#he was one of those rare instances where i was like 'that's it i NEED to make an attractive but absolutely awful person of a character NOW'

[twpsyn-who]

Stiles Stilinski is my favorite/comfort character, which means that I have a deeply desire to ship him with everyone, wish pain and suffering upon himself and an unresolved need to read 'Dead Stiles Stilinski' fics.

I need more angst in my life. I need him to suffer

[sleepinglionhearts]

Love your art (always)!!! Do you have a backstory/bio for the dark haired anemo catalyst user in your new post? They look so cute/cool! :00

Hello, anon! Thank u for asking!

I think I've posted briefly before about Jun here, but it was part of an ask game and I didn't give his entire backstory (or what I've come up with, anyway, ehe)

He is Jun Ogura, from Inazuma, and has been living in Liyue for quite some time as of late. He is strange man, of a friendly enough attitude, but a cold and ruthless nature.

Was at one point a relatively sweet young man and oldest son in a merchant family. He gained his vision when trying to save the person he loved most from falling to the abyss, but he did not know how to use it and so failed to recover them. He has a grudge against the archons over this and is out for revenge... and the desperate want to become powerful enough to find and rescue his darling.

His despair and pain over his own failure to save them and his desire for vengeance seem to have afflicted him with some sort of immortality - he himself does not know if this is a blessing or a curse: he now has plenty of time to become strong, hunt down and challenge the archons but he is also very certain that as the years have passed, so too has the lover he was so determined to find and rescue.

(Not that he would know it, but that very same love he is missing so much is afflicted with their own curse and mysteriously long life - but that's @reddish-yellowish 's tale to tell as that is HER oc ehehe.)

Kinda got kicked out of Inazuma for some (he'll call it petty) disagreements (read: murder attempts) with the archon there, but this will only be important much later.

He speaks politely, quietly and with a low voice, and just LOVES to talk during combat. A cruel catalyst user who carries a few knives on his person and prefers to get close to his opponent and chat while he cuts them up. Has a tendency to suddenly become aggressive but back off if bored or his attention is caught by something, but is by no means lazy or foolish enough to lose track of his opponent. Good in one on one fights but starts to lose advantage in big groups.

A wanderer who has decided to stay in Liyue for some time and has recently become intrigued by the strange Traveler and their mysterious little floating companion. Makes them both very uncomfortable. Also makes that odd redheaded fatui boy who calls himself a harbinger uncomfortable, and finds it vastly amusing. Will later decide to accompany the Traveler to Inazuma because he has decided he likes them and they make for good fun and less boredom, but also to stir up some trouble because that's just what he likes to do :)

Oh, don't worry, spending time around the Traveler will be good for him. He'll start to change for the better. Become a little more domesticated.

It's not the most detailed or nice backstory, but it's what I've got for him right now. ♡

[chrollohearttags]

ENVY | EREN JAEGER • the seven slutty sins series: part two

he’s not selfish, he just wants you all to himself..

musician/influencer au, possessive (yandere if you squint) eren, black fem reader, rough sex, spit play, hair pulling, overstim, exhibitionism, etc.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿════✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

eren never got jealous!

at least that’s what he told himself..nothing ever really garnered that much of a rise out of the rapper. Sure, he’d have fleeting moments of self doubt and insecurity like any other warm blooded human on this planet but one thing that could be said of EJ The Don, was that he was no hater. Others’ problems or accomplishments were of no consequence to him…someone trending higher on the charts for a number one spot? Cool. Just meant that it was their time instead of his. Awards shows? He wasn’t bothered. One man’s win didn’t spell failure for him. And when it came to women? EJ was the textbook definition of unbothered. He was cool on every single one that had ever crossed his path. Nonchalant and never worried with the possibility that he could lose her. Simply put, it wasn’t a problem for him. He was also never worried about his proverbial competition..because on the off chance that another guy was in the picture, there was no question of who she was going home with! He never had a reason to resent anyone..

…that was until he saw you with him!

“Oh my—‘rennn, fuuuck, I can’t..”

“Can’t what, hmm? Go ‘head, speak up, baby. I’m listening..”

he was calm and collected until he spotted you on Twitter..one of the rare instances he decided to actually engage with the app and he happens to see his beloved (y/n) dancing to his best friend’s song. Subtly shaking your ass to the upbeat instrumental in that skin tight dress. A sheer thong peeking out underneath and giving the world a small glimpse of what belonged to him…that tiny string swallowed up by the thick of that ass and plump pussy lips. The same ones that were all but drooling for him at the moment as he thrashed around your insides with a thumb gently placed into that puckering asshole to aid in your pleasure.

“N-no more..you win…I can’t take it..”

you’d declare in haste, but he wasn’t buying it. Or rather, he didn’t give a fuck! Why would he when you couldn’t be vexed to consider how he’d feel? Seeing you twerk to the sound of his homeboy’s lyrics when he was all that you needed? He was the only one that could turn you so salacious..ripping your clothes off as if they were paper thin..that much proven by the fact that right now, you were bent over the counter space where his friend had just sat prior to going on stage. Buried to the hilt on his stiff, aching cock as he hooked two fingers into your mouth whilst they swabbed your tongue. The same one that throbbed and pulsed at the very sight of you..the one that swelled so large, it made it damn near uncomfortable to sit down when you showed off that pretty little body and once you spread those legs to show him what was in between, his tip seeped with precum and embarrassingly, sometimes, he’d come all on his lonesome. Hence why he was pounding your cunt into full blown submission and sincerely hoped that someone would catch you two in the act right now.

“You say that but you keep throwing that shit back on me..take that dick and shut the fuck up..”

those same slender, tattooed fingers that were once hooked in the side of your jaw and underneath you to massage that very sensitive clit, were now cupped around your throat so that you could get a generous glimpse at your face right now. That beautiful face desecrated with fallen tears and ruined makeup. Your melted lace lifted clean from the perimeter of your head as he tugged it to keep you in place with those deep strokes. “Look in that fucking mirror. Look how pretty you are taking that dick..” Alternating his pacing between rough and gentle, fast and slow..all in an attempt to bring you closer to your inevitable peak..one that would undoubtedly leave you in a dripping wet mess. He’d watch you tap at that countertop to concede defeat or even reach back to paw at his abs but was only met with sharp hisses and a demented laugh, letting you know that he didn’t care about your pathetic pleas. Honestly, they were nothing more than fuel for his desires. Tugging your head back to occasionally fill those jaws with generous strings of saliva; slapping you to promptly receive your gratitude.

“Did you think I was gon’ let you get away with that shit, baby? This is mine..this my pussy..”

something he’d instill that empty little brain of yours, even if it took all night. If it took another artist and all of the staff backstage walking in, witnessing you in this vulnerable state. “Now open up. Spread that ass open..I want you to take all my nut…get you so full you can’t go nowhere..”

make no mistake, he wasn’t selfish. He wasn’t even jealous…he just wanted you all to himself.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@jadeisthirsting @spaceforher @honeybleed @shamelesshoefairy @calibabii21 @kaennih-skittles @astrokatsuki @bey0nseh @anubisisthebomb

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

[breadinanutshell]

I made a list of Halsin facts for my own entertainment a while back but forgot to post it. Dunno if anyone would find this interesting but in case here it is, enjoy~ o/

ACT1

-He writes in tight scribbles, smokes the pipe and loves reading (likely non-fiction). He’s the studious sort, considering his unprompted interest in the parasites and his hunger for knowledge. This aspect of him was more defined in Early Access but sadly got lost during full release. It also briefly comes up during one of his banters in later chapters.

-He rarely drinks: he’s a lightweight and gets overly affectionate when drunk. He also sings when drunk. Badly, per his word.

-Is an actual Disney princess (he has birds scouting and reporting back to him).

-He has a strong sense of duty, so much so he will stop paying attention to other aspects of his life in the pursuit of it. At least in one instance, this has been depicted as a flaw (when he abandons the grove looking for the Nightsong).

-He enjoys spending time in his bear form, and appears to have been the main caretaker for the bears in the grove. Ormn in particular acts heartbroken that Halsin is missing.

-When given the chance, he’s eager to give up his position as archdruid, as he felt it was too draining and confining. Despite his insecurities in his ability as a leader, he’s more shrewd and wise than he lets on: he can play politics when necessary. And people around him have been more than happy to rely on him. He cares about those under his protection. A lot. “The grove is everything to me”.

-He doesn’t shy away from violence when provoked.

-He feels responsible for the shadow curse, and is compelled by the need to fix everything.

-This is a relic from Early Access but you’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands: in the grove there used to be a fanfic titled “Shadow’s Kiss” written by the druid Roan that featured a certain “Balsin”. At the end of it a written entry by Halsin would threaten to feed Roan to Ormn if he ever saw the name “Balsin” again.

ACT2

-He likes open spaces, reading and whittling utensils and ornaments (ducks in particular). He’s got a sweet tooth and a fondness for honey. He finds it hurtful when he's made fun of for his interests: he admits people tend to underestimate his sensitivity.

-He’s a very religious man and invokes Silvanus any chance he gets. Even so he doesn’t believe in blind faith and chides Shadowheart for not questioning Shar’s teachings.

-He’s 350 years old.

-He has no mercy for goblins, to the point where he disapproves if you spare them in Moonrise. A bit funny, considering there’s a banter later on with Karlach where he insists that “mercy costs us nothing”.

-His scars were caused by a bear who didn’t appreciate being spurned during mating season.

-He’s a veteran who served in the battle against Ketheric Thorm in Reithwin, where eventually the druids and Harpers won. At the time he was likely second to the archdruid that led him into battle. When the shadow curse started spreading, said archdruid died, leaving Halsin in charge. He immediately evacuated the survivors. He still feels guilty for not being able to help more that day. From one of his party banters it’s clear Halsin suffers from survivor’s guilt. He’s lost many friends to the curse, so many in fact that “it would take a day and a night to recite the names of the fallen”.

