#darker than black spoilers

[crunchity-munchity]

One of the most foul things they did in season 2 of dtb was kill April immediately

[smokeygrayrabbits]

darker than black is criminally underrated and I'm taking it personally. the following will be a list of headcannons that I might expand on later but probably won't because summer work is kicking my ass.

hei and November 11 have an awful frenemy relationship. November thinks Hei is adorable and so fun to tease. Hei wouldn't spit on November if he was on fire, and regularly shoves him off of any roof they find themselves on. everyone thinks they're in love. but they're both shady, emotionally constipated morons so who knows.

despite his insistence that he hates his team, Huang makes a point of always having snacks for them in his bag. protein bars for hei, tuna for mao, and those little water jelly cakes yin likes. he carries rubber gloves too, for when hei is a little too zappy to touch

Heis landlady is an overbearing saint who has made it her life mission to spoil poor little Li who's all alone in a different country! poor baby reminders her so much of her own son, who's moved out by now. she hopes that someone is looking after her boy the way she looks after Li. she also thinks Li eats way too much take out, and gets in the habit of leaving him homemade meals and having him over for dinner at least once a week. Hei has no idea how to handle this. nobody has taken care of him like this since, maybe ever. Mao gives him shit for it constantly, but if the landlady's cookbooks are often found suspiciously open on the counter displaying some of Heis favorites, then Mao certainly had nothing to do with it. nope.

[preciseshadow]

✨growth✨

[sluckythewizard]

GET BACK ON THE OPERATING TABLE, SIRE BOY! YOU DIE WHEN WE LET YOU! EVEN AS WE SPEAK WE'RE SYNTHESIZING BLOOD AND ORGANS, SYNTHESIZING HEART AND SOUL.FACES R HARD TO RECONSTRUCT. MAYBE A COOL ROBOT VISOR? SEE YOU SOON.

[obscurecharactershowdown]

Group E Round 1

[image ID: the first image is of Mini Kapoor-Lopez, an Indian girl with short brown hair, brown eyes, and gold-colored cat eye glasses. she's wearing a light purple shirt with a darker purple shirt underneath. she's carrying a camping backpack, bedroll, water bottle, and rope. the second image is of Maki, a boy with medium length gray hair. his left eye is red, and his right eye is green. he's wearing a yellow and white jacket with a hood, and an orange shirt underneath. end ID]

Mini Kapoor-Lopez

Smart. Demigod. Glasses. Underrated fave

Maki

When he first showed up in episode 15, I gasped. He instantly became my special boy. He was interesting, complex, unique, kinda a brat, and could blow shit up. I loved him. Then he was killed in THE NEXT EPISODE. THE N E X T E P I S O D E. He had so much potential as a character!!!!! and his ability was fuckin COOL!!!! stuff he touched would blow up on command!! he kept rocks in his pocket to throw like grenades!!! that's fuckin SICK!!!! and then he just dies! what bullshit. it's been like 10 years since i watched Darker than Black and i'm STILL pissed. justice for Maki

[1989nihil]

Thoughts on the first two episodes of Ahsoka:

I haven't seen The Powers That Be disrespect their characters, their main character no less this much ever since Darker than Black: Gemini no Meteor. I mean, it ain't that bad but close enough, and that's saying something. That's not... that's just not how Ahsoka would act and react. Nor would Hera act/react like this, or Sabine. All three are characters that originate in cg animated shows. To adapt cg animated characters to live action is not easy, as some character traits or unique facial expressions just wont work the same as they do in animation. To smooth out these differences direction and acting needs to get creative, which I did not see here. The performance of some of the characters came across as a bit lackluster, though, no hate on the actors here.

But there's something else about the direction that bothers me, at least for the first episode: Sabine's introduction at first comes across as if she was invited to come to Lothal for the inaugration of her mural as an offical memorial to Ezra. But nope, she apparently has been living in the old Com-Tower ever since the end of Rebels, as evidenced by the fact that she holds a lothcat as pet. Wouldn't it have been better then, to show how she simply just didn't show up to the ceremony and some security officers were send to the tower to retrive her, rather then her ditching the ceremony seconds before she was meant to give a speech, and then gunning down the speed-way towards the tower, because she misses Ezra so much? I mean, okay this is a bit nit-picky, but it irks me with its inconsistency.

And don't get me started on the make-up. Like, you can clearly see that that's make-up. The white markings on her face look like they're drawn own, rather than being a natrual part of her body, as is the case for all Togruta. Her lekku... I can sorta understand why they ended up looking like that, but still. It looks more like a head-dress than something that is, again, like the white markings PART OF HER BODY!

And... and while I do know that a lot of SW shows employ green-screen, but c'mon! What the hell is up with the cinematography?

This looks more like a passionate fan made project (no hate for fan made shorts here!), than a multi million dollar produciton from the studio that brought us the original trilogy! Hell, the entire five seasons of Stargate Atlantis likely had the same budget as just one episode of Ahsoka, and the effects their CGI and Specfial Effects department produced still hold up today well today. After more than ten years. This, however? This already looks dated, like PS3 graphics.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 4

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: JMKink is nothing and everything that you need and want it to be. Meanwhile, you are nothing and everything that Joel imagines you to be.

WC: 13.8k

TW: Warnings are below the cut in small red, feel free to skip them if you want to avoid chapter spoilers, but there are some descriptions of reader so I would classify this as more of an original character versus a blank canvas female reader.

AN: I actually cannot believe how many of you reached out all excited about September 1st approaching. From the bottom of my cold dead heart, thank you!! The more I write this, the more I picture video game Joel, so do with that what you will haha. Thanks so @ak-vintage and @lotusbxtch for beta reading for me. Support banners and dividers by @saradika-graphics. I recently got promoted at work (yay me), but the job is now waaaaaay more work than before, so enjoy this chapter slowly because I am not sure when I will be writing chapter 5.

Series Masterlist || My Masterlist

TW: p in v, dirty talk, sub dom relationships, age gap, alcohol consumption, flirting, voyeurism, description of a threesome and other sexual acts, use of sex toys, nipple clamps, female orgasm, talks of neglectful parents during childhood and loss of a spouse. Mutual pining.

“Hnnng, fuck yes, daddy.” He’s rutting into you deeper than anyone else ever has. Long, slow strokes of his heavy cock sending you into a spiral of white hot, sparkling nirvana. 

“So fuckin’ wet n’ tight. Fuck, sweet girl.” His deep voice devours you - rattling around your skull, echoing slightly as if you’re in a large, empty room. 

Everything is black; darker than the onyx pits of his eyes. You’re not sure if you’re up or down, and you’re either blindfolded or have your face buried in a pillow as he fucks into you from behind. All you can feel is the pleasurable push and pull of his thick, vein lined cock slamming in and out of you. The vast darkness and the feeling of him filling you so full is overwhelming

“Please, daddy. Please. I’m so close.”

The soft mushroom head of his cock is kissing right where he taught you to crave it, and you wouldn’t be surprised if that spongy spot had ‘Property of Joel Miller’ branded on it by now. Within seconds of him pressing inside of you tonight you had completely submitted to him; surrendering to the darkness, the sensation, the exquisite pleasure. This is exactly where you were meant to be, and he’s the only one you’d want to be here with. It has never been this good, and even with your limited experience you know that it will probably never be this good with anyone else. 

“Don’t stop this time. Please don’t stop this time.” You’re an aching, crying, desperate crumb of yourself; wholly at his mercy.  

“No coming until I say.” His voice seems further away with every word and dread settles in your stomach as it all starts to fade.

“No! Nonono. Please no.” You feel a hot tear run down your face as the euphoria fades. You can barely feel or hear him anymore as little slits of yellow light appear. You blink once, twice. After a third long blink your bedroom comes into view.

Fuck. 

This has been the start of your new three part morning routine for the last few nights, since that kiss with Joel, since filling out your preferences and signing all the waivers. Since being asked to submit test results and proof of birth control. Since Joel Miller became your Dom. Night after night you dream of him fucking you, and night after night, right as you’re about to fall over the edge, he tells you not to come until he says and you wake up.

The second part of your morning routine is a lot more cathartic and vocal - very vocal. Your newly painted cotton candy pink nails (anything to stay distracted and busy) dig into the soft cotton of your pillow as you pull it out from behind your head, pressing it to your face and screaming until your throat feels raw.

Fuck.

When all the breath is pushed from your lungs, you put your pillow back and kick off the blanket. Your bare feet drag along the worn down carpet of your bedroom to the cold and cheap linoleum of your bathroom. You pee, avoiding your clit at all costs when you clean up. You know you’re down fucking bad when even the scratchy 1-ply toilet paper is enough to make you almost crumble. 

Part three of your new morning ritual is probably the part that shocks you the most. You change into leggings and a tank top, slipping a ten dollar bill and your house key into the side of your sports bra. The old springs of your mattress creak as you sit to slip on socks and your lavender colored runners, that you honestly forgot you owned until the morning after your twenty second birthday. You sneak out of your apartment, careful not to wake your roommate and jog down the stairs from your fourth floor suite to step into the cool March morning air.

Fuck. 

After shaking out each leg, you start to run. There’s no technique to your form or a planned out route. You leave your phone behind, only sounds are the morning traffic and your struggling breath to keep you company. It's just you, pushing your body to forget how badly you’re throbbing between your thighs and trying to erase the feeling of him. As you turn the corner at the end of your block you can see the bright green grass and leafy trees of the park. Your calf muscles burn with every step, but it’s not enough; you can still feel him. As you reach the park your lungs start to burn; they feel like they’re filling with fluid. Your ankles protest with every strike of your feet against the concrete. Finally, just as you swear you’re about to meet your maker it happens, the sweet release you’re pushing for. Finally every trace of the ghost of Joel Miller disappears. 

Your legs slow below you and you clutch your side, wandering lazily around the park. The rush of blood through your ears is nearly deafening, almost completely drowning out the chirping of the birds and the trickling of the water in the large stone fountain. You suck in quick, deep breaths, essentially doing everything and anything not to pass out. You’re free from him, if only for a little bit, as you fight against what feels like death knocking on your door. 

As you walk home you grab a coffee - black with just a splash of almond milk, apologizing to the barista as you hand her the sweaty ten dollar bill that was tucked into your bra and begin mentally scheduling your day. It’s Monday, which means you don’t work today and you can focus on studying and laundry. Your LSAT retake is just a few days away, today is your last full free day, and you have to get as much studying and practicing done as possible. The dread of taking that test again has your hot coffee doing flips in your stomach. Getting some college letters would really help put you at ease. You know you applied early but it would be nice to know if you need to continue to push or if you can finally rest. 

When you get back to your apartment your roommate has already left for her classes. You check your phone and your heart lurches in your chest at Joel’s name across your cracked lock screen. There’s been no contact between the two of you since Friday night. You slide open the text with shaky fingers

Good Morning, sweet girl. Are you ready to learn? 

You bite your lip as you respond. 

Yes, please, Mr Miller. 

You stare at the text thread for a while. Although you aren’t sure if a total of three texts can be considered a thread, but you stare anyway trying to will more messages into existence. After a few minutes you give up, locking your phone and stripping your bedsheets. The trek to the laundry in the building feels like it takes forever and you rush back to check your phone. There’s no response but you do have a little red bubble on your JMK app. You excitedly tap on the app to see a new menu titled ‘Dominant Preferences’ added at the top. When you click it, everything from your Reddit wormholes is revealed.

 ‘Joel Miller likes to participate in bondage play, nipple play, toy play, dirty talk, oral sex (both giving and receiving), and fingering. He doesn’t like brat taming, but is willing to participate in scenes where his submissive needs to be put in her place occasionally. He never has sexual intercourse - vaginal or anal, this is a hard limit for him and his submissives need to understand that there is zero room for negotiation on this matter. He’s very open to impact play, but believes that only good girls should get spankings.’

You click off the little ‘Read and Accepted’ box at the bottom without hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to accept, he texts you seconds after your finger has made contact with the screen. 

8pm tomorrow. I’m sending a car for you. You should dress comfortably.

The same kind faced man from your birthday waits for you outside your apartment at 7:30 the next night. He opens the door, smiling gently at you as you hop in; leather and new car smell wafting around you. During the drive to the club you learn his name is Arthur, but my friends call me Cap. 

“Can I ask you a question, Cap?” You ask as downtown comes into view.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you drive all of Joel’s, umm, do you drive lots of women around for Joel?”

He chuckles knowingly from the driver's seat, glancing into the rearview mirror at you. “No ma’am. Joel is a pretty secretive man. I have driven him places when he’s alone, or I drive Tommy’s subs, but never Joels.”

You nod and look out the window. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you.

Cap rushes to open the door when he pulls up to JMKink. The club is in a different building than Joel’s office; that was in the tall building across the street. Three bright and expansive floors of that red stone faced building belonged to JM Inc. Assumingly, the home base for all the businesses he has his hands in. This building, however, is smaller amongst the tall skyscrapers of the Austin skyline. The entire building is coated in a shiny black chrome, from the steel framing to the windows, except for the golden JMK logo on the front door. You take a calming breath before heading up the steps, the blacked out glass door slides open automatically.

Your dark high heeled boots click on the black and honey flecked marble, the floor reminding you of Joel’s eyes. You wish the marble would suck you into it so you could live in that feeling you get when Joel looks at you. Where it might be seen as cold and intimidating to others, to you it feels warm and inviting, almost familiar, and that little box of feelings in the back of your mind stirs a little bit. 

He told you to dress comfortably tonight, and you felt most at ease in a deep green sweater dress and knee high heeled boots. The dress just barely skims your thighs, making your legs look long and toned. You could use a tan, but it’s only March, everyone in Texas could use a tan at this point. You left your hair down in loose curls and kept your makeup minimal, as always. 

There are three people in the small foyer. Two stunning women stand behind the hostesses desk in matching black dresses and collars. To the right of them stands a man who looks like he could kill you with his pinkie. He’s also dressed in all black, and stands in front of a large door. Everything here seems like it’s meant to intimidate but all you can see and feel is the safety that comes with knowing Joel Miller. 

One of the women looks up at you, smiling comfortingly and asks for your name. Before you can respond, Joel's honey lined voice answers her. The sound of your name on his tongue feels like taking a breath of fresh winter air. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your own breath leaping in your throat as you spin slowly to meet his gaze. There’s no other way to around it, Joel Miller is fucking exquisite. His slightly outgrown curls are pushed back, silver reflecting off his temples and throughout his beard. Tonight he’s wearing a deep midnight blue Tom Ford suit with one jacket button done up, underneath he’s wearing a crisp white t-shirt, paired with brown dress shoes and what you assume will be a matching belt. One of his hands is tucked in the pocket of pants that literally look like they weren’t made for him, the other hangs loose at his side and you catch that gold ring again.  

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he speaks to everyone in the lobby, “You’re all to remember her name. She is my guest, my only guest, and as far as you’re all concerned she’s the most important person in this club. Understand?”

The little box of feelings lifts its lid a little. No, you say to the box, banishing it back to its dark corner.

A jumbled mess of ‘yes’ and ‘sorry’ fills the lobby but the only thing that’s clear to you is Joel as he wanders over, placing his hand on the small of your back, and leading you towards the large black door that the lethal looking man is guarding. As he pulls you into his side his voice quiets, his words a low growl meant only for you. “Hi, sweetheart.” When he sponges a soft kiss to your temple you press your lips together to stop the giggle that’s trying to burst out of you. Joel Miller makes you giddy in a way that you haven’t felt since you were much younger and saw a One Direction music video for the first time. 

This afternoon, you had your easily predicted moment of panic. As with every decision you’ve ever made, you started to think that this wasn’t the right one. Maybe Tommy was the safer choice. Maybe you’ve bit off more than you can chew, or girlbossed too close to the proverbial sun. Or in kink terms, flirted too closely with the St Andews Cross. But now, being here tucked tightly against Joel's side as he guides you into your first experience with the world of kink you couldn’t feel any more sure of your decision. 

You hold your breath as the shiny black marble door opens, this feels like one of those big climatic moments you see in the movies, like you know the main character's life is about to change, and a nervous excitement buzzes through your veins. As the club comes into view it’s nothing like you thought. For starters, there aren’t cages or naked people around, and at first glance it looks just like a lounge in a high end hotel or restaurant. JMKink is beautiful, breathtaking.

 Light pine flooring is set in a herringbone pattern across the entire club. Directly in front of you are a few tall tables and then, situated in the middle of the space, is a large black marble bar. The bartender is surrounded by a halo of soft chiffon light that casts down from a brushed gold chandelier. The tables and bar top have tealight candles on them, making the entire thing feel sensual and soft. It’s just dimly lit enough that you can’t see beyond the bar from here. Joel guides you gently to the right. The booths that line the wall are only illuminated by the flickering candle on the table. Three of the booths are roped off, guarded by a tank of a man in a black suit. As Joel leads you towards them, you notice each of those tables have a gold plated reserved sign along with a name; Joel, Tommy and Tess. 

Confusion swirls in your brain at the romantic feeling the club gives off. Part of you expected to walk into a sex dungeon or that red room that Christian took Anastasia to, but you definitely weren’t expecting this. If this place was just a bit brighter you could imagine studying here on weekends. 

This isn’t a sex club, there’s no way.

As you slide into the furthest booth you’re able to see a small stage on the back wall and empty dance floor looking area on the other side of the bar. You can feel Joel’s warm gaze on you as you look around with wide eyes. Right when you’re almost convinced that you interpreted the information you found on Reddit wrong, your eyes land on the far left side of the room.

No, now that you see if from this angle, you are indeed in a kink club; a well stocked kink club based on the entire sex shop in the corner. You feel your cheeks flush and you dart your eyes towards Joel, pushing at your cuticle under the table, smiling shyly at him.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” His voice is syrupy and warm as two drinks land on the table. Whiskey neat for him and some sort of pink martini for you.

“Nothing..I just, it’s not what I expected,” you swallow the sand that’s found its way into your throat at seeing all those sex toys just out on display in the corner and flick your eyes towards your drink.

“That's a cosmopolitan. I can get you something else if you want, sweetheart. The female staff here seems to love them.”

“No, I should have said thank you. I’m sorry.” His hand comes to meet yours as it’s picking furiously at the non-existent skin of your nail bed. He wraps his hand tightly around yours, and brings them to rest on the top of the table together.

“Take a breath, sweet girl. You’re ok.” His words wrap around you tightly, calming you. You’re ok. Your heart rate slows and you relax into the plush velvet lined booth a little bit, smiling sheepishly up at Joel. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Your free hand grabs the martini glass and you bring it to your nose, it smells like cranberry and lime.

As you take a small sip Joel says, “You really don’t have to drink it, baby girl. I can get you whatever.”

The vodka burns away any sand that remains in your throat. It’s tart, and dangerously delicious. You can see yourself getting very fucked up these with your girlfriends one day soon. “No, I like it. Thank you.”

After putting the glass safely on the table, Joel lets go of your hand, wraps his arm around your waist and slides you across the seat, pressing you to his side. “Is this ok?”

