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judeschoices · 2 months

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In This Moment

It's been a struggle to write anything Choices-related. Quite honestly, I don't have many books I like. The Deadliest Game though... me likey. Sue me.

I claimed Jun Seong as my husband, waiting every Friday to see this man's face. So I tried to write something about him.

Book: The Deadliest Game

Pairing: Jude Thorn x Jun Seong (Black M!MC)

Rating: Mature

Tag(s): Budding Romance, Mentioned Main Character Death, Suggestive Themes

Summary: Jun was the type of person whose mind is always working. As a bodyguard, he had to be on guard. He had to be vigilant. He knows that all it takes is one second and everything can change. There was no real space in his life to relax and well... have a much of a normal life. At first, he didn't mind. He knew what he was signing up for when he became a bodyguard. And it wasn't like he had his eye on anyone special... until he met his boss's childhood best friend, Jude Thorn.

Jun wasn't the type of man known to relax. Ever since he was a young boy, he always kept busy. From his studies to helping his parents take care of his little sisters, Jun was always doing something that meant productivity. In a way, it meant he stuck to himself most of the time. Not really one for parties or popular social events, Jun found the company of "me, myself, and I" to be enough for him.

He was mainly known as stoic. Kind, polite, but in many ways, a little difficult to read.

It's rare to see the man caught off guard or flustered... something that seemed to happen with increasing frequency ever since meeting Nick's childhood best friend, Jude Thorn. The murder mystery author Nick always fondly spoke of. Nick had a collection of his books in his house, even reading his latest release at least four times before he died.

Their first meeting was orchestrated by one idiot tech bro and Jun's former employer, Steve Bashir. After catching and bringing the young man into the circle of his arms to prevent him from taking an impromptu dip in Nick's pool, Jun was secretly taken by surprise when those deep brown eyes met his. Nick had last seen his best friend two years prior, right before he hired Jun as his bodyguard. So Jun never met Nick's childhood friend in person before and their monthly Zoom calls were usually done when Jun wasn't around.

Granted, Jun could've utilized the internet to see what the mystery author looked like... but if Jun was honest, he doesn't think that any online photos would do Jude justice.

Jude was a few inches shorter than Jun's 6'2 height, probably 5'9 to 5'10 if he had to guess. The young man had flawless dark skin, dark low buzzed cut hair, gently chiseled facial features, thick softly arched brows, long dark lashes that framed his deep brown eyes, a straight flat nose, and full soft lips. The author had a build that Jun would've expected from someone who sits at a desk and writes for a living, a bit on the thin side but he still felt the lean muscles through the man's suit.

To make a long assessment of the mysterious writer short... Jun had eyes, and he could clearly see that Jude was a very handsome man. Jun, who was normally attracted to women, found the feeling odd but... not unwelcoming.

And that feeling only grew as he slowly discovered that Jude was more than a pretty face. Jun spent a lot of time around self-entitled, selfish, and mean-spirited millionaires and billionaires. Save a few people, like his boss and his friends (well... some of them). But Jude was a breath of fresh air in the million-dollar mansion.

Jude grew up with Nick. While his best friend grew up to be a self-made man with wealth that could easily support his great-great-great grandchildren, Jude was still considered "midlist" at best, according to him at least. But that was the thing.

Jude was humble, he kept Nick humble.

Whether he knew it or not, Nick was always deeply influenced by the other. He helped Nick remain one of the purer individuals of the upper crest. While Jun preferred to keep things strictly professional, he could admit that he saw Nick as a friend. A friend who cared about him and his well-being, no matter how often he insisted that he was fine.

He could see that in Jude as well...

After finding Nick's body and finalizing that his death wasn't a suicide but a murder, Jude was the one trying to gain justice for his best friend. While doing his best to catch the killer before they took the lives of the ones Nick cared about (Jun still scratches his head over how he and Steve even became friends quite honestly...), even when they aren't too fond of him or his efforts.

It's that big heart that Jun admired the most about the mystery author, amongst other things. His cheekiness, patience, witty sarcasm, intellect...

Jun could feel himself falling for him a little by little. With each private moment with each other, Jun never felt concerned with what was next time or reflecting on the past choices that led them to a certain in their investigation... all he could focus on was Jude.

Even when he, Farah, and Dante stumbled upon Jude standing over Medhani's body, his feelings didn't change. Even when they soon discovered that Nick's time of death was earlier than they originally believed and that Jude himself didn't have an alibi, his feelings didn't change. As Jun sat next to the bone-weary man, he knew that in his gut, in his heart, that Jude wasn't the one behind the murders.

He trusted Jude... and Jude trusted him. He could see it in those dark depths... as well as his quiet desire for him.

Not Dante.

Not Farah.

Him.

Jun Seong, the hardass bodyguard who has walls that could rival the Great Wall of China. Jun Seong... who was still a man at the end of the day. A man suddenly weakened by desire at the sight of the author in a tight black tank top and dark red track shorts, which was the author's sleep attire. Jun felt possessed by the simple need to know...

Just what pleasures, both simple and erotic, could he discover from the man sitting just mere inches away from him? Judging by the look in Jude's eyes, Jun could have it all if he just said the word.

"Jun..." The bodyguard couldn't resist the shiver that made its way down his spine. He secretly loved hearing the author speak. He had a low voice, a sweet smooth timbre that rang pleasantly in his eardrums. He loved how his name sounded from those plush-looking lips.

"Jude...I..." Jun couldn't resist anymore. Not here, where it's just him and Jude in the private, quiet space of his room. Jun leaned in, moving slowly to give the mystery author enough time to pull away. Much to his silent delight, Jude tilted his head to sweetly accept his kiss.

Jun has privately daydreamed about this moment, but reality proved to be so much sweeter. Jude's lips were soft and submissive, accepting everything Jun had to offer and more. He gently took ahold of the smaller man's head, tilting up to deepen the kiss. Those long slender fingers ghosted over his shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Jun gently bit Jude's bottom lip before pulling away a bit. Jun couldn't help but savor the flushed look on the dark-skinned man's face with greedy eyes.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while now..." Jude slowly blinked as if he was coming back to himself. The author let out a soft chuckle, warming Jun up from the inside out.

"How long," Jude quietly asked. Jun allowed himself to lightly run a finger along Jude's jawline, watching with darkened eyes as those soft lips parted. When he spoke next, his voice came out an octave longer, skirting just on the edge of a growl.

"I think I knew I was hoping for it the night Dante threw that party. But thinking back... since the moment I met you..." Jude's eyes widened in brief surprise before lowering, a coy smile tugging on his mouth.

"Then I think you should kiss me again," he whispered, leaning in again. He gasped when Jun leaned in, gently guiding him on his back as the bodyguard hovered above him. Jun wrapped a muscular arm around his slim waist, pressing him against his naked chest. Jun brushed a faint kiss to his lips, whispering,

"Like this?" Jude bit his lip, his arms finding a comfortable perch around Jun's broad shoulders as his legs parted for Jun to lay on him more comfortably.

"Yes..." Jun didn't need any more prompting, returning to those soft lips with a quiet sigh. The author relaxed in his arms, accepting his kiss with a soft moan. Jude tightened his hold on Jun's hips with his thighs, silently demanding that Jun come closer. A low groan escaped him, his large hands finding smooth dark thighs, squeezing and caressing them in reverence. He was a fool for thinking he could keep away from such a man. He was a fool for waiting this long to experience this level of intimacy with him. Jude was just so perfect.

Jude playfully nipped Jun's lip, bringing him from his thoughts.

"Jude..." The writer silenced him with another kiss, one of his hands finding their way into his hair while its twin made its way down to his chest to rest over his heart.

"Just be with me in this moment, Jun," Jude whispered. His lips found the rough stubble of Jun's growing bread of his jaw before teasing a line of teasing kisses along the strong cords of the bodyguard's neck. The shudder that ripped through the muscular body on top of him made the writer grin. A needy groan escaped Jun when he felt those full lips softly suck on his neck. The slow attention was causing blood to rush in between his legs, his slowly awakening arousal twitching against Jude's inner thigh through the soft material of his pajama pants. It was taking everything in his control not to roll his hips against the heat of the warmth of those soft thighs.

"Good God, Jude," Jun moaned when he felt Jude's teeth leave a teasing bite on the same spot. Jude chuckled, returning to Jun's moaning mouth for another kiss. The kiss immediately turned heated and full lips parted, allowing their tongues to twist and dance between the gap. Jun allowed himself to grow a bit bold, reaching behind the writer to squeeze his ass. Jude let out a moan, arching back into the bodyguard's touch.

"I love seeing you like this," he whispered almost drunkenly against Jun's lips. Jun could only imagine how he looked to the other man. Tousled hair, darkened eyes, kiss-swollen lips, and a flushed complexion. Jun let out a husky chuckle, pecking the other man's lips, lingering for a few moments before slowly pulling away.

"I'm sure. But it's been a long day and tomorrow is gonna be an even longer day. It's best we get some shut-eye." Jude bit his lip, giving a slow nod.

"You're right. I... I could spend the night here if you'd like," Jude offered. Jun raised a brow at the suddenly shy author, before standing over him.

"Jun- whoa!" Jude's question died on his lips when he lifted up by his thighs, his legs coming around Jun's waist. The mystery writer laughed, wrapping his arms around the former Green Beret's neck.

"God, you make that look so easy. And hot," Jude purred, kissing Jun's cheek. The other man chuckled.

"What's the point of being a bodyguard if you can't sweep someone off their feet every once a while," he teased, walking to his pristine made bed. Jude gave a playful grin.

"Fair point... just don't drop me." Jun leaned in, his lips brushing against Jude's ear.

"Wouldn't dream of it." His voice came out a hint of a husky growl, causing the body in his arms to shudder pleasantly. Jun couldn't help but chuckle, setting the smaller man down when they reached his bed. The pair silently slipped under the sheets, Jude leaning into Jun's embrace.

"Are you okay," Jun quietly asked. Jude gave a small shrug, leaning against Jun's naked chest.

"No. But I'm alive," Jude whispered. The arms around him tightened.

"I'll do everything in my power to keep it that way. Get some sleep, Jude. I'm here." The writer let out a content sigh.

"Thank you, Jun... sweet dreams..." A soft kiss was placed on Jude's neck before Jun felt sleep creep up on him.

'Trust me, I don't think my dreams can top this night, Jude.'

#choices #choices fanfic #the deadliest game #the deadliest game choices #jun seong #jude thorn #jun seong x jude thorn

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arvandus · 3 years

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Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY! 1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it. Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught. Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

All of the above?

All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire. Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name. The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

Like his hands. You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight. They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand. They were a thing to be feared and avoided. But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like? You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

Or his lips. They were always covered by his mask. You never, ever saw him without it. You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin. Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive. Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

You bet that part of him was soft too.

The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes. They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes. But they lacked the warmth of Heaven. Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore. Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.

He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own. That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing. Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization. You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates. No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

First impressions were everything to Kai. Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion. As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again. You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips. After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster. And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

The message he sent was clear: adapt or die. When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

So, you adapted. As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path. The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad. Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him. But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either. Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often. But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it. And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth. But it was just a job, right? You didn’t need warmth.

So why did you feel so dissatisfied? Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

You craved his attention. It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care. To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction. The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust. They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were. It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.” You wanted him. At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse. After all, this was Overhaul. Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain. It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.

You began to act different in front of him. Nothing too obvious, of course. After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all. All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance. You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes. Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings. In the end though, it made no difference. There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside. It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening. Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone. No papers remained on his desk. His gloves and plague mask were gone. With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood. It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints. You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution. No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

You should have just left it at that. But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

That should have been your first clue.

But your mental alarms never sounded. Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right? Left for the evening. What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit? With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

That should have been your second clue.

But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment. You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes. It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot. Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded. What if those were his fingers? The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more. You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it. Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here of all places. But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations. After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it. And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him. Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

And dear God, did you need it. You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties. Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He was gone, right? And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left. He’d be none the wiser.

Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get. You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in. A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart. In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill. It felt so fucking good. The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat. You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

“Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic. You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

FUCK. Of course. You forgot to check outside. He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You hadn’t heard him enter. How long had he been standing there??

“I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask. His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

“Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

“I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing. His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

“Look at you...” he grumbled. “Disgusting.”

His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression. His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

He was going to kill you. You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less. But you weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to die.

You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare. “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

“Overhaul.”

“Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect?” he sneered. “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him. You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence. He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.

“Clean it up.”

With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.

You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather. Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame. His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you. It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge. He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

Not that you’d try to. You knew better.

When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.

It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life. But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I was just...” you stammered.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

You swallowed and set down the trashcan. He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you. Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head. You stopped breathing.

There was something... electric in the air. You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps. His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face. Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely. Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released. After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes. The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra. Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier. You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

Hope.

Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in. “Follow me.”

Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair. Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

“Sit.”

Confusion.

“W-What??” you stuttered.

“I said sit.” He replied.

You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt. You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you. His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

“Continue.” He stated.

“What? What do you mean?” you asked.

His eyes stared at you knowingly. “You didn’t get to cum, did you?” You shook your head, stunned at his words. “Continue.” He repeated.

“Right here?”

“Where else? It was good enough for you earlier.” His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed. “Continue.”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction. So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access. Chisaki didn’t look down. Not right away, at least. Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent. With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you. It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening. You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.

Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to. You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers. It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened. Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat. Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him. You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel. You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him. Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build. It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat. But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least. You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal. Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge. You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat. Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths. Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum. You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit. The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure. Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants. Was he trying to hide it? Because he was failing. Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

“Again.” He ordered.

Your eyes bulged. “Again?”

He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently. You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight. He wanted you to do it again?

At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired. But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you. No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing. It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare. Do it again and see what happens.

Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb. Except for your clit. That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core. With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips. It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it. Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki. Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length. You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly. It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.

You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you. With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith. You wanted it. You wanted to cum so badly. But you wanted to see him even more. So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts. You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered. With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips. The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down. You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum. Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.

He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

“Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes. Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter. He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand. Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him. You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask. Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you. It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

It was the push your sensitive body needed. You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first. Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure. With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

You were given no respite. As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

“Again.”

Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity. You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation. It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out. “B-But... I can’t....”

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly. He was smirking at you. Cruelly.

“You can, and you will.” He said. A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings. “Again.” He repeated.

Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes. You stared at the exposed skin in awe. It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed. Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine. Maybe… maybe if you were good…

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit. Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily. Watching him masturbate to you was delicious. He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light. You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger? Maybe both?

You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand. The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to. It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

He continued his strokes, slow and easy. Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him. His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need. It was happening... he was going to cum...

