#op your art is so soft!!! and I love your @

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Congrats on your milestones and thank you for your hard work as always!! 🐎🐎🐎

PIO!!!!!! THIS IS AN ASSASINATION ATTEMPT!!!!! YOU ARE COMING FOR MY LIFE

[silverselfshippingchaos]

MAN AJDHAJSHAJSH

[princesslocket]

I'M LATE, SORRY!!!!!!

BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!1!!! You've always been so kind to me, I can't express how much I admire you! Your art is so beautiful and loving, keep being that wonderful person!!! <33

It's something simple, but it's from the heart! 💛

O M PIKACHU THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!!! You're deserve all the kindness in the world tbh!!! Your art always brings me so much joy, I literally can't get enough of it, and now that I'm seeing this- This ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL ART- I'm just about ready to cry (out of pure happiness of course) THANK YOU!!! 🥺💗🌺🌟

[junestay]

i cant stop staring at that last piece of art it is literally filling me With. with something. inspiration. INSPIRATION. awe.

[hattersarts]

your bg3 art, especially of lae'zel and your tav. beautiful. and i do wonder, was it love at first sight? or did it need some warming up to?

[spoilers for act 2 and some lae'zel romance scenes in act 1- early 3]

defo just started as straight up mutual horniness, tav was very attracted to lae'zel going for her straight forwardly, tav's a bit shy when it come to romance, shes a huge elf and more often seen as a curiosity but lea'zel fully finding appreciation and horniess in her size as well as her physical strength she liked a lot.

Tavern fell in love with lae'zel during the crèche quest, the fact she was willing to defy her queen for the safety of the party and how ferice and determined lae'zel is but also will take all the facts in even if they break her world view. Tav is a seldarine drow so she certainly has empathy with lae'zel's story

lae'zel defo went straight for physical attraction but slowly ended up being charmed by Tav, I think she fell for her quite quickly, Tavern is a caring person, she's soft in everything is does and lae'zel definitely was attracted to Tav having no fear in being so open with her physically.

it took her some time to battle seeing that openess as a weakness but watching tav with the whole party and the relationships she herself built with the party let her break that stigma. (that whole bit where she tells you she craves tenderness in act3 like I want to DIE I was so happy how this aligned with my romance for them both)

and not to say there isn't any of that fire between then in act 1, but I think tav shows lae'zel how to have that connection via sex where you don't need to wake up exhausted every morning + lae'zel shows her how to enjoy their strength :)

[vivalabunbun]

Midnight Piano Interlude in D Minor, Op. 1

Summary: Growing pains don’t go away the moment you reach adulthood, instead it goes by a different name: Regret. 

Word Count: 17.9k ( I have a problem, no I cannot fix it)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Pianist!Reader, Aspiring musician!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic (look at the word count), Heavy Angst, Smut(r18+), NSFW, MDNI, Modern AU, Childhood Friends AU, Childhood friends to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, a lot of memories from the past, Fluff, Second chance romance, TW: Character death (Alhaitham’s grandma), TW: Themes about regret and low self-confidence, Heavy adult themes, gifted kid burn-out, toxic family, unhappy childhood, unhealthy relationship dynamics, unhealthy coping mechanisms, Service top! Alhaitham, mutual pining? kinda, unrequited love? sorta, slightly obsessive!Alhaitham, Soft!Alhaitham, Alhaitham is not faultless his current views have been formed through trial and painful error. 

Authors Note: This is very experimental. I almost didn’t want to post it, but I just believe even the most stoic person isn’t without their past mistakes and regrets. Alhaitham doesn’t understand most forms of art... but he does value music. Enjoy. 

There was something off about this stanza, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it. A cup of now room-temperature coffee was on your dining table, next to the sheets of music you were currently editing. Tapping the end of the pencil on your lip as you shut your eyelids. You played the notes on the paper in your head. 