JOEL

His cock twitches at the little hum you make in agreement. You lift your leg closest to him and rest it over his under the table. He squeezes your side gently, sinking into the comfort of you and grabs his whiskey. “So if this isn’t what you thought, what were you expecting?”

He loves the way you blush a little before answering him. “People just, you know, it’s a sex club, so just having sex here.”

He lowers his head to yours and whispers just for you, “There are people having sex here, sweet girl.”

He laughs to himself as your eyes narrow and you look around at the other people in the bar. “Not out here, just because you’re in a sex club doesn’t mean you have to consent to seeing or hearing people fuck. Or to be having sex yourself, really.” He loves the way you look at him with surprise at his boldness. He cocks his head towards a guarded door between the stage and booths along the wall, “But behind that door - well, people are indulging as we speak.”

He watches the small shiver of your spine, pulling back to take a sip of his whiskey, allowing you time to look around and become comfortable in your surroundings. He watches your perfect lips part, finding himself jealous of the rim of the glass as you take another sip. Great, first spoons and now glasses. As he watches your neck work to liquid down he says, “So did you leave that little pussy alone like I asked?”

Your head whips to face him, he can’t quite place your facial expression. It’s a twisted  mix of fear, shyness and embarrassment, like you’re worried that someone may have heard him say pussy; but if you only knew the kinds of things happening in this club right now.

“What?” you ask shakily.

“Did you come? Or did you listen?”

“Umm…I,” he can tell that you’re flustered, and he finds you nearly irresistible like this.

“Are you nervous, sweet girl?”

He’s not sure if you realize it, but when you’re tense and he calls you by that nickname you relax a little. Your shoulders lower, the little crease in between your eyebrows softens. “No,” you say, and he’s not convinced.

Joel deepens his voice, a voice he only intends to use when you’re at the club together. Or when she’s in my bedroom. He pushes any thoughts of you outside of the confines of this space away, “Lesson number one, don’t lie to your Dom. We have to be able to trust each other.”

You look up at him through your lashes and it damn near kills him. You’re so beautiful, absolutely glowing against all the black in the room. The soft golden light bounces off of every little perfect piece of you; from the deep cupid's bow above your top lip, to the caramel highlights in your hair. He can tell by the long breath you suck in that you’re about to do that adorable thing where you ramble. “I’m nervous, but it’s an excited kind of nervous. And no, I didn’t…that thing.” 

He can’t fight the smile at your shyness, “Lesson number two, If you can’t say it then you shouldn’t be here. What thing, sweet girl?”

You close your eyes and say, “Come,” and then open your eyes to look at him again. 

So shy. So cute. I’m fucked, so very fucked, he thinks. He takes another pull of his whiskey if only to keep his hands and lips busy and to himself. He usually enjoys the burn but with you beside him it tastes sweeter.

As you bring your martini glass to your lips he commands, “One more time, this time look at me when you say it.”

Over your glass, sparkling eyes locked on him you mumble, “I didn’t come, Joel.”

“That reminds me. Lesson number three, as soon as we cross the threshold into my private room, you will refer to me as Mister Miller only. Out here, and anywhere else, I can be Joel, but in there,” he tilts his head towards a door on the other side of the stage, this one isn’t guarded, instead there’s a security pad that you need to have a microchip to unlock, “In there, I’m Mister Miller. Understand?”

He watches your throat again as you swallow, the palm of his hand tingles at the thought of wrapping his hand around it again. One of your eyebrows raises just a touch and he knows that cheeky little line of your lips. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

Your voice is husky as you say it and this time it’s him who has to fight the goosebumps rising on his skin and the icy shiver trailing down his spine. So perfect. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You don’t make eye contact with him when you say it, like you fear he might say no and he has a feeling that whoever made you feel that you needed to make plans A through Z also told you are a burden for asking questions. Joel isn’t a violent man, but would happily ring whoever’s neck did this to you.

“Of course, sweet girl.”

You turn to face him, taking a sip of your martini before you say, “Why did you send me into your basement that day?”

Joel clears his throat, weighing how transparent he wants to be in his answer, but there’s no hiding it after what he said to you in his office last week. “I’m not always going to be nice to you here, sweet girl. I’m going to push you, I might even hurt you. Yes, it’s all consensual, but I didn’t want you thinkin’ I’m some sort of monster.”

He watches as you take a long pull of the pink liquid from your glass. You set it back on the table, the earlier tremble of your hand gone as you reply, “Thank you for being honest with me. I don’t think I could ever see you as a monster, Mister Miller. I need this.”

The devious smile you give him has his cock come to life. He doesn’t fuck his subs, but he would take you right here in this booth if he could. “Would you like a tour of the club?”

Your eyes light up, “Can I bring my drink?”

“Anywhere out here, yes. But not behind those two doors.” He takes the last drink from his whiskey and then watches as you take two big gulps to finish your Cosmopolitan. Your nose crinkles at what he assumes is the burn of the vodka.

“So fuckin’ cute,” Joel says quietly, and hopefully just to himself, as he slides out of the booth.

No, you say to the little box of feelings when you overhear his whispered words, don’t start with me right now.

You follow him as he heads towards the store in the corner. Even with the condoms, dildos, plugs, gags, whips, lube and all sorts of other things on display it’s somehow still classy and beautiful. Lots of these things you’ve never seen before, or had any desire to play with, but you’re pretty sure you’d try almost anything with Joel. 

He nods at the man working the store counter and then walks you around the main area, his voice thick with passion as he speaks. “Usually on Friday and Saturday nights there's more of a nightclub feel, couples who like to swap partners can mingle with the room. This is a safe space, monogamous couples aren’t offended by the attention and everyone stays very respectful of others wishes and limits. There’s a drink limit of course, keeping things safe and consensual is my utmost priority.”  

You walk slowly, crossing the middle of the currently unoccupied dance floor, “That stage is often used for workshops or shows. This is a place to learn just as much as it’s a place to enjoy sex and kink. We have a new workshop coming up next week actually.”

The two of you stop beside the guarded door - the door Joel said people were indulging behind. You can’t help but be curious about what's happening back there, but you’re also desperately horny and unsure how you might react to whatever is unfolding in the dark. The man standing in front of the door is also dressed in a black suit, this seems to be the uniform of those who work at JM Kink, he says a cordial, “Good Evening, Joel.” Then nods at you and adds, “Miss.”

You jump as Joel’s hand connects with yours, his strong fingers linking with your slender ones. He spins you to face him. His freehand cups your chin, the band of his ring cold against your pink flushed skin. He tilts your face up to meet his, seriousness etched across his face. “My sweet girl, behind that door can be a bit intense at first. You’re an adult, but you shouldn’t have to see anything you don’t want to see. So you’re in charge in there. If you want to leave, we leave. If you want to cover your eyes, do it and I’ll lead you away. On the contrary, if you see something you like and want to get closer, then get closer. If you have questions, just ask. Ok?”

You nod, and Joel leads you through what you hope is the second life changing door of the night. The air feels different on this side of the threshold, something about it makes you feel like you’ve been plugged into a low voltage socket, you’re buzzing in an exciting and dangerous way. It’s dark enough in here that you can’t see your black boots as they click quietly against the hardwood. Joel's strong hand comes around your waist, tucking you into the side of his body protectively. After taking a deep breath, the familiar ash and leather scent of Joel intoxicating and calming your senses, you look up.

You and Joel stand intertwined at one end of a long rectangular room. Across from where you stand and down to your left and right the wall is lined with large windows. On the side of the hallway where you stand are plush chairs and couches, some of which are occupied by singles or couples as they watch what’s happening beyond the windows. 

You wonder if it gets easier, standing in a dark hall where you can watch people fucking. Joel is so calm, like a still glassy sea, meanwhile you are fighting against the tides. He stands almost statuesque, his thumb rubbing calming circles on your hip, while keeping you tucked safely into him. He has made it clear that you’re in charge here, so staying in the shadows as much as possible, you wander towards the first window. As if he’s another limb on your body, Joel follows you effortlessly. 

Your heart thumps in your chest as you approach the first window. The room has a large bed that remains untouched. A man is tied to a chair at the end of the bed with black silk ties, and you stifle a gasp at the painful looking device he has clamped around his hard cock. You can hear his whines through the ball gag, and the moans of pleasure from the woman spread eagle on the floor in front of him as she fucks herself with a large dildo.

Joel’s soft stubble brushes against your ear as he whispers, “We won’t be doing that.”

“Looks fun for me,” you giggle and he lightly pinches your hip.

The next window has the blinds drawn, little slits of light illuminating the edges is the only sign that someone is in the room. “You can choose to let people watch or not watch, as well as how much you want those in the voyeur area to hear when you rent the rooms,” Joel explains softly as you approach the next open window.

The bed in this room is occupied by three people. A curvy woman is lying down on her back, a copper skinned man with a shaved head has his face buried in her pussy while a fully tattoed beefcake of man fucks his ass. The look of pure pleasure on all their faces has your clit twitching and aching. And when Joel lowers himself to your ear the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

“We also won’t be doing that,” Joel’s voice is so light and carefree. For a second you forget that any minute now he’s going to use that deep baritone voice to boss you around while you’re completely naked.

“Again, it also looks fun for me,” you joke, and a small smile crosses your lips as you feel Joel’s body shake with silent laughter beside yours. There’s about ten windows in this room from what you can see, most are closed or dark, probably since it’s a weekday. You lead the two of you down the room to the next open window. “Can they see us?”

“Not unless you get close to the glass,” he instructs. You stop in your tracks at the next window. Despite your teasing with Joel the last two were not your thing, but this window you could easily watch for a while. A man and a woman lay on the large red silk sheeted bed while hundreds of battery operated candles flicker around them. He’s on top of her, one of her legs slung over his shoulder, the other around his waist. As you step closer you can see a sparkly, thin layer of sweat coating both their bodies as they slowly grind together, kissing passionately. You take another step closer, if they want to be seen then it shouldn’t matter if they see you. Once you’re close enough you can hear the gentle moans she’s making as he thrusts slowly in and out of her. 

“Well,” you say softly, leaning into Joel’s side and looking up into his warm chocolate eyes, “That doesn’t look so bad.”

He cranes his neck and places a lingering kiss on your forehead and as your eyelids flutter closed you can no longer deny just how turned on you are. He pulls back to look at you, smiling slightly before saying, “When I first got here he had her hogtied and was paddling her.”

“Like I said,” you say while giggling softly, “That doesn’t look so bad.” 

The two of you watch them for a while as they fuck languidly. This should feel wrong, watching something so personal, but the beauty of them together like this is comforting and almost inviting. Her cries grow louder and as she starts to shake he pauses his hips, fully seated inside of her while whispering and smiling down at her, pushing her sweat soaked hair off her forehead. The love behind the glass is so palpable that you feel yourself getting choked up a little. 

Just as you’re about to ask Joel to take you to his room, you notice another window with about five people lined up along the glass. Curiosity gets the better of you and you lead Joel the few steps to see what’s going on. No longer feeling nervous or shy, you step right up to the glass. This time, Joel moves his body to be behind yours, pulling your back against his strong body. One of his arms wraps around your middle, the other sweeps your hair to one side and then rests gently on your shoulder. 

The set up of this room is similar to the others you’ve seen: a large bed to the right, a chair to the left, and a chest of drawers to the back. There’s a woman strapped face up on the bed, wrists and ankles bound to the four posts of the frame. Her perky breasts rise and fall rapidly with her breathing. At the back of the room, a broad tanned man faces away from you, looking through a drawer for something. As your eyes travel up his back from his hard, round ass cheeks he spins to face the window. You step back into Joel as Tommy Miller’s gaze flicks to the people along the window and then to the sub he’s chosen for the night. 

In your sane mind you tell yourself that you should look away. It's one thing to watch strangers but watching someone you sort of know feels like an invasion of their privacy. Plus, there’s no way Joel wants to see his brother like this. As if he can read your mind, Joel's lips brush against your neck, “I’m right here, sweet girl. Tommy likes an audience, he’s an exhibitionist, and lots of members come just to watch him.” 

You glance up at Joel and he smiles softly. Your voice is just above a whisper, “Can we watch for a bit?” 

“You’re in charge, sweetheart.” He patiently reminds you as you nod and look back towards the room.

The horny demon that seems to have taken over your body since catching Joel in his office has you dying to see more: more sex, more kink, more Tommy. Without consciously controlling it, your eyes travel down his tanned chest, to the hair around his belly button and then down to his fully erect cock. You can’t help but appreciate the beauty of his body, he looks like he’s carved out of stone, and that includes his cock. He’s decently long, but thick, a prominent vein running along one side of it. It’s slightly upturned and the head is smooth and glistening with precome. He looks so powerful and the small fire that’s been building in your stomach grows.  

You bite at your bottom lip nervously, crossing your arms to rest on top of the one Joel has wrapped around you. Tommy walks over to the bed; grasped in one of his large hands is a black vibrator, his other holds a small glass jar housing a lit candle. He climbs onto the bed, then drizzles hot wax along the woman's thighs. Her back arches off the bed and through the speakers along the glass you hear her pained moans. Tommy watches her intently, his lips moving but you can’t hear what he’s saying. Once she’s settled back on the bed, Tommy places the vibrator on her clit.

She writhes and pulls at the velvety cuffs holding her to the bed. “Sir, oh god, I’m - I’m gonna - Sir, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

When she calls him sir you see the dark flash of obsidian across his eyes, the same look when you called him that at the poker game. Through your research, you know that doms have preferred names and your cheeks flush a little at the thought of accidentally using his with him. 

Tommy pulls the vibrator away right before she falls over the edge and drizzles wax on her stomach. She cries out with more desperation this time, and then again, once she’s calm Tommy places the vibrator between her thighs. It’s suddenly hard to breathe and when you step back into Joel you feel his cock is hard against your back and a fresh wave of arousal coats the lace of your panties. 

Tommy takes the vibrator away as she starts shaking and moaning, then hot wax splashes down her sternum. You feel antsy, like little pins and needles are pricking along your entire body. You squeeze your thighs together, Joel's warm breath against your neck causes you to shudder. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums.

“N-nothing.”

“You sure? You’re squirmin’.” His hand runs slowly down your arm, your hands moving on their own so he can wrap you in his muscle lined arms. A light kiss lands just below your ear and you bite back a moan.  

The combination of not being allowed to have an orgasm, the feeling of Joel’s warm body pressed against you, and the erotic scenes you’ve witnessed tonight is almost too much. It’s also not lost on you that that could have been you in there with Tommy right now. Your clit is throbbing between your legs, and you aren’t sure if you have ever been this turned on. 

Joel smiles into your skin as you watch Tommy tease his sub with the vibrator again, “Do you like what you’re seein’?”

You nod, trying to calm your breathing. It hitches as he adds, “Would you like to try that one day?”

Wax hits one of her nipples, the beads hardening along the peak of her perky, round breast. You adjust your stance to cross your legs together, squeezing hard to ease the almost painful ache at the apex of your thighs. Her and Tommy speak softly to one another, he smiles down at her, puts the candle down and then adjusts himself between her legs, spreading the lips of her puffy pussy with two fingers and putting the vibrator right where you know it would ruin you. 

“Would you?” Joel repeats.

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You say, your voice shaky, almost like it’s impossible to form words as you look up at him. He’s so beautiful in the shadowy light, his tanned skin almost seems to glow against the darkness.  

His eyes dance around your face, his voice comes out soft and sensual, quiet enough for just you to hear, “Do you want to go play now, sweet girl?”

You bite your cheek to try to fight the smile, but as Joel’s eyes flick to your lips it’s no use. A shy smile tugs at the corners of your soft pink lips. “Are you going to let me come?”

He looks at you the same way he did when you drank the water and ate that toast. Pride. He’s proud of you for asking for what you want, and you can almost feel your insecurity and fear around asking for things starting to shrink. 

The softness in his voice morphs into a growl, “If you’re a good girl.”

You spin your body towards him, determination lacing your face. “I can be your good girl, Mister Miller.”

Joel’s strong fingers link with yours and a quiet giggle passes your lips as he hauls you towards a door in the shadows close to where you two entered. Truthfully, if it wasn't for the little red light on the security pad, you wouldn’t have even known there was a door there. He waves his ring past the device and after a quiet beep sounds the light flashes green and the door clicks open. He pulls you through and as soon as Joel hears the final click of the door closing he hauls you over his shoulder. Your squeal at your world literally turning upside down with his brute strength melts into an aroused moan as his strong hands grasp the back of your bare thighs.

When Joel stops walking, you tear your eyes away from his perfectly sculpted ass, like these pants must be stuffed, there’s no way this man has a better ass than me. You glance up to see two other doors; assumingly belonging to Tommy and Tess. A familiar beep sounds in the quiet hall and your throat goes dry as he steps into his room. He takes a few long strides before sliding you down his muscle lined chest and placing you at the foot of the bed. He stays close, your breasts just barely grazing his warm body. Your gazes are locked, and even though you’ve grown comfortable with his intense need for eye contact your breathing still goes shaky and uneven. 

Oh fuck, this is it. 

His hand cradles your cheek, “You read and signed off on everything in the app, but I want to reiterate a few things, baby girl.”

You swallow hard, his finger now tracing down your throat and you swear you can feel every whorl of his fingertips as they trail along your soft skin. 

“From now on, you belong to me and I belong to you. No one else. You are not allowed to come unless I say.” 

His hand continues its road trip of your body, settling to wrap around the nape of your neck. “Y-Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“I have a no sex rule. I’ll give you orgasms, I’ll fuck you with my fingers and toys, even my tongue, but not my cock. I need you to understand that my rule is nothing against you, sweetheart. Are you ok with that?”

“Yes, sir, Mister Miller,” you coo. The nervous excitement from early has returned, every bit of skin that he’s touching is almost humming, butterflies with sharp wings scrape at your stomach. You bring your hands to the lapels of his expensive blue suit, fisting the soft fabric.  

“Fuuck,” he moans, “That sounds so pretty coming out of your mouth, sweet girl.” 

You smile up at him. He squeezes the back of your neck gently, his other hand cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The rough pad of his thumb caresses your chin. “Nothin’ tonight that will require a safeword-”

“Stegosaurus,” you say eagerly, cutting him off. It’s silly really, but that little dinosaur on top of his coffee machine is what first intrigued you about the anonymous millionaire whose home had been assigned to you to clean. It also has some sort of meaning to him, so it seemed only natural for that to be your safeword. 

He smiles, laughing gently, “Not tonight, baby. If you want to stop tonight, just say so and I’ll stop. Ok?” 

Your pussy flutters at the unexpected moments to come, but a gnawing anxiety starts to claw at your chest. You’re not sure what causes the shift, but suddenly you go from excited nervous to just plain nervous. Am I ready to give up control? What if he sees me naked and doesn’t like it. He said it was only me, what if he regrets that decision? 

Your chest tightens, the knife-winged butterflies multiplying and traveling up your throat. Joel must sense a shift in you, he steps closer to you and softens his eyes as they dance around your face, a silent sign that he’s patiently waiting for you. If you said you wanted to go home you know he would kiss you softly and call your new friend Cap, but you don’t want that. You want this, you want whatever is about to happen; you just need to let go.