-Considering how obsessed he’s been with the curse ravaging the land for the past 100 years, it’s unlikely he had any intimate connections during this period of time. He also claims that more good has been done since meeting Tav than in the 100 years before their meeting.

-His family is dead and buried at the foot of the Grandfather Tree in High Forest.

-He seems used to changing environments and affiliations. Once recruited, he’s quick to call Tav his new family.

-He remains polite in the face of scorn and ridicule. Right when he joins if you suggest all he’s good for is cleaning camp he responds with an awkward chuckle and a “wherever you need me”. Later in Act 3 his affections can be brusquely turned down by comparing him to a deep rothé, to which he calmly responds “a simple no would have sufficed”.

-As a child he befriended Thaniel, a spirit of nature, and ever since then he felt a higher calling. Thaniel appears to be as fond of Halsin as Halsin is of Thaniel, mentioning him often to Fist Art Cullagh during their imprisonment in the Shadowfell.

-He is the only expert of shadow curse alive, and if killed in Act 1 the curse cannot be lifted.

ACT3

-He believes himself, or at the very least aims to be, a protector. Any failure (or perceived failure) in fulfilling said role leads him to spirals of self doubt and insecurity. His self worth is heavily dependent on how useful he can be, and without a big purpose or mission to fulfill, he appears lost. In the same vein he seems incapable of staying still and relax, he always needs something to focus on.

-In true druid spirit, he considers cities to be intruding on nature’s realm. On his arrival to Baldur’s Gate, he's appalled and disgusted by the class inequality encountered in the city. He’s disturbed by the suffering of children, in particular.

-When called naive for his dream of a better future he mentions he gave up cynicism when he was 200 years old.

-He’s all for heckling Dribbles’ corny jokes.

-He sees his body as a vessel and his physical prowess as a tool. He takes no pride in it.

-He admits that he didn’t realize how much his responsibilities had been weighting on him until Tav showed up and took that burden away.

-He’s polyamorous, and pretty lax when it comes to sex and relationships: he has no qualms in taking pleasure where “desire finds purchase”. He mentions that he had many lovers in the past and that his heart doesn’t stir lightly. This might imply he’s laid with many, but cared for few. He also doesn’t appear thrilled by the prospect of marriage/tying yourself forever to someone. For a man so against putting a relationship into words, he acts incredibly smitten when romanced and showers his partner in all kinds of sweet praises.

-He’s so attuned to his wildshape that he tends to lose control of his transformations when overcome by strong emotions (i.e. anger, arousal). He appears embarrassed when this accidentally happens in an intimate situation. He does enjoy wildshape during intercourse though, as he even proposes it himself during an interaction with Shadowheart. Per his word, he doesn’t discriminate against any type: in an interaction with Lae'zel he implies he slept with a chimera.

-He considers lust to be the most essential of impulses and feels it’s only natural to be guided by it.

-He’s travelled far and wide. Where we do not know, unfortunately. He mentions he’s been to the Underdark many times and possibly the Nelanther Isles. In his youth he ventured into the Underdark to sate his own wanderlust, where he got captured, enslaved and sexually abused by drows for 3 years.

-He’s self aware of his obsession with nature. When Jaheira warns him not to fall into druid stereotypes, he comments that he does think about other topics such as high art and politics, but to him nothing compares to a tree.

-When speaking of his past, he comments that people seem to focus on the more “salacious chapters” and disregard his years of study. When confronted about it, he seems perfectly content with a life spent studying, meditating, counselling, fighting, training and fucking.

-He used to hibernate as a bear and mentions he spent at least 100 years of his life sleeping. It’s unclear if he’s still in the habit.

-At the end of the campaign he sets out to create a new community in Reithwin with the victims of war and refugees that were turned away from the city. The children of this soon-to-be-founded community refer to him as “daddy Halsin”.

-He considers himself an exceedingly patient man.

[burst-of-iridescent]

South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 1)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

it's well-known that atla draws from indigenous, east and southeast asian influences, but something i rarely see discussed in the fandom is the influences the show takes from hinduism and south asia, and there are actually far more than i think people are aware of.

so here's a (non-exhaustive list) of the main inspirations atla drew from south asian culture and hinduism, starting with...

The Avatar

the title of the show itself is taken from the ancient language of sanskrit, often considered the sacred tongue of the hindu religion. in sanskrit, the word "avatar" means to "descend" or "alight".

the concept of the avatar is a very old one, referring to the physical incarnation of a powerful deity or spirit. the idea of the avatar is most often linked to the god Vishnu, one of three supreme hindu gods collectively called the trimurti, or trinity. the avatar is said to manifest upon earth primarily in times of great need, when balance must be maintained between the forces of good and evil.

atla borrows heavily from this idea in having aang be the incarnation of a divine spirit who returns to the world during a time of immense strife, and is tasked with defeating a great evil to bring balance back to the world. and though i don't know if it was an intentional reference, it's interesting to note that Krishna, the most famous incarnation of Vishnu was also reborn amidst a fierce storm and carried through a raging sea to a new home where he would be protected from the king who sought to kill him. sounds a little familiar, doesn't it?

Agni Kai and the Philosophy of Firebending

the word "agni" derives from the sanskrit name Agni, the god of fire, though it can also generally mean "fire".

the concepts of lightning bending and the sun being the source of firebending are likely also taken from the idea of Agni, since he's said to exist simultaneously in three different forms on three different dimensions: as fire on earth, as lightning in the atmosphere, and as the sun in the sky.

Agni is a significant aspect of many rituals, including marriage rites, death rites, and the festivals of holi and diwali. the concept of Agni is one of duality: life and death, rebirth and destruction. hindu rituals accept and celebrate both aspects, revolving around the idea that destruction is not separate from creation, but rather necessary to facilitate it. the cremation of the dead, for instance, is seen as purification, not destruction: burning away the physical form so the soul is unencumbered, set free to continue the reincarnation cycle.

this influence can be seen in the firebending masters episode, which discusses the idea of fire being vital to life. the sun warriors safeguarding the original fire and demanding that zuko and aang bring fire to the dragons as a sacrifice could also reference the ritual of Agnihotra - the ritual of keeping a fire at the home hearth and making offerings to it. the purpose of this ritual differs depending on which text you refer to, but it is generally believed to purify the person and atmosphere in which it is performed, similar to how zuko and aang must make offerings to ran and shaw and survive their fire before being deemed worthy and pure.

Agnihotra is said to serve as a symbolic reminder of the vitality and importance of fire as the driving force of life, a lesson that zuko and aang also internalize from their encounter with the dragons.

Bumi

bumi's name is taken from the sanskrit word "bhumi", which means "earth". it's also the name of the hindu goddess of the earth, bumi or bhudevi.

one of the things the original animation didn't do and which i really enjoyed about the live action was that they made bumi indian and added desi inspiration to omashu. it makes perfect sense for a king whose name is as hindu-inspired as they come.

NWT Royal Palace

chief arnook's palace in the northern water tribe takes inspiration from the gopurams of hindu temples, massive pyramidal structures that served as entrance towers to the temple.

gopurams were built tall enough to be seen for miles around, beacons to signal tired or weary travellers who wished for a place to rest that a temple was nearby. it's a nice touch that the chief's palace is located in front of the spirit oasis, a similarly symbolic entryway to a sanctuary housing otherworldly deities.

Betrothal Necklaces

to preface: i doubt this was an intentional reference, and this great post talks about other cultures that could have inspired the water tribe betrothal necklaces. given the desi influence in the nwt architecture however, i figured it was worth mentioning.

the idea of betrothal necklaces being given to women by their male partners is similar to the thaali, a necklace given to hindu wives by their husbands. during hindu weddings, grooms tie the thaali around their brides' necks to symbolize their marriage. once given, wives are expected to wear their thaali till the day they die, as doing so is believed to bring good luck, health and prosperity to their husbands.

Chi-Blocking

though chi-blocking takes primary inspiration from the art of Dim Mak, it is also influenced by the south indian martial arts forms of adimurai and kalaripayattu, both of which include techniques of striking vital points in the body to disable or kill an opponent.

kalaripayattu also shares parallels with firebending, being a very physically demanding, aggressive martial art that emphasises the importance of discipline and mental fortitude. control of the mind is essential to control of the body, a philosophy similar to that espoused by iroh across the show.

Wan Shi Tong's Library

the library draws inspiration partly from the taj mahal, the famous mausoleum constructed by shah jahan during the mughal empire as a monument to his beloved wife, mumtaz mahal.

i'll end this post here since it's getting too long as it is, and the following section will be even longer. for while atla treated the concepts in this post with respect, the same unfortunately cannot be said for its depiction of guru pathik and combustion man - both of which we'll be discussing next.

[oncomingnight]

Yandere! boyfriend x fem reader

Malik is the sweetest guy you've ever come across and his charisma doesn't even come at a cost. You've never met anyone, no matter the gender, that was as attentive and humorous as him. Malik could care less if he's making himself look like a fool as long as he's graced with the presence of your heartwarming smile. His humor consists of material you'd only ever expect to hear out of the mouth of a teenage boy which is what makes his jokes so much funnier.

He doesn't need an international holiday in order to spoil you with stuffed animals, sweets and handwritten letters, he already gifts you all those things for the simple fact that he wants to. Malik is always showing up to your shared apartment with a bouquet of flowers in hand as he feels like the worst man to ever walk the Earth if he does otherwise.

Letting you pay for yourself is something he'll never allow you to do, as long as he's with you of course. He can't exactly stop you from doing so if he's not physically next to you (rare occurrence)but he has his own way of handling that issue. He'll notice if you seemed to have purchased something with your own money while he wasn't around, and immediately reach into his pocket in an effort to pay you back.