It was an early Saturday afternoon, so you still had plenty of time before you had to go to your gig. It was a ritual on Saturdays that you would edit and write your compositions. A peaceful way to transition out of your lowly officer worker identity, and into the pianist you were. The thought of spreadsheets would be slowly replaced by lines of musical notes. 

At this moment there were no emails to be answered. No shallow dry small talk from nosy cubical neighbors. No long meetings in uncomfortable chairs about irrelevant projects.

Just the low hum of your refrigerator accompanying your experimental melodies. It was your time to embrace your aspirations that were contained to only two days every week, but it was worth all forty-eight hours.  

The fingers on your free hand tapped against the chipped lacquer table, envisioning the keys of your keyboard currently stationed in the crowded living room. Your fingers stilled as your eyes fluttered open. You found the error, crossing out the D major scale and changing it to D minor instead. Yes, D minor fits the somber tone of this piece much better. 

Excitement bubbled up inside you, that small tweak had finally solved that bothersome feeling that had been vexing you the whole week. Oh, you felt it, you were in the zone now, inspiration and motivation were just flowing undisrupted through you. Quickly gathering up the sheet music, you sauntered to your keyboard, sitting down on the cheap pull-out bench. 

There was no reason to worry about a noise complaint when it was in the middle of the day, but to follow social etiquette you made sure to lower the volume on the keyboard to just barely above mute. It was time to put everything together, you put your hands into position eager to press down on the smooth keys to finally hear the composition you had worked so hard on-

“Be careful with that! My unfinished models are in that box! Don’t just slam it down!” A voice boomed from the hall outside your door. 

The sudden disturbance cut off the flow within you, fingers hovering over the keys. Of course, asking for peace and quiet in this dust heap apartment complex was a luxury the residents couldn’t afford. You inhaled deeply as you straighten your back.

It’s fine, it sounds as if a new neighbor is just moving in. You were used to this, just continue forward. 

“Oi! Could you not just dump everything into the entranceway? How am I supposed to get through?!” You could hear the shuffling of boxes. 

“Most people would be grateful for the help. Especially, when the help-seeker is someone who has yet to pay five months' worth of rent.” A box was dropped onto the floor.

“I just told you to be careful! It’s fragile! And I was busy saving up to move, I’m sure me moving out is well worth the rent money.” 

“Brilliant rebuttal. Is this the same explanation you give the bank when they call inquiring about your debt, Kaveh?” 

“And this is why I cannot stand people like you!-”

Your fingers were pressing down with force on the keys, yet you couldn’t hear any melody over the theatrical bickering taking place in the hall. The inside of your cheek is currently being abused by the grating of your teeth. It appears that social etiquette is dead, killed by narrow-minded individual interests. 

The two voices continued to bounce off the wall, more accurately it was mostly one thunderous voice followed by a deep tone dripping with sarcasm. Your ears weren’t even processing the words being thrown around, their focus all on the impending tinnitus developing. 

You needed to bring a stop to this now, lest it develops into a regular performance. Your thighs pushed back the flimsy seat, lips deep in a frown. The flow was ruined. 

Unlocking the deadbolt that detained the door, you looked straight ahead as the rusting hinges sang their chaos, ready to bring a stop to this public disturbance. 

“Can you please keep your voices d-” Your sentence died at the tip of your tongue.

The sight in front of you stopped you dead between your doorway. The blond-haired man’s head snapped towards you, eyes slightly apologetic. However, his face wasn’t what you had set your sights on, no, it was the familiar face of the ashen-haired man. A face you haven’t seen for seven years, Alhaitham.

Those same disinterested teal eyes shifted their focus onto you, and it paralyzed every muscle.

The silence was deafening now, not a single inch was budged by anyone. Like a frozen snapshot in time. His gaze was heavy, it was suffocating so your eyes switched over to meet with rudy irises instead.

The blond man’s attention flickered back and forth between the two of you, taking note of how his companion’s eyes never left your frame. His lips pressed into an awkward line as his head slowly turned towards the boxes behind him, finally reading the room. 

“I’m going to start tidying up.” The blond didn’t perceive the desperation sent his way by you as his figure disappeared behind a closed door.    