Vulnerability is thick in your voice as you break one of his rules and murmur, “J-Joel?” 

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice waivers, making you feel a little bit better. 

“I’m nervous.” 

He lowers his head towards yours, running the tip of his hooked nose down the slender bridge of yours. You close your eyes and take him all in. He’s warm and hard, yet somehow so soft. His familiar ash and leather scent is mixed with the expensive whiskey he drank earlier. 

“So am I, sweet girl,” he whispers into your lips before kissing you softly. You melt into him, his hands moving to cup your face. His soft lips sponge against yours and everything quiets. You’re not sure how he does it, but kissing him feels like dunking your head under water, everything silences, all the nervousness dissipates. It’s just the two of you, floating in tandem in an endless void. 

He’s nervous too? Because of me? I make this strong, successful, brooding man nervous? Your inner voice of anxiety starts to settle. I’m safe here.

The comfort of your thoughts is enough to have you pulling yourself into Joel more. You increase the intensity of your kiss, turning your head and parting your lips slightly. He follows suit, running his soft tongue along yours. The air in the room has morphed, it’s saturated with passion and arousal. With just one kiss he’s managed to erase all your fears and worries, your mind is silent and ready for whatever instructions he’s going to give you. When he pulls away your both panting for breath.

He turns his back to you, sliding his dark blue suit jacket down, the white t-shirt underneath clinging with perfection to the muscle and sinew that pack on top of each other along his back. He drapes his jacket over a padded bench about five feet away from you; you know from your extensive research that that’s a spanking bench. He spins to face you, slipping his gold and black ring off his hand, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he drops it in a dish on top of a low chest of drawers on his left. You can’t describe it, but the sound of the gold clashing with the ceramic dish puts you in a trance. Like a ritualistic symbol that you are his now.

His hands slip into his pockets, his voice taking on its deep dominant tone, “We are going to start now. You can stay fully clothed or you can get as undressed as you feel comfortable being. I’m serious here, sweet girl. Leave on as little or as much as you want. When you’re done, lay face up on the bed.”

Without thinking your hands fly back to the zipper on your boots, you unzip them and toe them off. You don’t break eye contact as you grab the hem of your sweater dress and pull it up and over your body. As your vision is temporarily blocked by the knitted fabric you can feel his eyes on your bare skin. You’re left in just a matching nude bra and panty set. He’s already seen your tits so you don’t hesitate to unclasp your bra and let it fall away from your body. 

Joel swallows hard and licks his lips. “Beautiful,” he mumbles appreciatively and it coats your skin in warmth. 

You hesitate for a moment with your thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties. You know they’re soaked through, and you’re sure he can see that from where he’s standing. He’s so fucking good at reading you, so you’re not surprised when he says, “Only take off what you feel comfortable with, my sweet girl.” 

“I do…I am…I w-want to…I just,” you fiddle with the band a bit. 

“You can say it.” He nods encouragingly.

“I like having them taken off me. I - I want to see your face up close when you…when you see it for the first time.” 

Joel smirks, popping his hip out to lean on the spanking bench. “See what the first time?” 

“Don’t make me say it, Mister Miller.” 

He clicks his tongue at you, “Mmm, but I love hearing that pretty little mouth say dirty words.” You stay silent, chewing your cheek as he continues. “Come on…say it. Say, I want to see your face up close when you see my cunt for the first time, Mister Miller.”

You feel your cheeks flush. Earlier tonight he asked you to look at him when you say it, so you roll your shoulders back and hold your head high. As confidently as possible you say, “I want to see your face up close when..” you take a shaky inhale, “When you see my cunt for the first time, Mister Miller.” 

Before the last syllable has left your lips he’s across the room, lifting you off the ground by the back of your thighs. You instinctively wrap your legs around him and gasp at the sudden pressure right where you’re aching for him. 

“I have memorized every answer from your preferences,” he growls into your collar bone, walking you around the bed. “I have strategically planned what I’m going to teach you and then you say stuff like that and fuck. I have to fight every sick and twisted thought I have, sweet girl.” He climbs onto the bed, laying you down just how he wants you, “You have no idea what you do to me. How out of control you make me feel.” 

Joel shuffles his body down, kissing down your sternum before cupping your tits. Pushing them together and sucking one of your nipples into his hot mouth. This is exactly what you’ve been fantasizing about since that moment in his office. His tongue is warm and soft as it flicks across your hardening nipple. He lightly rolls the other one between his fingers.  

“Please - oh god - please Mister Miller.” You moan needily. You try to arch into him, but his large body holds you down. 

He grazes his teeth along your nipple then looks up at you, “I’m gonna take care of you. Just relax.” 

You can’t take your eyes off him as he dives back in. Sucking and biting at your other nipple. You plant your feet on the mattress, hands tangling into his hair, as you try to grind your aching clit into his warm, hard stomach. 

“Stay still sweetheart,” He says between suckles. 

“I c-can’t. Please.”

He pinches both nipples hard, harder than you’re used to, and you whimper, freezing your hips. His voice is as deep as the obsidian in his gaze, “Stay still. I’m going to make you come. I promise. You need to trust me, relax.” 

The pressure on your nipples eases and you pout before letting yourself melt back into the mattress. He smirks, a dimple carving itself in the patchy scruff of his cheek. “That’s my girl. You like your nipples being played with?” 

The pad of his thumb ghosts over the tops of them, you shiver and moan, “Uh-huh.”

“Good. Then you’re going to enjoy what I have planned tonight.” He kisses your forehead and then climbs off the bed. You rise on your elbows, watching him as he pads across the room to a chest of drawers. He toes off his brown dress shoes and removes his belt before digging through a drawer. The actions were so simple, yet the domesticity of them has you fighting with your little box of feelings again.

No, you tell it silently as it inches out of the darkness. I am his sub and nothing more. The box seems to have grown a very annoying and persistent personality and it almost says, ‘but he’s nervous too’ back at you. 

He turns back to face you, snapping you out of your fight with the imaginary box in your brain. The same vibrator Tommy had is clasped in one hand, his other is palm up, cupping something that he’s shaking much like a gambler does with dice. 

“My sweet girl, you put a five for nipple clamps. Remind me, have you ever used them before?”

“No, Mister Miller.” 

He wanders lazily back over to the bed, and if he was anyone else you’d tell him to hurry up, but you never want to rush a single moment with Joel Miller. On top of that, you need to let him take control; he said he was going to make you come if you just relax and trust him, so that’s exactly what you’re going to do. He places the vibrator on the small table beside the bed and then sits beside you, holding out his free hand to help you sit up. 

He holds the clamps out to you and explains softly, “These are beginner clamps. See this little dial? I can control how tight they are.”

You watch his thick fingers along the dainty metal of the clamps, he’s so soft yet could have you crying with the snap of his fingers if he wanted. A fresh wave of arousal floods between your thighs completely ruining the panties he still hasn’t taken off your body. You nod and whisper, “Ok.”

“You control what happens here tonight. If you tell me that it hurts too much or to stop, I will.”

It’s time to show Joel just how good of a girl you can be, you look at him through your eyelash and sweetly coo, “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

A deep growl rumbles in his chest, “Fuck. Lay down..now.” 

You lay back, hair fanning around you. Joel stays seated on the edge of the bed beside you and lightly places the first clamp on your right nipple. It’s a light pinching pressure and it feels so good that your eyes flutter shut and you melt into the bed. He puts the next clamp on and you whimper. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks, his strong hands gripping your hips, pushing you into the mattress and grounding you in the warm pleasure that floods your stiff nipples.  

“S-so good Mister Miller,” you groan. You’re almost convinced this is another dream, he’s doing almost exactly what you have imagined countless times. You open your eyes to watch him, determined to visually take in every single thing he gives you. 

“Good, baby. I want you to feel good. I’m gonna tighten them now, jus’ a little.” He twists the little knob. You start breathing heavily, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You bring your hands to his strong, warm forearms as you suck in air.

“Too much?”

Your chest heaves at the delicious feeling flooding your tits. “No, no. More. P-Please, more. More.”

“Good girl,” he hums deeply, the words settling right behind your clit as he tightens the tiny clamps more. The warmth around your nipples spreads to your arms and down your sides. When you cry out he asks, “Pain or pleasure, sweet girl?”

At this point you aren’t sure, it definitely hurts, but it also feels good, and his deep brown eyes are looking at you the same way they always do, full of concern and care, almost like he’s assessing you. 

“Both. Both, oh fuck. More, Mister Miller.” He kisses the left one gently and you arch into him, “More, more, please.”

“That’s as tight as they go, are you sure you want more?”

You keep your eyes on him, nodding fervently, “Yes. Please, yes.”

He pops them off and you gasp out in pain, heat rushes to both your nipples and it burns in white hot passion. Joel blows cool air along both of them and you can’t seem to stop your mumbling begging, “More. I need more. Please!”

“I know, baby. I got you.” He opens the drawer on the bedside table and takes out two gold plated clamps. You look down, your nipples already look sore, tinged slightly purple. “I’m so fucking proud of you already. Askin’ so nicely like the good girl I know you are. Goddamn, look at these stiff, perky, perfect little nipples. I love seeing you like this, seeing them like this. Are you wet for me? Are those flimsy lace panties soaked through?”

He places one of the new clamps and you cry out a ‘yes’. 

“Ya? Just dripping and desperate for me?” He puts the other clamp on as you chant a chorus of yes’s and oh god’s. 

Joel

Joel knew that tonight would either make or break him. As his name spills sweetly from your perfect pouty lips he feels it, the same tug behind his belly button that he felt with Tiffany, that his grandpa said was how he’d know when he found something special; something to hold onto. 

“Please, Mister Miller,” you murmur. He doesn’t know what it is you’re asking for, and he’s sure you don’t know either. What is it about you saying those three little words that gets him so rattled? Countless subs have called him that in the past and it never made his cock swell this painfully behind his zipper.

He taps at your nipples lightly and watches your body shudder and arch off the bed. You aren’t even fully naked and he’s fighting the urge to come right there in his pants. He loves the way your body reacts, he can already tell you’re going to look stunning as you come. 

“That feel good?” He asks, his voice deep and husky. 

“Yes. Oh god, yes!” You haven’t taken your eyes off him and he loves how your eyelids have become hooded from the pleasure while your brows furrow with the pain.

“Does it hurt?” Your cheeks are flushed pink making the colour of your eyes pop.

“Yes,” just as he’s convincing himself to remove the clamps you moan, “Please don’t stop.” 

Joel grabs the vibrator from the bedside table before sliding his body down the bed. He starts kissing at your hip bone before wrapping his teeth around the slender band of your panties. Your eyes dart down to him, this is what you asked for; to his face the first time he sees your cunt. He pulls your panties with his teeth, smiling against your soft upper thigh when you instinctively lift your hips to help him. As he shimmies down the bed his eyes stay on your face.

He gets to the end of the bed, standing with your soaked through thong still between his teeth. He relaxes his jaw, dropping the panties in his hand and bringing them to his face. “God fuckin’ damn, sweet girl. You smell so fuckin’ sweet. Imma crave that smell when you aren’t around.” He tucks your panties into the pocket of his four thousand dollar, custom made Tom Ford suit. As far as he’s concerned, that drenched thong is the most expensive and important thing he now owns. 

He trails his eyes down your sternum, your legs are straight out in front of you, not parted, but he can see your puffy pink clit pushing through the soft looking outer lips. He feels himself switching into full dom mode. The room around him fades away, everything outside of you and this room doesn’t matter anymore.

“Show me,” he growls. “Spread those gorgeous legs and show me that perfect little cunt.”

He crawls up the bed, following the path you make as you bend both knees up. He feels like a starved dog who’s about to get a meal. Your feet stop, and as he hovers above you, gaze wholly fixated on your core, you relax your legs and your knees butterfly open. God he loves how eager you are, how good of a listener you can be. He licks his lips as your outer thighs finally meet the soft sheets, baring yourself for him completely. He stops breathing as your lips part, sticky with arousal. Your pussy is swollen and glistening, your needy clit puffy and pink. 

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as he lowers himself to the be, his face between your legs. Once he’s close enough he can see the tight little hole he’s vowed not to fuck. “Shit, sweetheart. This is goin’ to be so much harder than I thought.”

Your cries wash over him; he’s experienced enough to know that it’s from your nipples hardening under the clamps at his words. He smirks up at you, “How are you so wet already?”

“You, Mister Miller.”

“That right? Me playin’ with those nipples get you all turned on?”

“Uh-huh, and you said I couldn’t touch myself. I’ve been like this for days.” Your bottom lip pokes out and it absolutely ruins him, but he pushes down the overwhelming need to fix it and give you exactly what you need. No, you want to experience being a submissive, and that’s what he’s going to do. 

“Poor baby,” he mocks, tsking at you. He kisses right above your clit and you gasp. He’s close enough to know the heat of his breath is going to have you squirming and he can’t wait to watch how beautiful you’ll look doing it. “So wet. Smells so good. Fuck, She’s right in front of me but I already miss her. You look so soft and tight. Goddamn, you’re gonna have me breakin’ all my rules, sweet girl.”

“Please touch me. Please.”

“Mmmm, such a good girl for asking so nicely. I can’t say no when you beg like that, baby, makes me weak.” He kisses the crook of your inner thigh, he knows how much he’s teasing you right now, he watches you get wetter by the second, the beautiful folds of your pussy opening like a flower in the sun for him and flushing a deeper pink and the blood courses to your most sensitive parts.  

“I need you Mister Miller,” your voice waivers as you say his name, and you blink a little harder, he knows you’re fighting back the tears and it makes his cock throb harder, the teeth of his zipper practically digging into him.

After what feels like hours, he finally brings a thick finger to tease at your entrance. You buck into him, desperate for the friction.  

“Don’t make me tie you up. Stay still for me, please.” Even with the please at the end, it’s a command - deep and serious, and you don’t dare test him. Your nipples stiffen every time he speaks, and they ache under the clamps, it’s the perfect twinge of pain to heighten the bits of pleasure he’s giving you. 

You press your lips in a tight line, hands grounding you as they ball the sheets, focusing on keeping still. You want to shamelessly fuck yourself with his fingers; meanwhile, he’s being slow and calculated. Joel torturously draws slow little circles along the waiting hole with just the tip of his finger. He watches as your sticky white arousal coats his fingertip, then groans as he slowly pushes his middle finger all the way inside of you. You gasp at the welcome stretch and fight like hell to stay still.

“Look at you, fuck. So warm and inviting.” He slips his finger out slowly and lets out an exasperated sigh. Your heart falls into your stomach.

“Mister Miller, no. Please, it felt so good,” you practically cry at the loss at the feeling of him finally inside of you, finally giving you a taste of what you need the most.

“I know,” he shushes, “But that’s not what I have planned, not yet at least. My sweet girl, I need ya to be loud for me. I’ve been wanting this for so long. Need to hear you. Understand?”

The distinct sound of the vibrator you forgot he had comes to life and you squirm with anticipation. “Yes, Mister Miller. I will, just please, please make me feel good.” 

He reaches up, the black vibrator makes contact with your nipple and an intense pain shoots to your core before it blooms into pleasure. One of your hands leaves the sheets, fingernails digging into the forearms of the hand he has holding the vibrator and you sob out. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groans before moving the vibrator to the other nipple, circling it around this time instead of holding it flush. “Jus’ tell me if you need me to stop.”

“Don’t, please don’t. Oh god, yes.” You know you’re screaming, you doubt anyone can hear you, but at this point you don’t care if they can. The pleasure becomes overwhelming, you slam your eyes shut and arch your back. Joel’s strong chest is warm in between your thighs, he’s so broad that he’s keeping you spread open. You grind into the soft white cotton of his t-shirt.

“Look at me. Focus, sweet girl,” you peel your eyes open to meet his gaze. Warm coffee and hazel eyes stare down at you. “Stay still, please.”

“I can’t - aah!” He presses hard on your sore nipple and it brings you back into your own body. You manage to still your hips and release your grip, leaving behind little crescent shaped indents in his muscle lined forearm.

“Good girl,” he praises and then pulls the vibrator away from your breasts. His free hand comes to your mound, he swallows hard before breaking eye contact, pulling his hand back and looking at your puffy, and completely exposed bundle of nerves. A devious uptick of the right side of the mouth sets your blood on fire before he taps lightly at your clit once with the soft head of vibrator.

You cry out in pleasure. 

He taps again and you gasp out loudly.

He taps a third time and you’re almost certain that this is how you’re going to die. No man has ever teased you like this. You’re desperate to come, your body breaking out in sweat, but you never want Joel to stop. Moans and whines are pouring out of you without you even realizing it, he looks so fucking beautiful between your thighs, staring at your pussy like it’s the sunrise over the ocean, like he’s never seen anything as beautiful or fascinating and it makes your feel unstoppable. You make him look like that. Him. A man who could have anyone in the world, but here he is, looking at you like you’re his whole world.

“Let me hear you, show me how you can be a good girl,” he clicks the vibrator up and holds it tightly to your clit. The sensation is almost too much and your nipples ache under the little gold clamps.

Your body starts to shake involuntarily and your moans become longer and huskier, you’re going to come any second now. You squeeze your eyes shut and Joel pulls the vibrator away.

“No,” you gasp. “More. Please, I need more. Please.” The fear of him leaving you like this has the back of your eyes burning. Was there a time limit you weren’t aware of with the room? No, this is his private room. Right? Didn’t he say that he has a private room? And it shouldn’t matter if the club is open or closed, he’s the owner.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” You blink your eyes open, trying to focus on his face, but you’re so turned on that the edges of him seem fuzzy. “That feel good? The vibrator teasing your desperately swollen clit?”

You nod your head, “Yes, again. Please, Mister Miller.”

“Tell me what you want?”

Historically, situations like this have riddled you with insecurity. You’ve never been a talker in the bedroom and as a textbook people pleaser you never, like NEVER, ask for what you want. Yes, being here fully naked with a fully clothed Joel makes you feel safer and more understood than you have ever been. You know that if you ask for anything in this room and beyond, he’d do it. 

The words leave your mouth without you even thinking about it, without second guessing or carefully planning what it is you’re going to say. “Please make me come. I’ll be so loud for you. I’ll scream and moan until I have no voice. I’ve been such a good girl and I’ll do whatever you want. Just please, please make me come.”

He raises an eyebrow at you and his voice washes over you like honey, “Good fuckin’ girl. Eyes on me and hold on.”

It happens in an instant, the vibrator flicks to the highest setting as he adjusts his body to hold you firmly against the mattress with this forearm, your hands grab onto his shoulders as he presses the soft, thick head of the sex toy right onto your clit. 

You scream and squeeze at the strong muscles of his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure courses through your system, you tense under his touch. The build of your orgasm somehow too much and not enough all at once.

“Oh god. Oh god. Yes, I’m - Mist - fuuuck.”

“I know, I’m right here.” He says darkly.

