciously sees the other as a blessing delivery or redirection to their life, even if they’re being mistreated & the rxship is toxic. this aspect almost always involves blessings disguised in suffering, so it’s not best placement for synastry, unless its backed up by stronger & more grounded placements

it's in the darkness that we find the light & it's in the intensity of these rxships that we find our true selves. romantic or platonic, these rxships are often fated & transformative. their involvement with each other will drastically change both of them. they meet each other to teach each other a lesson they’ll never forget. even though the transformation process can be utterly harsh & traumatic, it produces a new & improved version them. similar to a major surgery, it fixes the problem within but definitely leaves a scar, so you remember the pain of the recovery process.

if second house is our self esteem, eight house is our weak spot. this is where our secrets reside so partners unknowingly uncover each others rawest layers. forget small talk & superfical relations. expect to unveil each-others deepest wounds, fears & desires. even if one is too scared of revealing themself, the other can read them like a book regardless. even if one is typically not the type to disclose their business, they will naturally share their whole life story with the other. partners will be able to open up completely & be understood in a way they never have before. partners bond by delving beneath the tip of the iceberg. but this can become their only point of attraction to one another, whilst their other basic needs for a rxship are not met. many people can't handle this synastry bc its so invasive & overwhelming. eight house governs the deep parts of ourselves that we want to keep hidden. when those parts are seen we feel vulnerable. partners know exactly what to say to either bring up or take down each other. this is an all or nothing rxship which flows deep enough to hurt or heal both partners. it will either cause everlasting love or everlasting trauma.

eight house governs our inner power. planet is able to easily see everything house is capable of. this breeds a rose coloured glasses effect. planet perceives house as more attractive, scary, important etc than house actually is. but this may cause planet to feel intimidated, threatened & jealous. planet’s envy of house provokes planet to gossip or betray house. on the other hand, planet may feel fascination & admiration for house. this causes planet to talk abt house a lot & this is where the infamous obsession comes from. planet may become obsessed with houses hidden side which prompts planet to cross a lot of houses boundaries. for example, planet going through houses phone or diary. when healthy, planet could have a desire to empower house or planet could feel more empowered around house. when unhealthy, planet feels powerless around house & wants to prove themselves to house. what the power struggle is abt depends on the planet. for example, venus causes a power struggle over who’s the most popular, beautiful, wealthy etc.

if second house is the sugar daddy, eight house is the sugar baby. partners may feel urged to give or gain from one another. it's advised to connect with someone you have this synastry with if they have a higher position than you professionally or materially so you can learn from them & gain from the rxship.

since this is such an intense connection, it is difficult for partners to leave each other completely. whenever partners try to move on, there is a sense of being haunted (which is amplified if accompanied by twelve house synastry). for example, you accidentally bump into their friends or family, you see their name eveywhere, you hear the songs they like, you find people with similar faces to them. being constantly reminded of them is why it’s so hard to let them go.

(virgo/libra/sag asc or aquarius placements)

Moon Conjunct 8th House

moon becomes fascinated & obsessed with house emotionally & sexually. moon needs to know everything abt house, including secrets which aren’t shared with anyone else. moon will even cross some boundaries to get this info. moon either doesn’t realise or doesn’t care abt how weird this behaviour may seem. despite house being attracted to moon too, house feels constantly analysed by moon. moon feels the need to spend a lot of time with house to know how they are or see if they need something. house senses the power they have over moon.

however, if there is no physical attraction between these partners or many other bad aspects elsewhere, this connection can become extremely annoying for partners. if these two become enemies there will be no boundaries when it comes to what they will do to take each other down.

moon can be scary obsessed with house & very controlling over how house expresses themselves. moon turns this obsession into a dislike, becoming houses biggest hater, competing with house, gossiping abt house, etc. this can be be very one sided on moons part.

whether they are lovers or enemies, there is no denying house provoke something so intense within moon & moon feels deep emotions when in the company of house. partners always feel what the other feels.

there is always a fear of vulnerability from both partners within this synastry.