Now it was just you and Alhaitham. Finally reunited after seven long years apart in a decrepit hallway. The gurgling of the aging pipes and shuffling of feet from floors above  accompanied the scene. Your body was still frozen in the midst of emerging from your apartment, and his tall figure was still stationed right across the narrow hall. 

What were the last words you said to him that day many years ago again?

“I hate you, Alhaitham. I hate you for ruining my life.” 

A hand hidden behind your back clenched into a fist as you recalled that embarrassing memory. Sharp words directed toward a younger version of the man in front of you. Words birthed from irrationality and wounded pride.

Now your brain had once again latched on to this core memory, you were certainly going to be kicking your blankets tonight. What a mortifying souvenir of the past. 

The past anger and frustrations were all but lingering smoke in your hair, your heart couldn’t recall the heat of how they burned the bridge down. They say time heals, and it's true.

The years apart had gradually soothed over the tender wounds on your ego. With the pain subsided your brain was clear enough to review the moments that lead to that outburst, and it made you die internally. 

Should you just apologize right now? To alleviate the creeping guilt traveling up your shoulder, and so your poor blanket won’t be kicked as hard tonight. Can a small apology really travel across the full length of the seven-year-wide rift that had formed? Your lips stayed firmly shut, there was your answer. 

Alhaitham took a step towards you, instinctively your body shuffled three more steps away, widening the berth between your bodies. His movement paused, teal eyes peering down at you as you looked at the space behind his head. No words were said. 

This awkward scene was very reminiscent of your introduction to the ashen-haired man many years ago. 

–

Your parents, esteemed researchers working for a renowned corporation, had moved into a new neighborhood. The house was much larger than your old home, large enough to house a grand piano in the living room. 

“It’s about time you start learning the piano.” Were the orders your parents had given you, sitting your six-year-old self at the intimidating instrument. 

On the same day you were introduced to your new duty, you were also introduced to the neighbor’s kid. The only other kid on the block filled with prominent academic figures from the nation’s top university. A grey-haired boy was standing by the side of the older lady, while you clung to your father’s slacks. The boy’s bored teal-eyed stare made you advert your eyes to your pretty shoes. 

“This is Alhaitham, he is the same age as you. Say hello.” The stern hands of your father broke your grasp on his slacks and pushed you towards the boy named ‘Alhaitham’. 

“Alhaitham, won’t you greet our new neighbor?” The older woman’s wrinkled but kind eyes motioned to your nervous frame. 

“Hello.” Greeted a flat voice. 

Your tiny hand found its way back to your father’s slacks, grip wrinkling it even more. You were physically unable to utter a single noise. After what felt like an eternity of staring at your shiny sneakers, your father’s hand tug you away. The adults were now having a small conversation, mostly your parents apologizing for your shyness and the older professor laughing the matter off. 

“There is no need to apologize, children are fickle sometimes. But I hope that she and Alhaitham will get along. You are always welcome to visit, little one.” Her eyes peered at your restless form. You liked her eyes, they were warm.

That night you sat through a long lecture from your parents about your rudeness toward the grandma. All you could do was bow your head, back perfectly straight on the plush new sofa. You were sent to bed with no dinner that night, told to think about how your actions would reflect upon your parents. 

–

The invasive memory triggered by this sudden reunion left a bitter taste on your tongue. The taste that you’ve purposefully been fleeing from all these years. Now with his presence so burdensome, it was dragging your thoughts down deeper. You needed to put a stop to this before your head disappears under the water. 

So just like all those years ago, you disappeared from teal eyes. Not uttering a single greeting as the resounding click of your door was heard. 

Exiting the automated glass doors, you could finally relax your shoulders. The sun was hanging in the sky this Wednesday evening, you were grateful that you were actually able to clock off work on time.

Your eyes scanned the unfamiliar buildings that decorated the landscape, all large and reaching towards the sky, light bouncing off polished windows. You were free to explore. 