But he never did. Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

Maybe he was waiting for you. Or maybe he had his own agenda. But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

The hypocrite.

Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.

It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation. The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him. You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

“Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged. Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours. Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

Chisaki froze mid-stroke. “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

“Please,” You begged. “Don’t you want to?”

His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before. After all, what you were asking was no small order. You knew how he felt about touch. No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

But that was why you begged. And pleaded. And groveled. Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

“Please...” you whined one last time. “I’ll do anything. I need you, Kai...”

Something about you using his given name did something. His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck. Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat. You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie. He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable. He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence. Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

You waited.

“Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you. Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

“So fucking filthy.” He breathed. The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

“...And needy.” He added.

From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch. But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about. Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

“I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself. His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

You were pathetic. But you didn’t care. You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you. And if he wanted you to beg? To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock? You’d do that too.

His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning. A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first. So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.” He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous. It made you want to cry. You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

But it never came. And his hand never ventured further. Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak. Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words. “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

Chisaki tsked. “You’re afraid. Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk. The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

“Kai!” you protested.

He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered. “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before. Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there. But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade. Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand. His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow. Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between. And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast. His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return. You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft. The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

The temptation was too much. He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust. Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles. With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting. You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore. You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls. His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face. It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic. Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore. But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth. Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

“Shut up.” He growled.

You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him. And it didn’t matter to you either. You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast. All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint. That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

“This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

“So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.” His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted. It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock. Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls. It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep. But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling. Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up. Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

But he never did. Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock. You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state. A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

But he never did that either. Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance. Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes... His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth. It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected. The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

Whatever it was, it was short-lived. He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips. And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow. No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his. But you were quickly learning you couldn’t. His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left. And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?

The sun could never be controlled.

And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Again.”

#overhaul x reader #Kai Chisaki x reader #overhaul smut #mha smut #bnha smut #tw:bondage #tw:masturbation #tw:degradation #tw:overstimulation #tw:aggression #bnharem collab

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thebountyfucker · 3 years

Text

Cad Bane NSFW Alphabet

The format is from Din Djarin (SFW + NSFW 18+ Alphabet Combo) by ChicanaStardust

18+ ONLY - NSFW

Here's my masterpost

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) Aftercare? What's aftercare? Cad is not an emotion-driven person. Aftercare for him would mainly include offering a towel to clean up and maybe offering his shower if you were especially messy. It would be quite rare for Cad to submit to cuddling.

B= Body part (What’s their favourite body part on themselves, and their partner?) Cad is not vain in that sense - he definitely enjoys strutting around and having people know how good he is. However, this vanity is driven by his skills rather than his looks. Cad couldn't give two shits about what his body looks like. (But take his hat and your a dead person) I think Cad's an ass man through and through.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically) Cad would cum anywhere he damn pleased - mostly face, chest, back, or ass. He would cum in his partner as well but that usually occurs when he and his partner don't have time to clean up. Duros' cum more than humans, but can only really orgasm once in a session.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) & Dirty secret (self-explanatory) Cad? Settling down? No. He'd either retire alone or be killed before he settled down with a partner and family. It's just not who he is. He can cook, but he is not great at it and he usually eats pre-made food. He can clean, but is often pretty busy. Cad's interest in Jango was more than rivalry based. They may have been involved before Jango's death.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Cad is experienced. He's a flirt, though not it a cute way - in a rather intimidating, 'this man has power' way. He's slept around a lot and as such, knows how to please a multitude of partners.

F = Fiancé (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) Cad does not commit to anything other than jobs, and even then he could be convinced to betray an employer for extra coin. He would also never marry.

G = Goofy (are they the serious type or more humorous?) Cad, goofy? No. He's very serious. He takes himself seriously, and his job seriously. He would likely find goofy partners annoying.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.) & Head (Giving and receiving) No hair, so no problem. He wouldn't care about hair on his partners, though if they had rather thick, coarse hair, it might be a bit irritating to him.

Cad doesn't mind head - giving or receiving. His fangs often turn off receivers, and he doesn't care enough to try to convince them otherwise. He'll accept a blow job if his partner is insistent but, again, doesn't care enough to try to convince a partner.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) & Intimacy (How intimate are they during sex?) Cad would not say 'I love you'. Also, there is little intimacy in his couplings.

J = (Jealousy and Jack off/Handjob combo) Cad is a jealous lover - but only if his partner tried flirting with his hunting rivals. Anyone else, he doesn't much care because he doesn't consider them a threat. Cad likes handjobs, especially in public settings. He also masturbates, but not often.

K = Kisses that lead into kinks (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed? What are one or more of their kinks?) If you could get Cad to agree to a kiss, he might, but it wouldn't be anything spectacular. Cad sees kissing as intimacy and he's not really down for that.

Cad would have a few kinks - exhibitionism, dom/sub, and biting are just a few of them.

L = Location (Favorite place to do the do.) Cad likes fucking on his ships, and in bars. But has nothing against fucking in his apartments.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) & Motivation (What gets them going?) Cad sleeps in when he can, but that is rare. His mornings are really dictated by his work schedule.

As for what gets him going, it's definitely touches - cock touches, specifically.

N = No (something that is a turn off? ) Cad would not mind being called 'daddy' but anything beyond that regarding a daddy kink is a no go. Also, anything that has to do with feelings.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) Cad will not tell his partners anything about him. He's very closed off. It's not because he's trying to protect partners, it's because he doesn't trust people.

P = Pace (are they soft and sensual? Or are they rough and feral?) & PDA (are they open to displaying the relationship?) Cad is definitely more rough and feral - again, for him, sex is about pleasure, not connection. Slow and sensual would be very rare.

Cad's not opposed to PDA in terms of public sex but there would be absolutely no hand-holding, hugging, kissing, or the like.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Cad does not remember much about partners. He doesn't much care, either.

R = Risks (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks?) Cad takes risks, but not carelessly. He thinks through the risks. He'll experiment, but won't go out of his way to suggest new things.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Cad's not protective as much as he is possessive. He might protect a partner, but not without getting something in return.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Little effort. Again, Cad isn't looking for companionship as much as he is looking for a quick fuck. He might buy clothes or kinky outfits, but that would probably be it.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease.) Cad does like to tease. He delights in seeing his partner squirm and beg for him. He is not fond of being on the receiving end, though.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) & Volume (Are they loud during sex?) Cad's not vain. As long as he has his hat, he's good. He's middle-of-the-road in terms of volume. He does dirty talk and moan and grunt, but he is not loud about it.

W = Whole/wildcard (What's a random headcanon for the character?) Cad likes fucking partners in the cockpits of his ships while going through hyperspace.

X = Xtra & X-Ray (Random Headcanon/ What’s Underneath those clothes) Cad is attracted to men too, and has just as much experience pleasing them as he does pleasing women.

Cad is thin-framed and rather scrawny. He's still quite strong, as he's able to lift targets up. His cock is long, with a pointed head and ridges along the sides of his shaft.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) Cad fucks, and he fucks often.

Z = Zzzzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?) Cad sleeps pretty lightly, as he's used to having to wake up at the drop of a hat. He will sleep for eight, nine hours when it's permitted, but that's not typical. He can function well on a few hours of sleep.

#cad bane #star wars smut #smut #star wars

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mypunkpansexualtwin · 3 years

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Pegoryu week 2021 is here and I have two whole entries that are gonna be done on time! The rest will happen, I promise, they'll just be late.

Anyways! the fic is under the cut and the link is in the reblogs as per usual. Hope y'all enjoy!

“Man, y’know you don’t hafta let Ann bully you like that, right?” Ryuji whispered over to Akira and reached for the flower poking out of his hair. To his surprise, Aki actually batted his hand away with a huff and tucked the thing a little more tightly behind his ear.

“First off, I do have to let Ann bully me. And then I bully back. That’s just what our friendship is,” he explained, not bothering to lower his voice while the girls were off getting more drinks. Not that it woulda made much difference, he was a pretty quiet guy even when he was being obnoxious. Usually. Ryuji cringed as Aki noisily sipped the meltwater from the bottom of his glass and held up a second finger. “Second, I like flowers, thank you very much. And thirdly,” almost against his will, Ryuji’s eyes tracked the swipe of Akira’s tongue across his lower lip as it shifted the straw from one corner of his mouth to the other before he continued, “red’s my color.” Ryuji swallowed.

“Y-yeah. D’you gotta chew your straw like that, dude? It’s kinda... gross.” Gross. That was the word he was trying to hold onto in his brain with both damn hands. Gross. It was gross, dammit. The straw chewing and the obnoxious slurping were habits that usually grated on his brain worse than a Metaverse confusion-and-psychic-attack double whammy. Today, though? Today he barely noticed it, he was too distracted. Maybe it was the heat or the jet lag, or the fact that seeing all these American girls with bikinis and curves that made Ann look downright bland by comparison meant that his brain had glued itself into the gutter. The fact that he almost never saw Akira with his glasses off sure as hell wasn’t helping either, considering the damn things had to be for everyone else’s sake. Under the scruffy nerd look Akira Kurusu was as much of a damn pretty-boy as Yusuke Kitagawa or that asshole Akechi with those effin’ eyes. That was an objective fact that even a guy as straight as Ryuji could see. Hell, if it weren’t for the glasses he’d probably be Shujin’s favorite bad boy--regardless of which way any of the students swung--instead of Ryuji’s fellow delinquent outcast. This wasn’t news to him, but for some damn reason something was different today.

Today, some goddamn wire got crossed in Ryuji’s brain and he kinda wanted to beat its ass. Today, he’d lost track of how many times he’d caught himself staring at those stupidly long eyelashes that any of Ann’s coworkers would kill to have, and the way they cast soft shadows over those perfectly smooth cheeks. Or the way Akira’s usually dark grey eyes looked almost silver in the sunlight. Or how they’d crinkle just a little at the corners when he smiled that soft little hint of a smile that already did weird, mushy things to Ryuji’s guts on a normal day. Or the way his lips were just a little fuller than either of the girls’ were but just as soft-looking. Ryuji wondered if maybe he used some kind of lip balm or something, but one without any color. If it didn’t have any color, would it at least have a flavor--

...Anyways.

Ryuji had decided to blame it on that damn flower. Akira stared at him, a little confused, the straw still resting on his lower lip as he breathed out a quiet, “huh?” Then he glanced down at his mostly empty drink and then frowned sheepishly as the realization hit him. “Oh! Sorry, I know that drives you crazy.” Oh right, Ryuji had asked a question and had already forgotten. Akira set the glass on the table next to where Ann had given up and dropped the other hibiscus she’d been hellbent on putting in Ryuji’s hair. He had enough time to grimace at the sad, mangled end of the straw--and the thoughts his traitorous, overcooked brain conjured up about where it had just been--before Aki reached out, swiped the other flower, and tucked it next to the other behind his ear.

If Yusuke were there (because that was what Ryuji needed, more clueless pretty-boys punching holes in his sanity), he’d have his hands up in that finger-frame thing he always did when he was planning out a painting in his brain. The artist would be ready and raring to try and turn Akira into his latest masterpiece... that he’d end up bitching about not being good enough to capture right a week later. That wouldn’t be Yusuke’s fault though, Akira was just weird like that; in every picture of him he just looked like Some Dude, like a background character in his own life, Guy With Glasses #3 or something. But right now, right in front of Ryuji he looked… compelling, or some shit like that. Pretty as a damn painting that you couldn’t help but stare at for a while and contemplate your life, ‘cause that was easier than tryin’ to understand what was in front of you.

“Seriously, Aki?” Ryuji sighed at the second blossom now peeking out of Akira’s unruly frizz. He shoulda kept his damn mouth shut, let Akira keep chewing on his damn straw and drive him crazy in the annoying way and not… whatever this was. It had to be the heat. Ryuji was secretly dying of heatstroke, that had to be it.

“Red. Is. My. Color.” Akira crossed his arms and pouted, and Ryuji had to bite back a laugh at how his best friend had puffed out his cheeks while he sulked. Cute, but a safe kind of cute. Like back at the buffet, in that open kind of way that made Ryuji wonder what Akira had been like as a little kid. That looked like his opening to get things back on track, back to something resembling their usual dynamic.

Ryuji cracked a grin and flicked the bottle that everyone had passed around earlier. “Yeah? That why you didn’t put any sunscreen on, you gonna be the first guy to pull off havin’ a sunburn?” Akira deflated slightly, then snatched the bottle off the table and-- Oh goddammit.

That had backfired spectacularly. Genius move, Sakamoto. You can’t quit ogling your best friend like some kinda weirdo, why don’t you convince him to oil himself up! That’ll help! Effin’ brilliant. Ryuji hastily turned around in his chair and fixed his eyes on the shoreline. He occupied himself with trying to guess how quickly he could sprint to the ocean, and for once he hoped that the water would be cold cold. The girls walking by, all dressed in bikinis that’d look small on skinny little Futaba and were probably held onto those insane curves with more wishful thinking than fabric, might as well have been invisible to him. Since he had apparently pissed off god or something, all he could think about was Akira, very intentionally just outside the edge of his vision, slathering his chest in sunscreen. His incredibly flat chest; if he’d at least had enough bulk on him to have pecs or something, that might have taken some of the sting out of his stupid brain fixating on his leader instead of any of the women who looked like they’d walked straight out of his dreams. Ryuji was gonna set those stupid flowers on fire when he got his hands on them.

He swallowed around a mouth that had gone dry and tried to break the awkward silence that had settled over them. At least, Ryuji sure as hell felt awkward, Akira was usually fine with a little quiet and didn’t seem bothered at the moment. Still, Ryuji had to do something before he went crazy. “Man, I thought Ann was impressive, but compared to these foreign ladies… eh.” Akira snorted somewhere behind him.

“I’m sure she appreciates the break from being leered at,” he deadpanned. “Do you not have anything better to do than check people out?”

Ryuji’s stomach dropped a little as he whipped back around to shoot Akira a dirty look. Sure, he’d felt pretty obvious, but he hadn’t actually been obvious about staring-- Wait. Aki meant the girls. False alarm, no need to panic. “Man, shut up. And don’t even try to tell me you don’t agree. Like, these ladies are massive, the girls back home don’t even compare!” Ryuji snapped. Someone had to be appreciating all these beach babes, otherwise what even was the point of staying out when it was so damn hot?

Akira actually paused and glanced over at Ryuji with a weird look on his face before he sighed and shook his head. “I’m not really interested, honestly.”