(aquarius moon or virgo asc)

Venus Conjunct 8th House

there is a lot of feminine energy & themes here unlike ‘mars conjunct eight house’. this means manipulation, guilt trips, pettiness & emotional outburst will occur frequently. expect strong possession & obsession too, which will be amplified beyond belief if venus is insecure in any way.

venus embodies pluto traits & behaves more tense. house will protect venus from the world. there is a mystery surrounding house that venus can't seem to wrap their head around.

there may be a lot of secrets shared or a lot of secrets kept in this rxship. the rxship may remain a secret from the public eye.

the sex will not be the “one-night stand” type. it will be emotionally deep, affecting both partners.

(aquarius venus or libra asc)

Mars Conjunct 8th House

theres a lot more masculine themes & energy here compared to ‘venus conjunct eighth house’. no matter how airy or earthy mars may be… mars feels very thrilled by house & feels a sense of urgency to conquer house. mars feels compelled to bond & merge with house on every level bc they view house as their guilty pleasure. mars finds themselves constantly observing & intensely infatuated by house in a scorpion way. mars often expresses random & intense bursts of needing to physically touch or be in close reach to house. mars can take on a very intense energy around house that others will pick up on but the sheer depth is something that’ll always only exists between the two partners. convos between the two are very 1 on 1, even with people around them. initially, house feels scared & timid towards mars since mars has such a straightforward, pushy, dominant & rushing approach. house needs to see progress before completely losing their restraint & expressing their feelings. however, house simultaneously feels extremely sexy, mesmerised & aroused by mars’s raw desire. house can read mars very well. mars may provide for house. mars doesn’t forget abt house easily bc house changes mars’s life. rxship may be difficult to end bc mars will be persistent in continuing the rxship.

s3xual tension between partners is powerful & even others can feel it. this can cause partners operating more on instincts & lacking awareness of basic emotions. theres a strong need for physical intimacy & touch. for example, gentle touching or outright fighting. s3x if ever allowed can easily become addictive. partners have s3x like the world is going to end, possibly in forbidden places or secret spots. the s3x involves a lot of teasing, power plays, helping each other masturbate & holding each other as close as possible. s3x is use as an escape or release of stress. s3xually mars takes on a aggressive & passionate role whilst house can become very wild.

since this is the house of taboo, the attraction may be wrong in some way & the rxship feels forbidden even if it’s not. it may be a secretive dynamic where nobody knows they’re together or people wouldn’t expect them to be together.

despite partners feeling intrigued & excited for each other, there’s possibility of heavy feelings (frustration) for one another. one day they love each other, the next day they want to avoid each other. traumas can show through this rxship, like deep talks at night or triggering each others deep wounds. they like to pull each other, but neither takes the bait.

(libra asc or aqua mars)

[worldlxvlys]

can we PLEASE get a part 2 to obessed

obsessed (part 2)

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, grinding, fingering, degradation

a/n: bye why am i insane 😭

previous part

she’s driving me crazy.

i told her she could sleep here, not wanting her to leave.

i gave her one of my t-shirts to sleep in, which fit her like a dress.

she opted not to wear any pants, the shirt covering her sufficiently.

when she walked back into my room in the shirt, it took everything for me not to pull her onto my face and tell her to ride it.

she bent over to look through her bag for something, making my eyes widen.

my mouth hung open as the curve of her ass cheek and the string of her panties came into view.

yeah, the string. she was wearing a thong, if you could even call it that.

i let out a groan at the sight, quickly covering it up with a fake cough.

“you good?” she asked as she retrieved what she needed and made her way over to me.

“um, yeah” i cleared my throat, adjusting my boxers to hide my growing bulge.

she raised her arms, stretching them before climbing onto the bed.

the action caused the shirt to ride up her thighs, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the newly exposed skin.

she has to know what she’s doing.

before i could stop myself, i grabbed her waist and pulled her onto my lap.