"You look so pretty, baby. Is that a new lipgloss?" "Yeah it is, I bought it when we were at the market the other day!" "Oh yeah? How much was it, baby? I'll give you your money back, just let me know if you want something next time, okay? I don't care if I look like I'm busy with something else, I have all the time in the world when it comes to you."

While we're on the topic of time I think this is the perfect moment to mention the fact that Malik is extremely possessive over not only you but also your time. Nothing gets him more upset than when the two of you are out together at a public setting and your friends attempt at pulling all of your attention away from him. In reality, your friends are simply making conversation with you and they actually make several attempts at including him in the conversation. This, however, doesn't matter to Malik one bit, he can see right through their 'good people' personas.

Malik practically battles with other people when it comes to having your full attention on him. It's not even a case where you're not appreciating how greatly he treats you, no. He is the one who is urging himself to be the absolute best for you before someone attempts at lifting you off of your feet and away from him. He finds it incredibly comedic when others attempt at acting as if they could ever understand or know you as well as he does. There have been many instances where he's gotten you the perfect gift and he just can't help but look on at the other party attendees with pity, as they all now know that you won't be as satisfied with their presents.

Is Malik a possessive boyfriend (soon to be husband)? Yes. Although, this doesn't mean he won't allow you to have girl trips/sleepovers. If you're having a girls trip in an area with a completely different time zone, this will not prevent Malik from staying up as late and early as he needs in order to call and wish you a good morning.

He will keep you on the phone for extremely extended amounts of time (not that you mind). Your friends could try their absolute hardest at being irritated towards his constant need to be near you and to call you but they just can't. Malik is so sickeningly sweet to you that they'd be seen as bitter people that are just jealous due to the fact they've never been as loved and cared for as you are now.

Malik didn't exactly grow up in the most accepting house hold, even as a child, he felt as though he was constantly walking on eggshells with his parents. His parents were raised with extremely aggressive religious views that would quite obviously intimidate the average person, this caused him to be raised in an environment where even cartoons most people deemed as 'kid friendly' were forbidden. Anything that wasn't blatantly religious was seen as unholy, his parents wanted him to uphold the stereotypical attitude of toxic manhood that even him doing simple acts of skincare were seen as something to 'look out for'.

This extremely damaged environment he was raised in just may be the reason as to why he doesn't speak to his family anymore and why he loves so ferociously, like a rabid animal. I don't know though, it's not like I make the rules or anything.

He absolutely adores doing anything and everything romantic with you, especially within the comfort of your own home. When the holidays roll around, there's nothing he loves more than brewing up two cups of iced coffee, sporting matching onesies, baking Christmas cookies and lighting up the fire place as the moon shines into your shared bedroom window.

Well, there is one thing he loves more than all of that.

That's you.

Edit: credit to @cafekitsune for the divider ♡

[gay-dorito-dust]

We all know how loaded Bruce is, it’s a well known fact that he’s loaded to the high heavens.

So with that out of the way, when he sees your eyes lingering on something you’d like but don’t have to money for *cough* a £48/£58 plush *cough* Bruce will memorise the name of the store, the product you wanted and buy it on your behalf and have it sent to you under his name.

£48/£58 is mere pocket change to this man and will wave off any and all attempts you make in trying to gift him back for it. You wanted the plush and all he did was buy it for you, as to Bruce there was no need for you to go out of your way to repay him.

Just accept the plush and that’ll be all the repayment he’ll ever need. (He always when it comes to people trying to repay him for a simple act.)

Not use to tender, caring touches you’d give out that he kind of flinches away at first, holding his breath and all of his muscles stiffens upon reflex. However if you were to give him time, he’ll slowly begin to relax and unclench his jaw and relaxes his muscles as he releases a sigh while easing into your touch; practically putty in your hands as your thumbs caresses just under his eyes and across his darkening eye bags.

This man has never know a day of rest in his entire life. He firmly believes that Gotham is his responsibility 24/7 and feels partially responsible for how the town came to be the way it was. So showing him basic affection and kindness is kind of foreign to him, but he comes to greatly appreciate those aspects of yours and finds himself wanting more but never knowing how to ask.

Now just imagine this 6’2 man awkwardly scuffling next to you as he internally deducts the best possible way to ask you to hold him, all the while you could only become worried with how intently he was staring at your arms. You didn’t want to say anything because of the instance that you might be crossing a boundary of his, whereas Bruce was severely struggling in trying to get across his want for you to initiate the first move.

The air between you two being filled with a kind of awkwardness that didn’t make the situation any less stressful for the both of you either. However this gets better with time also, much like everything else did the longer you stay with Bruce.

Every Robin he’s ever had held a place in his old heart.

From dick all the way to Damian, each and every one of them were his soft spot, they were his kids and very much still are his kids despite being all grown up! So when Bruce sees you get along with any of them, it’s guaranteed to melt his heart seeing the people he cares for most in his life getting along. His dead set face may seem unchanged by the interaction but just know that internally he’s planning more situations where you’d get to interact with one or all of them.

And if you look close enough, you’ll be all to see the beginnings of a smile beginning to stretch across his face, destined to grow an inch bigger as he watched you interact with the rest of the family. Bruce would watch how you’d laugh and smile to whatever Dick was saying, how incredibly attentive you are with Damian and his artwork, and how understanding and thoughtful you were towards Jason and his reasonings and so on.

Bruce is a softy. A teddy bear if you will.

He’s not always a brooding dude, especially not when he was with you. He’d actually smile, chuckle and even make a rare joke from time to time.

You’re his personal pillow bc this man is severely allergic to proper sleep like the fucking insomniac that he is.

I wish I was joking but I’m not, you’re his personal pillow that helps aid him into a dreamless slumber but don’t be surprised at how tightly he’d hold onto you in his sleep.

Also he’s adamant in sleeping with his back towards the door and is also adamant that your back was pressed against the wall for protective reasonings. It didn’t matter that you’d often remind him that Wayne Manor was probably the safest place to be in Gotham, especially with all the securities put in place, but Bruce was adamant on the fact that your protection should come first even when sleeping.

He’s protective to an almost suffocating amount. Being Batman who had his own rouges gallery of villains was one thing and to be expected, but being Bruce Wayne came with it’s own form of dangers that were out to get him and anyone in association. So needless to say that you were under constant observation no matter where you went, and it was all in due to Bruce’s inherent distrust towards anyone he wasn’t well acquainted with.

He’s got a tracker on you and will watch the screen with a serious look upon his face as his eyes follows you on your route home for abnormalities of any kind, all the while keeping tabs on a open radio channel for any signs of criminal activity within the areas that you were walking.

Bruce doesn’t take your safety lightly and wouldn’t like it if you didn’t take your safety nearly as seriously as he does. So don’t even attempt to make jokes about it because Bruce will take it in full offence, for to him there was a time and place for making jokes but making jokes regarding your safety wasn’t one of them.

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Seven - No Weaknesses

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.7K words

Because of how I've made the character of Carlos' mother, I didn't want to use her real name. That is why she is called Mrs Sainz (or Señora sainz)

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Oscar had his own room in Carlos’ house. He had yet to actually sleep in it though.

So far, Oscar had just used his room to store his clothes and to get changed. The bed was perfectly made from where he hadn’t yet slept in it. When Y/N found this out, she assumed it was unintentional, that he just fell asleep while he was watching over her.

And that was partially true. Oscar did fall asleep while he was protecting her. But he allowed himself to. he let himself fall asleep while he was in Y/N’s room. Carlos had brought it up to her over a game of chess, he knew, and had told her that he had men stationed outside of her room.

Well, that didn’t help to comfort her. It didn’t comfort Oscar, either. On the rare instance that he left Y/N’s room (which would only be for twenty minutes, at most) he made sure to level Carlos’ men with a piercing stare.

After two weeks of being in Carlos’ house, a week after Lando had flown home, Y/N had an unexpected visitor at her bedroom door. She’d knocked before with Carlos and Oscar had answered the door then. The stare she gave him was more terrifying that anything Carlos had done to him, and Oscar found himself stepping to the side. “Good choice,” Carlos mumbled as he walked past him.

This time, Carlos’ mother came alone. Oscar didn’t know how to address the woman, so he just stepped to the side and let her into the room.

“Who is it, Osc?” Asked Y/N when she didn’t hear him say anything. Sat at her vanity, she had a book open in front of her. It was one she had brought with her from the UK.

Mrs Sainz cleared her throat. That was how she was known in the family, just as those who worked for the Norris family called Y/N’s mother Mrs Norris when she was alive. Y/N looked up at the mirror. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Carlos’ mother.

Suddenly Y/N was on her feet. “Mrs Sainz!” She said, in way of greeting. Mrs Sainz didn’t smile when she looked at her.

“We have work to do before the wedding,” she said, hands clasped together. “You are spending the day with me.”

Y/N nodded her head. “Come,” said Mrs Sainz. She turned on her heel and strode out of the room, leaving Y/N to follow her. Oscar went to follow as well, but Mrs Sainz gave him a look and he stopped. She kept staring at him until he retreated back into the room.

“He follows you around like a dog,” Mrs Sainz spat as she led Y/N through the house.

“He means well,” Y/N replied. “He’s just doing as Lando asked him.”

Mrs Sainz made a noise of disapproval as she went down the stairs. She didn’t say more on the matter as she took Y/N into a room that could only have been called the parlour.

The chairs in the parlour were covered with white dresses. Wedding dresses, Y/N realised as she looked at all of them. In the middle of the room was a seamstress, setting up her things. "Today we are going to find you a dress," said Mrs Sainz.

"But I already have a dress," Y/N said, somewhat timidly.