“Man, I am gonna rip that tongue outta your head!” Ryuji exclaimed. Seriously, all those lovely ladies going unappreciated had to be some kind of crime. An international one. It was probably too much to hope Ann or Makoto would be taking up the slack, wherever the hell they were. It was apparently definitely too much to hope that Akira would let that comment pass; even if he was quiet, the guy almost always needed the last word.

This time, it was muttered irritably under his breath. “Yeah why don’t you come take it, then?”

...What?

“What?!” Ryuji didn’t even bother turning around, he just broke down laughing. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

“You heard me,” Akira sounded serious, except for where the last word turned wobbly at the end. And then he dissolved into his own fit of laughter, snorting once before he continued, “I don’t even know, man. I just kinda blurted it out.” The two of them cracked up a little longer, glad to be back to something a little closer to normal--and Ryuji didn’t think Akira’s laugh was cute, it was quiet and dorky and weird, definitely not cute--before Aki caught his breath and then stretched. And sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You alright, man?” He may not have been able to see Akira’s face with the two of them sitting facing in opposite directions, but Ryuji still caught how his leader had winced when he tried to raise his arm over his head.

Akira nodded. “Slept weird on the plane.” He rolled his shoulder again, then tossed the sunscreen to Ryuji. “At the risk of putting you in tongue-ripping range, can I ask you to get my back?” Ryuji was already up and moving his chair behind Akira, always eager to help his best friend.

“Sure thing, dude.” He had the bottle open and hovering over his hand before his brain caught up to him. Wait. Shit. Bad idea, bad bad idea! If he’d gotten all weird about Akira doing this for himself, how was Ryuji gonna survive getting his own hands involved, especially now that he was thinking about it? But he’d already agreed and if he backed out now, Akira would ask why. He sure as shit wasn’t gonna explain that.

“Earth to Ryuji?” Akira turned his head to peek back at him and… Welp. Apparently this was just Ryuji’s life now. The image of Akira looking over one bare shoulder with those damn eyes just barely visible past the flower petals, his face a little bit pink from the sun overhead, and his lips all flushed and swollen--because, oh right, when Akira didn’t have something to chew on, he’d worry at his lips instead--was seared into Ryuji’s brain. Straight or not, that picture just lived in his head now. And apparently so did about half of his blood, mostly in his face. And the other half… Again, he wondered again how cold the water was. Act natural, Sakamoto.

“Uh, sorry dude. Bottle was stopped up, I got it now!” He laughed nervously as the bottle squirted into his palm with a loud ‘pbblblblt’. Definitely no awkwardness here, no sir. Just a totally normal assist with sunscreen between bros. He was fine. He definitely wasn’t red enough in the face to look sunburnt. Deep breath. He was cool.

...God, he was gonna throw those stupid hibiscuses into the ocean. Hell, from this angle, he could probably grab them and slam them into one of the mostly-empty drinks before Akira could stop him. And Aki wouldn’t want to put them back in his hair after they were all covered in sugar water, right? It was a flawless plan. Ryuji was a damn genius.

He was just gonna finish putting on the sunscreen first, ‘cause he was courteous like that. No sense in letting Akira get a weirdly shaped sunburn because he chased Ryuji down for a couple of damn flowers. That was definitely the only reason he was still rubbing his hands down (and down and down) Akira’s back. Smooth and pale and soft, but surprisingly well muscled underneath, Akira’d been holding out on him while they were training. And those damn dimples on his lower back. Had he been wearing his trunks that low a minute ago? Ugh. Ryuji would definitely be going for a swim after this. He winced as he ran his hands back up over Akira’s shoulders.

“Shit, Aki, I think I found that knot in your neck. No wonder you couldn’t do this yourself,” he muttered and dug his thumb gently into the muscle. Akira sucked in another breath through his teeth, but tipped his head forward and let Ryuji work. The damn thing was probably about the size of a ping pong ball, and Ryuji couldn’t help but feel a little guilty every time Akira tensed up or hissed under his breath when Ryuji dug in a little too hard. And a lot guilty at the temptation to just bury his hands in his bro’s hair. But finally, after the longest two minutes of his life, the knot released and Akira…

Akira fucking groaned.

Ryuji was done. He reached out, snagged both of those stupid red flowers--and a little bit of Akira’s apparently insanely soft hair, oops--and stood up to walk away, ignoring his friend’s protests. The ocean could have both of the damn things, and Ryuji right along with them. He was done. Unfortunately Ann and Makoto had chosen that exact moment to return with fresh drinks, cutting off his escape route. Effin’ great.

“Aaannnnnn, Makotoooooo,” Akira whined as he draped himself dramatically over Ryuji’s shoulders, halfheartedly reaching out to try and reclaim the hibiscuses. “Ryuji deflowered meeee--” Makoto’s face fell into the most unimpressed look any of them had ever seen from her, Ann snorted loud enough that it sounded painful, Ryuji about jumped out of his skin with an indignant yelp that probably could have been heard back in Tokyo, and Akira continued whining undeterred, “--make him give it baaaack.”

Ann had doubled over cackling, and didn’t seem to care that she’d just sloshed about a quarter of one of their drinks onto the sand when she did. “I- I don’t- *snrk* I don’t think it w-works like tha-ha-ha-ha-at!” She managed despite howling with laughter so strong that it looked like she was gonna fall over. Makoto had set her two drinks down long enough to drop into one of the empty chairs and bury her face in her hands with a long, drawn out sigh.

“Why are you two like this?” She glanced up long enough to shoot that tired, unimpressed look up at Akira and Ryuji.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Ryuji all but shouted as he shrugged Akira off of him and started stomping down towards the water, flowers still crushed in one fist. “This is all on him this time!”

God, Hawaii was off to one hell of a start.

#my writing #pegoryu #persona 5 #fun fact this is kind of a deleted scene from wingman #because apparently that's just 90% of what I write these days is wingman stuff #have I mentioned wingman y'all should read wingman

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bakubitch-minusultra · 3 years

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Not Alone: Chapter One

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :3 anywho i hope you enjoy :)) The main love interest will be reader and bakugo i think edit: it is not going to be just bakugo it will be a love triangle k byebye for the second time oh also this is fem reader k bye lol

-> Word Count: 1.9k (I lowkey popped off)

-> Warnings: None rly just mentions of guns and blood

-> Tag list: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat

Chapter One

People would tell you that the world was made for two, but as Y/n sat in the silence of the old cellar two felt like a long lost dream. It was like wind rolling around you gently, trying to persuade you to move in all directions. It’s an ice cream cone on a boardwalk with the sun above and the salty ocean below. It’s a perfect place no one tries to remember.

Any mind left functioning in the world has evolved to be built for pain. Maybe once upon a time there had been a time and place where love and compassion was something for people to look forward to in life.

This wasn't that world anymore.

To Y/n, that type of world never existed anyways. The world had always been a selfish dark place where love is fleeting and the people are brutal. Once upon a time, true love accidentally affected those who were fortunate. But like every other beautiful thing, they polluted and corrupted it, and like everything else, it got sick.

Y/n’s seen it all. And in the end when it’s taken away the people who protested or cried the loudest, were the one who had taken it for granted the most.

Y/n looked around the cellar, in three days she barely moved. It’s her rule and because of it she can leave easier with the feeling of safety. She always ended a shopping trip with a quiet few nights in a cellar or basement.

Y/n wasn’t born to do this, she had to learn to move around quietly, how to sit still. She knew what she had to do to survive. She had lain amongst the dead, she had run through the dark woods, having to feel her eyesite clear like a wild animal and embrace the darkness.

She crept out into the beam of dust lingering in the stale air, sparkling from the sunlight that found its way down two stories into a dark cellar. The beam of light almost made her smile as she admired the light's determination. Y/n shook her head to bring her thoughts back to the harsh reality as she took her first step towards the stairs.

The explosions never seemed to destroy this home in any way. The stairs were in one piece, which had become a bit of a novelty to her. The old farmhouse was too far from any major centers or roads to have even known of the problems, at least in the beginning. The blood stain smears on the white siding outside proved that sickness has touched every single inch of this world.

The hard wood creaked under the weight of her first step. She held her breath and hoped that the creak went unheard. She slowly took another step up as she let out a shaky breath. On the third step she hesitated, listening for any sort of alarming sounds. Her heart was beating like it was trying to free itself from her constricted chest. She waited a second longer, it was another rule of hers. Never leave when you feel safe, always wait three more seconds.

She put her feet on the far sides of the stairs, where the rusty nails attached the boards to the frame. Shallow breaths make sounds in this new world, in the borderlands anyway. There was no electricity, no cars, no phones, no buzz. The world now sits quiet, as if it was sighing and taking a long inhale after what seemed like forever with mankind and the noise pollution. Y/n was at peace when she was at home, but here in the open world she was one of them. One of what was left of humanity. What scrambles to survive, most of the time seperate from everyone else.

Y/n looked through the cellar door and tried to keep her anxious heartbeat low and her breath quiet. She knew that her body needed to make some noises, but others she could control.

The house was simple. Farmhouses were always the best houses according to Y/n. They always sat a long way off the road, not that roads mattered anymore. They always have canning and pickling that would outlast any human. They always have safety supplies and extras of everything. Farmers lived the longest, just as Y/n’s father said they would.

Two trips a year was rarely enough, but Y/n knew that if she traveled any more than that she would be caught.

She walked through the small kitchen and was amazed at how pristine it still was. Everything was still in its place, just as it was the first time she came to the farmhouse, although now layers of dust had found their way into the home, along with the bits of weeds that grew in through the cracks. With no busy grandmother to buzz around cleaning and dusting the mess, everything shows the house’s years of abandonment. Vines grew up the sides of the house, like all houses. As always, she stood against the doorframe and put her hand at the top of her head as her measurement. She turned and looked at how much higher it is than the mark she foolishly put there last time she came.

She looked away from the mark and pushed away the memories of the happy little girl she used to be. She walked low to the ground toward the backdoor. She couldn’t help but laugh inside at how ridiculous it was that she still felt safer going through the backdoor, even though there was no front or back. There were only doors. They didn’t go anywhere anymore. There was no direction.

Nothing goes anywhere.

Y/n positioned the heavy pack on her back carefully. It contained jars full of heart and soul and survival. To Y/n each jar was like a gentle kiss from the old lady who canned and pickled from her own farm of fresh vegetables. She assumed there are no preservatives, no added colorings, no added salt. There weren’t any labels to contradict anything. For all she knew there was MSG in everything. Y/n found herself smiling at the letters MSG, they meant something to humanity once. That was before.

She fought back memories of nice old ladies and the world before. She had been to many worlds in her life, and being nineteen felt more life sixty most days. She took a deep breath and creaked the door open, as if the wind had opened it. She closed it and opened it again. It felt like the wind coming off the brown dirt field was playing with the door.

Her sharp eyes focused on the dirt yard. Nothing moved, everything was standing still. She knew that she should’ve been waiting for the night to travel, but she had stayed too long this time. She needed to get back. Things only lived so long alone, she knew this well. Her garden had died many times before.

The old barn door swung in the soft breeze, making it creak slightly as the long tan grass swayed and small pebbles scuttled along. Everything moved in sync with the wind. Y/n learned how to spot that.

Y/n pulled the door and cringed, she knew this was always the worst part of the walk home. She hated leaving this house.

She felt her eyes squint shot, as the intense light of the sun nearly blinded her. Her pack felt like tons of bricks on her back, but she took her first steps, desperate for the walk to be over with already. She tried not to jostle her bag too much because she didn’t want to break any jars. She learned the hard way that pickle juice is hard to get out and that backpacks were even harder to find.

Walking across the dirt and gravel driveway to the field was the worst. Y/n looked around, walking with her shotgun in her hand. She usually practiced often with her rifle and silencer at home. But on the road she always brought her shotgun. She saw it as her lucky gun. The thick cold metal made her feel strong, even though she knew what strength was.

To her, strength was not pulling the trigger. At this point in life she has yet to prove her strength to her own self. She always took the cowards path. Just like her dad told her to.

Her boots crunched along the path. She walked softly but some noises were unavoidable. She knew the noise would last until she reached the huge wheat field. Then she would be a whisper in the wind. She entered the field without looking back, when she reached the field she knew the rule.

Her legs groaned under the first steps, but after the first quarter mile she started to warm up and she enjoyed running. Her back was the issue, what with the pack being so much heavier than she had ever trained with. She gripped the shoulder straps tight until her arms couldn’t stand it for another second. Even then, she kept pushing until she reached the forest.

She ran deep intothe woods, always on the same side. Never the same path but always the same destination. The branches whipped past her. The edge of the forest was always the thickest. As the forest clears I see him. He’s smiling like always. He’s calm. He doesn’t run and jump. He waits to confirm that she hadn’t brought anything with her. He’s seen them before. He knew how bad it could be. Together both of them had seen the people get swarmed and taken, usually women.

“Hades.” Y/n whispered out of breath.

Instead of the warm greeting they both want, she quickly turned around and held her shotgun up. She walked backwards as Hades sauntered over to watch the forest. They sat behind a tree and waited and after a few minutes she put the pack down gently and climbed one of the huge trees. The thick branches were very rough against her hands. She sat on a branch and looked through her binoculars from the high viewpoint.

She could see the entire field of brown hay from where she was sitting. Y/n let herself have a weak moment and let herself imagine living in the farmhouse one day and harvesting hay. She felt her eyes strain as she tried to find even a single strand of grass moving in a way that would mean she was followed. She looked at the farmhouse sitting still and alone and hoped it would stay that way until her next trip.

She looked past the farmhouse and watched everything move just as it should. After coming to the conclusion that no one had followed her, she climbed down the tree, eager to lay in her own bed.

When her feet touched the dry ground, she looked at Hades, whose yellow eyes confirmed her thoughts. They were alone. She dropped to her knees and greetedhim as he bounded towards her. The large tundra wolf licked her face and raised his massive paws up to hug her. She would hug him so often when he was baby and one day he hugged back.

He nuzzled at her softly and nipped at her arms. She rubbed his huge soft ears and stood up. She patted him gently on his head.

“Ready?” She asked.

She picked up the heavy pack and adjusted to having it on her back again. The walk home would take an entire day if she could manage to keep a solid pace. Hades started the walk home by heading past the old broken oak tree. Their meeting place.

I worked really hard on this and so i hope people enjoy this although ik this chapter is a lil boring but i promise next chapter will be better k goodbye have a good day love u

#k tag time #i worked really hard on this #lol #bnha #mha #apocalypse #mha au #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #fem reader #y/n #reader insert #eek #i dont wanna put the characters names in because they arent in this chapter and i feel like that would be lying #so hopefully people read this #oog #oof*#panty raid

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wardens-stew · 4 years

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my review of The Mask Falling - an ode to Arcturus and Paige

For me, the soul of this series has always been the relationship between Paige and Arcturus. It’s apt that this book, the exact middle of the series and as @sshannonauthor describes it, its heart, spends so much time with this pair. The intensity and uniqueness of their bond really emerges as the shining jewel of this series.