“chris” she yelped out in surprise as my clothed dick rubbed against her poorly-covered pussy.

her eyes widened in shock, but she immediately moved her hips against my lap.

realizing what i had done, i quickly spoke, “fuck, i’m sorry i-” i cut myself off when she grabbed my hands and placed them under her shirt, onto her bare ass.

“don’t apologize, you shouldn’t have started something you couldn’t finish” she spoke firmly as her hips rolled into mine quickly.

“tell me, chris. do you always sleep in just your boxers? or did you just feel like being a little slut cause i’m here?” she asked, her hands running down my chest.

her words alone pushed me to the edge, my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

my hips shook underneath her, a wet spot forming on my boxers.

it was embarrassing how quickly i finished, but i couldn’t help it.

the way she spoke down to me and took complete control sent me into a frenzy.

she seems so innocent and sweet, but in bed ? she’s a completely different person. it excited me to know that nobody else got to see this side of her.

“did you just finish, baby?” she asked as she leaned forward, nipping my earlobe.

i nodded my head quickly, my mouth hanging open.

“so fast, do you like seeing me like this?” she asked as she continued to grind herself on my overstimulated dick.

“fuck yes” i whimpered out, my brows furrowing.

her head fell back as she brought her hands under her shirt, playing with her boobs.

she was giving me everything and nothing at the same time. the way she managed to pleasure us both without taking off any clothes was driving me insane.

i wanted to watch her tits jiggle while she used me to get herself off.

i wanted to see the arousal that covered her pussy drip onto my boxers. i’m sure she knew that, she was teasing me on purpose.

“hmmm, i’m so close chris” she moaned out.

i gripped her plump ass firmly, squeezing it as i pushed her to move faster against me.

she reached for one of my hands, moving it under her shirt and placing it on her clit.

“ohhhh my fuck” i moaned as i felt her slick coat my hand.

she rocked her hips against my hand, desperately chasing her high.

not able to help myself, i slid my finger down to her entrance, pushing it inside.

“fuck, chris! oh my god!” she squealed as her head fell onto my shoulder.

i needed to know what it felt like to have her velvety walls squeeze me.

me eyes rolled back when she clenched around my finger, my mind being corrupted with thoughts of what it would feel like if my cock was inside of her instead.

“chris i’m so close, don’t fucking stop” she whined out, her face scrunching up in pleasure.

i curled my finger inside of her, brushing the spongy tissue of her g-spot.

she dug her nails into my back, dragging them down as i continued to fuck her with my fingers.

suddenly, she began to shake on top of me as she cried out. she released on my fingers as i worked her through her orgasm.

she let out a shakey breath when i pulled my finger out of her as her body relaxed into mine.

the remnants of her last orgasm coated my boxers, making me let out a quiet moan at the feeling.

without hesitation, she swiped her fingers against my boxers, making me shudder as she collected her arousal on her fingers.

“taste” she said before putting her fingers in my mouth.

i eagerly swirled my tongue around her fingers, collecting every drop of her essence off of them.

she moved her fingers out of my mouth, staring at me with her mouth slightly open.

“more” i spoke, watching as her eyes widened slightly.

she kept eye contact with me, moving her face towards my crotch.

my breath hitched as she ran her tongue along my boxers, licking up the rest of her slick.

she brought her mouth back up to my face, and crashed her lips into mine.

i moaned into the kiss as her tongue danced along mine, letting me taste her.

her hands found their way to my hair, her nails scratching my scalp.

my hands found their way under her shirt, gliding over her chest and stomach.

when we pulled away, she bit my lip slightly, eliciting a deep groan from me.

we stared at each other, mouths open and eyes wide as we took in each others fucked out appearances.

her hair was a mess, eyelids drooping slightly and lips swollen.

“well this is fucked” i breathed out, not even thinking before i started talking.

“what? why?” she asked.

“i don’t know if i can just pretend that this didn’t happen” i said.