“Gonna come,” you sputter between your cries of ecstasy. You can feel that familiar tightness building.

“Relax and let go for me. Come for me, sweet girl. Let me see this beautiful little cunt twitch.”

His words send you over the edge and your orgasm rocks through you violently. You convulse with so much force that Joel grunts as he holds you down. You’re nothing but what Joel is giving you, not a single thought or insecurity, not a single worry about studying or school, you’re just what Joel has made you and it feels fucking fantastic. His dark onyx eyes swallow you whole. 

The pleasure of your orgasm, mixed with the pain in your nipples is so much more than you’ve ever known, and Joel’s deep gravel filled voice praises you the whole time.

‘There’s my girl.’

‘Sooo good for me.’

‘Fuck, that’s it my sweet girl.’ 

‘Beautiful when you scream for me.’

It starts to become too much. Your throat is hoarse from screaming. As your nails start to dig deep into his shoulders Joel slows the vibrator down and holds it lightly to your twitching clit as the aftershocks course through you. He releases your body from his and kisses your hip bone before shutting the vibrator off completely. 

He’s stills between your thighs, your hands resting on his shoulders. Joel smiles up at you sweetly and you pull at his t shirt to encourage him to crawl on top of you. He doesn’t hesitate, bringing his stong body on top of yours, resting his forearms on each side of your head. 

“Do I have your consent to kiss you?” He whispers.

“Yes,” you coo. His mouth meets yours similar to how it did when you both confessed to being nervous. It’s soft and lingering as you take shaky, calming breaths through your nose. That annoying little box of feelings shivers in the corner of your mind and you mentally put a piece of packing tape over the lid. 

You end this kiss this time, pushing your head into the pillow. “I’m gonna grab some cooling spray and take those clamps off now, is that okay?”

You nod and hum in agreement. Your eyelids and muscles feel heavy and sated. Joel's warm body parts from yours and a chill runs up your spine. When he releases the first clamp you whimper, the burning ache goes away as soon as he sprays it with a cooling coconut scented mist. When he removes the second one, your pussy clenches around nothing, a small but powerful orgasm waves through you as the cool droplets of the aftercare spray land on your pebbled breast.

“Did you just come?” Joel questions proudly.

Your hands cover your face as you blush harder than you have in years, “Yeah.”

Joel’s warmth encompasses you again as he climbs back on top of you, he gently pulls your hands away by your wrists. “Fuck, baby. I think I’m addicted to you.” He kisses the tip of your nose, “Such a good girl.”

You shiver underneath him and he rolls the two of you so he can wrap the blanket around you, your head rests on his chest, your body half on him and half on the soft bed. He holds you tightly, his meaty hands rubbing any place they can over the fluffy down filled cocoon he’s got you in. 

A comfortable silence falls around the two of you, your breaths in sync with one another. Your eyelids flutter closed, and that little voice starts to come back, lacing you with insecurity. You don’t want to ask, but you have to. You clear your throat quietly and ask, “Are you seeing any other subs?”

“No,” he replies softly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “But I haven’t told all of them yet. The dom/sub relationship is a delicate one. I can’t exactly just message them on the app that it’s over.”

You settle deeper into him. “What else do you have planned for us?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “I’m going to show you everything you want to know.”

A fire burns in your stomach, “When?”

Joel lets out a small laugh, then tilts your chin up, pulling back a little so he can look at you. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re eager. I have to go out of town tomorrow, but we’ll make sure to find time when I’m back this weekend.”

Him leaving is a bit of a blessing in disguise for you. “I take the LSAT again on Friday, so I guess this gives me lots of study time.”

He cranes his neck to sponge his lips to yours, the scruff of his mustache tickles a little and you giggle into his kiss. “How long have you owned the club?”

“Almost five years,” he replies.

You let an impressed hum, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds are your mixed breathing and his calloused hand along the blanket. You remember all the times tonight that he called you ‘my sweet girl’ and you wonder if he’s feeling the same way you are, or if he’s so used to all of this that it’s just second nature to him. The packing tape on that fucking box starts to peels as if to say ‘he was nervous too and it’s only you’.

After a while Joel breaks the silence. “Becoming a lawyer is a pretty intense process. Your family must be really proud of you.”

“Umm, well, I actually don’t really know,” you say.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Joel says lightly and you know he means it. You know he would never push you to give him something you didn’t want to, he might push your sexual limits, but never your personal ones, and for whatever reason that almost makes it easier to tell him.

You roll onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your forearms on his chest. For a second you let your eyes look around the room. You were so focused on Joel earlier that you didn’t notice the rings and hooks along the black steel bed frame; or the paddles and ropes hanging on the wall next to a ladder and St Andrews Cross. In classic Joel fashion, everything is black and softly lit. Everything but the bed sheets which are plush and white. 

You take a deep breath, resting your chin on your hands, and start, “I don’t want pity for this, truthfully I’m grateful that this is my reality, but my parents had me when they were very young and they were both very selfish when I was growing up. Never abusive or anything, and not neglectful in a physical way, but emotionally I was left alone a lot. I realized early on that if I excelled in something they would show up, and for a long time that felt really fucking good. But as soon as I hit high school I realized they were showing up for themselves. They’d brag about me to other adults, but not actually congratulate me. They’d show up to honour roll ceremonies, but not with me or for me, it was so they could say I was their daughter. They didn’t help me get those grades, I did that on my own. And I’m still doing that on my own.”

Joel’s eyes soften, those two permanent lines between his eyebrows disappearing. “That explains so much, my sweet girl. I want you to know that I’m here for you.”

The tape on the box of feelings snaps as the lid flies off. Not now, you scold.

“I know, but honestly, I don’t really need anyone to take care of me. I’ve made it this far and I plan on making it the rest of the way the only way I know how.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” He asks.

“Doesn’t this?” you say gently, gesturing to the room.

“No,” he blinks at you a few times. “I was in my early twenties when my wife died. I needed to focus on raising Sarah, but I’m still an adult male with needs, so I found the world of BDSM and kink. It allowed me to get what I wanted, and what my partner wanted, without the attachment of a relationship.” His words are so real and honest and in just those few sentences you feel like you know Joel Miller more deeply than you know anyone else.

“My way doesn’t get lonely either,” you say with a smile, tucking your head back into his chest.

Joel

Your breathing is calm and heavy, it kills him that he’s going to have to wake you up. Usually his aftercare doesn’t involve opening up about his past like this. He’s not a monster, but he is very strict about keeping his kink life and his real life separate. Something about you though has him opening up about Tiffany and Sarah.

“Baby,” he whispers into the crown of your head, shaking you a little. “We can’t sleep here, I’m sorry.”

You blink up at him and his heart ceases at how beautiful you look all sleepy and supple. He finds himself unconsciously memorizing the little details of your face. Your lips are puffy from his kisses and you have a little mascara smudge under your eye. He thumbs the black make up away gently and says, “Let me help you get dressed and then Cap will take you home, ok?”

You nod lazily and he helps you gently roll off him. He stands and starts to gather your clothing. After a few minutes of looking around he huffs, “Where are your panties?”

A tiny giggle sounds from the cloud of white blankets, the sound shooting straight through his belly button, “Check your pockets.”

He laughs at himself, reaching into his pants pocket to pull out your lacy nude thong. He helps you sit up, “I’m keeping these, by the way.”

“Should I be expecting my panties to go missing every time?” You say jokingly as you take your bra from him and put it on. 

He nods and asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, really good actually,” After you put your bra on he pulls your dress over your head and then kneels to help you with your boots. “I - umm - I was hoping that this would help turn my brain off for a while and it did. I feel, I don’t know. Recharged almost?”

This is exactly why he loves kink, it’s an escape from the world for him and his sub. He kisses your knee and moves to the other boot. “Good, that’s what is supposed to happen.”

He pulls you to your feet and allows you to steady yourself before pulling you in for a hug. “Thank you for tonight,” he whispers. He hopes you know that he needs this as much as you do, how much this helps him clear his mind and reground himself.

After closing the door to the town car and sending you home he goes back into the club, waving for a whiskey and joining Tommy at the bar top.

“She was pretty,” Tommy says, clinking his glass against Joel’s.

“Yep,” he swirls the amber liquid in the cup.

“New?” Tommy asks.

“Yep,” Joel repeats and then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think I’m fucked, Tommy.”

Tommy puts his glass down and turns to face Joel, gripping his shoulder. “Are you ending it with all your other subs for this girl?”

Joel takes a long sip from his crystal highball glass. Repeating the only word he seems to know lately, “Yep.”

Tommy lets out a breath, “Shit. Ya, you’re definitely fucked.”

“Tiff told me to find someone who scares me. This fucking scares me, man.” Joel finishes off his whiskey, and even though there’s a drink limit, the glass is refilled before it’s even hit the table. “This is - I just - I ain’t felt like this in a long time.”

Tommy smiles at Joel, “I’m happy for ya, man. And look, as long as you aren’t keepin’ her panties then it’s probably not as bad as you think.” 

Joel pulls that nude thong from his pocket and puts it on the bar top as he finishes off his second glass of whiskey and then waves the bartender off, silently signaling that he’s done. 

“Shit, so you are fucked then?” Tommy laughs. 

“We didn’t,” Joel says defensively, brows pulling together.  

“I didn’t ask if you fucked. I said you are fucked.” Tommy shakes his head at his older brother. 

Joel runs a hand down his face and through his scruff. “Look, you gonna be ok this week while I’m in Paris?”

“Ya, me and Tess got it.” He claps Joel’s back roughly as he stands. “Safe travels, hey?”

Joel nods and waves over his head at his brother. He hasn’t fucked you or let you suck his cock yet and he’s already feeling all turned around. But god, the way your body twitched in response to him, the way you melt into his arms every time he kisses you. How brave and confident you were after overcoming the shyness of asking for what you want. He can’t wait to teach you more, but he’s going to have to find a way to not let whatever feelings he might be having get in the way. 

[needle-noggins]

(CW for SA, suicidal ideation) Here we go. My favorite and simultaneously least favorite panel of Vash and Knives.

I've seen a few interpretations of this scene and before we dive into the one that really struck me, let's start with the more... chill one. We're finally introduced to the third gun of Trigun, Vash's angel arm. And the way we're introduced to it involves Knives forcing him to pull the trigger. Of course, since no one knows anything about Knives, the people of Noman's Land blame Vash for Fifth Moon, and Vash likewise blames himself (this is kinda a spoiler but if you've been paying attention, it's just par for the course). However, he's not the one who pulled the trigger, Knives is. It brings up an interesting moral question of blame - do we blame the gun (and Vash, who is being used/objectified as a weapon here), or the person who wanted it to happen? Guns don't kill people, genocidal twins do!

Now for the awful interpretation, the one that makes me cry and wish Vash was real so I could hug him and pay for his therapy. And really highlights how awful Knives is and how far he'd go for his brother in his own, fucked-up way. I touched on this in a previous post about Legato and the Murder Cafe, and the whole time I was thinking about Fifth Moon but didn't want to say anything for the sake of spoilers.

So. Pay attention to the way Vash and Knives are standing. Knives, when he first grabbed Vash's head, was standing in front of him. He moves behind him to better control him and yeah, he's still controlling him via hand on head, and now he's got his other hand gripping Vash's chest, where feathers/wings are manifesting. Knives is assaulting him. If you wanna get crazy with it and say that the angel arm is kinda phallic, you could say... yeah. This is rape. I heard that specific interpretation once and while I accepted it I also don't know if that would be generally accepted or if I'd be called out for it, so I'm trying to tread lightly here.

It also doesn't escape me that of course the angel arm has feminine features like the plants - the plants that, again, humans are exploiting for their ability to create. There's a lot of feminist commentary to be made here but many people have said it better than me. Specifically I'm thinking of this one post I saw about gender fuckery and Tristamp Vash. Anyway.

Also, the atomic bomb/black hole/sun/whatever that is in the middle... It's just so powerful. It's terrifying. The eldritch body horror here is a punch to the gut. What the fuck, Trigun? I thought this was a funky space western!!!

Oh, and here's more commentary on the following few panels:

Vashussy shot, Knives is still right behind him. Yeah, I wasn't kidding about how bad this pose is for them. Knives, you sick fuck.

Vash shoots himself in the leg (a key difference from '98 trigun, lol), because of course he does, but it doesn't free him from the arm.

The arm's getting darker/the light inside is getting lighter! Stampede did an awesome job with their interpretation of the angel arm and I don't think I would have understood it without that. Also, on my first read I didn't notice that Vash is literally levitating, which is cool, but also terrifying because ?? he's not in control of that either??

Finally. A super painful, minimalist, double-page spread. Nightow loves 'em. Vash thinks he's dying (maybe?) and he wishes he had never existed. It's not suicidal ideation per se, but he wishes he didn't exist at all because he's already caused enough suffering. This is a low for him, because he believes so strongly in the concept of the Blank Ticket. (Come on, soupy brain bitch boy, get it together!) He's a monster, it's just how he was born, and he's not in control. Very specifically too, he says "we", and then changes it to "I"... he doesn't blame Knives at all, and that's very him. I want to shake him! Stop playing the martyr, Vash!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU’LL SEE ME IN HINDSIGHT

touya todoroki x reader

you spend one last night with your husband before he goes to battle shouto and endeavour.

angst/smut, mha official ending spoilers

part 1/3

inspired by wildest dreams

2 years of hiding. 2 years of silence. 2 years of putting the outside world on pause. 2 years of bliss.

to fall of the face of the earth with your beloved was possibly the most romantic thing you could have ever experienced. you existed in your own snow globe, dancing in circles round and round shielded from the outside world. but you both knew it wouldn’t be forever.

you had a quiet house on the countryside, surrounded by gorgeous acres of land. for you and touya, it seemed much to large for both of you. but acres of nature’s serene solitude provided the two of you enough time to escape from the world. you, at least, wanted to escape. for touya, it was more like purgatory. this is where he spent his time before death.

the backyard was perhaps your favourite part. you sat on the old wooden steps on the porch, eyeing the lush vegetation that seemed to thrive despite the ever-increasing fleetingness of the moment. soon, no one would pick the peaches from the trees, or harvest the sweet strawberries from the bushes. no one would admire the flowers that grew for miles or the sweet smell of life. no one would ever see the beauty of the land that touya todoroki loved you on.

you hear his creaky footsteps come up behind you, watching you as you watch the world- like you are his world. for a moment, he sees nothing.

“the magnolias.” words finally escape your lips.

“hm? whats that doll?” he asks.

you take a deep breath, prying your eyes away from the garden and finally turning to face your lover. your hand raises to point at the delicate white petals bundled together like a stanza.

“those ones over there. magnolias. they smell the sweetest.”

his blue eyes follow over to where you point as he sits down next to you. he simply nods, looking at the flowers you told him smelled the best.

a thought crosses your mind. you overheard him talking it over with shigaraki. you knew what tomorrow was. yet you were hesitant to let the words leave your mouth. you didn’t even want to dare it.

“…you know you’re going to die, right?”

the words leave your tongue like a curse.

at first, he looks over at you, bewildered by the statement. but touya isn’t dumb- he knows you can pick up on things. and he knows he isn’t dumb enough to wanna lie to you- though admittedly the lie is better. the lie is so much more comforting in this instance.

“…i know, doll.” touya tells the truth.

you don’t say anything, but your silence is perhaps the loudest thing he’s heard all day.

“its too late to give up on it now.” he says it like he’s trying to salvage it. as if theres any way to fix all the pain he hasn’t even caused you yet. he knows your grief is only inevitable.

“…thought so.” you sigh, getting up from the creaky wooden steps and moving back into your home. its a home that you and touya have built together. dirty rugs with tracks stained from his large black boots. your coat and his hanging from the door, his so much darker and larger than yours. the dirty bowls in the sink you have yet to wash, leftover from soba night. the memories, the dreams, the love. the world was about to see dabi, but for two years you got to love touya.

so many memories were suddenly engulfed in fire. dancing barefoot in the kitchen, trying on his coat that reached the floor on your frame, hugging him and feeling the warmth only he could give you. all of it was soon to be ash.

he follows you into the house, watching as you move about. he’s silent, since words always seemed to fail him when it came to you. theres a heavy tension that lingered in the house. soon, this wouldn’t be yours and touya’s home. soon, these walls would be haunted. soon, this would no longer be a home.

“you know theres no way you’re getting out of this alive, right?” you ask as if to confirm your worst fears. funny, since you already knew the answer.

“…as long as i take that old bastard down with me.” touya says, a familiar flicker of revenge ruminating in his brilliant turquoise eyes. perhaps love wasn’t meant to end suffering, after all.

and thats enough to make your voice resonate with that familiar crack of anguish.

“…what about me, touya..?”

he winces. he expected you to yell, to scream at him. to tell him how much of an asshole he is. how much you hate him. somehow, your strangled, quiet cry hurts more.

“you… you’ll be fine. you manage.” he’s lying through his teeth and you both know it.

what else could you say?

you turned away from him, walking upstairs to your bedroom. this was the room you loved the most. so many late nights and sunny, early mornings. god, getting to see him all tuckered out from the previous night, the deepest morning voice you have ever heard. his cheeky remarks, half lidded blue eyes looking into you. the way he pulls you back into bed, asking where the hell you think you’re going. all of that love was packing its bags and moving on.

he follows you again, not knowing what else to say but not wanting the conversation to end either. maybe he just didn’t want you and him to end, despite the fact that neither of you had a choice.

“i was never apart of your plan, was i?” your voice cracks again, asking him to confirm your deepest hurt. you knew it to be true. loving you was never something touya ever intended on doing. yet he stayed.

he only sighs, trying to find the right words. “i’m sorry. i never meant to drag you into this-“

“don’t be.” you quickly cut him off once you realize he’s not denying anything.

touya was a man of promises. he knows that he’s made a vow. a vow to bring endeavour down, to expose him for all the suffering he’s condemned him to. to show his father that he was the worst thing to ever happen to the flame hero. he branded that promise deep into his heart, and he had 0 intentions of letting it up now.

not even for you.

the sound of cooing causes both of you to stare out the window. there, perched on the window sill, are two doves- happily chirping to one another, unbeknownst of the pain just lurking behind the glass.

“you know, doves mate for life.” you say, looking at the smaller one nestling into the snow white feathers of its much larger companion.

“kind of romantic, isn’t it?” touya shrugs, also noting the way the two birds hold onto each other like nothing else matters. even with the ability to fly, to sore the sky and see the stars up close, the two birds loved each other like none of that was even remotely interesting.

“it is romantic.” you agree. “loving each other for the rest of their lives. even if that life is short.”

he quickly catches on.

touya swore he’d love you for the rest of his life. even if that life was too short for him.

touya watches the birds alongside you, their delicate, graceful forms seeming to symbolize something more than just a couple of birds resting on a window sill. they continue to coo quietly to each other, cuddling and nuzzling against each other, completely at ease and content with the love they’d found.

after a moment of silence, touya speaks up, his voice quiet and hesitant.