It’s clear that Samantha Shannon was intentional about putting Arcturus and Paige on equal footing for the first time in The Mask Falling. She manages the power dynamic between them with such attention and nuance, reversing their roles often and fluidly escaping gender roles. The protector role comes naturally to Arcturus, given his immortal strength and anxiety about losing Paige (it’s even part of the etymology of their names), but for much of The Mask Falling he is her silent shadow, trailing being her and supporting her quietly. They negotiate their differences with refreshing candor and in good faith, their arguments free from ego. “My fear is not your cage,” Arcturus tells her. “I will never ask you to mold yourself to it.” His affection for her is empowering, supportive, never constrictive or diminishing. Paige herself is markedly independent, doing the bulk of her fighting and plotting on her own. When she does seek support from Arcturus, there is no sense of her own strength being diminished, and as often as he rescues her, she turns around and rescues him just as easily.

Indeed, while Arcturus is the immortal god, it is Paige’s power that really shines in this book. Her incredible ingenuity and strength is on full display, getting her out of certain-death scenarios at such a gripping pace I had to cover the pages with my hands to avoid glancing ahead. She couples her incredible powers with extraordinary mental fortitude and an acute conscience; each of her escapades has a satisfying emotional resonance that enlivens her broader quest. Whereas many YA heroines possessed of supernatural power oscillate between immobilizing moral anxiety and moral bankruptcy, Paige tempers her impulsiveness with reason (most of the time) and a powerful motive for justice. It’s clear that she has yet to access the full extent of her abilities, and I’m eager to see what roles she’ll play in the fight to take down Scion.

While previous installments show Arcturus/Warden on various levels of guardedness, The Mask Falling gives us time and space in excess to see his true character. I was struck by his compassion, his hopefulness despite all that he has endured. He is often reassuring and comforting Paige, his optimism clear-eyed and measured. The contrast is especially stark with his persona in The Bone Season, where he appears cold and calculating, morally gray at best. In this book, he is almost unbearably kind, devastatingly sweet and thoughtful. As Paige remarks, “there was nothing terrible before me now.” The almost unimaginable beauty of his character is achieved with such a soft touch; the books are not about Arcturus being the the epitome of goodness - he simply is.

A central thread of tension of this book follows Paige and Arcturus negotiating their relationship and coming to terms with their mutual attraction. Samantha Shannon manages this tension beautifully, carrying it forward constantly with poignant moments of intimacy interspersed with Paige’s honest internal dialogue. The smallest interactions and gestures between them felt so heightened. There are all the classic scenes - getting drunk and saying too much, jealousy spirals about past relationships, almost-kiss scenes interrupted, near-death confessions - all building up to a beautiful and satisfying climax.

Samantha Shannon writes intimacy incredibly well. The love scenes feel specific to the characters, managing to be both meaningful and erotic. Romances between an immortal man and a mortal woman in particular tend to translate the man’s primal instincts and extreme physical strength into a voracious sexual appetite that leaves little room for gentleness and consideration. Arcturus really breaks the mold in this respect. He is so reverent, so sincere, so generous with Paige in a way few male characters with female partners approximate. Rather than relying on an imbalance of power in order to convey eroticism, the sexiness of Arcturus and Paige’s dynamic derives from the equality of their relationship. It’s so difficult to create a heterosexual romance unsullied by patriarchy, and Samantha Shannon gets close to that here.

I wonder if it is Arcturus’ immortal nature that makes him such a uniquely engaging character. Samantha Shannon really commits to that aspect of him - he’s not just a hot teenager. The best word I can think of to describe him is mature. He is so beyond the petty concerns of YA love interests, so ego-less and self-reliant. One of my favorite ways he diverges from human men - and traditional male love interests - is his lack of fixation on Paige’s physical appearance. This book has several of the classic moments that would typically elicit a remark or a look from the love interest on the heroine’s appearance, often framed as a cute romantic moment. Yet when Paige dresses up, or dyes her hair - even when she asks him outright - he never comments on the way she looks. “A human might have whispered in my ear, told me I was beautiful or perfect, but not him.” I love that. I’ve never found that lustful, almost predatory demeanor in male love interests nearly as sexy as the author would like it to be, and it always rubs me the wrong way when the man telling the woman she’s beautiful is framed as the epitome of romance. It strikes me as a very lazy way to convey attraction, for one thing, and it reeks of benevolent sexism. Arcturus never plays into those supposedly romantic tropes of disparaging other women in favor of the heroine or being selectively kind. His love for Paige is so pure.

I continue to be impressed by the sheer scale of worldbuilding in this series. Many books attempt to create fictional tyrannical governments, but few succeed in building one as convincing and elaborate as Scion. The Mask Falling peels back even more layers of this complex world, bringing to fruition seeds planted in the very first book. Although the basic plot leans on some familiar tropes, Samantha Shannon always manages to add an additional twist of the screw. The complexity of this series is truly extraordinary, drawing on etymology and mythology, dropping mysteries and complicating loyalties with incredible dexterity.

SPOILERS!!!!! --> I am still struggling with Arcturus’s possession and Paige’s failure to connect the dots and realize the reality of his situation. I see Samantha Shannon has pointed out on Twitter that Paige’s trauma and illness may have affected her judgment and decision-making. She says, “There's a particular scene where Paige reacts to an event in a way that is so deeply rooted in her PTSD and past experiences.” (I assume this is the scene she’s referring to.) I think that’s fair - Paige has been so inundated with the Rephaite aversion to humans that it’s almost as if she only needed one piece of evidence to confirm her doubts and destroy her trust in Arcturus. And it’s not as if she just takes it at face value, either - she does question him and try to convince him otherwise. But I still can’t help feeling that it’s a stretch. The Mask Falling makes Arcturus’ character so clear that the prospect that he would be loyal to Nashira the whole time is just ludicrous. Not to mention the fact that Paige somehow overlooked the obvious signs that he was being possessed. His eyes were such a dead giveaway - Paige had already seen that same thing happen when she possessed him! And when he moved to strike her and then suddenly stopped and his eyes flared - come on! That’s a classic mind-control trope. Paige is usually so perceptive, and they had built such a strong foundation… it feels unrealistic that she wouldn’t have connected the dots just because she hadn’t thought there could be another dreamwalker.

If I had to find fault with this book, and it is difficult, I would say that it leans a little too heavily on some YA dystopian fantasy tropes towards the end - the mind-controlled love interest, for example, instantly made me think of Divergent, The Hunger Games, The Mortal Instruments, etc. Likewise, the forced memory loss is a fairly common fantasy trope that tends to be really frustrating to read. I have faith that Samantha Shannon will keep it from sliding into those tropes, and of course there remains so much mystery still to be untangled from those final 100 pages. /END SPOILERS :)

This was the kind of book that captivated me immediately, left me lying awake at night and had me eating energy bars for dinner so I could keep reading. It was such a visceral, immersive experience, the kind where returning to the physical reality is almost physically disorienting. It’s been two days since I finished it and I’m still clinging to that fictional world, wishing I didn’t have to leave. Books like these are rare for me, and I’m still marveling at the miracle of finding that book that in Arcturus’ words, exists for everyone: “a book that will sing to them.”

#the mask falling #the bone season #arcturus and paige #warden and paige #the mask falling spoilers #spoilers #review #otp #Samantha Shannon

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arysthaeniru · 4 years

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aAAA the joy of seeing an update on your current favorite fanfic is just aAAA

I always felt that kiwami 1s Nishiki was just a bit too,, I dont know how to describe it; but essentially he just felt off, granted yakuza 1 is a product of its time and therefore the plot is a bit dated and whack as all hell

The way you write Nishiki just feels so much better and realistic; in the original he just seems so uncaring towards Kiryu? which just feels kinda OOC? You'd think he still cares about Kiryu despite it all, especially when you take Yakuza 0 into consideration; and i feel like you portray Nishiki much more accurately

I never thought much about Yumi, because honestly, in the original she was kinda just, there? You actually made her a very interesting person! like I'm actually invested in her in your story! (side note you ever think about her clone who got tortued and died? yeah who WAS that???? thats never brought up is it??)

Theres so much more to talk about but in short; This is the best fix it/rewrite of a game plot I have read to date and it brings me joy in my current stressful school life. and no I will not stop praising it or the author, because this work has made me very happy. ;)

I just have a gift for picking favorites that end up dying,,aand another favorite of mine is Mine

imo theres a lack of soft, reassuring Minedai, i just feel like he'd need a reminder that people love him as a person and not just for the money he can provide, even if its obvious

I'd love to see how you'd write them, but I understand if theres more interesting/appealing drabble requests!

- Carp

CARP, thank you for this <3 this is so sweet!!!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my Nishiki! I had fun playing with what Yakuza 0/the Kiwami additions gave us about Nishiki’s personality and outlook on the world, and trying to reconcile that with the plot that Yakuza 1 initially had. Ultimately, I fell on the side that you did: even if Nishiki’s ambition took him down a monstrous path, I don’t think he’s the sort of person who neglects to pay back his debts. And he’s aware of the huge debt he owes Kiryu. Not to mention, their bonds of trust and love vanishing completely because of jealousy felt unreal to me. Their relationship becoming twisted or strange? Yes, but vanishing entirely felt unsatsifying to me.

And Yumi!! I had so much fun excavating her character from the clues we get of her in canon. I worry sometimes, that she’s unrecognizable, because you know, I’ve given her a college education, and a whole bunch of interests beyond hostessing alone, but people seem to like it and like her, which is great!! I hate fridging women characters, so keeping her and Reina alive was important to me, hahaha. (RE: fake!Mizuki, there’s this substory in Kiwami that actually addresses who she was, BUT IT’S EVEN MORE HORRIFYING. So that’s why Yumi in my fic is the one captured and tortured by Nishiki’s men, because the thought of this poor innocent woman getting dragged into the mess was just untenable to me.)

Anyway, thank you for your support and kind words, and I hope you’ll continue to read and that my fic can continue to relieve stress. I--tried to write this about Mine, but Daigo kind of stole the spotlight a little??? I hope you still like it--if not, I will try a ficlet from Mine’s perspective too. I enjoy minedai a lot, but I haven’t had room to think out their dynamic yet, so this took me a while.

Daigo’s no stranger to being desired. He’s attractive, he knows this—his mother’s beauty lives in his veins, and he’s always had the money to look after himself. Fancy soaps to wash his face, the invisible retainers to keep his teeth straight, fancy suits and skin-tight shirts to show off his frame. For all that Kiryu insists his charisma is something that comes from the soul, Daigo knows it wouldn’t be able to draw the sort of attention he does without being attractive.

Which is to say that Daigo’s not especially thrown off by the intensity of Mine’s gaze. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. The thing that surprises him is how much he relishes in being seen by Mine.

Maybe it’s because Mine’s an island in a stormy sea, one of the only yakuza his age who’s sensible and level-headed enough to make it big. Maybe it’s because Mine’s gaze is always so reserved, polite, never overly lusty or overstaying its welcome, and Daigo has so rarely been desired so quietly. Or maybe it’s because Majima and Kashiwagi so clearly disapprove of him—Daigo’s always been something of a rebel, and he hasn’t shaken that off, even now he’s in his thirties and is the arbiter of rules for the Tojo Clan.

Daigo can’t quite put a pin on why he’s so comfortable with Mine’s yearning looks, but he’s never been one to hold back when he wants to indulge in something good. Not exactly a hedonist, not by yakuza standards, but Daigo has never kept himself from enjoying life, in the name of some dubious ‘honour.’

Which is why, in an after-hours meeting with Mine, as they eat cheap takeout sushi together, Daigo takes his chance. A momentary slip, the slightest hint of wasabi left at the corners of Mine’s lips and Daigo swoops in, rubs a thumb over the corner of Mine’s lips. Mine stutters to a stop, mid-sentence through a rundown of the real-estate that the Hakuho Clan’s been purchasing up, and stares at Daigo, eyes bewildered.

“Sixth Chairman?” he asks, his voice still remarkably composed.

“Wasabi.” Daigo says, nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing, and sticks his thumb into his mouth, slowly licking it off with a lingering lave of his tongue. He feels a sharp stab of satisfaction as Mine’s eyes turn darker, and his gaze follows Daigo’s hand down.

Daigo straightens up, languidly, and cracks his neck, casually. At this point in the day, he’s untucked his shirt, and he knows that a slight strip of his stomach will be visible when he stretches out his arms towards the ceiling. And as predictably as clockwork, Mine’s gaze darts downwards, to that pale expanse, to catch that brief second of skin. Daigo can’t help but feel warm. Something about being watched by Mine is exhilarating.

“Smoke?” offers Daigo, but as usual, Mine refuses, with a polite shake of his head.

Daigo knows from hearsay that Mine’s something a health-freak, so he’s not entirely surprised. It’s already too late for Daigo to preserve his health—he knows that his liver’s already been pretty ruined from long nights of binge-drinking as a youth, and this job’s too stressful to withhold from vices like smoking and drinking, without an optimal end-goal. So he walks over to the window, cracks it open a little, and lights up.

The breath of nicotine curls over his body, a tender caress, and Daigo feels his shoulders drop, as the relaxation hits. He pulls off his cufflinks, tosses them into his pockets and rolls up his sleeves. He takes it slow, runs his fingers over his skin a little more than strictly necessary. Surreptitiously checking the reflection in the window, Daigo watches Mine watch him, and smirks at how intense that gaze is, how Mine’s mouth has opened, and Daigo can just see the soft pink of his tongue.

“Dojima’s just fine, you know. When it’s just us two.” Daigo says, turning over his shoulder. He smiles, one of those charming smiles that had always gotten him whatever he wanted as a child, “We’re same-aged friends, after all.”

“Dojima-san.” Mine acknowledges, after a brief pause.

Daigo turns around, to properly look at Mine and lifts an eyebrow. “Dojima. Or Daigo, preferably. Dojima-san’s always my father in my head.”

Mine nods, face impassive. Daigo can’t read him like this. Maybe that’s why he likes when Mine stares at him, filled with longing. At least then, Daigo feels like he knows him. In moments like these, his implacable gazes might as well be a brick wall. “Right. Your Father was also in the Tojo Clan.”