Mrs Sainz made that same disapproving noise. "Not good enough for my son," she muttered and walked over to the first dress, picking it up.

Y/N had never been to a Mafia wedding before. They'd happened in her lifetime, sure, but she'd never been. She didn't know what to expect on her own wedding day. She knew she'd have very little control over the wedding, but she thought she'd be able to control the dress.

Suddenly Y/N began welling up. She sank to her knees and let the tears flow freely. "Enough of that, stupid girl," said Mrs Sainz as Y/N continued to cry.

But she couldn't help it. She couldn't stop the sobs as she furiously wiped under her eyes. Her breathing was becoming difficult as she pulled her legs closer to her chest.

Arms grabbed her own and Y/N was forcibly pulled to her feet. "Oh, estúpida y estúpida!" Shouted Mrs Sainz. Her hand was raised and, for a moment, Y/N thought she was going to slap her. "You are going to be a part of the Sainz family! You can't be seen showing weakness!"

Y/N wiped away her tears and tried to suppress her sobs. Mrs Sainz grabbed a hold of the nearest dress and passed it to Y/N. She gave her no choice in the matter, making her try on every single one.

None of the dresses were close to the dress Y/N had chosen for herself.  When Y/N tried to voice her opinions on the dresses, Mrs Sainz would quickly shut her up and turn her attention to the seamstress. The women spoke in Spanish, leaving Y/N standing there without an inkling as to what was going on.

Mrs Sainz had her wearing every single dress. If she gave her opinions, they were in Spanish. The seamstress worked on every dress she tried on, often times poking Y/N with the sharp needles. If she expressed pain, Mrs Sainz would sharply shut her up. Whicher dress was her favourite, Y/N wasn’t sure. After Y/N had tried them all on Mrs Sainz pushed her out of the room, shutting the door in her face so that she could discuss things with the seamstress alone.

As soon as Y/N was out of the room, she leaned against the nearest wall and let out a breath. She’d been poked so many times with a needle she didn’t know how she wasn’t bleeding. She threw her head back and shut her eyes, savouring the moment alone.

Y/N pushed away from the wall and walked down the corridor. She just wanted to get back to her room and sleep until tomorrow.  

As Y/N walked past the doors that led out to the patio, Y/N stopped. She couldn’t help but watch him as he swam in the pool, wet hair pushed back on his head and his tanned skin glistening. She didn’t know what it was, but something compelled her to walk forwards, to push open the doors and step out onto the patio.

Carlos stopped swimming. He rested his arms on the pool ledge. Neither of them said anything, Y/N waiting for Carlos to say something and Y/N not sure what to say.

As soon as she stepped outside, Y/N went to turn back around. “Wait,” came Carlos’ voice, stopping her in her tracks. “Stay.”

Y/N did just that. She pulled off her shoes and socks and sat on the pool ledge, her feet in the water. Still, they didn’t say anything. Y/N watched him as he went back to swimming, doing laps up and down the pool.

Was this what the rest of her life was going to be? Sitting there quietly while Carlos did what he wanted? That wasn’t the life her mother lived and it wasn’t the life Mrs Sainz lived.

Y/N played with the skin around her nails, in her peripheral vision she watched as Carlos pulled himself out of the pool, muscles visible to whoever might have been watching (aka, Y/N). She kept her legs in the water as Carlos walked behind her and grabbed his towel.

“Can I ask you something?” Asked Y/N in a moment of bravery.

“Of course,” said Carlos as he sat and used the towel to dry his hair.

Y/N sucked in a breath. Brave. She needed to be brave. “I… What’s expected of me?” She asked. “When I am your wife, what is expected of me?”

Carlos looked across the patio at her. His towel was around his shoulders, and he ran his fingers through his hair. Carlos had taken time to think about it since his father told him of the marriage, since it was purely to benefit the families. There were a few things expected of every mafia wife. She was expected to stand by her husband’s side and give him children. Whether this went to the point that it did with Y/N’s mother, where she was as in charge as her husband was, that was yet to be seen.

“Once we are married, we are to have children,” he answered.

“Oh,” Y/N mumbled before he could continue with his listed. She hadn’t thought about this, hadn’t thought about having his children. Maybe Y/N didn’t realise that this was a part of a mafia wife’s life. She had never had sex before, and the thought was giving her enough anxiety already. But, you throw children into the mix? That was a whole different kettle of fish.

Carlos continued. “You will no longer be loyal to the Norris family and your loyalties will lie with me.”

Y/N knew this bit. She had been mentally preparing herself for this, for when she was to say goodbye to the family she had grown up in. “Will I get to visit my brother?” She asked and kicked her legs slowly, moving them through the water.

He took his time answering this one. With the declining health of Norris, it was something he and his father had been discussing. As Carlos had said at the dinner in the Norris, he was happy for Y/N to go home for her father’s funeral for a week or two. Of course, he was going to have to send one of two of his men with her, to make sure she stayed safe and didn’t… slip up.

“Yes,” Carlos answered. “You will join me on… business trips. Your brother will be attending this business trips and that is when you will see him,” he said.

“What about my father?”

“We will discuss this when the time comes,” he said.

“But-”

“When the time comes,” Carlos said and stood from his seat. With his towel still around his shoulders he walked into his house, pulling the doors shut behind him.

Y/N stayed in the pool, hot sun beating down on her. But Y/N didn’t care. She looked down in the water, at the colourful tiles at the bottom of the pool. If she wasn’t already terrified for the life of a Mafia wife, she was now.

Taglist (open): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @ashy-kit @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane

[mavrintarou]

[9:37 A M] Sakusa Kiyoomi

Just a short drabble - short, sweet and smutty Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Warning: smut; fluff . Only very few have ever seen Sakusa Kiyoomi’s teeth.

Haters will say he’s got a mouthful of crooked teeth. That’s why he’s always hiding behind a mask or has resting-asshole-face.

Little do they know…

Sakusa Kiyoomi has the straightest and whitest teeth.

Any dentist would beg to ask him to be their model for their clinic.

Throughout your three-year relationship, you possess only a small collection of photographs capturing those rare split-second instances when Kiyoomi flashes a smile, showcasing his teeth. However, these precious images remain exclusively for your eyes, as you have chosen to keep them private.

You had set a particular photo as your lock screen, and during a romantic couple’s getaway, your girlfriend momentarily caught a glimpse of it. To your surprise, she gasped, her voice filled with suspicion, “are you… cheating Y/n?”

The accusation caught you off guard, and a frown formed on your face as you responded firmly, “no.” The question offended you; you took your relationship with Kiyoomi seriously and would never entertain the thought of cheating on him. Ever.

“Then who is that man on your lock screen? That’s not Sakusa-kun.”

Your head cocked to the side. “What?” And then it hit you; they have never seen your boyfriend smile with teeth. “It’s… no, I’m not cheating.”

She wasn’t convinced. “Cheating is bad, Y/n.”

You burst out laughing, “I’m not cheating, I promise.”

Fortunately, she let the matter go, ultimately placing her trust in you and believing you were faithful to your boyfriend.

Later that night, you muffle your moan with one hand as Kiyoomi slams his hips into yours. He knows you love it when he stuffs your pussy with his entire cock. He finds it as exhilarating as you do to hear the lewd sounds of skin slapping and echoing in the whole room.

His strong arms hook behind your knees, and he presses them into the futon. With your flexibility built up from doing yoga for years, Kiyoomi loved bending you in all ways possible to feel deeper and closer to you.

“What’s wrong?” His chest is pressed against yours. “You’ve been quiet all evening after dinner with your girlfriend.”

You thread your hand through his curls before locking your arms around his neck and shoulder, “Ina saw my lock screen, and it’s a picture of you and me, and she didn’t recognize you. She thinks I’m cheating on you.”

Kiyoomi frown; hips stop pounding into you. “What picture?”

You reach over to grab your phone, showing him the picture on your screen.

As he caught sight of the photo, he burst into laughter, recalling the time you had jokingly mentioned how he seemed like a different person when he smiled with his teeth. Teasingly, he asked, “but are you cheating on me, though?” He rolled his hips in a slow deep thrust, making you moan.

You pull him down for a kiss, “I suppose I’m cheating on you with smiling Omi.”

Kiyoomi flashed one of his smiles with teeth and dimples – one that he knows always makes your heart flip. And pussy clenching.

.

The following day, Ina’s eyes narrowed at the fresh red mark on your neck.

“Stop staring.” You muttered, cheeks heating up. You had explicitly told Kiyoomi not to leave a mark in the most conspicuous spot, yet there it was, a noticeable mark right where you had warned him not to leave one.  

“You and Sakusa had a good night,” Ina’s boyfriend laughs. He nudges Ina, “this girl knocked out as soon as her head hit the pillow.” He looks at the empty spot beside you, “where is he?”

“He’s coming.” You answered, adjusting the scarf around your neck.

“Who?”

The three of you glance up to see Kiyoomi without a mask. He smiles at everyone with his teeth. “Morning, guys.”

“Mor – morning…” Ina muttered, eyes bulging. She looks at you, “that picture on your home screen is Sakusa-kun?”

. . .

E/n: nothing edited - it's a long day of work for me so I needed to release some stress. Yes, I need to get back on Wipe Your Eyes lol

>>>@hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermnethooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @basmamme @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @omissanitizerlol

[vampireimiko]

Could I request neuvillette x male reader?