"you know i don’t want to leave you, right?”

wanting seemed irrelevant, here. it didn’t matter what you or touya wanted. fate was decided, against what either of you want.

“i know.” you say, solemnly. you rest your hands on touya’s side of the dresser, like a wounded soldier hanging his head low. your heart was hurting. by this time tomorrow, he’d be gone. the love of your life would be gone.

for a second, touya is lost in his own world of hate. he hates himself, more than he’s hated anyone in his entire life. he hates himself for letting you love him. he hates himself for having to leave you here, all alone, safe and stranded.

he’s then pulled out of his trance when he sees you in his drawer, holding the ring he’s kept hidden from you for months. a beautiful, silver ring with a sapphire as deep as the blue sea. alongside is his ring, just a simple, silver band. he mentally curses himself for not hiding it well enough.

his heart beats out of his chest, watching you slowly turn to him, holding the ring.

“you remembered i like sapphires.” you say, not a question but a statement. of course he remembered your favourite gemstone. touya remembered every little thing he loves about you.

“yeah… course i did, doll.” he says, as if its obvious he remembered.

he wishes he could actually cry when he sees you slip it onto your left ring finger. god, it fits you perfectly. his eyes remain mesmerized as you flex your fingers, seeing how it looks on you.

you legs carry you over to him, pulling him in close. you rest your hands on his chest and your forehead against his. touya’s scarred hands find their way to your waist, drawing you in as if to shield you from all the heartache thats to come.

“you know we can’t actually get married, right?” you dryly chuckle, your voice barely a whisper. “especially not legally.”

he hums in response. he’s well aware you two could never go down to a courthouse and officially commit to one another. “you think i care ‘bout that?” he manages a smirk. “i still wanna marry you. even if its just between us.”

“so, you’re really gonna turn me into a widow tomorrow hm?” you ask.

his blue eyes flicker down to your ring, his brain still unable to compute that its real. “i guess so.”

you smile, though theres an undeniable hint of sadness in your eyes that touya knows all too well.

“i know you don’t wanna leave me, touya.” you whisper, looking into his eyes, staring into his soul.

he physically feels his heart clench at your words. and at the look in your eyes, he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. he wants to reach out and take you into his arms, to hold you tight and never let go. but he can’t. he has to stay strong, no matter how weak you make his resolve.

“i.. i know i don’t want to leave you, i don’t want to leave you behind. but i have to. i have to do this. i have to take him down.” he says, gritting his teeth at the thought of that bastard.

“i hope you do.” you encourage. “fuck that guy.”

touya almost laughs at this, pressing his forehead against yours. “yeah. fuck that guy.”

“i… i hate him. i hate him for doing this to you. for turning you into this. for taking you away from me. from what we could have had.” you can’t help the tear that falls from your eye just thinking about it, thinking about what you lost. the husband you could have had, the kids, the future… all of that could only live on in your dreams, now.

touya’s eyes widen in surprise and pain at your words. he honestly hadn't thought about it like that before, hadn't considered how endeavour’s actions had impacted you, too. he knew that his hatred and need for revenge had caused a rift between the two of you, but hearing you say it out loud, seeing the pain in your eyes, it cuts straight to his heart.

he looks at you, his expression torn between anger and guilt.

"i’m sorry. i’m sorry I've put you through all this, doll. i’m sorry i let my anger and hate consume me. its all i know.” he says, closing his eyes. he can’t bare to watch you cry over something as pathetic as him.

“i… i think you’re a murderer. and a villain. touya.” you seethe. and he accepts that hatred from you, because he doesn’t deserve anything more or less.

“and i also think you’re a deeply traumatized person who was stuck as a kid who feels like nothing but a failure after, being in a 3 year coma.” you conclude your true feelings. he doesn’t say anything to that for a moment.

he knew that you saw him for what he was- a killer, a villain, a monster. but hearing you say it out loud, hearing you sum up his entire life, stung.

he tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh slightly as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. he keeps his eyes averted, unable to meet your gaze.

“i know what i am. what I’ve become. i don’t know what else to do.” he says, defeated, like the end of a long battle.

“can you love me? is that an option?” your question is more of a plea than anything else. finally, he looks you in the eye, as if the answer to that question is obvious.

“you’re the only thing i think i’m capable of loving.” he admits, more to himself than to you.

“you’re the only thing thats made my life worth living. and im so fucking grateful. for you. and your love.” the way he says it like a goodbye hurts all too much. but its words you need to hear. making him feel love was an absolute honour.

you pull him close to you, wrapping your arms around his neck desperately. oh, to memorize the feeling of his body against yours as his strong arms circle your waist, pulling you up to match his taller frame.

“you’re the best i’ve ever loved.” you say.

“you’re the only thing i’ve ever loved.” he confirms.

“then spend one last night with me. as your wife. whatever you do in the morning is up to you, i don’t care, but just give this night to us.” he can’t deny the way you beg him- even though you don’t even have to ask. he was already planning on it, visualizing all the ways he was going to physically show you he loves you in the bed tonight. but he needs to make sure, first.

“are you sure you want that, doll? one last night?”

“what i want is forever, touya.” you clarify. “but if i can have just one last night, i think we can make it work.”

and once he’s gotten your consent, the rest of the night is set.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

most think that guys can only fuck or make love- but touya gave you both and everything in between that night.

the way his hands roamed over every inch of your body like he was trying to etch himself onto you. god, the way his cock slid in and out of you at an unreasonably fast pace. he can’t help that he wants you, that he wants to be the only guy to ever throw you onto the mattress and fuck you till your absolutely spent all over him.

“fuck. yeah? ya like that doll?” he groans into your ear, the filthy sounds of skin slapping together filling the room. “gonna fuck you so good. god, your pussy is so fucking good.”

he has you on your back, turquoise eyes drinking in the way your eyes roll to the back of your skull. to say it looked absolutely filthy was an understatement, but to you two and just you two, this was how you showed love. touya was never a man of words- sure, he could tell you that he loves you, that he wants you, and that he doesn’t want to leave you, but you both already know that. so he lets his actions speak for him: spreading your legs to opposite sides of the room, playing with your pussy until your absolutely gushing, and not even daring to stop even when you can barely form a coherent sentence. he loves how he gets you like this. because he fucks you until your sobbing- partly from the mind melting pleasure, and partly from the fact that you know you’ll never find a cock this good ever again.

and touya’s not usually a huge biter or a kissed, but god, does he go crazy over the way you scream when he sinks his teeth in. and he won’t stop at a few nicks- you’re funny. the way he loved you is agonizing. loving you manifests as an all-consuming entity. he’s driven wild by the pleasure, and he wishes he could just have you whole right now.

if theres one thing you learned from loving touya, its that the idea of love being just a feeling, a simple chemical in the brain, was simply incorrect. no. love is not a feeling. love cannot be summed up into a simple 7 letter word. love took over your senses, the sight, the ears, the touch, the smell and especially the taste. you honestly wished touya would just consume you. and not just for lust or for petty desires. you wished to become a part of him. he wanted to taste your flesh against his lips like it was god damn salvation. let his being be apart of yours as his lips bless your skin, begging for another bite. let him feel something that is so wrong yet so right. let him want something that feels too good to be true. because its him. god, the way he loves you as if he’s savouring the rhythm of your heart- only he makes it beat that way. he watches, absolutely mesmerized as your fluids drip down your thighs, watching how he makes you melt. in the end, the two of you are reduced to nothing but empty space. because you were touya’s favourite part of himself.

you scream his name until his throat runs dry, as he continuously chases the feeling of your velvet walls clenching around his cock. god, the way he feels when your nipples slide over his pecs. how you scratch down hid back, how he actively has to keep his quirk in check as not to burn you- not that you’d mind a brand in the shape of his hand. he’s already left his fingerprints all over you, anyway.

“p-please! ah! don’t stop!” you moan for probably the 100th time. not that touya’s complaining, he loves your desperate side. he loves that he’s the one who can coax it out of you.

you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. from his fingers, to his mouth, to his cock that felt like it was shaped especially for you. your thighs tremble around his waist desperately, begging him to pull yet another orgasm out of you. and touya happily obliges. he loves to fuck you till all you can think of is him.

he can feel himself unraveling, wanting nothing more than to see his cum dripping down your beautiful pussy. he knows that this is the last chance he’ll have to take you like this. and when you arch your back and scream ‘TOUYA!’ at the top of your lungs, he loses it.

the groan he lets out in your ear as he finally releases himself into you is mouthwatering. warm, thick, ropes of his seed stuffing you to the absolute brim. you feel your toes curl and your mind blank, only being able to focus on the sensation of his love melting away every single worry or doubt in your mind. the way the sweat from his and your body forces you two to stick together as he holds you against him, helping you come down from the intense high.

his body collapses down beside you, mustering all his leftover energy to pull you closer to him. he pulls the blanket over you and him, like cementing his rightful place next to you, holding you in his arms.

“could lay here with you forever.” he utters, somewhat hoping you won’t catch what he says.

“i wish you would.” of course you catch on.

he pulls back slightly to look you in the eye. having you here, hair sprawled out, in his arms. you’re covered in the evidence of him like your a crime scene- his favourite crime at that.

his heart clenches at the thought of tomorrow. that at this time in 24 hours, he won’t be with you anymore. and that made him want to scream.

your hands move up to cradle his chin, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. your voice is rasped from your recent activities as you ask your question: “can i ask you something?”

“anything, doll.” he says confidently.

you inhale deeply. “can… can you feel me here?”

you motion to his burnt lower lip, and then to his patches of purple, burnt skin, barely holding itself together. its a question you’ve wondered for years, yet have always feared the answer.

his silence is nerve wracking, before finally answering.

“yeah. i can.”

even then, you’re not convinced.

“even when i kiss you?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

he leans in closer, as if its important to him that you hear this.

“you’re the only person that makes me feel things, doll. yes, i can feel you.”

he inhales again, knowing that he needs to ask you this sooner or later.

“promise me something, babygirl.”

“anything.” you nod.

“promise me… promise me that when i walk out that door tomorrow. promise me you’ll find some other guy. someone that makes you happy and protects you. that..”

that loves you like he does. but touya knows that no one will ever love you like he does.

to say your heart shattered at that was an understatement. how could you ever even think of finding another man, when your heart irrevocably belonged to touya todoroki?

“…is that what you want?” you asked, still shocked.

the question hits him like a punch to the gut. no, he absolutely, unequivocally does not want that. the thought of someone else with you, loving you, holding you, being with you… it makes him sick to his stomach. no, he can’t even bare the thought of someone being tangled with you like this. dreaming of you like he does. loving you with a love so bright it burns- it made him sick.

and when he thinks of that. of you moving on without him.. selfishly, so fucking selfishly, it makes him want to burn the world down. because if it’s nothing but ash, no one will get to have you, even he’s gone. maybe to love him meant burning it all down, anyway.

and for a moment, he's tempted, so very tempted, to say no, to tell you that he wants you to never move on, to tell you to love him and only him, selfish as it may be. but he can't. not when he knows he never even deserved you in the first place.

"…yes."

and you have the audacity to scoff.

he looks on confused, and a little offended. what was so audacious in this moment it had you laughing?

“touya.” you call his attention. his blue eyes never even left your sight as he nods.

“do you honestly think love just ends when you leave?”

it stumps him, for a moment. like his heart stuttering at the thought. he tries to figure out where you’re going with this as he answers.

“no. i don’t.” he affirms.

“exactly.” you say. “it doesn’t. in fact, i don’t think i’ve loved you any more than i do right now. love is felt the strongest when its leaving.”

your words do more to him than he’d like to admit. he gulps.

“so even right now, you love me?”

the answer to that should have been obvious.

“i’m never not loving you.”

he manages a dry chuckle, pressing his forehead to yours. god, he wishes he could have this forever. but he knows a demon like him can’t enter heaven.

so for now, he embraces you fully, rubbing circles onto your back and hushing you to sleep. the cool air blows through the room, so he shields you with his body, wanting you to feel nothing but the warmth and the comfort you deserve. he may not be the guy you deserve, but he sure as hell can protect you like he his.

and for what might be the last time, he savours the way your lips bless his in a kiss. your the only name on his lips, the only one that could ever feel what its like to love him.

he feels his heartbreak as you fall asleep. he hopes you dream of him. dreams are so much happier.

“…i’m never gonna stop loving you.” he whispers.

and with that, touya falls asleep.

[underthetree845]

(dazai osamu birthday post- 2024)

A Taste of Sunlight

Dazai Osamu/gn! Reader (oneshot)

cws: gn! reader (uses of 'bella(donna)') but gender not explicitly stated, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, ada dazai, ada reader, coworkers/friends to lovers, domestic love, domestic fluff, implied mutual pining, mentions of dazai's past suicide attempts, dazai's past spoilers, dazai's dark thoughts, dazai calling himself inhuman and undeserving, baking together, dazai's birthday, reader is dazai's safe space

wc: about 3.7k

summary: how will reader make dazai feel special on his birthday when he doesn't feel like he deserves to?

a/n: this turned out a little darker with dazai's thoughts than I thought it would, but i'm satisfied with how i wrapped things up! i know it's been awhile since i posted my own writing- burnout hit me pretty hard and it's been difficult to get back on my feet, but i knew i had to do something special for him (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

Ceilings, plaster. Can’t someone just make it move faster? Abandoned bottles of sake scattered on the tatami mat floor of his bedroom catch the light of the late morning sun as it creeps in through the curtains he keeps forgetting to close. Or rather, the curtains he can never bother to close on certain nights. He never forgets, not really. The dusty little fan in the corner of his room does little to break up the lingering staleness which hangs in the air. You should really open a window in here Dazai-kun, he heard your voice echo in the basement of his mind, Sunlight and fresh air are good for you. You were probably right. Sunlight and fresh air are good for you, everyone knows that. You somehow always are right about him. 

The sun had already found his skin that morning- or rather, the shield of cloth he uses to hide the vast nothingness underneath. The icky, inhuman blackness that he would never allow a creature like you to even brush with your fingertips. For the first time that day since observing the sun come up out his window with hollow eyes and a blank expression, Dazai sat up. Ignoring the slight ache in his head and soreness of his muscles, bandages seeming to be the only thing holding him together, Dazai arose from his futon and silently slumped to his kitchen to down a glass of water. Today was a pointless day. One that shouldn’t have happened at all. Probably one of the worst of Dazai’s life, save for a few particularly nightmarish ones. Nightmares. Maybe he’d wake up, wake up as somebody completely different; or as an old man, and realize that the countertop in front of him and fingers wrapped around the sturdy white mug in his grasp were all really from a time long gone. The mug’s black, dotted on eyes stared back up at him, Dazai’s own brown ones focused, the emotion behind them simply indescribable. Part of Dazai feared waking up too. Something light, something warm, managed to flicker in the cavern of his chest at the memory of the grin that had spread across your lips upon presenting him with the cat mug. A grin you only ever seemed to take on for his eyes. You, he should be ashamed of himself for allowing skin so pure to meet with his own bloody, bandaged hands. Muddled flesh that hardly ever got a taste of the sunlight which always seemed to bathe the surface of your skin. Dazai Osamu had always been a sinner, would it really make his eternal damnation that much worse if he decided to linger in your comforting embrace for a moment longer? 

Yes, today never should have happened. The first one so many years ago, and all the years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret that followed. The number taunted him from the calendar Kunikida had insisted he hang up on his wall, your support in the idea being the only reason he had gone through with it at all. 06 19. The nineteenth of June. June 19th. Definitely some sort of horrible mistake by the gods of this universe. If they even existed. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. Most things can be predicted- whether it be by pattern of behavior… calculated likelihood, or something else of the like. Dazai thought- and still did- that it would be tragically poetic if the date of birth and the date of death on a gravestone perfectly matched. Right down to the date of the month. Yes, a perfectly beautiful idea of a gravestone Dazai had tried a handful of times to make his own. He had the scars to prove it. Aside from empty ‘happy birthday’s from the other executives, there were only really two people in the mafia who placed any sort of importance on Dazai’s birthday.  None of that mattered now. Of course, in reality, all of it mattered. It was what led him here, to the light which now poured in through the window in the living room of his little apartment. In the almost two years Dazai had been employed at the Armed Detective Agency, he’d had one birthday. He was new enough in the office last year that the prospect of his colleagues doing anything to commemorate the event was not very keen. Such was his hope. He did get a lollipop from Ranpo and a ‘happy birthday’ from Kunikida; the blonde did not get on Dazai’s back over his paperwork for the whole day. That was, until you first stepped foot into the agency a few months into Dazai’s employment. Ironically, in spite of all the warm welcomes you received from his colleagues, the brunette found himself extremely suspicious of you. No one could possibly charm that many detectives with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile. Not just anyone could possibly hold that much warmth in their laughter and still have so much to share. That smile of yours. Dazai had ended many lives for many different reasons, despite having failed at cutting his own short so many times. Rarely did he ever spill blood to protect someone- much less because of some irrational, sentimental attachment. If not for his years in the mafia, it probably would have frightened Dazai to realize how easily he would watch the world burn if it meant that smile of yours would be safe. As it turns out, Dazai wasn’t entirely wrong. You weren’t just anyone- you were Name. You, who he didn’t deserve to even stand anywhere near. Who shouldn’t even bother buying someone like him some cat mug that made you think of him. He never knew he could be so emotionally attached to a piece of ceramic. But that was nothing compared to the way you made his head spin.  You would let out a giggle while calling him a flirt for the millionth time. You would share your umbrella with him on a rainy day, circle his birthday in a bright red marker on the little calendar sitting neatly on your desk. The desk right across from his. He’d pretend to not notice the glances you steal because he knows he’s far worse. Buying each other coffee on occasion- usual orders memorized. Experiencing such simple pleasures on a weekly basis- how could anyone have not expected Dazai to fall as hard as he did? 

The thing that broke him out of his trance were four soft knocks on the door. The same way you would knock on the wood of his desk to discreetly get his attention. Dazai was about to dismiss the four knocks as a phantom of his imagination before they sounded again, causing him to turn his head and peer at the door as if it had just grown a pair of wings and flown away. Before you could get the chance to knock again or ring his phone, Dazai ran a bandaged hand through his scruffy locks before brightening up his expression slightly and opening the door. And there you were- not unlike the sunlight which flooded in through the entryway, the first thing you did was send prickles of warmth into his skin and allow that smile of yours to glow. 

“Ah, Bella! I didn’t expect to see you here today,” Dazai greeted you with a singsong voice, “You’re looking as radiant as ever. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Dazai held his mask up for the whole sixty seconds it took you to reply. In that time, your honeyed eyes scanned over the expanse of his face in a way only you could make so overwhelming. The grin on his lips, though meticulously crafted, failed to meet his eyes. He knew you could tell the moment your irises flickered with an emotion far too deep for Dazai to have the energy to explore. You somehow always were right about him.  It didn’t take much longer for you to ask if you could come in for a while, and Dazai accepted as if he’d ever have the strength to refuse. The fabric tote bag clunked with weight as you placed it on his kitchen counter, Dazai trailed behind you as if your torsos were connected by some invisible string. His eyes reminded you of a burnt black cat.