Daigo smiles, wryly, and blows out a puff of smoke. “One of the most horrible men I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting—and I had to call him Father. But damn if he wasn’t good at the job.” He sighs and stubs the cigarette out against the ashtray. “...sometimes feel like I’m competing with his dead spirit. Everybody’s looking at me and wondering if this is what my Father would do. Or what Kiryu-san would do.”

“You’re doing better than any of them.” Mine says, immediately, with a vicious ferocity that Daigo wasn’t expecting. He can’t quite stop his eyebrows rising in surprise, and Mine straightens upwards, looking self-conscious immediately. Daigo regrets his instinctual reaction, immediately. “That is to say, Dojima, that I think that you’ve pulled this Clan into somewhere far more respectable. From what I’ve heard of your Father, he didn’t have the temperament to do proper business on this level—too insistent on formal obeisance and unable to be flexible as the times require. And Kiryu-san might be very honourable, but we are yakuza. There are certain things you have to do as a Chairman, that he couldn’t bring himself to do. But you are practical and do what is necessary, while also not overstepping into excessive violence. You are uniquely suited for this job, Dojima.”

...he’s taken aback a little, he can’t deny it. Daigo wonders if his cheeks are colouring, wonders if his obvious shock is offputting, wonders if this is how Mine feels every time Daigo teases him lightly about his obvious attraction. A startling warmth spreads through his chest, and Daigo can’t stop the slight smile that touches his face. Has anybody ever said something so unreservedly kind and measured about Daigo before?

Maybe this is the difference between everybody else’s gazes on him, and Mine’s gaze. It’s based on something more than desire alone. Respect.

Daigo runs a hand over his slicked-back hair and ruffles it free, with a rueful smile, a smile that he couldn’t take away from his face, even if he tried. “I appreciate that. You know I couldn’t do it without you, right?”

He’d never really believed himself capable of attraction to a man like Mine. All of his previous childhood crushes had been on bright, cheerful conversational, pure-hearted people. Daigo had always figured they would balance out his sardonic cynicism. He’d never thought someone as reserved and principled as Mine would ever make his heart flutter. But then, there was something about that deep hunger and passion that Daigo craved. Perhaps it was because he was no longer the gloomy punk of his youth. Maybe his tastes have changed towards tall, dark and handsome. Maybe Mine’s just that special.

“Dojima—” Mine says, clearly trying to refute it, but Daigo cuts him off.

“I mean it. Everybody in this fucking Clan wants me to do something or be somebody else. Kashiwagi-san wants me to be my mother. Majima-san wants me to be Kiryu-san. Everybody else expects my Father. But not you. You deal with me honestly, and with candour, and never hold any expectations against me except success. I appreciate your faith in me.” Daigo takes a couple of steps forward, until his shoes almost brush up against Mine’s own. He leans down over Mine’s chair. “I could not do this without your backing and help. Truly. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like you in my life. A true friend.”

Mine tilts his chin up to meet Daigo’s gaze, a hungry devotion in his eyes, and Daigo, for a moment, wonders if this is wrong. If he should hold back, like Kiryu would. But Daigo is Daigo, and Mine clearly wants him anyway, so he leans down and kisses him.

Mine’s mouth is velvety smooth and wet and hot and it is oh-so satisfying a feeling to put his hand against Mine’s broad neck and feel his warmth up against Daigo. He pulls back, with a satisfied sigh, and feels the burn of wasabi across his lips, a final parting kick.

#minedai #mine yoshitaka #dojima daigo #spiraling downhill fic tag #yakuza #rgg

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 4 years

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I know its kinda similar to a Jaskier fic you did, but could you do one with Geralt/Reader along the lines of "I felt unsafe so I started acting like you were my boyfriend and please play along and hold my hand"

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt x Reader Word Count: 1,244 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @kemmastan @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @amirahiddleston @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @mycat-is-mylove a/n: I’m totally fine with repeating tropes, especially if it’s with a new character! Thank you xo

Geralt rarely went to these events unless Jaskier was dragging him there for protection but he had been looking for a distraction since a recent fight with, well, everyone. He seemed incapable of doing anything right lately. Every feeling he tried to express came out wrong, twisted by a mouth apparently incapable of putting words in the right order. He’d decided to take some time on his own before doing any permanent damage to his relationships and the one thing he could say for a banquet was there was usually at least decent wine and pretty women. The pretty woman he found diverting right now had caught his eye first for her looks and then for the nervous way she glanced around the room. He soon saw the source of her anxiety as a man who was apparently looking for her caught her eye and began to head her way. He saw the panicked look in her eyes and before he took another breath he was on his feet heading towards her. The man was talking with her by the time he got there and Geralt heard her offering some attempt at an excuse for not dancing with him and when he insisted on knowing why not she heard you and both turned to look at him. Once her eyes laid on Geralt her eyes lit up and then she spoke to him, the first words she’d ever uttered to the witcher;

“Oh darling! You’ve come back!”

-----

You gave the man in front of you a desperate, pleading look that you hoped he would notice and then care enough to play along. He blinked a couple of times and then his face softened and he gave you a smile so charming your heart skipped a beat.

“Hello lovely, so sorry I was gone for so long. Who’s your friend?” He pulled you into his arms and fixed the question to the man who’d been bothering you with a smile that had an edge of a snarl to it. The man blanched slightly and began backing away muttering an apology. As soon as he was out of sight you exhaled deeply and reluctantly pulled out of his arms, already missing the warmth of his body.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, “I know that was a terribly awkward position to put you in and also a really bad first impression but he’s been hounding me all night and will not take no for an answer.”

“That’s quite all right,” the man said with a smile that was still soft and gentle, an odd contrast to how he’d looked all evening. You’d spotted him before, drawn in by his unusual eyes and handsome face, but you hadn’t had a chance to come over and make a proper introduction. You were well and introduced now. Well, mostly.

“Y/N,” you said, curtseying lowly because you weren’t sure what else to do.

“Geralt,” he replied with a playful little half-bow. “You know, Y/N, I must confess I have a concern.”

“Oh?” you asked, your stomach flipping with anxiety over what he may say next.

“Yes, I fear that the lout will try again the moment I am gone. I wonder if I should stay close to you through the night, just to be safe,” he suggested smoothly. Your face reddened slightly and he worried that he’d gone too far but the smile you gave him and the twinkle in your eye allayed those fears.

“I suppose I could be persuaded to keep up the charade of being your beloved. If you feel it’s best. For my safety,” you replied with a coy smile. He held out his arm and you took it, allowing him to walk you around the perimeter of the room. You felt as though he was showing you off, which he was, but he was also making a point of letting everyone there see that you were under his protection lest anyone else tried to make a play if he had to leave early for some reason. He finally deposited you at a seat next to his and you began to talk. You wiled away the hours getting to know each other and soon you weren’t pretending at intimacy, you felt comfortable resting your arm on his shoulder and it felt right when he pulled you onto his lap and you carded your fingers through his silver hair, gazing into those amber eyes. The eyes that carried such softness but also a depth that you knew held much more pain and anguish than anyone should have to bear. It made you feel oddly protective of this witcher who could kill you in 700 different ways without breaking a sweat. Could’ve, but wouldn’t. You’d heard rumors that witchers were heartless monsters who slayed for fun but you knew better. And even if it was true you could tell that this witcher would never do such a thing.

As the evening came to an end with the pair of you taking a slow walk around the gardens, Geralt realized he had never stayed a full night at one of these events and in these hours when most of the people were gone and the lights were slowly being extinguished it was actually quite pleasant. A cool night breeze blew in and sent the wisps of hair that framed your face askew and he gently tucked them back behind your ear, fingers grazing the curve of your jaw on its way.

“Well I think they were sufficiently fooled,” you said, “You play the role of the lovestruck man very well.”

“I don’t know if I feel my role has been convincing enough,” he countered. You gave him a questioning look and he pressed you gently against a hedge, the leaves tickling your ears and the blood rushing in your ears as you saw his eyes fall to your lips.

“Oh?” you asked, a little breathlessly.

“Yes,” he said, trying to feign seriousness, “I think that any man who wasn’t an utter fool would make sure you ended the night with a proper kiss.”

“Well,” you said, licking your lips, “I would hate for them to think you a fool.”

Geralt smirked and then leaned closer, tilting your chin up to meet his face as he pressed a kiss against your lips. It was a slight brush at first and then he pressed another and another and his arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed a bit firmer into you, tongue sliding past your slightly parted lips and pulling a soft moan from you as he deepened the kiss. When he pulled away you were breathless and your heart was racing and his eyes had darkened slightly with lust that you knew yours matched in tone.

“It has been an unprecedented pleasure,” he said in a low, husky purr. You screwed up your courage and looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

“It could be,” you offered. His smile grew wolfish and you wondered for a moment if he might take you right here as he looked around the garden but he seemed to think twice about it and held out his arm again for you to take. At first you worried he may just be walking you back home but when he stopped in front of a horse you didn’t know and held out a hand to help you on, you knew the night was only just beginning.

#Anonymous #Geralt x Reader #Geralt imagines #Geralt fluff #drabbles

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inessencedevided · 4 years

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Ah, but what scenes in particular did you enjoy? The wangxian ones in general? Or were there any particular ones that stuck with you?

-the axe cultivator

Oh, ac, I missed some of your question last time didn't I? So sorry. My head is kinda in the clouds these days

There are so many scenes that stuck with me, so I'll make a bullet list and probably still miss some ^^

It's such a small thing but in ep 1 the transition from the tale of how wei wuxian was killed transitions to the tea house via a shit from within sizhui's trea cup as he's pouring tea "onto the camera". It's nothing special but remember loving that shot so much the first time I watched that it was one of the things that kept me watching

Wangxian-wise in the first two episodes, I'd be remiss not to mention that handgrip when wei wuxian plays wangxian to calm wen ning down. Because it goes on ... and on ... and on. When I watched it for the first time I was like "ooohhhh so it's gonna be this kind of gay". You know the endless-longing-stares kind. And now when I rewatch it's just devastating. The last time they saw each other before this scene, they also held onto each others wrists but wei wuxian let go and fell to his death. And here lan zhan is, holding on for minutes and only let's go once jiang cheng threatens wei wuxian. Just ... 💔

i started shipping xiyao from their very furst sxebe together. Those two actors (i try to remeber their names but i always forget them again. My memory is shit when it comes to names :/) really just did want some of that sweet sweet homoerotic tension. Also, their first interaction stand out to me as the moment i really started to like lan xichen. In a setting that was shown early on to be highly hierarchical, he exhibited in the very forst scenes that he is willing to disregard someone's standing and look at their character and abilities instead. I just really love xichen ❤

Okay, i can't name one scene per episode, so let’s sum them up a little

I adore this progression during the cloud recesses and the yin iron arc from a flirtratious rivalry to genuine deep freindship and love. There are so many little moments that stand out because of the subtle acting joices made my wang yibo and xiao zhan, as well as the script, The lantern scene, when Wei Wuxian doesn’t betray the yin iron secret to huaisang and lan wangji goes “hu, so your bullshitting has reasons”, when they are in the market and lan zhan actually communicates that he doesn’t like crowds and wei wuxian pulls him closer but not into the crowd and so many others. When you watch closely, you see them realising little details about each other and I’m honestly so impressed with how amazingly the process of their falling in love was portrayed

fast forward a bit: obviously, the freaking montage quasi-fan vid in the middle of the cave scene set to their freaking love song. I remeber when I first watched this scene I actually, literally screamed. I could not believe it because their was no fucking way that this could be read as anything but romantic and I was not used to that much blatant queer romance!

A little less happy (okay a lot). The entire destruction of the jiang clan with a special mention to the scene when Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian just saw the bodies and run into fields where they fight and Jiang Cheng chokes Wei Wuxian and then they just fall back in exhaustion and sleep right there under the open sky. Everything about that scene was brilliantly done and also soul-crushing. The loss of innosence in that moment devastated me. It was so obvious that in the moment of deepest despair, all of these children’s traumas and deep-seated fears reared their ugly heads. So Jiang Cheng directs all his grief at the easiest target for his anger and Wei Wuxian just takes it because that is what he thinks is his job. And the real tragedy? This dynamic will not be broken until Wei Wuxian’s literal death. These children need therapy so goddamn badly and all they get is more trauma on top of their excisting trauma.

“The single log bridge” scene. I. Am. A. Sucker for the found family trope, especially for characters who cronically think they have to do everything on their own. So there Wei Wuxian is saying he will walk his dark path alone, but instead he finds lit lanterns and a humble feast prepared for him by people who love him. That juxtaposition kils. me. every. time. YOU ARE LOVED WEI WUXIAN! FOR YOURSELF!

(Shout out to the second time his word are refuted, this time by lan wangji and *gasp* verbally. Because there is NO better love declaration than that scene in front of basically every leader of cultivation world who politely wait for their turn to attack them)

Luo Qingyang removing herself from the narrative. I literally cry every time.

Talking about women: jiang yanli defending wei wuxian and calling him her brother. That moment is the "three things all wise men fear" quite incarnat, only it's the anger of a gentle woman

“Let me go” So ... I have SUCH a thing for couple who grapple with questions of when it is time to let go and when it is time to hold on. So Wangxian hits all my buttons. I will go further into this in my last bullet point (about the very last scene)

Oh god, this list is gonna get so long and i’m still going to forget things

In the present timeline:

Again, to sum it up, all the gentle wangxian moment where they look at each other and their entire face grows soft. Every almost-smile lan wangji sends wei wuxian, every "oh. He really loves me huh?"-look from wei wuxian. Especially in the Jingshi just after lan Xichen's loredrop. These two intensly guarded people (yes, wei wuxian is guarded,he just hides behind smiles) are so open with each other. I only have to see a guf of lan wangji with his heir down and I go feral!

Talking about that episode, the lan family backstory as a scene does things to me. And I remember watching that the first time and so much of lan wangji's behaviour suddenly making sense. Especially little lan zhan kneeling in front of his mother’s house and that being how he showed his grief really drove home just how this man exhibits emotion. I'm pretty sure that that was the moment he really became my favourite character.

Same episode and a start juxtaposition to the domestic scene between wangxian before: the talk between lan xichen and Jin Guangyao just afterwards. You could probably write an essay of meta about the parallels and differences between those two scenes and I think that's deliberate because they're back to back. The lan brother's share tea with the person closest to their hearts. One is finally able to open himself fully, the other closes up more than he ever has before with this person. The framing in that scene alone drives that message home, never mind its content. It's heart-wrenching and so well done!