M!reader personality: flirty, mischievous, hard to fluster, can be extremely rude, can be perverted

M!reader region: fontaine

M!reader species: kitsune

M!reader occupation: model

M!reader looks: Slim, curvy, shoulder length hair, shorter than average, he also wears heals most of the time

Extra

Likes: Modeling, skincare, makeup, getting his nails/hair done

Dislikes: getting his makeup ruined, getting his hair ruined, dirty things

M!reader extra: extremely popular, extremely attractive, cares alot about his looks, wears some makeup(eyeliner, mascara and lipstick) can be a bit of a narcissist sometimes

Oh and could he be more submissive in the relationship (not sexually)

Neuvillette x Male! Reader Headcanons

warnings, none !!

note, GAHHH THIS HAS BEEN DONE FOR A FEW DAYS NOW 🤕 I've just been sick and busy 😭🙏🏾 also i need more genshin mutuals so hmu 🤓☝🏾

જ⁀➴ How you and Neuvillette got together will always be a mystery to the citizens of Fontaine. You two were the complete opposite of one another—where you were flashy and always embraced extravagance, Neuvillette was mostly quiet, speaking only when necessary, and approaching things with simplicity.

જ⁀➴ But against all odds, you and Neuvillette found a way to be together. He became the steady and supportive boyfriend who held the fort in Fontaine, while you embodied the charismatic persona that seemed to charm its way into everything you desired, often accompanied by an effortless air of confidence.

જ⁀➴ Neuvillette's days were consumed by the responsibilities of his position as Chief Justice. On the other hand, you reveled in the luxuries that life in Fontaine provided, a lifestyle that resonated with your natural inclination for the extravagant. You were known not just for your striking looks and unique aura but also for your audacious approach to life.

જ⁀➴ Speaking of couple activities, you found immense joy in playing tricks on Neuvillette, fully embracing your Kitsune nature. From innocently hidden notes to elaborate pranks, you delighted in bringing moments of surprise and laughter into his orderly world. The faintest smile would dance at the corners of Neuvillette's lips, a testament to your success in tugging him out of his formal shell, if only momentarily.

જ⁀➴ Your mischievousness, paired with your innate flirty and perceptive nature, often led to playful banter and witty exchanges between you two. Neuvillette, who rarely allowed himself to be easily flustered, found himself occasionally caught off guard by your audacious comments and innuendos. It was a dance of wit and charm, a constant push and pull that brought a dynamic energy to your relationship.

જ⁀➴ As a model, you knew the value of appearances and the art of presenting oneself flawlessly. It was a commonality that further bonded you and Neuvillette. He might have held a position of authority, but your shared appreciation for grooming and style connected you on a different level. There were instances when you both would spend leisurely evenings together, experimenting with skincare routines or discussing the latest trends in fashion.

જ⁀➴ Despite your sometimes provocative nature, you respected Neuvillette's reserved demeanor. It was in those quiet moments that you found yourself drawn to his depth, his thoughtful perspectives on matters that transcended the superficial. Neuvillette's presence allowed you to explore your own complexity, inspiring you to embrace more facets of your personality beyond the outward flamboyance.

જ⁀➴ So with that being said, you and Neuvillette were definitely opposites of each other through and through. But you loved and cared for one another dearly, despite the contrast of your personalities.

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄... 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬💀 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[cptnleviackerman]

sfw alphabet

levi ackerman x gn!reader

content - slightly modern au for a couple of the questions, brief mentions of his canon upbringing (not explored) words - 4k

A—‘A’ IS FOR AFFECTION (how affectionate are they?)

At the beginning of your relationship, or any moment before your relationship has started, Levi is not affectionate at all. He tends to keep his distance, only ever offering you a helping hand, or in very rare instances a gentle tap on your shoulder. But once the two of you start dating things are a little different. He keeps most of his affection behind closed doors, always wanting to keep those moments solely between the two of you. But he is definitely more affectionate than people will expect, he loves to hold you in his arms when the two of you are cuddling. Tracing his fingers across your skin is one of his favourite ways to touch you, he loves it because it's so easy for him to do while the two of you are sitting together, he does it so absentmindedly that sometimes he doesn't even realise. And it's the cutest thing ever.

B—‘B’ IS FOR BESTFRIEND (what are they like as a bestie?)

He's a very good friend, he's trustworthy and kind to those he values, but it's hard to get past his tough exterior and into his inner circle as he's very selective on those he befriends, and even those people he likes have a hard time getting to know him at first. It will take a long time for him to open up to you, even if you've known him and been friends for a while, but once you've gained his trust and respect you’ll find that his friendship will become one of the most sturdy and reliable you've ever had.

C—‘C’ IS FOR CUDDLES (how do they like to cuddle?)

He loves to both be held by you, and hold you. There's something about having you locked between his arms that grants him a sense of peace that he cannot get anywhere else. He loves being able to have his arms gripping your body. And even better when you bury your head in his chest, he loves knowing that you can feel his heart beating, and that you're feeling the warmth from his body. When you lock your legs between his, and wrap your arms around his torso it makes him feel like the safest, luckiest man in the world.

D—‘D’ IS FOR DOMESTIC (settling down? how will they be helping out around?)

He never thought he'd get close to settling down with anyone, he never had marriage or relationships on his mind, and he was perfectly content with that. But when he met you, and got to know you, his views began to change. He started to realise that he needed to be with you, for as long as he could manage. He's very good at small, domestic things. He loves helping you cook, even if his preferred meals are on the easy and simple side, and he's very good at keeping things clean and tidy.

E—‘E’ IS FOR ENDING (how would breakups work out?)

I can see this going one of two ways to be honest. It's either going to be a quick, slightly silly breakup—the two of you have a disagreement, and Levi gets scared or worried about the confrontation, choosing to leave instead of sitting and talking it out with you (this is one of those breakups that doesn't last long, you find him after a few hours and force him to talk to you. You know he still loves you, but he hasn't got a lot of experience with the tougher parts of a relationship, and he has a very avoidant personality.) Or, on the sadder side, the two of you will have a really long, drawn out breakup. One of those breakups where you slowly drift apart, refusing to acknowledge the issues you need to work on, just snapping at each other or straight up ignoring each other to the point where you're barely talking for days at a time. 

F—‘F’ IS FOR FIANCÉE (how do they feel about commitment?)

Levi isn't afraid of commitment, I think that once he's in a relationship with you he finds the idea of marriage/a life with you incredibly appealing, and it’s something that he will strive for. He probably won't be open about this, especially to people that aren't you—in fact I think he comes off to other people as a very anti-marriage, anti-commitment type of guy—but once he finds someone that truly understands him, that makes him feel loved and cared for and happy, he’ll want to do everything in his power to keep them as close to him as he can, for as long as he can.

G—‘G’ IS FOR GENTLE (how gentle are they?)

He is extremely gentle, he's constantly aware of you and your comfort, it will always be a priority for him to make you as comfortable as he possibly can. Although his strength is something that is hard to match, his hands are always so soft when he holds you, his grip is never rough or tight, he always traces your skin with the utmost gentleness. I think he's so scared of hurting you, of coming on too strong, or damaging you, that it takes a lot of work to bring him around to the fact that you aren't as delicate as you look, and that you won't break if he holds you just a little bit harder. A lot of that fear stems from his childhood, he's seen what uncaring men can do to people that they deem lesser than themselves, and he never ever wants to treat you like that.

H—‘H’ IS FOR HUGS (do they like hugs?)

Not really, I think Levi is extremely, extremely selective about who he gives hugs to. He doesn't like people in his space like that, he doesn't need their breath that close to his face, he's perfectly content with a handshake, or a verbal show of appreciation. The only people he'd ever consider allowing to hug him are you, and Erwin probably. Sometimes Hange, but they can get a tad over excited when it happens, so it's a very rare occasion.

I—‘I’ IS FOR I LOVE YOU (how long does it take them to say the ‘l word?’)

A long time. I think this is because he would be so unsure whether the feelings he had were truly love that he'd spend ages agonising over every detail, trying to decipher his own feelings. He hasn't had many healthy experiences of love in his life, not even from his family, so there's very few experiences that he can draw from. He wants to make sure that the words are true when he says them, because he knows he cares for you deeply, and he would never want to lie or deceive you, even accidentally.

J—‘J’ IS FOR JEALOUSY (how do they get jealous?)

Levi is a jealous and possessive person—and he doesn't care how it sounds, if you're dating him then you're his, there's no way around that—but he is also very calm in the way he shows it. If someone is talking to you and they're leaning a little bit too close Levi will just stare at them, he'll watch with his eyes narrowed, looking for any indication or flicker on the person's features that they're a threat to you—if he ever thought you were uncomfortable or in danger he would be at the person talking to you and pinning them to the floor like his life depended on it—but if it just looked like they were annoying you then Levi would leave you to it, until he decided too much time had past and he wanted you back for himself. And if you're standing right next to Levi and someone is continually flirting with you as if he's completely invisible, putting their hands on you or asking you if you've got a boyfriend, making you laugh or offering to buy you a drink, then Levi's reaction is a little different. He hates the idea that some guy could even dare to think he'd have a chance at taking you away, his insecurities would eat away at his confidence all night, even though you had shown absolutely no interest in the person flirting with you. Levi would probably be extra quiet for the rest of the day, he wouldn't appear any different to those looking from the outside, but you would be able to tell that something was wrong. Waiting until the two of you are alone would be the best way to confront his cold attitude, he’d be characteristically standoffish towards you, initially refusing to admit what has him so upset. It would take a while to get him to open up about the problem, he wouldn't want to admit that the root cause of his attitude was his jealousy, or that he hated feeling like you deserved better than him. I think he would need lots of reassurance that he is deserving of you, and that those random people flirting with you, or making fun of your relationship, mean nothing. 

K—‘K’ IS FOR KISSES (what's their kissing schedule?)

He is big on good morning and goodnight kisses, he swears that he always sleeps better when the last thing he does before sleeping is kiss you. And he definitely loves kissing you as a form of greeting when the two of you are in private, he loves to hold you by the waist and press a gentle kiss to your lips, always following this by a soft whisper of “hello”. But other than the routine kisses I think that he sometimes forgets to kiss you, he forgets that kisses are something that he can give you at any time of the day, and that they don't have to be for a special reason—kissing you just because is something you’ll have to remind him is okay.