As far as cooking came, Dazai knew how to prepare a few basic things. How to scramble eggs, how to steam rice, how to use the microwave, how to open a can of crabs. It had always been too much of a nuisance to bother with anything more. The cigarettes and sake sustained him well enough. Even so, he found himself peering over your shoulder with dark, curious eyes as you unpacked several ingredients and laid them neatly on the counter.

“My my, did you go shopping for me? How thoughtful,” a small grin played on Dazai’s lips as he held up a tiny bottle of vanilla extract with an inspectful eye. Uncapping the bottle, he took a moment to inhale the scent, goosebumps rising underneath the bandages on the back of his neck at how much it reminded him of your usual shampoo.

“You like cheesecake, right?” you asked, voice a gentle breeze as you tilted your head in his direction. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. He paused momentarily, raising an eyebrow as you cleaned your hands in the sink. How you came to acquire such a fact was beyond him. Your fingers then reached out to preheat the oven, the one he usually didn’t spare so much as a glance. “I’ve only had the chance to taste it a handful of times, but I do have to admit, I’m a fan,” Dazai replied. You were smart enough to bring your own mixing bowls, pans, and stirring utensils. Sometimes he questioned how he ever allowed you to come to know him so well. “If you wanna help me, would you mind washing your hands first, please?” you requested, and Dazai didn’t even wait a moment before turning to the sink. 

You did a better job of filling his apartment with warmth and light than the sun ever could. From the way your shoes sat at the front door right next to his own to the way your perfume would linger around after you’d taken your leave. Your fingers would cup over his own as you demonstrated how to properly stir the ingredients together. He would internally curse the persistence of the butterfly in his chest when you commented on how pretty you thought his hands were. You made his sparsely decorated, thin-walled little apartment feel just a little more like a home. Dazai waited patiently with the batter in his arms as you pressed the buttery graham cracker crust firmly into the pan. If the universe were kind, he would have been allowed to stand there and take you in until the end of time. He knew he probably wouldn’t ever deserve to have someone like you in his life. Not the way your eyes softened when they met his, not the way you flushed so beautifully in response to his compliments and praise. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to give you as much as you deserve. He didn’t even come close to deserving the trust you must have had in him that evening on the metro, when you slept on the shoulder of his coat. Both of you missed your stops that day. How could anyone have expected him to have the heart to disturb you? They were the ones who whispered how he didn’t even have one.

Before he knew it, the cake was almost ready to be placed in the oven. Your fingers cupped his own once more as you helped him pour the batter evenly before scraping the last bit out with the blue silicone spatula from your bag. He spun the pan in a circle on the countertop to even the batter as you slipped a pair of well used oven mitts onto your hands. “Looks perfect,” you offered some gentle praise and he felt his heart soften. Once the batter had been slid into the warmth of the oven, you removed the floral print oven mitts from your hands and leaned against the counter with a sigh. Dazai’s eyes were drawn to the way your fingers were delicately folded in front of you, how soft your skin looked and how it might feel against his own. From the gentle curve of your lips to how your eyelashes brushed your cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed… he found himself at a loss. You always somehow seemed to dwindle him to a shadow of his former self, bring out sides of him he didn’t even know he had. Out of all the crimes Dazai had committed in his life, stealing your heart was by far the worst one. He didn’t think he’d be able to give your heart back if he tried, especially when you held his own so easily in the palm of your hand. “Have you had water today?” you voiced, finally turning to bless him with your gaze. “I drank some just before you came, actually,” Dazai replied, eyes briefly flickering over to the now empty cat mug sitting on the counter. “Would you care for something to drink yourself? What might suit your fancy, m’lady?” He cocked his head playfully. Your eyes regarded his thoughtfulness. A look far too fond for someone like him. Especially from someone like you. “Some water might be nice, thank you.” “You know I aim to please,” he nodded slightly, opening the fridge to get his pitcher.

A little while later, a timer went off on your phone, and Dazai tilted his head when you slid the oven mitts back on and set the cheesecake on the stovetop. “Isn’t it a bit too soon, Bella?” he inquired, leaning over your shoulder as you grabbed a little green bowl that had previously been set aside, “The center still looks a bit too mushy, doesn't it?” You hummed slightly, a pleased expression crossing your face. “Look at you, getting more adept at cooking already?” a soft grin played on your lips as you gave him an affectionate pat on his cheek. “I’m learning from the best,” Dazai replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiled. “You’re right, it’s not quite done yet, but I’m adding the topping now so it can cook a little with the cheesecake at the very end,” you explained as you carefully poured the topping on, “It’s usually done this way. Makes it yummier.” It’s wrong, Dazai thinks, to indulge himself in your company like this. There are a million other better ways you could be spending your time. Not taking the time out of your day to come fan a flame already at the end of its wick. Even so, even if a part of Dazai might never allow himself to fully believe what you say when you tell him what kind of person he is in your precious eyes, nothing but being in your arms has ever felt so close to what others might describe as home.  Not where he grew up, not his shitty old shipping container or the mattress on its rotting floor. Not any of the places he would lie awake at night hoping to waste away or any of the many bottles of sake that have met his lips. They filled his stomach, flushed his skin, but left his chest cold, barren, empty. “Cherries are in season this time of year you know?” you said, sighing at the scent of the mashed up fruit and sugar bubbling in the pan in front of you. Combined with the warm scent of the cheesecake wafting from the oven, even Dazai, whose appetite usually didn’t amount to much at all, found his mouth beginning to water. “Are they?” he tilted his head with a fond smile, imagining what it might be like to get used to having you in his kitchen more often. What a dream it would be to have coming home mean coming home to you. You looked so perfect in his apartment it almost hurt. Whether you were curled up on the cushions of his couch, cross legged on the floor, or standing in front of the stove pouring some homemade cherry sauce over a freshly made cheesecake, he would take it all. Savor every last bit of the warmth and light with which you filled his apartment.  “Why don’t you open a window in here before we start eating?” you suggested, and Dazai let out a breath of resigned amusement. He stood from where he had been leaning against the countertop and strolled over to the living room. “Hm, Bella, don’t people usually eat cheesecake cold?” Dazai wondered, looking back at you for a moment as you grabbed a pair of forks from a drawer. “Yeah, they do,” you replied, placing two equally sized slices of cheesecake onto one of the plates from Dazai’s cabinet. He didn’t have to remind you where they were kept. “But personally I like eating it warm, I always have,” your lips curved up into a smile, “especially when it’s freshly baked. Makes it yummier.” “Huh, well I trust your opinion,” he offered a slight smile, returning to take a seat at the little round table just as the two plates were lowered. The cheesecake looked even more appetizing now that it had been neatly sliced and plated, but nothing made him want to eat it more than the fact that it had been prepared by the loveliest pair of hands he had ever met. 

Dazai took notice of the way you held your breath when he took his first bite; you shouldn’t have been so anxious for the approval from the likes of him, yet he found it hard to get himself to care when you looked so downright adorable while doing it. His eyelids slid shut for a brief moment, being sure to completely savor the mouthful before swallowing with a bob of his throat and finally meeting your gaze with his own. “Bella…” Dazai started, hands unmoving, voice lower than usual. You furrowed your brows when you couldn’t decipher his tone. “What is it? Is it okay?” you leaned forward, eyes searching his face for any sort of indication. “Do… do you not like it?” something pulled tight in your chest at the thought, your grip on your fork stiffened slightly, “It’s okay if you don’t, you can say so.” The following heartbeat of silence felt like it stretched on for an eternity. “Bella you’ve ruined me,” he sighed dramatically, slumping in his seat and placing the back of his hand on his forehead in exasperation, “How am I ever supposed to enjoy anyone else’s cheesecake ever again?” His heart nearly melted when you paired a blink with the slightest tilt of your head, he could see the wheels in your mind turning for answers. “So you… do like it?” you spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb whatever strange state of emotion Dazai was using to express his feelings about the cheesecake. “No, my Dear, I’m afraid ‘like’ isn’t nearly a strong enough word, not even close!” he suddenly sat up straight in his seat, “I love it so much, I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy cheesecake ever again unless you make it for me.” Finally, Dazai gets his reward when a grin splits onto your lips. “Is that so?” you giggle when he cups your hands between his own and nods urgently. That smile of yours. “Absolutely. You’ve doomed me to a pathetic existence,” Dazai pretended to cringe in pain, “forever wandering in search of the joy I once experienced, never knowing if-” “...I’ll do it again,” you said, and his ears perked up. “Hmm? What was that? You’ll do what again?” he raised his eyebrows, satisfied with the flush now evident on your cheeks. “I’ll make you cheesecake for your next birthday, and the one after that, and any time you want some in between,” you smiled sweetly, and Dazai’s heart leapt at your sincerity. “Do you mean it?” his eyes seemed to light up slightly, matching the sparkle in your own. He squeezed your hands. 

There was a saying in the Port Mafia. ‘The biggest misfortune for Dazai’s enemies is that they are Dazai’s enemies.’ Whether they called him a demon prodigy or the black wraith or a dog of the mafia really made no difference. When the sun set, they would be the ones quivering at the barrel of his gun as he listened to their pleas with cold, dead eyes. Dazai has been called by many names throughout his life; most, he knew, were well deserved. Even when addressed by his own name, it was usually out of exasperation, irritation, unease, or something else of the like. People spat his name with the bitter bite of a cold rain, and he couldn’t even remember the last time someone uttered his given name very tenderly at all. It was dangerous, Dazai thought, how easily he could see himself growing used to being with you like this. Pathetic, how the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia was reduced to a shell of himself the moment you offered so much as a smile. The way you said his name made him seem like something precious; something worthy of getting to see that smile of yours, to have your eyes light up when they meet his. 

“Happy birthday, Osamu,” you said, and god your voice had never sounded sweeter. Yes, you’ve ruined him. Absolutely ruined him. Reduced him to a shadow of his former self with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile, and the worst of it all was that you didn’t even know it. You tore away all those layers of bandages, you reached out and touched something Dazai didn’t even know he had. Even as his heart bled, you would cradle it close to your chest, whisper sweet nothings that everything would be alright. Dazai found himself inclined to believe you. Perhaps the reason he seemed to be without a heart for all those years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret, was because it had been with you all along. 

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

a/n: thank you so much for reading! it means a lot- i hope you have a lovely day/night/morning/evening and remember to drink plenty of water! divider credit: (x) (x) tagging: @ringsofsaturnnnn

[novantinuum]

Pink Onyx AU- An Analysis and Theory Post, Part 1

[Part 1- You are here!] | [Part 2] | [Part 3] | [Part 4] | [Part 5]

~

Howdy! Those of you who have followed me for a while have probably been seeing my reblogs of the @pink-onyx-au comic made by @ceephorsshitshow. Well, today I wanna share with you something a little different than my usual SU meta… because today I’m gonna analyze this really cool fan work with the same level of seriousness as I do canon. (Like. Seriously. This first post alone is really, really long. I put most of it under a cut.)

This particular comic is a very special one for me to watch unfold, because it’s evident that a lot of deep care and attention to detail has been poured into its creation. There’s fascinating bits of expanded character development to chew into here, as well as plenty of mysteries and lingering questions for us readers to muse and theorize over. If you follow me for Steven Universe and haven’t read this AU yet I highly recommend you check it out. The most basic pitch is that it explores what a fusion between Steven and Jasper might look like, and does a LOT of deep-diving into the similarities and differences of both of those characters’ psyches.

Here’s the episode masterpost on tumblr.

And you can find it on Tapas, too! 

(Note: For the purposes of these posts, I was given permission by the comic artist to post screenshots of various pages where relevant in this discussion. For each frame used I will list the episode and page number for easy reference. Additionally, this post and all future ones on the topic will contain full spoilers for the comic thus far.)

Now with all that introductory stuff out of the way, here we go!

__

So, on the final page of the most recent update, we get one hell of a visual plot bomb for Steven as ol’ Onyx unfuses:

(Episode 9: Page 22)

He’s now visually expressing remnants of his corruption, where before he was not.

And it’s this mysterious plot point in particular that got me wanting to analyze this comic more deeply in the first place. This is completely new for him in this story. Thus far, he’s never expressed any of these remnants when he’s just himself- not in the way Jasper does. So it made me wonder… how might this shift in his appearance play into the ultimate trajectory of the plot? How does Steven suddenly showcasing corruption scars integrate into the larger story that is being spun here about him and Jasper and how they relate to each other?

Well, there’s a lot of comic details and story lore we need to unpack first before I can take my best theorizer’s stab at this. Let’s dig right in.

__

Prelude: The analyst’s treasure is in the speech bubbles

Anyone who’s been a fan of this comic for a while has probably noticed these fun visual details already, but I’m going to take a moment to break down what I believe each speech bubble style signifies for folks who may not have context. It’ll make some of my analysis later a bit easier, too, ahah.

So. Speech bubbles. What kinds do we have here? 

(Episode 1: Page 6)

Style number one: Solid with black text

This style is standard for non-fused characters, and is also utilized when a fused character is speaking whilst in a state of internal harmony.

Steven is pink and Jasper is orange, of course. Onyx’s speech bubbles are a distinct darker pink, and the main three Crystal Gems get their own colors as well. More minor characters get white bubbles.

(Episode 1: Page 10)

Style number two: Scribbly pink lettering overlaying black text

Whenever you see this type of speech bubble, it’s a sign that there is some level of internal discord going on within Steven or Onyx that is related to their diamond side. It usually shows up when one of the two is in pink mode, but from what I can tell this is not a solid rule.

(Episode 2: Page 12)

Style number three: Pink/orange mixed bubbles

This is how we see Onyx talking for a good portion of the early comic. Their speech bubbles are a clean mix of Steven’s pink and Jasper’s orange. And most vitally, the color on the top and the tail signifies which of them is “fronting” at that moment.

(Episode 3: Page 11)

Style number four: White bubble with solid pink text

So far, this style has only been used to represent dialogue that is being spoken by Steven’s gem half exclusively. Which makes things very interesting, as in Steven’s own remembrances of shattering Jasper on the very first page of the comic, the line “I have been holding back!” is shown in this specific style, instead of the scribbly pink lettering that signifies internal discord.

There is one additional sub-style here- and this is the one moment where we get Onyx’s mixed bubble but WITH the solid pink text. 

(Episode 3: Page 11)

I believe these two styles pretty much mean the same thing… only, the white/pink text is either viewed within memory or a metaphoric fusion mindscape where we the viewer are actually “seeing” Steven’s instability, and thus can “see” his gem half as a separate entity there. While, in reality, this is an argument Onyx is having with the disparate pieces of themself.

(Episode 4: Page 9)

Style number five: Pink/orange tye-dye mixed bubbles

When you see that darker shade of pink start dappling into the standard mixed bubbles, this indicates that there are small whispers of Onyx’s true personality beginning to surface, instead of them constantly being wrested back and forth between Steven and Jasper’s conscious control.

(Episode 4: Page 16)

Style number six: Pink/orange mixed bubbles, but with a darker pink tail

From this page onwards, Onyx’s speech bubbles always have their darker pink shading the tail no matter who is fronting. Sometimes there are little lines of another color etched out of it, and sometimes the tail is solid dark pink. I like to believe that when it’s solid, it means that Onyx is just a little closer to reaching a fully harmonious state than when it’s not.

(Episode 9: Page 6)

Style number seven: Onyx speech/thought bubbles with a hint of pink/orange underlying

This style seems to signify moments where it’s still Onyx fully in control of themself and their actions/words/thoughts, but they’re taking subtle influence from their components or accessing their memory a bit.

These are all of the distinct styles I have caught so far, but quite honestly, it would not surprise me if I am missing something. All of this to say… pay close attention to the speech bubbles. They can tell you a lot about Onyx’s state of mind throughout the story.

Now with all this established, I’d like to finish off this first post with my first big discussion point.

__

Question One: What does Jasper actually know about Steven’s “meltdown,” if anything?

The AU author recently solidified this comic’s placement in the SUF timeline in an ask response, saying that the first episode takes place just a week after Steven’s corruption event.

I’m glad this point was clarified, because it was super vital information which deeply influenced the way I analyzed Steven’s actions and responses in my recent re-read… it means this experience is still super raw for him. This is VERY important and we’ll get back to this in more depth later in future posts. But first, let’s explore what Jasper knows of this event.

The full extent of her knowledge is unclear-

(Episode 1: Page 6)

In Episode 1, Steven briefly alludes to his corruption as seen above… referring to it as “[his] meltdown.” Notably, Jasper does not seem to ask any questions about this stray comment. This COULD suggest that she knows what happened to him a week prior via hearsay, but given the context of the rest of the scene and the fact that she’s as isolated as she is out here I genuinely wonder if she thinks Steven’s so-described “meltdown” is his shattering of her.

This idea would make a good deal of sense, as she doesn’t start to make any commentary on the topic of corruption at all until they’re actually fused- with Steven bringing it up first.

(Episode 2: Page 14)

On this page, Steven takes note of Onyx’s very visible spikes (which are Overtly in the same placement as his own when he was corrupted), and initiates the musing upon his own corruption himself.

With the way Jasper phrases her response, the vibe I get is that she somehow gleans a bit of ambient shared knowledge about what happened to him through their fusion.

(Episode 2: Page 15) 

“That human form you wear must have been hiding your markings.” This quote is SUPER vital. We’ll come back to this later on in this post series, too.

(Episode 2: Page 15)

It’s clear that Jasper doesn’t REALLY understand what he went through or what caused it, since she then outright mistakes the casual woes and body pains of organic life as corruption. (As seen above.) 

(Episode 8: Page 4)

But later on, she outright relates to him over their shared experience of past corruption, so she must at least know enough from mere ambient thought-sharing by this point to recognize it happened.  

It’s obvious that she’s barely scratched the surface on fully understanding her fusion partner, though. Neither of them have. It’s gonna take a lot of fusion, comedic mishaps, and genuine conversation to get there. All in good time, I’m sure.

__

Please do join me tomorrow at 7am PST for the next post in this series! This has been a blast to write up and muse upon.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

tapis rouge groovies + new rhythmic/twistune ✨

***Spoilers below the cut!!***

Ooooh!! As usual, Vil is striking a model-esque pose and showing off not only his own looks, but the best aspects of the ensemble he’s wearing. (If his outfit looks different than how you remembered, it's because Vil gets new sleeves and a cape added on in part 4:)

I like how the lights behind him and on his face are so bright, yet the shot is framed darkly since we’re looking from his shadowed side. It makes Vil look so mysterious!!

He’s holding up a black piece of cloth that seems to glitter; I believe this is “Black of Night”, the signature color of the high fashion house, Luxe, that prepared his and the other NRC boys’ customized outfits. (The name of the color is a reference to an ingredient in the potion the Evil Queen makes to turn into an old lady.) It’s iconic, and only Luxe knows the secrets behind achieving the color of this dye. Many celebrities wear certain brands on the red carpet as free advertisement for the brands they wear, so this makes sense for Vil to be doing as well.