Talking about xiyao: jin guangyao's death for similar reasons. Just ... arrrgh

I'm sure I've missed a ton but thus is already so long so I'll close with my favourite overall: the last scene. The parting and subsequent reunion on the mountaintop. I've stated before why this means so much to me. It is such a reassuring message to me: to have two intensely different people learn to understand and love each other exactly as they are. Being who they are, the occasionally walk different paths. But they don't limit each other. They learn to improve each other by just being there when they are and therefore know and trust that their love will return.

This was mostly cql because you asked for "scenes", but have some honorary novel mentions:

Lan Wangji: "The face says nothing. Listen to the heart-beat." 😭😭😭

The moment when wei wuxian collapses after the second siege and lan sizhui expresses surprise over this, lan wangji says something like "We are all human." I love that moment for many reasons. 1) it's one of the rare direct insights into lan wangji's thoughts. No matter how brief he is here, you don't say something like that just because. 2) and it's significant that he is the one saying it because he, too, is placed on a pedestal. In fact, I think a lot about mdzs boils down to the conflict between the inner self and outer perception and how that dichotomy can be both a deliberate shield (lan zhan being the perfect example) and a curse

I hope you and your axe are having a wonderful day 🥰

#mdzsnetcc #ask #ask game #the untamed #cql #mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan xichen #jin guangyao #wangxian #xiyao

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beni-draw-ikemen-please · 4 years

Text

Kintsugi ~ Repairing with Gold

Kintsugi ~ Repairing with Gold ◆ Ikemen Vampire Fanfiction ◆

CHAPTER 1 - DON’T TELL ANYONE

Words: 2,063

TW: Angst and Hurt ◆ References to Depression ◆ Mental Instability ◆ Mental Health Issues ◆ Implied/Referenced Suicide ◆ Suicidal Thoughts ◆ Graphic Depictions of Sex/Intercourse ◆ Vaginal Sex/Fingering ◆ Rough Sex ◆ Non-con

Pairings: M/F Leonardo Da Vinci x Seiya Amanogawa [OC] / Comte de Saint-Germain x Seiya Amanogawa [OC]

Chapter Index [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

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A/N: This is a work of fiction. This is fan fiction for Ikemen Vampire, character designs are owned by Cybird. My story however, features my own OC/MC Seiya Amanogawa who is from Modern Japan/Europe, who travelled to the Louvre for inspiration.

Seiya is female so I will be using she/her as her pronouns. I will also be describing her accordingly. I designed Seiya and she is my Original Character. If you don't like OC+Canon fanfiction, this might not be the fic for you.

KINTSUGI - CHAPTER 1

Don’t tell anyone

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His golden locks fell beautifully in place, like a masterpiece set within the confines of an ornate golden frame. Right there, in the middle of the museum. The spotlight is carefully placed to highlight the gold that accentuated the piece. And there, in front of it all, with just the right amount of distance, is a lone bench.

That’s how Seiya saw him. A figure to be admired from afar. A treasure, so valuable and so bright, she steps back, almost instinctively, it made her feel smaller and smaller.

She would open her leather-bound book. And very carefully, she would write short letters. They weren’t really addressed to anyone in particular. Maybe they were addressed to her future self, who knows? But she wrote them, every single day. It wasn’t her journal either - no - it was far more complex than that.

Seiya knew in her heart, she wouldn’t be able to bear it, if he ever found out. How much she loved sitting just by the balcony of Vincent’s room during afternoon tea time, so she has the perfect view of the his hands as he gracefully pours tea into the day’s chosen china.

Viridian, with golden leaves and soft speckles of purple, almost white. She knew they were one of his favourites. Wedgewood. She took mental notes every time Sebastian gave her a pointer not to miss, especially when it came to afternoon tea.

She would duck her head, ever so slightly, and she would catch a glimpse of his lips, almost looking like they were kissing the fine things and smiling, so perfectly, complimenting the blend Sebastian had carefully prepared.

It was one of her guilty pleasures. And, it was only after she had shown Vincent what she really drew in her sketchbook that the angel allowed her to use his balcony.

Vincent noticed her when she first arrived. She was this scared, trembling frail little creature, and he wanted to make her feel more at home. Which turned out easier than expected. She spoke modern Dutch, at the very least the sounds were similar to the older variant. Sometimes, Seiya would hear him speak words that made her head tilt in confusion. But she enjoyed his company. And Vincent felt the same.

They would often draw together. Vincent with his easel and brushes, and his apron that’s stubbornly stained with paint, and her with ink and paper. She told him how she hated it when her hands stained of charcoal, or anything, so she stuck with inks. She would often grumble, how she missed modern pens and this thing called a brush pen. And Vincent wondered about it often.

They threw the case towards the makers of the mansion, first, Isaac - who felt comfortable around her, enough to actually draw and fiddle with objects around so vulnerably. Isaac asked for more time, maybe even more materials to create different prototypes. Then, the trio approached Leonardo. And they were able to make something similar to the modern brush pen in about a week’s time.

And so she drew more and more and more with the brush pen. Funny how she thought, she was using another man’s present to draw another man. And those two men happened to be best of friends. For over a century. Maybe, even more.

Seiya kept her notebook to herself. The red leather stood out, so she would often wrap it with a soft lace handkerchief that was too big to be folded and tucked into her pocket. She would keep it in her tray whenever she assembled the residents’ meals or changed sheets. Her notebook never leaves her sight.

Vincent grew curiouser and curiouser every time he would catch a glimpse of the red leather peeking through the black lace. For someone who looked like her, her choice of colour would almost be too bold for a maiden in 19th century Paris. Always black, she would say. Or, if black wasn’t an option, wine red. Or the darkest violet possible.

Vincent remembered the first time he accompanied her to shop for a new dress with Leonardo. They picked up a white dress, made from the finest leavers lace, that she wore with a frown on her face. She covered herself with her arms and asked to change immediately.

“It’s too bright for me,” she said, and Vincent couldn’t make out if she softly cursed in Dutch, or in Japanese, or a mixture of the two. She would, however, hum in satisfaction whenever she saw black velvet chokers, or black leather gloves, and thinking of that contrast made him smile.

He noticed how intently she would spend on each of her drawings. And Vincent would hear the silent flicks of her brush. It would be a long steady stroke for a while, and then flicks of texture. And then she would stop, and sigh, wait for the ink to dry and she would close her sketchbook ever so quietly.

“What are you drawing, Seiya?” he wouldn’t be so bold as to peek over her shoulder as she worked, unlike how Arthur had attempted so many times. Seiya didn’t say much and it was rare to hear her raise her voice even just for a bit, but when it came to her sketchbook, she was vocal and protective. Arthur attempted many times to uncover the mystery of that book, but Seiya never let anyone, not even Vincent take a peek inside.

Maybe it’s her diary? He thought about this many times.

Maybe it’s some sort of visual diary where she draws her feelings instead of writing them down.

Thinking about it like that, Vincent stopped asking her and instead, just enjoyed the tranquility and meditative togetherness of their afternoon painting sessions.

The only person he thought knew about the notebook’s contents would be Leonardo. They spend an awful lot of time together, after all. Comte had assigned the man to be Seiya’s caretaker, and Leonardo took that duty to heart, sometimes too seriously.

Sometimes, during their drawing afternoons, Leonardo would suddenly just pop out of nowhere, grab her notebook and throw it in the grass. The first time he did that, Vincent was so shocked his hands stopped painting, his paintbrush falling on the grass unnoticed.

There was only the sound of the wind, and the shifting of fabric as Seiya smoothed her skirt and walked towards her notebook. She would have a pained expression on her face, and she would wipe her book clean with the hem of her skirt. And Leonardo would just stand there, puffing his cigarrillo in, and blowing it all out with a heavy sigh.

“Fanculo,” she whispered. And Vincent froze. His neck slowly guided his eyes toward Leonardo, who now looked more annoyed than when he first walked in.

Vincent usually did not know how to respond to situations like these. Their silence made it impossible for him to intervene. Leonardo was not violent, no, and he wasn’t the type to insult women. But Seiya didn’t appreciate it when someone ordered her around.

Dealing with Theo at first proved to be one of the hurdles she had to overcome before making the mansion her home, too. Vincent would always remember the face she made when Theo called her a ‘hondje’. And the long road it took for them to actually make an effort to sit down, have an actual conversation and eventually get to know each other.

But with Leonardo, it was something different.

Seiya was composed, and usually calm - at least Vincent thought so - he always felt relaxed whenever they were together. Seiya would often say something and he would apologise for not listening carefully to what she had to say. In the end though, they both agreed that it was more that she spoke too softly, rather than him spacing out and not listening.

Vincent knew that feeling too well. And maybe, it was one of the reasons why they enjoyed each other’s company. Soft souls, his little brother called them.

But with Leonardo, it was different.

Seiya acted more like a child around him. She would pout, call him names and he would let her. And then they would retreat to his room. Sometimes the library. Sometimes, her room, very late into the night.

“I told you. You should stop these silly doodles,” When Leonardo finally spoke, it sounded more like a request than actual lecturing. Seiya would look away, and she would hold her dear treasure closer to her chest.

Vincent, without a word, held out his hands to both of them, as if trying to stop the eruption that was about to happen. Seiya would whisper, that it was none of his business. That made Vincent realise that her notebook was something more valuable than they all deem it to be. And that it was very personal. And, for whatever reason and content it held, Leonardo was against it.

He hated it. Vincent could see it. Enough for him to go out of his way to get it off her hands and into the dirt.

This would happen every now and then, and oddly enough, Vincent knew he should get used to it.

That evening, Vincent brought her a pot of flowers. Hoping she would calm down. Vincent knew his friend did not like cut flowers so whenever he wanted to cheer her up, he would pick a small pot from their growing collection, and walk it to her room.

That day, he could remember she argued with Leonardo again. She was upset that he did what he did during their good days. Vincent felt great earlier in the day and wanted to paint, and she too, felt inspiration course through her hands. And Leonardo just shattered that moment.

Vincent frowned a bit as he leaned against the wall a little further away from the door of Seiya’s room. He could now understand why she was so upset and his heart ached for her. But what he didn’t understand was why Leonardo hated her notebook. Did he dislike that she drew? He couldn’t put his mind around it.

Seiya stormed out, and ran to the opposite direction in tears. After a while, he found her behind the lush greens of the Gazebo. Almost how a little kid would hide themselves after a fight after an afternoon at the sandbox. He remembered how quietly she cried. And how warm her hand was when he helped her out of the grass.

They sat underneath the stars, a bench near the gate of the mansion. And there, she showed him. He didn’t really say anything, no, Vincent just sat with her. Hoping his presence would alleviate the stress and agitation she felt. Seiya felt like she needed to tell Vincent what was happening.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Her voice was always soft, like a silent prayer you hear inside a church. You should make out the words, but they would always sound like some foreign incantation made to sound familiar.

Vincent would often lean in and apologise. Asking her to repeat herself one more time, for his sake. Seiya would chuckle a bit and she would take a deep breath and would speak a little louder.

“Do you dislike Leonardo?” He asked her one time. And she looked at him with the strangest expression on her face. It was as if it was obvious that she did, but she also looked like she was shocked to hear him ask this question. It was hard for Vincent to understand her, most of the time.

Seiya did not say anything, but she gave him her notebook. Vincent’s eyes widened with interest and curiosity. He was excited and Seiya chuckled when she saw the eagerness in his blue eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asked just to be sure. It was dark, but he could still see the pink on Seiya’s cheeks. Her hair looked like starlight illuminating her from the nipping dark of dusk.

Vincent never felt like this before. The build up curiosity all stemming from the enigma that was her notebook, made the first look inside the pages of this mysterious book all the more exciting. He felt like a pirate, opening the treasure chest, seeing the valuable contents for the very first time.

And then, he stopped.

“You can’t tell anyone. Please?”

-To be continued-

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen leonardo #Onibeni Seiya #ikemen comte

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milleniaoffamily · 4 years

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Old Guard Fandom Discourse - This is very long

Hello! I feel it’s time for me to make a big old Fandom Discourse post.

Specifically centering around how people are treating Joe and Nicky’s relationship. The movie has created a beautifully healthy, equal, and loving relationship - and it’s an interracial interfaith gay relationship. That is huge.

Some people, though, have been reducing it to “Joe is masculine strong man he always tops and is super protective, Nicky is soft and cooks and always bottoms sweet little cherished man how cute″

Some people have been making this healthy mlm relationship into a skewed version through their own hetero-normative, racist, sexist, and overall ludicrous lens. I’d like to start off by saying I don’t hate these people. While I hope that you grow and change, the lens that you’re viewing this piece of media through is also the result of of a lengthy history of hetero-normativity, racism, sexism, and otherwise unhealthy mindsets in society. So I can understand how you fell into that thinking but also be better than our history and learn to change your frame of mind!

So lets start on how viewing them this way is actually real unhealthy and bad! First off, people can and are more than one thing! Joe and Nicky are both protective, both soft, both have the capacity for violence, and are both their own person. In acting the goal is to create a real person and become them and I think it’s fair to say that Luca Marinelli and Marwan Kensari have done an absolutely fantastic job. So, if they’ve the done the work to create these characters as if they’re real people, let’s treat them that way. People aren’t just a handful of traits walking around and Joe and Nicky aren’t either. Saying Joe is soft doesn’t even imply that Nicky isn’t. Reducing them down to “One is strong and one is sweet” not only diminishes the characters and their actions but also the work that the actors (and the fabulous director Gina Prince-Bythewood) have done to create interesting and deep people.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. When it comes to explicit forms of intimacy, position and who penetrates who has nothing to do with pretty much anything. Not all sexual encounters even involve penetration. The idea that it has to is old and outdated and I’m more than ready to move on. Nicky and Joe certainly are - their relationship is 900 years old and you think they really still only use the same two pieces of anatomy to give each other pleasure? Even worse is the idea that the person penetrating has some inherent masculinity while the person being penetrated is effeminate. These are two men and even if it was a man and a woman, some men enjoy being penetrated by a woman and some women enjoy penetrating a man. And that’s great! Sexual roles come down simply to preference and they are nothing more. The fact that there’s such an obsession with who ‘tops’ and who ‘bottoms’ and how that reflects on the characters or, G-d forbid, people being discussed proves that people aren’t viewing them as complex humans with duality and variety within them. Instead they’re being reduced down to nothing more than their sexual preference which is often a fluid thing - if a person generally enjoys being penetrated but sometimes wants to penetrate that’s fine, these things aren’t boxes you’re being shoved into no matter how hard people will try to frame it that way. The fact that it’s so prevalent with mlm relationships highlights how people are still forcing this idea that one has to be masculine and one has to be feminine. You know that disgusting “Oh so who’s the wife in the relationship?” joke with gay marriage? This is pretty much just a less in your face version of that. Both can be really masculine men. Both can be really effeminate men. Both can be *gasp* mixes of both because essentially nobody is purely masculine or purely feminine? It’s a gay relationship with two men loving each other for the men that they are. Please stop trying to slot it into your ‘everything has to mirror straight relationships so that I can understand it without shifting my perspective in the slightest’ and instead think about the fact that love is a genderless, sexless thing and everyone will show it in their own distinct way regardless of their identity.