L—‘L’ IS FOR LITTLE ONES (how are they around kids?)

He is great around kids, but he doesn't get the opportunity to be around them very often. For some reason kids—especially toddlers—really like him. It could be to do with his calm, slightly relaxing demeanour, or the fact that the way he speaks is always on the quieter side, never raising his voice. He never disrespects children, and he finds it utterly repulsive that anyone on this earth would ever purposely treat children horribly. He refuses to be a bad influence on children, and when he is around them he never wants to have any sort of negative impact on their lives. He wants them to have as great a life as they can, and so he does his best to answer any questions they have—even if they are on the sillier side. It makes your heart soar when you walk into a room and see him sitting on the floor, surrounded by a circle of children all hanging onto his every word. For some reason children just trust him, and he never understands it, but he always welcomes it, even if it does distract him from whatever dinner party/ meeting/ trip that he is meant to be focusing on.

M—‘M’ IS FOR MORNINGS (how will your mornings go?)

You will very rarely wake up and find Levi still in bed next to you. He wakes up early almost everyday, and he likes to start his days with a quick, cold shower. Sometimes he will workout in the mornings, and he will shower post workout, but he will always have some kind of healthy drink when he wakes, whether it be a smoothie type thing, fresh juice, or even something as simple as a green tea. He will always make you a cup of whatever he makes himself, and he also likes to pour you a cool glass of water with lemon as well—he drinks his before his shower. But on the rare instance you manage to get him to stay in bed with you the two of you like to read together, or, more accurately, Levi props himself up with pillows and reads his book aloud to you, while you snuggle close to his chest, and run your fingernails along his thighs. 

N—‘N’ IS FOR NIGHTS (how will your nights go?)

Nights with Levi are easy, and simple. He is at his most calm during the evening. I think that once he’s back home, able to shed his clothes from the day and see you safe and happy, he gives himself permission to relax. He always takes some time on his own when he comes home, usually ranging within 30-90 minutes, he adores your company and he loves just being with you, but he needs time to recharge at his own pace, with no one bothering or talking to him. He does a variety of things during this time—reading, bathing, resting his eyes (you would call this meditating, but Levi is adamant that it is not). Often he also does mundane, easy chores such as folding laundry or sweeping up. He finds the routine and simplicity of these things enjoyable, and they're able to ground him back to reality when he’s very overwhelmed or stressed. The two of you love to cook together in the evenings, whether one of you sits and observes, making sure the other is following the recipe correctly, or both of you tackling the dish together, it doesn't matter, as long as you are both in the kitchen. The time together is the most important part. Levi also loves to listen to music at night, he usually puts something on around the time the two of you are making dinner, and it typically stays on all night, right up until bedtime, unless you decide to watch something together. On the days when he feels the most happy, he loves to grab your hand and gently sway with you to the music—his equivalent of dancing.

O—‘O’ IS FOR OPEN (when will they tell you about themself?)

It takes a long time for Levi to open up to you, especially about his childhood, and more widely, any moment before he met Erwin. It's hard to tell when Levi is willing to talk about his past, because he will never bring it up first, he waits for you to ask, but the problem with that is that you never want to pry, or seem like you're trying to push him towards being open, so it doesn't always line up easily. As time goes on he will find it easier to tell you things, but he will never want it to be a full blown conversation, he won't want to have the attention on him for that amount of time, he'd rather tell you a couple things really quickly, and then have you sit in silence while thinking about them. Which isn't the most sustainable form of opening up, but with time he will be able to properly, actually, talk to you about his past without feeling like he's being too vulnerable and wanting to run away.

P—‘P’ IS FOR PATIENCE (how patient are they with you?)

He’s extremely patient with you, but I think that also comes from the fact that he’s expecting you to be the same with him too, and of course you are, but his inexperience with romantic relationships makes him constantly worried during the beginning of your relationship that he’s not doing enough, or he’s doing too much, or he’s doing it wrong. So your patience with him during those stages is probably what would make or break your relationship. And if you’re also inexperienced, or you’re nervous to do things with him, he’d always be happy to wait, and to take things as slow as you need to, all he’d ask is that you communicate what you need from him, because he hates having to guess.

Q—‘Q’ IS FOR QUIZZES (how much do they remember about you?)

At the beginning of your relationship he is terrible at remembering things about you, he’s trying his best to get to know you—although if you’ve started dating then it’s likely you’ve been friends for a while before this, so he is familiar with some things about you—but he’s more focused on navigating the changes that come when entering a new relationship. But as he gets more comfortable with you, as he learns and develops as a boyfriend, he’d start to be able to recall the small, silly things that you’ve said to him in passing—the sort of things you say as a joke, or your favourite way to load a dishwasher. As for the bigger stuff, he writes it down. He doesn't want to forget the important stuff, so he makes notes of it—it started with things like your parents names, their birthdays, how many siblings you have, but it worked it’s way towards your favourite ways to be kissed by him, the best way he can show you love, and most recently, the different engagement ring types you've said to him are your favourite.

R—‘R’ IS FOR REMEMBER (what is his favourite moment in your relationship?)

The first time that he put his arm around your waist in public. He doesn't know why, but that moment makes his heart flutter every time he thinks about it. It was only a couple of weeks after you'd started officially dating, the two of you were out with some friends—Erwin, Hange, Petra, and numerous members of Miche’s squad. Levi hadn’t planned on making any sort of big announcement about your relationship, but Hange had taken it upon themselves to make sure everyone knew. Your face had heated up from all the attention, but Levi saw the smile you were trying to hide, and he felt his own face redden too, although all he reacted with was a scoff and a roll of his eyes. It was an hour or so later, the two of you were talking quietly with Erwin, when a large, rather loud, group entered the room you were all in. Levi had felt you tense, and without thinking he wrapped his arm around your waist. He saw Erwin raise his eyebrows, but luckily the blonde said nothing of the affection Levi was giving you. He excused himself, leaving you and Levi alone, and as Levi turned to you, he was about to remove his arm when he saw the smile on your face—this time you were not trying to hide it at all. You placed your hand on top of Levi’s, forcing him to keep his arm in place, and Levi remembers how happy it had made him, knowing that he had helped you to feel safe, and he was surprised to find that he wasn't embarrassed by the pda—although, he was relieved that Hange hadn't gotten a glimpse of it, he dreaded to think of the whistles and yelling that would have taken place had they seen it.

S—‘S’ IS FOR SECURITY (how protective are they of you?)

Extremely protective. Every time the two of you are out together his eyes are peeled for any sort of danger or uncomfortable situation that could occur, he steers you clear of large groups of men, drunk people shouting and any other thing that could make you feel unsafe. He also has a hard time letting others take you away from him, even when he knows you'll be completely fine—if the two of you are hanging out with friends and one of them tries to steal you away from Levi so you can have gossip time/a private catch up, Levi is always hesitant, even though he will still be able to see you. 

T—‘T’ IS FOR TRY (how much effort do they put into dates? special occasions?)

He tries his best, especially on special occasions, but it takes a lot of practice for him to be good at planning dates. That sort of thing usually just slips his mind, he forgets that you might want to go out with him to eat dinner/watch a movie/attend a show etc. But he's a little better with special occasions, although they usually have a slightly negative effect on him—he’ll be so worried and stressed about making sure he has the perfect gift and the perfect plan for you that he gets so tense you have to remind him that it's okay if things aren't perfect, as long as the two of you are together then whatever you do will be amazing. He's just so worried about letting you down, or losing you:(

U—‘U’ IS FOR UGLY (what's a bad habit of theirs?)

He's really picky about his organisation. Even if you are a clean person, and generally keep your space tidy, he will always have something to say about it. He is quite rigid when it comes to this, and it can make him quite hard to live with at first since he will refuse to budge from the way he wants to do things. 

V—‘V’ IS FOR VANITY (how insecure are they?)

He's not insecure with his looks—he's never really given them much thought, and he's never needed too. As long as he looks neat and respectable it doesn't matter to him whether other people consider him attractive. But I do think he’s insecure within your relationship, he's probably so scared during the first few months that he's going to screw up, or lose you in some way and make you hate him, that he's over careful, extra quiet, and refuses to disagree with you—to the point where he’s almost miserable because he’s bottling too much stuff up. He's so insecure of his boyfriend abilities, he thinks his lack of experience is going to cause major issues.

W—‘W’ IS FOR WHOLE (would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes and no. I don't think Levi needs a romantic relationship in order to feel complete. I think he's perfectly content by himself. But once you've penetrated his inner circle, once you've lived with him, shown him the darkest parts of yourself, and not ran from his darkest parts, I think he wouldn't want to be apart from you. He wouldn't want to have his walls broken down for nothing. He wouldn’t want to lose the part of him that you helped nurture and develop.

X—‘X’ IS FOR XTRA (a random headcanon about them?)

Levi loves art. He has sketchbooks filled with small pencil drawings of you, your house, your pets, and silly things like the telephone, cutlery and desk chairs. He doesn't care if anyone thinks he's good or not (although, he is amazing), he just finds it really relaxing, and he likes to be able to have a hobby that doesn't involve screens or anything electronic. He most often works in pencil, but he likes to experiment with pen, and very occasionally he will use acrylic paints when he wants to paint a big scene like a garden, flowers, or anything landscape related. 

Y—‘Y’ IS FOR YUCK (what are some things they dislike?)