“who said we were pretending like this didn’t happen?” she asked as her hand went down to my boxers.

she pulled on the waistband, letting it snap back against my skin, making me groan out.

“trust me, baby. when i’m done with you, you won’t be able to forget about this”

🌷🌷🌷🌷

masterlist

tag list: : @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @heraakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

[slvttyplum]

ʚɞ Locked in | Nanami Kento

Synopsis: Things get steamy when you and your coworker Nanami get stuck in the office.

Contents: Brat taming, smut, just steamy smut.

This was a collaboration with @shrimparmy

The last thing you wanted to do was spend Friday night at the office, but here you are. 

Your team packed up and hauled off half an hour ago, leaving you and Nanami Kento to wrap up the finishing touches on a project that would be due come Monday. As co-leads of your department, the responsibility fell on you both to ensure everything was ready for the big launch. 

In most cases, it would be an annoyance, sure, but your current situation was much worse. Nanami Kento was the reason for your migraines. He had his own way of doing things that coincidentally always clashed with yours. And the most irksome thing? He was usually right.

You push away from the table and rub your tired eyes. Blinking once, then twice, you scan the laptop screen incredulously. 

“Nanami…”, you alert the blond man sitting across from you, making him startle from his intense focus on a stack of files. “I think we’re finally done”.

“You submitted the final documents?”, he asks with his brow raised, certainly in disbelief of your claim.

You nod.

“The test run was clean?”

You nod. 

“You—“

“Yes!”, you huff. “The docs, the test run, the protocols, the models—everything, Nanami. It’s all there”.

He silently nods, then removes his glasses to clean them. 

You frown, “Not even a ‘thank you’?”

“What exactly should I be thanking you for?”

The nerve of him. The project would have both of your necks on the line, and for once—just this once—you felt Nanami and you were making progress. Through the work of sheer luck, you’d gotten on well enough to finish the project without a hitch. 

You swore it was thanks to your hard work. 

Nanami said it was all his doing.

“Would it kill you to admit I’m good at my job, Nanami?”, you cross your arms over your chest only to catch Nanami glancing at the cleavage peeking out from under the undone top button of your blouse.

He flicks his eyes up to yours, casually, smoothly enough that you question if he was really checking you out. But you know. Because it wasn’t the first time you caught Nanami Kento’s lingering stare. 

His eyes grazed your legs when you crossed them, feeling fidgety and restless during long meetings. He watched how you bit the tip of your pen while deep in thought, smudging the plastic with your lipstick, and he wanted desperately to see those pretty lips around something else. If you had eyes on the back of your head, you’d see him staring at your curvy ass in the tight pencil skirt you wore last week while you presented the pitch for your next project. 

“I suppose the work you do is sufficient for your role”, he says finally.

You scoff and roll your eyes, “Sufficient? Really? That’s it?”

“You possess the skills necessary…”

“Great”, you spit out the word like something bitter and close your laptop. “I’m going home and you, Nanami Kento, can go to hell”. 

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you stomp to the frosted glass door of the conference room and—

—it won’t budge. You try again, forcefully this time, to pull down the cold metal handle, but it’s stuck. Prying it up doesn’t work, wiggling it doesn’t work, nothing seems to work and your nerves are wearing thin.

“God damnit!”, you growl and stamp your foot. So much for your dramatic exit and snarky one-liner. “Nanami, help me open this fucking door”.

For a second he hesitates, briefly thinking of a smart-assed retort about being too busy going to hell and all, but remains quiet and walks over to you. 

With force, Nanami attempts to open the door. The veins in his hands and arms begin to bulge under his skin, and his jaw tenses more with each pull of the handle. The metal frame begin to creak, so you stop him before the two of you end up having to explain to your boss why the conference room door is lying on the floor off its hinges. 

“Nanami”, you set a hand on his arm. Touching him for the first time ever feels foreign and decidedly intrusive, but not at all wrong. “It’s no use… it’s jammed”.