Now why is it so often Joe who’s the strong, masculine, protective, violent one and Nicky who’s the soft, sweet, forgiving, vulnerable one? If Joe is the penetrator and that’s masculine, why are those masculine traits? If Nicky is the one penetrated and that’s effeminate, why are those effeminate traits? (The answers are sexism and racism, sorry for the spoilers). The fact that the person of color is the being slotted into the “strong man who’ll kill for his love and has explosive anger” spot arbitrarily while ignoring like 80% of what we see of him in the movie isn’t a coincidence. So let’s not be racist and look at that 80% of what we see of him in the movie! We do see him kill people. We also see him hug Andy and laugh with his family. We also see him care deeply for children he’s never met who don’t even exist in reality. We see him profess his eternal love for his husband - not to rescue him or punch people for him, but to be able to reach out and softly touch him to make sure he’s okay. Sometimes people forget that Nicky killed all those men in the van, too. People will also use the “You shot Nicky. You shouldn’t have done that.” line as proof for Overly Violent Joe. In reality, it’s a man who’s just been through trauma seeing his husband, the love of his eternal life, murdered in front of him. What does he do next? Does he give him an extremely painful wound and leave him to bleed out in agony? No. He snaps his neck, killing him instantly, because if he doesn’t kill that man he will kill his whole family. Joe has the capacity to kill and we see it time and time again, but more than that he has the intense capacity to love and feel with a rare external openness. That’s what the other 80% of the movie shows about Joe. Seeing a brown man killing and ignoring the gentle grounding touches he gives or the exuberant joy he expresses is bad enough. Turning around doing the opposite for the white character he’s with is even worse. Yes, Nicky cooks and makes silly bets with his family members and cares deeply about the ones he loves and the vulnerable people of the world who he doesn’t even know - and he also kills. He shoots people, he stabs people, he sleeps with weapons under his pillow, and he protects his family with fierce precision. He’s a sniper. Ignoring this side of him and ignoring the softness of Joe both makes Joe into the harmful, racist stereotype of a violent brown man and turns Nicky into someone incapable who would hinder the team. They all have the capacity for violence and they’re damn good at it and they all love each other in their own ways and Joe and Nicky are both damn good at that too. Ignoring either of those things in either person is diminishing their characters and succumbing to harmful stereotypes.

I hope that this post didn’t come across as attacking anyone - my intention was to point out the harmful discourse and why it’s harmful. As I said earlier, I only hope that we can be better than our history and learn to change our frames of mind so that we can think of everyone as people beyond the surface traits that our biases make us see them through.

TL;DR: Sexual roles and who penetrates who has nothing to do with personality, forcing that idea that one is more masculine than the other is both sexist and hetero-normative in a really icky way, not all sex has to be penetrative to begin with, and ignoring Joe’s softness while ignoring Nicky’s violence is racist and diminishes both their characters in the movie and the hard work that that actors and director did to make complex and interesting humans to watch. So don’t do it please, thank you.

#This post is very long #I had a lot of feelings and needed to articulate them #why make these beautifully complex characters into caricatures of your bias?#please stop that #the old guard #tog #long post #fandom discourse #rant

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illegiblewords · 4 years

Photo

Notes under the cut!

These aren’t all of my lady WoLs, but they are some of my favorite designs and I tried to specifically show different things with each of them.

I think with design, beyond different silhouettes it’s worth it to be able to look at a character and get a sense of their personality and background. Sometimes lifestyle depending on how realistic you’re going, although Final Fantasy is a bit “fuck practicality we’re running on rule of pretty” lmao.

With these ladies specifically I also wanted to 1) pick fashions that would work well with the body types and proportions 2) create specific tones 3) play with expectations. I also, personally, wanted to explore different forms of femininity in a positive way. I’ve seen some cases where people seem to think the only way to have a “strong” woman is if she’s made traditionally masculine. I have no problem with traditionally masculine women by any means, but I’m really not into demonizing femininity either. So if I have the option to actually explore femininity in a game in positive ways I like to do that!

Nheu/Pink Miqo’te: I wanted to make her a kind of scrappy character, loud and probably a bit obnoxious, a shameless delinquent sort who immediately demands attention with neon color schemes. Going with Keeper of the Moon miqo’te let her have a toothy smile with little fangs too! I didn’t want her to look mysterious or alluring. This is one of my favorite archetypes tbh, I should really use it more.

Lagogeim/Turquoise Roegadyn: I wanted to make a dragoon who tied to Limsa Lominsa instead of Ishgard or even Gridania, who took the concept of Llymlaen with her harpoon and really built into the motif of pirates. So beyond evoking the sea as much as possible, I wanted to use an unnatural skin tone and hair color since people shy away from those a lot. I tried going for a harder fem look too for her--many roegadyn players embrace this angle so I decided to this time!

Eir/Blue Highlander: I’ve seen a stereotype that hyur highlanders have tall, sexy bodies but less attractive faces. I wanted to make a very short, cute looking highlander girl who isn’t the extreme end of curvy, give her a short/cute haircut that still felt strongly feminine, and pair that with a heavier, more traditionally masculine-perceived job like Warrior. I also tried to make her really, REALLY feel Ala Mhigan both in gear and color scheme/features--I drew some aspects of her coloring from Ilberd to be honest!

Asklona/Green Roegadyn: So I mentioned that a lot of people do hard fem looks for lady roegadyns very well, and I’ve seen critics go after femroes saying they have mannish bodies and ugly faces before. I disagree with that a lot, and decided in this case to go as soft and traditionally feminine as I could. I also went with the least saturated Sea Wolf color and tried playing with blushes/hair color combos to help her look a bit more natural (as opposed to blue/greenish) in this case. Another angle I went with was bard specifically to close the gap between Limsa Lominsa and Gridania, playing into siren and pirate themes since this character is a Sea Wolf. Beyond choosing green to fit with my Famfrit team in a unique way, I chose it as that bridge and because the green being a complementary color to red would make any pink hues stand out more!

Osk/Purple Viera: The stereotype I’ve seen for viera has involved them being hyper sexualized. I personally also rarely use brown hair or the color purple apparently so far as those choices go. What’s more, I wanted to make a look for the scholar job that would be a little more versatile, clearly not mistakable for any other job (healing or otherwise) and that would keep this particular character both elegant and more conservatively dressed. I didn’t want the character to feel like she’d hopped out of the woods either given that’s the most frequent angle for Viera--going a more urban direction was something I wanted to do as a contrast to that.

Nivienne/Gold Elezen: Wildwood elezen tend to be pushed with more natural skintones while Duskwights are more likely to have blue undertones that let them feel like drow. In this case I wanted to make a Wildwood elezen who, due to color combinations, felt fantasy-golden and a little otherworldly. I did a lot of designing to foil Emet-Selch in the name of fanfic lmao (use of gray and gold in different places to different degrees, height, etc.) but I also wanted to make a summoner character who, like scholar, felt extremely visually distinct from other casters. The biggest Summoner-specific look involves horns so that stayed, but for the rest I wanted there to be a flowing and mysterious feel. There was a critique I saw in the past that female casters end up looking like magical girls, so I wanted to challenge that. I also was careful with how the face and shoulders were framed to make sure that Nivienne would feel proportional, since that’s a potential risk for elezen.

Acja/Brass Viera: Another alternate take on dragoon! This time, I wanted to make a viera who tied to savanna aesthetics as a contrast to forest ones, and I did look at Sub-Saharan African fashions as influence. I couldn’t get things exact/used some “it’s Final Fantasy people wear five billion belts” artistic license (and offhand I don’t remember the exact country I used, it might have involved Ghana’s historical armor?) but I tried to match silhouettes, materials, shoes, etc. as best I could. Part of this is also that I know African visuals get used less often in video games, which is a shame because they’re incredibly gorgeous and distinct! So Acja is one design where I did try to bring that in.

Kokono/Orange Lalafell: I’ve seen people lament lack of canine race options in FFXIV and honestly, I agree with that sentiment. We have so many cats and it would have been cool to get dog options. Since it’s not an in-game thing though, I figured this was an opportunity to make the type of character instead. In this case, I used the dark nose option for lalafells and combined with pieces from the werewolf set to make a little fox! She has a few different influences to her visuals due to backstory stuff, but I do think there are ways to make more foxes and small dogs for lalafells as well as wolves for Hellsguard roegadyns.

Eshe/Yellow Au Ra: Another African-influenced design, this one tying to Ethiopian historical fashion and armor! Same rules apply though, the top goes hugely with the “it’s Final Fantasy” brand of artistic license. I know au ra are mostly associated with Othard/Eastern regions, so I decided to shift things to a different tone while trying to keep things fully immersive. I made Eshe a paladin because the swords and shields have some options that resemble African sword designs (WHICH ARE SO FUCKING COOL) and I wanted to try a different tone for paladin from the Western knight-in-shining-armor as well. I didn’t want Eshe to feel overly cutesy or innocent, but did want her to feel very graceful and strong.

Mitsu/Red Midlander: A few things hit me in combination here. First, I’d been nerfing myself to a degree with hyur midlanders when I knew there was an approach I liked. Second, I haven’t seen a lot of traditional-looking characters from Othard and I wanted to switch that up. By this I mean that looking at Far Eastern NPCs, often they are midlander hyurs with black, dark brown, or occasionally gray hair. Not a ton of dye. I love that the Warrior of Light could come from anywhere, so I tried to design someone who credibly could have been an NPC in Kugane. She’s a summoner because there is an Othard tradition of summoning, and she wears red because to my knowledge it has symbolism for good luck in both Japan and China besides being pretty. I also wanted to make a very different summoner (and general caster) visual compared to Nivienne.

#final fantasy xiv screenshots #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy gpose #ffxiv

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where-our-stories-start · 4 years

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Tortall Fancast Series - Daine the Wildmage

I don’t know if other people are enjoying these, but I’m having fun making them, so I’m gonna keep doing it.

Daine is described as having thick brown curls (which are often tamed by a headscarf) hanging past her thin shoulders. Her "soft, full mouth said she was vulnerable; her chin was entirely stubborn." She has blue-gray eyes, framed by long lashes.

Daine was five feet six inches tall at age 17. (x)

Heads up that while I recognize that Weiryn’s brownness is related to his relationship with nature rather than his having any human race, I still picture Daine as nonwhite based on both her biology and her physical description, and I try to use nonwhite fancasts as much possible.

Daine is 13 in Wild Magic, 14 in Wolf Speaker, 15 in Emperor Mage, 16 in The Realms of the Gods, 16-24 in the Protector of the Small Quartet, and 25-27 in the Trickster Duology.

LAUREN JULIEN-BOX - ACTOR/MODEL

Lauren Julien-Box is one of the best fancasts for young Daine I can find. She was born in 2005/2006. At age 9, she played Young Dido in the film Belle, in which she wears upper- and lower-class Georgian clothing. Some of her modeling work can be found here.

MARINA NERY - MODEL

Marina Nery might come closest to how I picture Daine in the books. She was born in 1996 and has been modeling since she was 15, so she has content that fits most of The Immortals and Protector of the Small. She even has blue eyes like Daine, which is uncommon in people with dark hair and darker complexions.

LARA ROBINSON - ACTOR (MULTIPLE ROLES)

Lara Robinson is another favorite fancast of mine, particularly for content that spans multiple years. She was born in 1998 and began acting when she was around 9 years old. She doesn’t have any films with particularly Tortall-appropriate costume design, but her still images have very Daine vibes.

KEISHA CASTLE-HUGHES - MARY OF NAZARETH (NATIVITY STORY)

Keisha Castle-hughes was 15 while filming Nativity Story. She’s got lots of curly brown hair - even frequently held back by a scarf! - and the clothing style is in keeping with the type of thing Daine might wear on the road or even in Carthak. She has a lot of scenes as well, which is always great.

JESSICA BROWN-FINDLAY - ALAIS (LABYRINTH)

You probably recognize Jessica Brown-Findlay from Downton Abbey, but she also played one of the leads in the 2012 film Labyrinth. She was roughly 22 when filming and wears medieval clothing throughout. Her hair’s not quite as unruly as Daine’s should be, but she’s still a solid choice for young adult Daine, say, during the Scanran War.

NATHALIE EMMANUEL - MISSANDEI (GAME OF THRONES)

Nathalie Emmanuel is another actor I like for young adult Daine. She was 23-29 during Seasons 3-8 of Game of Thrones, and she has a ton of varied scenes. She’s big into dresses, which Daine is not, and she has much less hair than would be idea, but honestly it’s so rare to find young actors of color in fantasy settings that I wanted to include her.

ANGEL COULBY - GWEN (MERLIN)

At 28-32 during this series, Angel Coulby is objectively too old to portray Daine at any point in current canon. However, here we are again with that no-women-of-color-in-medieval-fantasy thing. She’s a prominent character with a variety of content throughout the entire show. She wears low-class, high-class, and warrior medieval clothing. She’s super cool and I will imagine her as Daine beyond the Trickster books.

If you’ve got other fancasts you like for Daine, feel free to add them! The full series can be found here. If you have requests for particular characters, send those my way as well!

#tortall #tamora pierce #veralidaine sarrasri #daine the wildmage #daine fancast #tortall fancast series #lauren julien-box #marina nery #lara robinson #keisha castle-hughes #jessica brown-findlay #nathalie emmanuel #angel coulby

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grapenamjams · 4 years

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Tavern Nights

Genre: Fluff, slight NSFW

Characters: Julian from the arcana and my apprentice Eliza

A/N: i really wanted to write about my favorite dumb doctor but I am not super proud of this one but I still figured I post it because maybe someone will enjoy it?

a little bit about my MC

Her name is Eliza (she/her. Female.) She is 5′2 has brown wavy hair, brown eyes (with specks of green) she also has adorable freckles across her nose. she just wants her red haired doctor to be able to get some rest lol

Tonight was a rare night indeed. After weeks of telling Julian that he needed a vacation Eliza was finally able to negotiate with the doctor to take the weekend off, although she had hoped to get more days off, at this point she would take any number to see him not worry about work, and one of the ways that makes Julian forget and not worry is by looking at the bottom of a couple of tankards.