Levi dislikes the modernisation of communication—he loves having a landline and being able to just pick up the phone and call someone, but he knows most people won’t answer a call out of the blue (and this is not to say he hates texting, he actually find it quite useful, but there's just something about speaking over the phone that he finds comforting.) He dislikes how many different social medias you’re expected to have just to be able to keep up to date with people—he has a whatsapp account, an instagram that he only uses to like your photos and occasionally scroll through the recommended for you page (his account is empty, you had to change his profile picture yourself because he refused to do it), and a facebook account that has gone unused since it was created because he forgot the password and he doesn't care enough to reset it. He dislikes people invading his personal space, whether they are his friends or complete strangers. He dislikes people shouting to their friends in the street, and he hates going clubbing (too many people, too close together, too loud). He also dislikes overly sweet food, he can barely eat one bite if it's too sugary.

Z—‘Z’ IS FOR ZZZ (some of their sleeping habits?)

He's both a night owl and a morning person, since he doesn't need a lot of sleep to be able to function. He usually gets 5-6 hours each night, but he will always sleep in with you when you ask. He doesn't wear pyjamas, he usually just wears a pair of loose boxers and some light shorts, although in the winter sometimes he chooses trousers over shorts. He never wears a t-shirt to bed. He loves to have a cup of tea before bed, usually about an hour before he sleeps, and he likes to read before sleeping. He likes to sleep under a light/medium tog duvet, as he's usually cold when he gets in bed, but he warms up pretty fast and he'd prefer to be cool in bed than too hot. He hates noise when he's trying to sleep, but he doesn't mind light.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

So. It's kinda random but what if Platonic Yandere! Strawhats with Y/n who is an artist? And maybe one day they saw how Y/n drew one of them but doesn't want to show any?

Let me see!

Yandere Straw Hats x GN!Reader

1.4k words

It was rare to get any time to yourself around here. Ever since you got mixed in with the Strawhat Crew, you felt like you always had someone attached to your hip or hovering over your shoulder. This made indulging in your personal hobbies difficult. Granted, it’s not like any of them would stop you from doing it, but you wanted to keep at least one thing for yourself.

Today was one of those instances where you were actually being left alone. You’re not sure how it happened this time. Maybe they all thought you were already spending time with someone else. Whatever, you’re not about to waste these precious moments pondering it.

Quietly slipping into your room, you pull your sketchbook and utensils out of their hiding spot. You curled up in your bed and flipped through the book until you found a blank page. Twirling the pencil between your fingers, you contemplate what to draw.

Despite your.. Complicated relationship with the crew, you couldn’t help but be inspired by them. Well, artistically speaking at least. They were constantly doing all these incredible feats and looking cool as hell while doing it. That, and it’s not like you saw much else besides them anyways.

After mulling it over, you start sketching, having decided on drawing Luffy today. He was an incredibly fun person to draw, what with his admittedly adorable baby face and his cartoonish anatomy. 

It didn’t take long for you to really get into the zone and be only focused on putting new lines onto the sheet of paper. You’re so focused that you don’t hear the door to your room open, nor the sound of sandals slapping across the floor until it’s too late.

“(Y/N)! Why are you hiding in here, I’ve been looking for you!” Luffy giddily rushed towards your bed and threw himself onto it, and subsequently you.

Frantically, you try to hide the sketch book under the covers, but he already saw it. Perking up, he tries snatching it out of your hand, “C’mon, why are you reading a book when you could be playing with me?!” 

Yes! You might be able to get out of this yet. If he thinks it’s a book, he definitely won’t try to read it and discover what it really is. “I like reading, Luffy. I just want to curl up with a good book once in a while,” as you’re saying this, you narrowly avoid letting it fall into his grabby hands, and slip it underneath yourself to sit on it.

He pouts and rests his face on his hands, still focused on the book, “Is it really that good that you want to read it more than hang out with me?”

You cringe a bit at how pointed the question was. There was no good answer here. Either you say no and he’ll immediately drag you off, or you say yes and run the risk of hurting his feelings. Then you’ll have to deal with a temper tantrum from him, and being admonished by the rest of the crew for being mean. “It’s not about it being better than hanging out with you, I can like doing more things you know.”

Luffy huffs at your indirect answer and begins tugging on the book again, “What’s it’s even about then?”

Oh shit. Um. Hm. Now you need to improvise. “It’s about,” you dart your eyes around looking for any inspiration to help you out. You’re in a plain room on a boat in the middle of the ocean, and of course the plot of literally every book you’ve ever read has completely vacated your brain.

You were apparently taking too long to tell him, so he just ripped it out from under you to investigate himself. “It can’t be that good if it’s that hard to explain. Why would you-” Luffy’s sentence died on his tongue as he opens it, right onto a picture of himself.

Panicking, you launch yourself onto his back in a desperate attempt to confiscate it, but he simply stretches his arms to keep it out of reach.

“This is awesome! Why didn’t you tell me you could draw so good?” Much to your chagrin, he starts flipping through it, now seeing sketches of the other members, too.

“Luffy! Give that back! I didn’t say you could look at that!” Blood rushed to your face from the embarrassment of being caught.

He peers over his shoulder at you, looking bewildered at your statement, “What’s the big deal? Don’t you want to share your talent?”

“No, I don’t! Just give it back and don’t tell anyone about it! Please!” You scrambled off the bed and leapt for the book, but he just snapped his arms back and continued the game of keep away.

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of your words and actions. His eyes suddenly widened and he grinned as something clicked for him, “Oh I get it! You don’t know how good these are! You just need some help realizing it!” With that, he took off out of your room, sketchbook in hand.

“Get back here!” You sprinted after him, hoping you could get it back before he showed everyone, but deep down you knew it was already too late.

You were at a massive disadvantage here. Luffy was fast, especially when he had something he wasn’t supposed to. By the time you make it onto the deck, you’re horrified to see he’s already acquired an audience. Nami and Robin were seated at the table, with Sanji serving them some tea and snacks (which were currently being inhaled by Luffy while they were distracted by the book).

“You aren’t supposed to see that!” You hope that you’ll be able to get it out of Robin’s hands, but Luffy wraps one of his arms around you, leaving you immobilized at his side. Before you could beg them to please put it down, Luffy shoves a tiny cake into your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go back a page, I think I saw one of me!” Nami was pestering Robin and trying to get it to herself, but any attempts at grabbing it were thwarted by an arm sprouting from the table and swatting her hands away. 

“In a minute, Nami, I’ll let you see when I’m finished,” Robin was entirely unbothered by her pleas (and yours), choosing to casually flip through each and every page with a small smile on her face.

Sanji was looking over them, smiling at the artwork, and was the first to acknowledge that you were standing right there. “These are incredible, though I’m not surprised that you would be so talented~!”

The sweet and genuine compliment almost made you cave in to accepting the situation, but you dismissed it. Swallowing the cake, you can finally speak again, “Please stop looking at that, I don’t like people looking at my sketchbook!” Especially not when the people in question kidnapped you and are actively holding you hostage.

“Oh? Are you shy about it? How cute,” Robin teased.

“It’s not-” you were once again cut off by another cake being stuffed into your mouth.

“What are you guys all looking at?” Chopper was now approaching with Usopp not far behind. Great. Why not just let everyone see it! 

Robin flipped to a page with Chopper on it and showed it to him, “(Y/N), took the time to draw all of us, it seems.”

Chopper’s eyes sparkled at the drawing, and against all logic he was somehow blushing??? “Oh I don’t look all cutesy like that, you jerk!” His dopey smile easily contradicted his words.

“I didn’t know you were also an artist. You should have told me sooner, I could’ve been teaching you! I’ll have you know I’ve tutored many famous artists! In fact, this reminds me- You drew me too?!” Usopp’s tale is cut short when Robin shows him a sketch of himself. 

You finally stop struggling, instead choosing to flop against Luffy in defeat. What’s the point? Damn near everyone has already seen it, you’re sure Zoro will wander on over here soon enough anyways. 

Upon feeling you give up, Luffy lets go and looks very pleased with himself. He unceremoniously shoves the little remaining food into his mouth and runs off calling for Zoro while Sanji gives chase, scolding him for eating all the food.

You just stood there, not knowing what else you could do. With Luffy gone, everyone else was crowding around you, lavishing you with compliments and asking questions all at once. You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer, all you could do was sulk as the last thing that you had just to yourself was taken away and thrown out into the open.

It was bound to happen eventually, you suppose.

[saey707]

STEP ASIDE KAYN WHORES /j /lh

BESTIE CAN I HAVE A HEARTSTEEL YONE AND S/O DUET OR SINGING TOGETHER??? ILL PAY YOU IN AMONGUS BEANS. THANK YOU

✿ Prompt: You and Yone sing together ✿

♡ champion focus: yone ♡ tw: none! ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: ANIMA MY BELOVED HI!!! ( ≧ᗜ≦)ִ ࣪𖤐 𖦹 ༘⋆⊹ Of course I will fulfill this request for you! I hope this will make even the red crewmate proud!! Enjoy! ≽^•⩊•^≼ (PS: I wrote these silly little headcanons on my birthday! Consider this a celebratory gift from me to you <3)

There are rare times when Yone will openly let his voice whisper quiet melodies. These instances were as follows: in the shower, in his car, when the intro to his favorite anime started to play, and whenever he was preparing sushi for dinner.

In these rare instances, you would listen... Quietly admiring his voice from a distance. But even then, Yone was always well aware of his surroundings and would immediately stop once he sensed your presence.

His cheeks would mortify into a blushed red, his ears an even deeper shade. Yone would always turn his head away, eyes never meeting yours. His hair would cover his cheeks, but even then, it was never enough to hide the color.

You knew he felt like singing around you was embarrassing, and you would quietly tease him because of it! Nevertheless, you would immediately reassure him that he could sing around you. That it wasn't embarrassing. And that you loved his voice.

It would take time for Yone to warm up to you... But his confidence would eventually grow. He just needed time to open up to you. Give it more time before he allowed you to hear what he was made of- To show you the side of him he never revealed to his own bandmates.