JAMIL 😳 I feel like both he and Azul are helped out a lot by moving in their outfits; the in-game models are a little too stiff-looking to fully convey the elegance of these particular looks. Jamil’s braids are so pretty here, they flow in the wind with such grace!! His expression is also nice, he’s giving the camera a cheeky little smirk from the side…

The shot’s composition is pretty interesting too! Jamil sort of has his arms spread out and his back revealed, and Vil, in front of him, is blocked out by an onlooker/reporter’s elbow. It gives off the impression of Jamil both showing off his coat while also playing bodyguard to Vil. Jamil is a trained bodyguard and can be protective, so… very fitting! Even moreso since Jamil was the card paired with Vil on the limited banner.

Another outfit helped by movement!! You can see how the tailcoats trail behind him and how his jacket’s wide sleeves actually pull/bunch back to allow the green sleeves of his undershirt come out. The light being so prominent on him also highlights his golden frames very well; it’s usually hard to spot small details like this from the model itself so I’m glad we can better appreciate it here!

I love how Azul is soaking up the attention and making the most of it (as opposed to Jamil, who seems to be playing it cool and serious). Smiling and winking for the crowd… Azul stans eating good www He’s even in his usual “poor unfortunate soul, please allow me to assist you” pose 😂 Reeeeeally trying to paint himself in rbe most flattering way possible, eh??

We can see Vil’s head and Jamil’s pants + shoes here. Vil’s the SSR and the star of the show so of course he won’t be left out! Jamil is the other card on the banner that goes with Vil. You can tell it’s Jamil because of the long coat and baggy pants; his shoes are white but appear darker in this illustration probably because of the shadow over them. Ace is not high enough in rarity to cameo in other Groovies/j

Note: Ace is the R card, so his illustration does not change significantly. A shame, really. I like his look the best in this batch 😔 It would have been fun to see what an interpretation on an Ace Groovy would have been!

There is a second rhythmic/twistune that features Vil and co. strutting down the red carpet! There are many cute details in it, such as Vil interacting with his fans by taking selfies with them, giving his signature, and speaking with a reporter.

Jamil and Azul play their parts as "huntsmen" to the Fairest Queen by bringing Vil boxes akin to the one that was meant to contain Snow White's heart.

When Jamil presents Vil with the first box, Vil pulls out his poison apple luxury bag. Then a fog of green covers the screen and when it fades away, Vil is in his new sleeves and cape combo.

Here he is, posing glamorously for the camera! The others do their best to show him off too. (fhbalifiyabifeab Azul is really doing his best to present Vil...)

At the very end, Azul and Ace step up to help Vil with final makeup touch-ups. Jamil seems to spritz him with some perfume too! Then Vil finally ascends to his rightful place up high!! Such a triumphant ending for a super fun rhythmic 🥺

[kiame-sama]

wait, you already said what you think the twst cast is as monsters, but what do they look like?

Warnings: my twst monster au, almost all characters with names (other than Yuu and Grim) in monster forms, mythical creatures, deer rack point system, measurements given in ft and cm, animal traits, various animal and plant species mentioned, usually I would say to use your imagination to think it up but I have thought about this way too much myself so I may as well share ideas of what they would look like, feel free to draw these monster men and if you do please share with me because I want to see these goobers drawn, some spoilers for Rollo's backstory,

Divus is a Harp Seal Selkie;

- Divus has a black and white fur coat of a Harp Seal with slight spotting pattern similar to Leopard Seals. His coat is always shiny, clean, and wrapped around his shoulders. Divus appears fairly humanoid and close to his canon appearance other than the sharper than normal canines that are closer to the cone teeth of seals. Selkies do not part with their coats lightly so it is very rare to see one without their pelts on their shoulders. His coat is more natural Harp Seal patterning than the clear black and white lines he has in canon.

Sam is a Shadow man;

- White skull markings along his face with burning purple eyes. He has several black tattoos on his skin that move and can even detach into actual shadow to ensnare his prey. There is constantly a darkness around him that seemed to repulse light, making him appear to be surrounded in constant shadow.

Vargas is a Texas-Longhorn Minotaur;

He has very long and large bull horns with the minotaur expression on his lower half making his upper body appear human other than his horns. His lower half is the same shade as his hair with white speckling on the left leg. His tail is often lazily swinging back and forth as he talks.

Trein is a Mountain Lion Sphinx;

- Lower-half is the body of a Mountain Lion with wings, upper half is Trein's usual upper body. He does have a lot of grey and white furs/feathers due to his age in his coat and it is clear he favors his right back leg as it usually sits at an angle. He can often be seen lounging with Lucius in a sunny spot in his classroom when not teaching.

Crowley is a Crow Fae;

- Similar to his appearance in canon TWST, but his large black wings are more prominent as are the iridescent colors in them and his hair. He actually has talons on his hands and not just the golden talons. He does wear golden caps on his talons however and has a medium length train of black tail-feathers.

Ace is a Saanen Satyr;

- He has short twisted horns and his orange hair is also the same color on his goat half- just a bit darker shade. His hooves are an off-white ivory. He does have the little billy-goat scruff of a goatee due to his Satyr heritage.

Deuce is a Rocky Mountain Faun;

- Deuce has large spiral horns and his blue hair is the same color on his goat half- just a shade darker as well with white speckles around his hooves and tail. His hooves are black. Deuce does not have the goatee often seen on Satyrs and Fauns.

Note; it is part of my AU that Satyrs usually have shorter horns and are closer to farm goats in their animal halves. Fauns are closer to mountain goats and therefore have longer more curved horns often seen on rocky mountain rams. Females of both Fauns and Satyrs grow the same large horns, but their horns are often thinner around than the males of their species.

Cater is a Lake Water Nymph;

- Cater is considered unusual among Water Nymphs because of his hair's coloration being a bright red instead of a more blue or green which is more common for Water Nymphs. Cater's hair is closer in color to a red Ludwigia as he is a lake Water Nymph and the flora of lakes tend to have a fair variation of green to red color hues. Cater's bright green eyes are closer to the usual colors of Water Nymphs and he accredits this to his mother who is a river Water Nymph. In the water Cater gets fins more adapted to lake swimming so he is not as strong in currents.

Che'nya is a Bakeneko;

- He is similar to his canon appearance, but the purple and pink of his hair is also visible on the skin of his arms, legs, and back. He also now has two fluffy tails similarly striped that are often seen waving mischievously behind him.

Trey is a Kelpie Centaur;

- When out of the water, Trey's Centaur half is that of a white horse with a long tail of the same green hair that Trey's human half has. His horse half is closer muscular build to Scottish Draft horses. When in the water, the white fur of his horse half becomes a lake green with fading blue hues. His tail hair becomes more stringy like lake reeds and his fur takes a more prickly quality. His back legs become a large fin when he is submerged completely in deep water, making him more of a Hippocampus in physiology while swimming.

Riddle is a Unicorn Centaur;

- His horse half has a pure white coat with a long tail closer to that of a lion than a horse, but long bright red hair for his tail. Riddle's hooves are a rather lovely golden color that shine like metal, same with the tight spiral horn that sits in the center of his forehead. There is a faded blue star shape at the base of his horn that seems to tattoo his fair skin, he often covers this up with his bangs. His horse half is similar in musculature to that of an Arabian Horse making him appear more dainty than Trey.

Note; Cater is often seen lounging on Trey's back while Trey swims in the Heartslabyul lake with Riddle laying in the grass on the shore. They often spend their afternoons doing this and Cater will frequently try to get Riddle to swim. Thus far, he has been unsuccessful.

Jack is a Gray Wolf Werewolf;

- Unlike his canon appearance, Jack constantly has that wolf-head and white fur all over his body. He can shift between being bipedal or a quadruped with little issue between the two forms of locomotion, meaning his limbs are closer in length than human limbs. He has fur similar in length to wolves and even has paw-like hands. His tail is frequently wagging whenever he is with friends or those he is fond of.

Ruggie is a Spotted Hyena Gnoll;

- Similar to Jack, Ruggie now has a Hyena head and pelt instead of just the ears and tail. He is still somewhat humanoid, but he is still shorter than Leona or Jack. His back legs are more like a Hyena and he has that same muscular ridge on his shoulders that Hyenas do. He still has his bright blue eyes despite how odd it is for Gnolls, but his coat is the same sandy light-brown as his hair usually is with dark brown spots.

Leona is a Nemean Lion;

- Nemean Lions are golden furred beasts much larger and stronger than any regular lion on top of being impervious to damage from mortal weapons. This translates into Leona's skin having a more golden sheen to it, always seeming to look like he has been dusted with fine powder gold sparkles. His dark hair has several bright gold strands woven in that makes it shiny as well. The fur on Leona's tail and ears is also that glittering golden color which only makes the tuft of fur at the end of his tail look darker. He is a little taller than in cannon and slightly more defined in musculature due to the natural strength of Nemean lions.

Azul is a Coconut Octopus Cecaelia;

- He is very similar to how he appears in canon, but now he has several black marks along his arms and body similar to how he looks in his merman form. Even in a human form, it is clear Azul is still not human due to these dark markings that wrap around his body. A few of these black tendrils frame his cheekbones and make those brightly colored eyes of his only seem brighter.

Jade and Floyd are Moray Eel Mermen;

- Similar to Azul, Floyd and Jade look similar to how they do in cannon, but their merman features are more visible even in their human forms. The fins they have alongside their faces are now present in their human forms as are the colorations of their merman forms on their shoulders and faintly around their faces. Their gills are still visible in their human forms.

Kalim is a Genie;

- Kalim is the closest out of everyone to his canon appearance as his identity as a Genie changes very little. He will likely wear clothes akin to his dorm clothes appearance but have the addition of golden bands around his wrists and ankles. He can form legs to walk on, but often chooses to fly instead, where his legs become more smoke-like in the typical Genie 'tail' that many Genies are often seen with. Kalim now has a golden aura around him that makes him glow slightly with a golden color due to his high-magic Genie nature.

Note; Kalim sleeps in his lamp and keeps many of his treasures in his lamp as his magic allows the lamp to be more like a hotel suite than a prison cell despite the size on the outside. Only Kalim and those he invites into his lamp can enter.

Jamil is a Sand Viper Naga;

- Jamil's upper half is similar to how it is in canon, but his lower half is that of a rather large snake. His shake half is 22ft (670cm) comprised of black and maroon scales. His maroon scales are closer to the color of dried blood and often get dark enough shades that they mix with the black diamond and striping patterns his black scales make. The scales on the stomach side of his snake body are a slightly more red tone than his skin tone. He does have golden scales that line his stomach scales and are in the center of the diamond patterns on his back.

Note; Jamil often sleeps with Kalim's lamp in the coils of his Naga tail. Having come from a long line of Naga that are usually the guards and guardians of the wealth and well-being Kalim's Genie family has amassed through the years. Wherever a Genie from Kalim's family lives, so too lives a Sand Viper Naga from Jamil's family to guard them.

Vil is a Peacock Harpy;

- Vil still has his flawless skin and purple ombre hair even as a peacock harpy, but he does have hair-like cobalt blue and emerald green feathers that often get woven into braids. He also has seven pristine head feathers that are the same 'eye' patterns as his tial feathers that often lay back against his hair unless he is feeling particularly proud, in which his crest will rise up like a crown atop his head. Vill has feathering along his shoulders, upper back and neck that are the bright cobalt blue of male Indian peacocks. Along his shoulder blades are his wings which have a full span of 8ft (244cm) but are often tucked neatly against his back and folded so the flight feathers don't drag when he walks. Vil has the full peacock train of tail-feathers and spends quite a bit of time preening and grooming them to maximum shine. He will only fully display his tail-feathers when being prideful or showing off to a prospective mate.

Rook is an Australian Golden Huntsman-Spider Drider;

- Rook's legs are a long spindly gold that are many times the length of his thorax and abdomen. The thorax of his spider body is larger than the abdomen of the body due to the typical shape of Huntsman-Spiders. The thorax area on Rook's spider body has a large black mark among the back hairs trailing down to where the abdomen part of his body is more narrow and the marks become black lines making their way down. His human half is attached at the top of the thorax where the spider's eyes are usually located. His spider legs are as thick as a Human's legs, his mandibles and pedipalps being similar in thickness. His fangs are to scale and are extremely long as well as being like blacked curved knives, he often keeps them tucked away to not unsettle others.

Note; Rook and Vil have a very mutually beneficial relationship just as they do in regular TWST. Rook helps Vil preen and take care of his feathers, often being the one getting the pin feathers Vil can't reach on his back and shoulders. Rook uses the silk he creates as a Drider to make fabrics for Vil as they are of high quality, and even higher thread count. Both are content to be the others boon companion and will often be seen working together outside of class as well.

Neige is a Mourning Dove Harpy;

- Neige has the same dark black hair and big brown doe eyes he does in cannon but he also has grey-brown feathers throughout his black hair. His cheeks, neck, shoulders, and upper back have the same gray-brown feathers with speckles of dark brown, white, black, and gray feathers throughout giving a light speckling pattern. His wings are that same gray brown color and are 6.5ft (200cm) in length. The ends of his flight feathers are often trailing over the ground beneath him when he is relaxed and he rarely opens his wings fully. Like most mourning doves, he has a lovely soothing voice and his unassuming species of Harpy makes him all the more charming.

Note: I was going to make Neige a Willow Grouse Harpy due to the coloration match with Neige and his RSA uniform, but I have a childhood fondness for the call of a mourning dove and Neige is supposed to have a beautiful voice, so I figured sweet Neige can be a mourning dove and not the goofy sounding Willow Grouse.

Epel is a Beliy Naliv Apple Wood Nymph;

- Epel has white tree bark as skin, occasionally having the slight dark mark or blemish where Epel had gotten into fights despite being a more peaceful species of Wood Nymph. His hair is made up of pale green leaves that are often covered in powder lavender blooms that are the same color as his canon hair color. Epel has the same large blue eyes as he does in canon. Occasionally the blooms on his head will grow into small apples that are white due to his species of Wood Nymph being the White Cloud Apple. His skin is rougher in texture and closer to the texture of bark.

Idia is a Shinigami;

- He still has his blue flaming hair and blue tinted lips and gold eyes. His skin is closer to a light gray in tone now, his nails a natural black. He now has these scraggly black wings that are kind of like bird wings but more haggard in appearance. The feathers are more slick and almost oily in texture and have some traces of blues in them similar to Idia's hair. He can use them to fly, but they make a very loud wooshing sound that he isn't overly fond of so he doesn't often use them. His limbs are just a bit longer than they are in canon giving him a more skeletal and gaunt appearance.

Ortho is also a Shinigami;

- Similar to Idia, Ortho still has his blue flaming hair and golden eyes. He will have the same light gray skin tone Idia does, but his wings are now cybernetic due to an unfortunate accident when Ortho was much younger that caused him to lose his Shinigami wings. Ortho also has several cybernetic limbs as a result of that same accident, making monster AU ortho closer in appearance to canon Ortho, but still able to eat/sleep/behave like a living being. Ortho is not AI but does have several augments to allow his brain to function with the aid of AI due to his unfortunate incident when he was younger.

Silver is a Reindeer Cervitaur;

- Silver is a leucistic deer cervitaur. This means his deer half has white fur as well with light gray spots along his back similar to the spots fawns have for camouflage purposes. His antlers are also an ivory white, and only have three points. From burr to tip of the beam, Silver has two points at the end of the beam and one point near the burr of his antlers. Lilia throws a party any time Silver gets another point on his antlers. Silver's deer half has the musculature type closer to reindeer than whitetail deer.

Lilia is a Vampire Bat Fae;

- Similar to his canon appearance, Lilia looks almost the same in his monster AU form, but his monster AU form has bat wings and a little tail. Most bats have tails and delicate wings, so I decided Lilia should also have bat wings and a little tail. His wings are sturdier than most bats and have several holes in them from past battles he has endured. He is still the Fae variation so he has the same pointed ears, sharp teeth, and slit pupils other Fae type have. His wings are black with Light pink highlights near the tips just like his hair.

Note; Lilia likes to sleep upsidedown in this AU and will often settle himself in the cafeteria chandeliers or even the rafters of various buildings to take naps throughout the downtimes of the day. Lilia is more nocturnal in this AU as well with increased sensitivity to sounds/lights.

Malleus is Dragon Fae.

- Malleus in the monster AU is similar to his canon appearance but has his dragon wings, tail, and various clusters of black scales along his body. His nails are decent length black talons and he has black scales along the backs of his hands and up his arms. His neck and upper back/shoulders have more black scales. His wings are the same deep black with a slight purple tint to them anywhere the skin is exposed. His tail is about as thick as a leg and tapers off to a wickedly sharp point that Malleus could use to impale someone if he wanted to. Black scales frame his eyes like their own kind of makeup and are more colorful around the eyes in purples and green sheens that highlight the obsidian base color of the scales.

Note; Malleus is more in touch with his dragon instincts in this AU due to being more outwardly dragon. He does make a nest out of his bed and is much more inclined to hoard things he is fond of, including but not limited to Gargoyles, unusual stones, and various creatures he takes interest in. Once he considers someone to be part of his hoard, he will be possessive of them and fiercely protective. Only creatures part of his hoard are allowed to enter his nest. Lilia, Silver, and Sebek are three of his living hoard.

Sebek is a Raiju Fae;

- His hair is a bit more wild and fur-like compared to his canon appearance with yellows mixed in to the sage green color. His teeth are much sharper and he actually has more dog-like qualities similar to Jack's canon appearance. Raiju are lightning dog mythical creatures, so Sebek's appearance will be similarly dog-like with the beastman ears and spiky furred tail that has a rougher texture compared to most fur. His tail and ear positioning will often be a dead giveaway for what emotions Sebek is feeling at the time.

Rollo is an Inferno Fire Nymph.

- Rollo's eyes are an ashen gray as is his skin and hair when he is not in his active inferno flame form. Much like a burned log, his flesh will bare the same ashen faded look to it. Rollo is usually in this form as he is not overly fond of the fire he creates and he can keep himself mostly calm despite the constant annoyance of others around him. When in his active inferno fire form, his ashen hair will ignite into flames, his gray eyes turning a bright fire red. Similarly, his skin will take a redder tone and embers will float off of his hair.

Note: Rollo's fire can burn others, but he can also consciously change the temperature of his flames to only warm and not harm if he felt so inclined. He would only willingly do this for someone he deeply loved and cared for as his full flame form reminds him far too much of his deceased brother, hence why he uses it sparingly. There are many types of Fire Nymphs, but Inferno Fire Nymphs are considered the most deadly as their flames get the hotest. Young Fire Nymphs cannot control their fire and can burn themselves out if they get too hot internally.