You shrug and try to lighten the mood, “It’s no big deal, right? The custodians will breeze through any minute, I’m sure”.

Nanami smoothes back the strands of blond that have fallen forward and frame his angular face. “I’m afraid not. Custodial doesn’t come until tomorrow morning”.

***

You both look down at the same time to where your hand rests on his arm, on the space where his sleeves are rolled up so his muscular forearms are exposed. God, you really hate when he does that. Whenever he loosens his tie or rolls up his sleeves and all your attention is drawn to his neck and his arms and you feel that warmth spreading through your thighs, that pulse that beats against your core, against your will. 

You blurt out “Sorry”, a bit more abruptly than you intended, making Nanami smirk. 

Your usual spit-fire temper seemed to dwindle by the second in the midst of this dilemma. Perceptive as usual, Nanami took note of the blush creeping across your cheeks. 

“You and I could get along, you know. If it wasn’t for your attitude”. The off-handed manner that he says it makes your blood boil, with the same cool confidence you always saw in the office. 

“You think you know me, but don’t know shit, Nanami”.

As much as you loathed to admit it, his authoritative demeanor did something to you. Nanami was the boss for a reason; he talked and people listened. He directed and they obeyed. 

“Personally, no, I don’t know you. But I know the signs…”, Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his full lips drew into a calculated smirk, “of someone who needs to be taught a lesson”.

Your mouth going dry and your breath hitching, your mind going blank as you step back and your ass hits the desk. Nanami puts his hand on your hip and leans down closer to your ear. 

“You have five seconds to tell me to stop, otherwise…” Nanami doesn’t finish his sentence and leans down further and whispers something inaudible before pressing his soft lips against yours. 

The action takes you a second to get adjusted to but you still decided to kiss him back, for some reason it didn’t make you feel disgusted. His lips moving with yours in sync and his cologne and minty breath filling your nose making your eyes flutter close. 

Nanami’s other hand come up to your hips then both of them going down then back up to grab your ass. His mouth sloppily going down to kiss your jaw then your bare neck. 

His lips and tongue sending shivers down your spine, your hands coming up to grab his shoulders, and his hands going to scoop your ass then down the back of your thighs picking you up. 

“You taste so good. I need more of you.” He says, his voice low. He licks one last stripe on your neck before placing you on the desk and getting on his knees, close enough to your core that you can feel his warm breath.

Nanami lifts up your skirt and reaches up to the hem of your panties and quickly pulls them down, not caring enough to fully pull them off so they’re left to hang around your ankle. 

A little bit of sense is left in you when you slap his hand away and gulp, clenching your legs closed. His eyebrows furrowed at the sudden change in behavior. 

“What? Talk to me.” He puts his arms on both sides of you, pushing against you so you feel the bulge pushing out of his pants rubbing against your thigh. 

Indignantly, you cross your arms. “This isn’t right, so just stop.” 

Nanami scoffs, gripping the bottom of the desk and licks the bottom of his lip briefly. “You want this, let’s not play childish games.” 

And with that, everything fell through.

His hands reaching up to your thighs and gripping your flesh as he spreads them before leaning in and placing a stripe down your wet aching core. 

The sensation sent full tingles erupting throughout you, it felt like someone put numbing cream all around your body; the way his warm saliva came into contact with your skin made your eyes roll back.

His fingertips digging into your thigh as his tongue slips between your folds a couple of times before he licks your clit. A moan slipping out of your mouth and your hand rising up then down to grab onto his hair. 

Little hums coming out of Nanami’s mouth as he continues to lick and slurp on your now dripping core. He could not get enough, the way your cunt reacted every time he licked made his pants tighten. 

He removes his hands from your thighs, puts them up to your core and takes one finger from each hand to spread out your folds and takes one big stripe. 

“Fuck…” Is all that came out of your mouth and other hushed moans as he continues to lick. There was something so sweet about how you tasted, he could devour you for hours, but he wanted something more from you.