Yone was bashful when he started singing around you, always leaving one earbud off, or a side of his headphones, music lowered just enough to hear himself. He tried his hardest to ensure he sounded pleasant... That he wasn't making a fool of himself in front of you. Still, Yone would stop if he felt he was getting too invested in his flow.

But it doesn't take long for Yone to warm up to you. He would begin to hum more frequently, and you sometimes recognized the tune of a Vocaloid song or two... But you would never say anything~

And soon, those quiet hums transformed into Yone lulling you off to sleep with his own voice, singing unfamiliar songs to you. Songs that his mother would vocalize to him before bed.

His arms would wrap around you, cradling you in his warm embrace. His hair tickled your skin, but you found comfort in it. With every song he sang, you could feel the buzzing of his warm hymns, permitting you to bury your cheek against his exposed skin.

And in the early mornings, Yone would always sit side-by-side with you in the studio, quietly harmonizing with you before any of the other members arrived.

Your foreheads would bump against one another, voices intertwined like a gentle kiss. Slowly, Yone would lean in and connect your lips with his. His hands never knew where to go, so he would place one underneath your chin, holding himself up with his opposite hand.

While nobody would be cheering for an encore as soon as he pulled away, you can tell by the look in his eyes that he just wanted... more.

[kiwi-muses]

Part One Here

It was only a couple of days before his shadow zoomed into his room to alert him that Gwyn was speaking with Bryaxis. It was the middle of the night, and Azriel grumbled as he pulled on his leathers. One of the rare instances where he’d been dead asleep, and Gwyn had to inadvertently ruin it. He made his way into the library, and weaved through the stacks, Gwyn’s voice becoming louder and louder. Azriel silently hid in the shadows, wondering what was so important that it must be spoken of in the middle of the night. 

“Do you sleep at all?” he heard her ask. After a moment in which Bryaxis must have responded, he heard her say, “Well, I suppose in some ways that’s lucky. You get to avoid the issues I have.” She was silent for a moment. “What you said… about my… mate… how did you know?”

Azriel felt his eyebrows raise. Gwyn had a mate? Since when? If Bryaxis spoke of it, perhaps that’s what surprised her the last time. There was an uncomfortable feeling in Azriel’s chest as he thought of Gwyn having a mate, though he couldn’t explain why, exactly. 

“I think I knew when I first saw him, though there was… a lot happening,” she was saying. “But I’ve never told anyone before. I thought maybe I was mistaken.” Her voice was soft. “No, I don’t wish it weren’t so. He’s a good male. Strong and kind.” She paused, listening, and chuckled. “Well, maybe you don’t think so, and I could certainly see why.” The longer Azriel stood there, eavesdropping, the more bizarre the conversation became. And the longer he stood there, the more that uncomfortable feeling in his chest grew. And a piece of him was almost offended for the unknown male. A mating bond was sacred. Why wouldn’t Gwyn tell this male? He became more agitated before deciding he was done for the night. He stepped from the shadows, and saw Gwyn whirl around to see him. She turned back to the pit. “Looks like our visit is over tonight.” She softly laughed again. “I’ll make sure to sing louder for you next time.” She walked towards Azriel, eyes sparkling. He crossed his arms over his chest, cutting an imposing figure. 

“We talked about this, Gwyn.” His voice was low. 

“You mean you talked, Shadowsinger. No one said I agreed.” He let out his breath in a huff. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he said. 

She tilted her head at him. “You seem… vexed with me, Shadowsinger. Moreso than usual.” Azriel said nothing, turning to escort her back to the dormitories. “You can tell me, you know. Honesty is the best policy and all that.”

Damn him, Azriel couldn’t control it. The words were going to fly out of his mouth whether he wished them to or not. He stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned to her, seeing her waiting face. “You have a mate. Why won’t you tell him? Those bonds… those bonds are rare, and sacred. Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

He felt Gwyn’s eyes on him, studying him. He could almost feel her weighing her words carefully. “There are many reasons I haven’t chosen to divulge the information yet, Azriel.” The use of his given name struck him. She hadn’t used it before. It sounded less like a curse, and more like a caress coming from her. “Some reasons are mine, and mine alone, and maybe I will tell him one day. But I can say,” she took a deep breath, “I have it on good authority that he cares for another. I respect him enough to allow his choices, and I refuse to be chosen solely because of a bond. I’d rather be loved.” Her words struck him in the heart. It was everything he wanted, needed Elain to say and to practice. He needed Elain to want to choose to be loved, to choose him. Gwyn cracked a small smile. “Besides, I’ve met him and he is otherworldly. And I’m just me. He needs someone who he can be proud of.” Gwyn started walking past him, leaving him speechless. This female… he couldn’t figure her out. People were easy to unravel. They were easy to manipulate, to discover inner motives. But not Gwyn. She was a puzzle to him and with each new piece he handed her, he found something new to wonder over. 

“Gwyn,” he called, striding to catch up to her. She looked up at him. “Any male would be lucky to have you as his mate. And if they aren’t proud to have you, they’re not worth your time.” The dazzling smile Azriel received lit something in his heart. 

“Thank you, Shadowsinger.” She smiled, and something in him softened to know he put that smile on her face. 

“Now will you please stop talking to Bryaxis? I don’t trust that it won’t betray you and try to take you.” Gwyn laughed, though what was so funny he had no idea. 

“Bryaxis and I came to an agreement. If I sing while I work, Bryaxis will be content. I won’t have to go near the pit, Shadowsinger.” He felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He had wrestled Bryaxis back into the pit; he knew what Bryaxis could do, the harm it could cause, if provoked. And he wanted Gwyn nowhere near that sort of danger. “I can make my way from here, Shadowsinger. I need to shelve a few books anyways,” Gwyn said.

“Alright,” Azriel said softly. “Goodnight, Gwyneth.” 

“Goodnight, Shadowsinger,” she replied, making her way through the stacks to her books, leaving Azriel to make his way out of the library, pondering the strange feeling Gwyn left him with. A few words and she could coax a smile from him without his notice, or cause his heart to stop in his chest just by having a conversation with a creature. Azriel wasn’t an outwardly emotive male. Inwardly, he felt everything, but a childhood of torture had taught him to effectively wear a mask. One that, somehow, Gwyn made him feel was unnecessary.

[buckttommy]

I think the fundamental problem a lot of people in this fandom are facing is that both biphobia and homophobia are so deeply ingrained in social spaces (of which fandom is one) that identifying them becomes so, so dicey and complicated for some people to grasp. Ordinarily, I am not someone who gravitates toward labels, but in the case of identifying prejudices, it's important to use as specific a label as is available. One of the reasons white leftists, for example, think they cannot be racist is because many of them treat black people as equals. But when those same white leftists lobby racist jokes at Asians, for example, and are subsequently called out on it, they will swear that they most assuredly are not, and cannot, be racist. This is because AAPI racism is different from BIPOC racism, and thus manifests itself differently.

Similarly, homophobia (directed towards gay men) is different from lesbophobia (directed towards gay women), in the same way that aphobia (directed towards asexual people) is different from biphobia (directed towards bisexual people), and so on, even though there are places where all these phobias intersect, i.e. corrective rape, use of slurs, domestic abuse, etc. When people talk about homo/bi/a/lesbophobia in fandom, very rarely are they talking about blanket instances of homophobia that we can all relate to (things like being ostracized, abused, treated differently, etc). In most instances, people are talking about specific and targeted treatment and responses that people who do not fall under those categories might not pick up on.

So when I say that the response to Buck possibly being queer is both homophobic and biphobic, what I mean is that regarding his love for Eddie as something innocent and pure, while simultaneously regarding his sex / sex drive / any future gay fling he might have as something sleazy, uncomfortable, embarrassing, or gross, is wrong. When I say that making snide remarks about Tommy's age is both homophobic and biphobic (with a little bit of bodyshaming and ageism thrown in there too), what I mean is that that idea that he's "too old" or "weird" or "creepy" for potentially having a thing for Buck calls back to the age-old stereotype that gay men / sex between men is inherently predatory, dirty, shameful, and illegal. When I say that going to bisexual fans and shaming them for their sex / sex drives or implying that bisexual sex or sexual/romantic relationships are somehow inherently shameful, dirty, or promiscuous—well, this should hopefully speak for itself, but this too, is also biphoic and also very, very harmful and wrong.

Aside from the last point (which can only be interpreted one way), I'm almost certain that no one in this fandom intends for their words or actions to come across as harmful because, as I mentioned last night, at the end of the day, we are all still here because of the love between two men. But similar to the aforementioned hypothetical white leftist at the top of this post, being "okay" with one group of people, or, in this instance, one iteration of a group of people (i.e. happy, monogamous queer/gay men) does not automatically mean you are okay with all of them (i.e. salacious, promiscuous, non-monogamous gay men), nor does it mean you are immune to internalizing and subsequently regurgitating harmful ideals.

We are all living in an era now where queer stories are both more accessible, and more under fire than ever. So it's important, as queer people in a largely queer fandom, to be conscious about checking our biases at the door and being open to learning when someone rings you up about something. It's not comfortable. It's deeply unpleasant, and the instinctive response is to be defensive because none of us want to be faced with the fact that we still have work to do. None of us want to be "that guy," nor do we want to be "problematic." But we are problematic, we wouldn't be human if we weren't, and we all have work that needs to be done on ourselves so that we can be the best versions of ourselves, for our sakes and for the sakes of others.

Only once that's been taken care of can we discourse about ships and different character readings all day long. But we must first do the work and look within ourselves to make sure we are engaging with each other, and each other's sexualities, through a core of mutual understanding and respect for each other as human beings and how we identify. Otherwise we are, unironically and quite literally, doing society's work for them and letting prejudice invade a space it does not belong.

So. Yeah. That's all I have to say. Shutting up now.