The Scarlett haired doctor slams the wooden cup down onto the table breathing out a loud Satisfied sigh. “Ah! DRINKS ON ME!” He yells, a eruption of ‘cheers’ and Hollers sound out inside the the rowdy raven. The sound dies down transforming into the usual chatter that bounces off the walls of the small warmly lit tavern. Eliza looks to Julian who has a huge smile, warming her heart to see the happiness on his handsome face. “Julian, honey you already said that... after every drink in fact” she giggles, the alcohol going through her body making her Susceptible to laughing more than usual. ”It has to be said after every drink dear! it makes The experience more authentic!” He grins at her before accepting another pint from the server. Good thing that the tavern owner knows Julian and does not put those words on their tab.

Eliza sipped on her glass, letting the bitter liquid make its way down her throat, she wasn’t much of a drinker like Julian was a soft buzz through her veins was enough for her. She heard a few distinct shuffling in the corner and then a upbeat tune starts to play. “Oh ho the band is finally here!” Julian brightens up. Eliza sees people start pushing tables aside creating their own dance space in the middle of the tavern. Before she knows it a crowd already formed, stomps and cheers ringing out through the small space into the night outside. Neighbors already turning over in their beds hugging their pillows to their face to block out the lively music.

Julian slides out of their booth and stretches a bare hand towards her, his gloves and coat discarded the moment they walked in. “May I take this stunning women out to dance?” He grins. without missing a heart beat Eliza laughs “you certainly may!” she takes his hand and Julian pulls her out of the booth and into his arms. “Wonderful, lets dance!” He laughs and takes her to the crowd of people.

The music that was playing had a group dance to it, Julian leaves Eliza on one side of the line as he goes to the other one in front of her. Both lines skip side to side in the beginning and Then her line starts forward having a little skip to the step until they are face to face with the other line, Julian smiles at her and then she skips back. Julian’s line repeats the step, when Julian is close to her he leans down and gives a quick peck to her lips before he’s pulled away, Eliza’s heart skips a beat. her line then goes Forwards again but this time they duck under the other lines raised arms trading place, a ‘woooo’ is let out when they do this, Then another as Eliza raises her arms for Julian to duck through going on her tippy toes for his large frame.

Both lines face towards the band and start clapping on beat as people from the two lines meet each other at the start and dance their way down the open middle, then the next pair went and another until she was met with Julian. He grabs her left hand and spins her around showing her off to the crowd a cheer is heard for them and Eliza blushes. He then puts his left arm around her waist and begins to lead her down the clapping line. When they reach the end he still holds her close, moving side to side with her. Then as the last people paired up the music changed, this one faster with the violin going full out. An even wider smile breaks across Julian’s face he looks at her and raises his eyebrows “ready?” but before she could say anything, Julian leads her forwards his feet skipping at a faster past almost hopping at times, Eliza had no choice but to try to keep up with his pace at first making her stumble on her feet at the fast movements, hearing Julian's laugh above her gave her brain a different type of buzz as they danced around the tavern.

Forwards, backwards, to the sides Julian moved Eliza all through out the space. Spinning her and him around to the sway of the music. He loved seeing her tilt her head back and laugh still holding on to him letting him lead her. She brought her head back up keeping the smile on her face all the way through the song. Once it ended, the crowed clapped and cheered for the band. In a matter of seconds a new song ringed out over them. It was a much calmer pace but still upbeat tempo it was a chance for the participants to catch their breath.

Julian spines Eliza out in front of him taking a good look at her figure, feeling something hot come over him. He pulls her back to his chest and very much like her own is moving up and down trying to catch their breaths. Julian's hands travel down her body and land on her hips, making a shiver pass through Eliza’s spine. she wraps her arms around his neck and he pulls her towards him making their hips move together.

Julian bends down to whisper in her ear. “You look absolutely ravishing tonight my dear” his voice husky and low, breath fanning over her heated neck. Eliza hums “hm you think so?” Julian lifts his head a bit his lips ghosting over her jaw “absolutely, the thoughts that I’m having right now would get any man in trouble” Eliza smirks up at him “well lets see how much trouble those thoughts will get you in” Julian's eyes flicker to hers, darkening with desire before he crashes his lips to hers. He kisses her softly at first but then he feels her hands go through his hair , pushing him against her deepening the kiss. he has to suppress a groan that comes from his throat by tightening his hold on her hips. Julian then parts from her lips to kiss her neck. He kisses her twice before both of them hear a mans voice come up next to them

“Julian you lovesick man treat your women to a room!” The pair snap their heads towards a man dancing with his partner. Julian and Eliza turn bright red at being caught. Eliza hides her face in Julian's chest smiling and shaking her head from embarrassment. Julian recovers and laughs at the man with confidence although in the inside he’s a flustered mess. “will do! thank you for the suggestion my good man” the man laughs and takes his partner away. Julian looks down at Eliza who still has her faces hidden in his chest holding the lapels of his Semi open shirt to cover her face.

“That was embarrassing” she says against his skin, Julian chuckles and puts a finger to her chin making her look up at him. “It shouldn’t, what’s wrong with two people that love each other show a little bit of affection, huh?” Eliza bites her lip trying to Suppress a smile. Julian sees and tugs her bottom lip away from her teeth. “I want the whole world to know your mine and I am yours” he gives her a kiss and pulls back again. “If anyone has a problem with that then...send them my way I’ll give them something to talk about.” he smiles making Eliza shake her head at him, the embarrassment leaving her. “You’re so dramatic” she wraps her arms around his neck again as the next song picks up. “Darling, aren't I always?” He grins and begins to lead her through the next dance.

* * *

After a few more dances and after a few more Emptied tankards Eliza thought it was time to start heading home. She finished her last drink, the lightness she felt throughout her body still let her be aware of what was around her so she could get herself and Julian safely home.

“Another round, please!” Julian says to the server who is picking up their plates and many cups. “A-actually I think we’re done, can you round our tab please?” The server smiles and nodes before walking away. “Awww why so soon?” Julian pouts at her. Eliza lets out a giggle “because if I don’t get you out of here, you’re gonna start dancing on the tables and once that happens there’s no getting you out of bed the next morning” she pushes his chest lightly, Julian laughs at that

“aaand I want to do things tomorrow with you, so I can’t have you laying in bed all day” Julian smirks and grabs her wrist that stayed on his chest, pulling her towards him looking her up and down “but my dear we can also do ‘things’ while laying in bed all day, right?” he leans closer and Eliza matches his smirk but leans away from him raising An eyebrow “with a pounding headache? I don’t think so” Julian smiles and lets out a breath “you’re right” he wraps his arms around her in a tight hug and mumbles “I want to spend the whole day with you with a clear mind, yeah?.... ‘cuz I love youuu” he says squeezing her tight against him squishing her. “Ilya....can’t...breath” she says laughter bubbling inside her. he slackens his hold on her and she looks up at him to see a worried expression on his face “I’m sorry Eliza, are you alright?? Can you breath now?” His hands are on her face checking her like as if she in fact was having trouble breathing from his hug. She places her hands on his “Im fine Julian” his face shows that he is relived “oh good” but a smirk comes just as quick “but are you sure? If you need mouth to mouth, I’ll gladly provide” she pulls his hands away from her face, knowing that this walk home was gonna be a interesting one. “I know you would” smiling, she leans in and kisses him, Julian lets out a satisfied sigh but pouts when she pulls away. “Now come on let’s go home”

When they stepped out of the tavern Eliza didn’t realize how hot it was inside of it. The night air hit her like a wave of cold water, she shivered a bit and fixed her coat around her. The position of the moon overhead as they walked home told her it was well past midnight. Julian was staggering next to her half humming and singing a song from the band that played, he was hunched down with an arm over her shoulder, she insisted on him putting some of his Weight on her so he wouldn't fall on the uneven cobblestones that the lanterns barley helped light.

Julian lays his head on top of hers and breaths in “You always smell like a field of flowers my dear.” He slurs, Eliza lets out a amused laugh “really? I just danced and was inside a smelly tavern for the last few hours, I Smell far from a field of flowers” she feels Julian shake his head into her hair “not trueeee, you smell of roses and your hair is so soft like..like soft angel wings!” His voice coming out slow and deep. He pokes her cheek “Your skin is also so soft like...” he pauses trying to find something to compare it too. “Ah! Like a baby’s-“ “don’t you dare finish that sentence” Eliza cuts him off. Julian barks out a laugh rocking both of them, Eliza tries to quickly steady them both.

“What I’m trying to tell you is that your beautiful, my love” his arms go around hugging her “I love you, you know that? I’ll never know how I got so lucky” He nuzzles his head on top of hers. Then sucks in a breath “I-I truly do love you Eliza! Its the truth! It’s not just the alcohol ‘talkin, I mean it! I really do. With all my heart” he sounds desperate for her to understand his feelings, his pout being heard in his voice. Eliza’s heart warms at his words and actions. she can’t help but to smile and puff out a laugh. She places her hands on top of his around her making him stop his rambling and she squeezes them reassuring him. “I know Ilya, I love you too” she tilts her head up to him and he gives her a kiss.

* * *

Once they entered through the door Eliza let out a relived sigh to be finally back home. The shops incense filling her head. Something wooden landed on the floor with a thud, quickly followed by a sluggish voice “s-sorry my bad” doing a spell to turn on the lights Eliza sees Julian trying to pick up the table he had crashed into but he was swaying forward in the processes missing it, clearly dizzy from drinking. She chuckled, going over and steading the table. She grabbed Julian again “Let’s get you upstairs and into the shower, hm?” Julian nodes but the movement makes his head swell. with a bit of a struggle trying not to fall back down the pair make it upstairs. Eliza helps shed Julian's coat, gloves and boots while he tries to do the same to her but Eliza laughed as she moved away from his grasps making Julian whine in protest.

“Alright, go take a shower” she tugs him towards the bathroom but Julian doesn't go inside, instead He looks at the bathroom and then her with a smug look “you know. I’ve heard that Vesuvias water source is getting low...” he leans in closer “shouldn’t we do our part in saving it?”

‘Gosh why is he an adorable idiot?’ Eliza thinks as she rolls her eyes amused. but As much as she loves the idea she wants him to relax so he could rest thoroughly tonight and be fresh for tomorrow and also.... she liked teasing him “we can save vesuiva’s water problem” she smirks and leans up to kiss him but pauses “later, for now go get in the shower you smell” she goes back down to her feet and pushes him gently towards the bathroom.

the doctor frowns but then his eyebrows shoot up “is that a promise?”

“It’s a maybe” she replies

“I’ll take it!” And without saying anything else he goes into the bathroom.

* * *

Julian comes out of the shower looking refreshed. his wet hair still dripping on to the towel around his neck. After telling him to drink some water Eliza goes inside the bathroom to take a quick shower as well. It felt good standing under the warm water, letting her body Wind down from today’s activities. She steps out of the shower and changes into her night clothes. When she enters the bedroom again Julian is sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her, the glass of water she put for him empty. his hair still wet and dripping into the towel. She places her used one on a chair, “why is your hair still wet?” She asks

“I was waiting for you.” She turns to him an eyebrow raised in question “for me?” Julian's cheeks get a tint of pink on them “I...wanted you to dry my hair...” he averts his eyes. A smile makes its way across Eliza’s face “so you waited this whole time for me, so I could dry your hair?” Julian nodes his head looking up at her walk over to him trying not to laugh.

“Julian you could get a cold” she says, sitting on his lap her legs on either side of him, his hands instinctively going to her hips. He looks up at her and gives her one of his grins “good thing I’m a doctor that has a lovely nurse to take care of him” Eliza laughs ‘what an adorable idiot’ she cant help but think again. she takes the towel around his neck and puts it over his head. “Mmhmm sure, a nurse that will spend the entire day hearing the complains of a doctor that got a cold more like” she says and shakes the towel against his hair. Julian chuckles at her response, closing his eyes.

Once his hair was deemed dry by Eliza she starts to run her fingers through his scarlet hair making Julian lean into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder. With the feeling of her surrounding him and with the calming silence of the shop, even maybe due to the salty bitters in his system. Julian’s tired mind couldn’t help but to wander, thinking of all the moments that he had missed with her because of his work.

How many breakfasts ,lunches, dinners had he missed with her? How many of her smiles and laughs had he not seen or heard? How many nights like the one they had tonight could have happened? A guilt came over him as he heard Eliza’s voice. “all done” he lifted his head to look at her, even though she had said she was finished her fingers still ran through his hair slowly, making curls with her finger.

“Thank you”

Eliza hummed “No need, I don’t mind”

He moved her closer “I mean, thank you for everything. thank you for putting up with me, for being by my side for being here.” He pauses and sighs, he starts to rub her sides “I know.... I haven't been with you as of late. I’ve been so busy with work that I haven't been giving you the attention that you deserve... a-and for that I’m truly sorry, I certainly don’t deserve-“ Julian gets caught off by Eliza kissing him, when she pulls back he stares at her wide eyed. She places a finger to his lips and shakes her head “none of that kind of talk anymore, understand?”

Knowing if she didn’t stop him he would go on a talk that would only lead to a dark place. Julian goes red “but its true I-“ she kisses him again and he smiles against her “understood” he says and kisses her again. Eliza pulls back, she puts one hand on his shoulder while the other one swipes away a already formed curl from his face. “Ilya. I love you and with that I understand that you love the work that you do which in turn makes me proud and happy. You don’t have to be sorry, we get moments like these don’t we? And I appreciate them even more when we do.” she kisses him again and he sighs happily “Thank you” . Eliza traces a finger down his cheek and following his sharp jaw “besides, I have you all to myself for three days and I plan to use that time wisely” Eliza insides do a somersault at what she just said, this confidence definitely coming from the alcohol in her system. She tries to not blush but fails as she sees Julian also redden but gives her a smirk.

“My love, you can’t say those types of things to me right now, I will not be able to sleep” he shifts under her, making her cheeks warm up, he captures her lips in his kissing her softly she kisses him back just the same. after a moment Eliza reluctantly pulls away looking at his hooded eyes. “But sleep we must. If we want energy for tomorrow’s activities” she says rubbing his shoulders. the doctors eyes flicker with interest before falling back onto the bed bringing Eliza down with him. She lets out a startled laugh on top of him and fixes herself on the bed. “Then sleep we shall, so tomorrow’s festivities come faster” Julian says letting out a soft chuckle, wrapping an arm around her waist putting his head close to her chest wanting to be held by her, she complies his silent request. “Someone’s eager” she teases him stroking his head again, “can’t blame me” he mumbles heavy eyes starting to close “goodnight my love” he gives her a small squeeze Eliza smiles into his hair giving him a kiss “goodnight Ilya”

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