Your knees try to collide but it’s impossible when you feel this good. Nanami removes his finger from holding open your folds and slowly slides his middle finger inside of your tight entrance. 

“Wait, wait”, you pant, but Nanami doesn’t listen and continues to push his thick finger inside of your wet pussy. Your walls clenching and pulsing around him, his finger slowly slides back out before fully pushing it inside of you again. 

Another moan slides past your lips and your head is thrown back from the overwhelming amount of pleasure being put on you. You moan up toward the ugly drop-ceiling dotted with the buzzing fluorescent lights as he pumps his finger inside of you, and the realization that Nanami is eating your pussy right in the office hits you like a truck. But it matters less and less because you’re only getting wetter and needier when he slides another finger inside of you and slowly licks your clit with broad strokes of his tongue.

A large lump forms in your throat from the moans you were holding in, making it feel like you were going to burst any minute—and you were right, you were going to burst—but not in the way you thought. 

His fingers continuously pump in and out of you with great speed as you try not to shake or collapse from how good you feel. One final moan and you let out a series of whimpers and your eyes squeeze shut. 

Nanami rises from his kneeling position at your dripping pussy and before you could even say anything, he pulls your arm and snatches you off the desk to bend you over. 

You’re still in a state of high from finishing, but you realize what he’s doing and you let him. More than anything, you need him inside you and by the way he’s pushing your legs apart with his and holding the small of your back down with his large hands, you know he wants it just as much. 

“I’ve been wanting to do this… for so long.” He’s practically panting by now, breath heavy and laced with arousal. “… been wanting to give you what you need”.

“Please, Nanami”

And with that Nanami quickly unbuckles his belt and pulls down his pants along with his briefs. His dick springs out and he puts a hand on your ass, giving it a grip then another on the base of his dick. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” You can almost hear the self-satisfied smirk in his words. 

Lining himself up with your entrance, he slowly slides himself in. A long drawn out moan escapes his mouth and the same for yours. He’s pumping so slow, so sweetly at first, rewarding you with the his cock filling the space within you so perfectly. Your hands grip the desk as he slides out of you again then back into you again forcefully. 

Nanami places his other hand on your other cheek and sinks his fingers into the supple flesh as his pace gets faster, little murmurs and moans sliding past his lips. 

He couldn’t comprehend how good he felt, his body was heating up each second and his heart was beating outside his chest. If he didn’t want to cum right that second then he had to hold himself back. 

With that he takes his hand off your ass and quickly unbuttons his shirt the best he could with one hand to cool down, exposing his chiseled chest and tight abs that flex every time he sinks his girth into you. He never stops or turns sloppy, his pace is steady and the tip of his dick presses against your sweet spot every time. 

The sound of your flesh colliding with his makes your head fuzzy. It’s almost as if it were a dream—surely not something that could be happening in real life, but every time he shoves his dick into you, every time your pussy makes wet sounds for him, you’re brought right back to reality. 

The way your hands grip the desk, you could feel them going numb. Your knees buckling and your mind hazing out, it was like you were on the edge of a cliff about to go sky diving, high off so much adrenaline that you’d do anything.

“You like it, tell me you like it.” There was no question in his tone, more of a statement he was letting you know, because he fucking loved it. 

He loves how your wet pussy slides on his hard length with ease and every time he slams into you, your walls clamp around him and the way your ass ripples whenever he pushes you into the desk; it was perfect. 

At the height of it all, drunk off the pleasure being fucked into you, you start fucking him back and try to move yourself on his length but your climax sends your knees buckling. Nanami takes notice and places a firm grip on your hip, holding you in case your legs give out. 

“I love it.” Your words drip out like honey and with that Nanami throws his head back, incapable of holding back a second more. You’re right there with him, eyes squinting shut while the curses leaving his lips bless your ears like a sermon.

Quickly sliding out of you and slotting his shaft between the soft, supple cheeks of your ass, his body convulses against you at the same moment his warm liquid oozes past his tip and into the arch in your back. 

“I love you.”