[crow-ur-beloved]

various jrwi headcanons because the worms in my brain (potential autism) wont shut up. no real plot spoilers except for one, but its marked :]

the suckening:

shilo is like vampire immunocompromised, which added to the pile of reasons his mom used to keep him inside the castle because she didnt want him to immediately get 37 different diseases and Die. (if vampires can have allergies then id like to think they can also get sick. i dont actually know if thats possible in the vtm system but i dont care they can in my heart)

genderfuck/genderpunk afab emizel. i feel like thats the only label he'd use, if he had to have one. i dont think hed label his sexuality because he wants to be an enigma. but he Definitely likes men.

bizley said in the qna something that can Only let me think of shilo as aromantic. maybe aro And ace... i dont remember what he said exactly aughhgh i wish i did...

shilo fidgets with his hands like all the time. his mother and uncle tried to get him to stop and sit still because it wasnt very princely and whatnot but my boy needs a fidget toy. i think hed go craaaazy with an infinity cube

i feel like me saying arthur bennett is a bisexual doesnt even count as a headcanon like i think thats just a given. i feel like itd be more surprising if i said i thought he was straight. all beautiful beautiful vampire men have to be lgbtq. its the law actually

arthur never officially broke up with mary. mans just Left one day without warning. probably left a note that said "sorry. -arthur" on it. i doubt he had it in him to say goodbye to her face or his reasoning for it (he thought hed inevitably hurt her because of what he is and what he did to the people he loved in the past, because bad luck seems to follow him everywhere... oughh he makes me ill). he definitely used finding a new lead on anya somewhere else in the country as a good reason to dip. at least, as good a reason as it couldve been for him.

maybe controversial but i 100% think arthur and magnus had a one-night stand at the beginning of their relationship, before magnus met jerome, and they never talked about it again and pretend it never happened. cannot explain how real this is to me.

riptide:

ftm chip who 100% innately knew he was a dude since the moment he could think. like when the black rose pirates picked him up, he got confused when they started referring to him as a girl at first. probably never got The Talk from them, so was Very confused when he hit puberty. Reuben reluctantly helped him steal to pay for top surgery.

since tritons live at the bottom of the ocean, they would have eyes that are far more sensitive to light to allow them to see better since little light gets all the way down there. gillion was Immediately blinded by the sun when he surfaced and still gets headaches from how bright it is in the oversea, but they've gotten better the longer he's been up there. tritons are built to adapt to all kinds of conditions, so his eyes have slowly been getting a darker bluish-purple the longer he spends above the ocean; they were originally more of a light blue-grey.

in tandem with the last one, chip thinks hes either going crazy or a bad friend because he Swears gill's eyecolor is different than last week but how could that be possible, thats not just something he can do, right? why would he be able to do that???

if gillion gets knocked onto his back without warning he does that thing that sharks do where they get paralyzed for a bit when they get flipped upside down. its scary because he can see everything but cant do anything. he also definitely forgot to tell chip and jay about this fact and scared the Shit out of them the first time it happened around them.

gillion can also change his sex like some fish can. its the reason he can lay eggs. i think this makes it safe to say genderfluid/nonbinary/generally trans gillion tidestrider is highly possible and even probable in this headcanon. what im saying is t4t fish n chips.

not to headcanon all my favs as trans but i cant help it. it is the highest honor i can bestow upon them. anyways. mtf jay ferin. ava always knew and was the first person jay came out to. jay was also 100% named jayson after her father and went by jay most of her life anyway as a nickname and just decided to stick with it instead of picking anything else. may was always very openly-supportive of her. jayson was as supportive as a generally strict, overbearing, unsupportive-in-everything father can be. jay totally came out to him and the first thing he said to her was something like, "as long as it doesnt interfere with your navy training," and may promptly kicked him under the table and made him say something nice.

kiras trans too btw. she came out before jay and helped jay discover she was trans. and that she liked women.

(spoilers for 109 and beyond) chip can't entirely remember what he looks like. everytime he focuses on the illusion of hiding that hes practically just a skeleton now, it changes just a bit. freckles in the wrong places, the wrong shade of orange for his flame tattoos, too much light in his eyes, too much muscle on his arms. jay notices it but cant bring herself to say anything. she knows the illusion is meant to keep everyone from worrying, but, everytime she sees something off about it, she just remembers what he really looks like underneath, and that somehow feels worse.

blood in the bayou:

all these bitches gay as hell. kian is pan. rands got a lot of internalized homophobia. rolan probably too. its the 80s, man.

apotheosis (haven't finished it yet so idk how true these'll be lol):

agender rumi. godbless.

also rumis a theater kid. he got the lead in every musical he auditioned for because he could literally just shapeshift. theyd make up a new identity and appearance for every role and get to know everyone on the cast and then mysteriously drop off the face of the planet as that person when the production was over and nobody would know it was them.

peter has actually tried All Kinds of things. weed. yoga. multilevel marketing schemes. you name it, big chance hes done it at least once and didnt like it. he doesnt know how he ends up in the situations to try it, either.

[musical-shit-show]

bad idea, right?

Pairing: Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Sinner!Reader

Inspiration: Prompts #47 (“you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”) from Prompt List 1 and #34 (“hate is not the word. i loathe you.”) from Prompt List 3

Warnings: Spoilers for Season 1 of Hazbin Hotel, heavy cursing, homophobic language, Adam is just generally an asshole (duh), mentions of murder, depression (?), angst, digital stimulation, choking, general kinda rough smut (18+, minors DNI!!!)

Word Count: 1,657

Author’s Note: So ever since that Hazbin finale, I’ve loved the concept of Adam getting sent to Hell, mirroring how Sir Pentious was redeemed to Heaven. So, since it’s Hell, I figured this would make sense to have it be a little darker and more mature than my typical stuff. So yeah, minors DNI (for real, I don’t want to have to block anyone). If people like this, I might try my hand at other Hazbin characters if I feel so moved (or if anyone sends in a request). As always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists if you do want to send in a request! Happy reading, you degenerates.

“Would you get your hands off me? I just stepped in the door, asshole.”

“Did anyone see you?”

The door slammed behind you, shaking the walls of the seedy motel room on the west side of Pentagram City. Needy hands were already roaming over your figure, and you groaned in frustration.

“No,” you hissed, shrugging away from Adam’s grasp, taking off your overcoat. It was raining heavily that night, so most of the denizens of Hell had confined themselves to the indoors for the evening. That is if they weren’t working the corner or trying to find their next fix.

“As if I want to be spotted here anyways,” you huffed, “I have a reputation to uphold too, ya know.”

“Reputation,” he repeated, his golden eyes glowering beneath the horned mask that he still insisted on wearing. He chuckled darkly, “If I was seen cavorting around with a fucking sinner, there would be zero chance of me getting back to where I rightfully belong.”

Adam couldn’t fathom how this happened to him. He was then first man, the first human, and wielded unimaginable angelic power beyond comprehension.

But he was taken out by a two-foot tall, one-eyed maid with a penchant for stabbing. It almost would’ve been badass if it didn’t result in his untimely demise.

Next thing he knew, he woke up hours later, his angelic form altered into a tacky red and black cloak and broken wings. He still maintained his gold pupils, a haunting reminder of his previous afterlife.

And now he was a fallen angel.

Fallen.

Fallen. All because of that clit-licker Charlie Morningstar and her merry band of misfits. Which, at the present moment, included you. You had decided to take up residence at the Hazbin Hotel, and it made his blood boil.

So why did he still feel so drawn to you?

“Newsflash, but you’re down here too, dickwad,” you spat, taking offense to his comment, “You fucked up big time going after Lucifer’s daughter, and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”

Before you could launch into a tirade, Adam grabbed you firmly, pulling you flush against him, “Ya know,” he purred, “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”

“Pig.”

“Talking back will only make you pay for it later, dollface,” he growled, his dick twitching under his robe as he eyed you hungrily, “And if you didn’t like it, why do you keep coming back for more, hmm?”

You glared at him. The truth was, you didn’t know. He was the antithesis of everything you were trying to work toward; ever since the Princess of Hell had let you seek refuge in her hotel, you felt like you actually could be on the path to redemption.

That is, before you had a chance encounter with a fallen angel—and not just any fallen angel, but Earth’s first man—who also happened to be a massive shithead. You almost felt bad about lying to Charlie and the rest of the crew, but there was something about Adam that made it impossible for you to stay away.

You felt your insides twist as Adam spun you around so your ass was pressed against him, his form much larger and intimidating than your own. You let out a groan as his fingers weaved through your hair, giving it a slight tug as he pulled it back to expose your neck.

He nipped at the sensitive skin by your collarbone, while his other hand deftly palmed around the front of your skirt until it was hiked up to expose your panties. You should’ve been disgusted by the thought of him—and oftentimes, you were—but that didn’t stop your body from tingling with arousal.

He could sense it, the anger radiating off of you. It only turned him on more. These days, he only felt this kind of thrill when he was taunting you, teasing you until you came undone around him.

It was almost as good as when he would come down for his yearly visit, slaughtering sinners with his faithful lieutenant by his side.

Almost.

“Can’t hate me that much when you’re wet as fuck for me, huh hot stuff?” he said, his voice low in your ear. His grip tightened, the discomfort of his clawed fingers becoming almost unbearable.

“Hate is not the word,” you muttered, venom laced in your words, “I loathe you. I should do all of Hell a favor and kill you for good.”

You both knew your threats were empty. Having been an angel, Adam possessed more power than half the overlords of Hell. There was nothing special about you. If he wanted, he could snap you like a twig.

But despite his best efforts, Adam was incredibly lonely. Despondent, even. He didn’t know who he was without his legion of exterminators and Lute.

He had no plan to take over even a measly quadrant of Pentagram City, because he was struggling with the point of it all. Most overlords were now armed to the teeth with angelic weapons, which meant one more stab to the back and he was done for good.

Maybe an end to this misery would be good, but he so desperately wanted to claw his way back to Heaven that it wasn’t a risk he was currently willing to take.

He felt like a pathetic coward. But at least he had you to torment. At least when he was with you, he could stifle the cacophony of melancholia in his head. For a little while, anyways.

“Ugh, I love it when you talk dirty,” he mused, unphased by your aggression as he removed your shirt, exposing your breasts. His fingers moved your clit as he stroked you through your underwear, making you flinch, “Face it, toots. You might not be as fucked up as I am, but you have to admit this is adds just the right amount of spice to your miserable fucking existence.”

“If you’re gonna monologue all night about me being demon scum, I can go,” you shot back, glancing back at him with an annoyed look splashed across your face. “Besides, I told you last time, I’m not fucking you if you keep that stupid mask on.”

The digital façade he wore fell into a scowl, but Adam caved almost immediately and tossed the mask aside, revealing his tousled brown hair and piercing eyes. A five o’clock shadow adorned his face, and you’d almost consider him handsome if you knew nothing about his personality.

He pushed you onto the bed, his fingers threading to grip your hair again, making your back arch. Your comfort was the last thing on Adam’s mind. A part of him actually liked that you fought back against him; being challenged made fucking you even more interesting. 

You could feel how hard he was against your ass, and the pit in your stomach started to tense as you felt his cock rub against your folds, your panties now hanging pathetically from your ankles after he ripped them away from your waist.

Satan forbid he actually take off that stupid outfit of his; he had no problem disrobing you, but you didn’t have time to protest. With a sudden thrust, he sheathed himself into you, making you moan involuntarily.

You could almost hear the smirk coming from behind you as Adam began to pound into you almost immediately, his pace steady and rough. “You’re gonna take it like a good little slut, aren’t you?” he mocked, not letting on how perfect you felt around him, “You know there isn’t demon dick in all of Hell that’s as good as the original.”

How this guy got into Heaven in the first place, you’d never know. “Wouldn’t be too sure of that,” you needled as he pulled you to him again, his strokes getting deeper and making your abdomen tighten, “I’ve heard Lucifer is amazing in bed.”

You knew this would set him off; any time you invoked Lucifer’s name, you knew you were playing with fire.

Adam growled in your ear, his temper flaring. His rhythm quickened, becoming more frantic and desperate. You felt your eyes starting to water as he slammed into you, causing your pussy to throb around him.

Before you could utter another insult, you felt his hand finally loosen its grip on your hair and rest on your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck as he continued fucking you from behind.

He wasn’t going to forget that comment, but he could bitch about Lucifer later; he had more pressing matters at hand.

“Doesn’t matter, babe,” he said, his breathing starting to get ragged as he inched closer to coming inside you, “Your cunt is mine.” Adam might’ve been a sadistic asshole, but he was no idiot; he knew you were just as wretched and alone as he was.

You had to be if you were willingly sneaking around with God’s former favorite on a regular basis.

Which suited him just fine. If he was really damned, he might as well fill his time filling someone else.

His grasp tightened around your throat, and you felt your climax building inside you as he rutted against you at a now punishing speed. “Fuck you,” you squeaked out, trying to sound intimidating, but it was hopeless.

You unraveled around him a few moments later, spasming as you gasped for air, the constriction around your throat deliciously agonizing. Adam spilled into you soon after, a low hum of pleasure emitting from him. Him coming inside you was the most intimate he’d get as far your hookups were concerned.

Feeling equal parts disgusted and satisfied, you pulled your underwear back on, resting on your elbows and finally able to look him into the eye again. Even in the lusty post-sex haze, you could feel the sadness in his stare.

“So,” he drawled, leaning down to close the gap between you, “Same time next week?”

~~~~~

thanks for reading, depraved sinner! as always, please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed! <3

[k-atsukibakugou]

w/c: 1.2k tw: second year bakugou x reader, uh a touch self-inserty, i need to be a comforting presence or ill cry; unedited i just had some brainworms, spoilers a lil for the manga, blood mentions, kinda mutual pining-y

picking at the small plant beside your bed, you plucked another dead leaf off its stem, a small, light yellow one beneath it ready to unfurl and take its place. with a small frown, you think of how the plant was abandoned at the end of your first year, stuck unwatered in the dorms, the small pot the last on anyone's mind after the year you'd all gone through.

you stroked through the leaves once more, all of them begging to be hydrated. glancing at the time, 2:30 flashed back at you, your first night back already becoming your second morning.

sighing, you give up on trying to quiet your thoughts for tonight, accepting the plant's plea to be watered, taking your bottle with you, tiptoeing out of your room towards the common area, looking nearly like a zombie with your arms ahead of you in the dark, guiding your way in the dark.

you were nearing the sink, about three feet from it when you connected with another body, solid and stationary even at your crash into them, a grunt and an arm coming up to catch you before you slipped backward the only evidence you hadn't run into a wall.

"the fuck are you doin'?" even in the dark, dead of the night you'd recognise bakugou's voice, thick and gruff but somewhat hushed in the kitchen. adjusting to the lowlight, you finally could make out his silhouette, the spike of his hair, the square shape of his fist still hooked around your arm keeping you steady. with your hand to your beating heart, you breathed out a laugh, the spike of adrenaline waking you up more than you already had been.

"i could ask you the same, aren't you usually sleeping like a baby by 8?" you teased, wiggling out of his loose hold to lean against the counter, your new angle lighting his face in the cool moonlight. the red scars looked black in the pale light, your sure the one at his chest is worse, despite that, all you can focus on is his bitten fingernails, red, jagged, cuticles peeling away from the skin; the darkness around his eyes looking like bruising, looking only darker when his hair fell over his eyes. ever perceptive, his scarlet irises scanned your face, too, finding the same dark circles as his own around your eyes, your fingertips anxiously picking at a hangnail, his eyes almost soft when they meet yours again.

"can't sleep?" your tone softens, both of you like a mirror for the other, exhausted but determined. determined for your second year not to end like the first. to be normal 17 year olds, normal second years, as close to normal as you could get at u.a.

you almost don't catch his nod, if it could even be called that, mostly just katsuki tensing his jaw and jutting his chin out, "you?"

its the quietest you've ever heard him, you try not to stare too wide-eyed at him, nodding in response, awkwardly gesturing to your water bottle, "i'm watering my plants."

you glance back down to the bottle in your arms, worrying about your plant feeling useless standing here with him, the boy who died, the boy who survived while you fretted over rotting leaves.

you study him in silence, setting the water bottle down gently, the silence broken by the soft clanking of the metal against the counter; you desperately wanted to tear through the silence with comfort, advice, something to help your stubborn classmate. instead of anything of substance, your voice cuts through the silence to whisper, "i have a little playlist for when i can't get to sleep."

"i don't need fuckin' lullabies." i need something that'll work.

you knew all that was unsaid, he needed something to help him rest, to keep the dreams away, the memories of the war, the memory of how he died, to sleep and see nothing instead of blood.

katsuki glares with the heat of the sun hearing you click your tongue at him, his lips curling in an ugly snarl that didn't match his sleep deprived eyes, "it's not lullabies, idiot."

your teasing is soft, a gentle hand reaching for his wrist, fingertips brushing over his warm skin before you whispered again, "it's soothing, to have something fill the silence...helps me think less, i can show you?"

again, he hardly nods, the defeat in his eyes foreign to you, his insomnia wearing him down long before your second year started, working himself to exhaustion no longer working, warm showers keeping him up instead of soothing his skin, even evening stretches ending with him just as drained as he was when he first woke back up. what harm could your lullabies do?

you don't take his hand, looping your fingers around his wrist instead, the intimacy of guiding him by his hand somehow where you drew the line instead of the heart to heart in the pitch dark kitchen, dropping your grip only when your dorm door quietly latched behind him.

under the warm wash of your lamp, katsuki looked even worse, his face different than when you met him, more grown up, determination still lighting up his eyes, even as they flashed around your room weakly, his eyelids dragging with every blink. as if on autopilot, he sits in the centre of your bed, his fingers fiddling with the sheets, smoothing over the creases from where you laid before, pausing to rest where they were warmest from you.

the soft sounds were already playing from your phone, a gentle rain tapping against your balcony window only adding to the ambience, you smile inwardly at the imagery of katsuki like this, stiff at a sleepover, frowning even in his sleep.

"this shit really gets you to sleep? doesn't sound like anything" his bleary eyes find you again, his voice gravelly with sleep even as he scoffed. you laugh softly again, airy in your room, it catches katsuki's attention, too tired to think of acting indifferent to the spike in his heart rate hearing your joy.

"you normally sleep sitting up?" you ignore his grumbling, sliding into the bed beside him, both of you sitting atop the covers, the sheets crinkling and creasing underneath your bodies, again the line of intimacy blurred; under the blankets far too close for this, even as you tug him to follow you when you lie your head onto the pillow.

still, he lies beside you, on his side, only an inch of space between your faces, your knees nearly knocking as he got comfortable, a slow sigh escaping him. katsuki's eyes stayed trained on your face, his body fighting the exhaustion just to watch you, your lamp washing you in a glow that he'd gladly lose sleep just to admire.

"better?" katsuki thinks your voice is softer than a mouse's, although not as soft as your touch at his hairline, his eyelids drooping at your barely-there touch, a hum in his throat all he was capable of anymore, the intense tired he felt catching up to him here with you. you kept your fingers in his hair, gently scratching at his scalp when he sighed again.

you stare at him as you plant tender touches over his head, his neck, down to his shoulders until his breathing evens, not another word shared between you, not a single word needed as you slipped into your own slumber beside him.

for once plagued only by memories of your giggle instead of threats and villains.

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.