Your job required you to attend a meeting about some closing of a deal between the two companies. Thus, the reason why you were currently in the midst of the upscale business district of Sumeru City. Opposing the rundown sector you called home, the sidewalks here were leveled and free of fissures. Many of the trendy shops that lined the streets beckoned you closer to their displays. 

With one glance over the price tags attached to the chic items your body instantly turned away. Of course, the prices in the yuppie part of the city would be out of your budget. 

Walking further down the road, you let yourself enjoy the warm breeze of Sumeru against your stuffy blouse and pencil skirt. Your skin has finally thawed out after being in that overly air-conditioned conference room. Turning onto a quieter side street you walked past the tantalizing smells wafting from the small cafes. 

The gig from last Saturday compensated you quite handsomely. Perhaps you could splurge a little, a reward for yourself securing a returning performance later this month. 

One particular cafe caught your interest, it was a combination of a bookstore and a coffee shop. The blackboard sign placed outside listed the daily specialties, and for once the prices of the drinks weren’t outrageous.

A small bell chimed above your head, welcoming you inside. After placing your order, you decided to peruse through the selection of novels the shop had on display. 

Most of the titles were of the new best sellers or latest academic papers. Your fingers brushed across the smooth covers, observing the different arts and fonts. It seems that you’ve wonder quite a bit down the rows, somehow ending up in a section filled with the simple cover illustrations of children’s books. You were far too old to enjoy such books now. 

Just as you turned on your heel to head back up the aisle, a brilliant verdant cover catches your eye. ‘Oh, so it’s still in print’, you thought. The Giving Tree, the title of the first book you ever learned to read. 

–

“Alhaitham is the same age as you, yet he’s reading scientific journals. You should learn from him.” Your mother’s eyes examined your round eyes looking back up at hers. 

Your small frame deflated even smaller, the bright aura that had been radiating off of you dissipated like morning dew under the harsh sun.

Just earlier you had your first piano lesson, the piano teacher was so excited to tell your parents how much potential you had, and how filled with talent you were. Their words made you perk up on the bench, the instrument no longer felt as frightening. 

The praise had left you in a good mood, so much so that you agreed to accompany your mother to the neighbor’s house. A book clutched in the hand that wasn’t held in your mother’s clammy grasp. You weren’t sure if you were in a good mood anymore.

The kind grandma led you to a small library where her grandson was, Alhaitham was curled up on the rug with a thick journal in his small hands. The thin children’s book in your hand paled in comparison. 

“Now, now. Alhaitham is just very passionate about reading. Your daughter is at the normal age where children begin reading, perhaps she’ll also gain a fondness if they read together. I think they’ll have fun together.” The kind woman gestured for you into the room. 

Your mother releases your hand, a cold look ushered you toward the empty spot next to the boy. Settling down on the other side of the rug, you glanced up quickly. She seemed satisfied. 

The grandma soon led your mother to another part of the house, continuing their conversation. You turned toward the boy next to you, he was too focused on the text in front of him to bother greeting you. 

Spirits a bit dejected, you opened the cover to your own thin book. It was your father that placed the book in your hands, telling you to start reading. As your eyes glossed over the figures that took up only a fraction of the page, you came across the obvious hurdle.

You don’t know how to read. No one had ever sat you on their lap and gone through this book with you, or any book really. 

The illustrations and script on the page taunted you, calling you to decypher their meanings and symbols. The pages were quickly flipped through until you hit the back cover, then flipped through once more until you were back to the front.

A foolish attempt for a miracle, that if you flipped through the book fast enough, somehow those scribbles on the pages will make sense. 

“Are you even reading?” Spoke a slightly irritated voice.

Oh, your loud turning must have distracted the boy from his reading. The flipping stopped, as you glanced at him seeing the disinterested eyes staring back, you looked away. The embarrassment this time compelled your mouth to speak. 

“N-no… I don’t know how…” Cheeks burned from shame, you could already feel that familiar sting in your eyes. Oh no, if you cried then mom might frown again. 

A sigh resounded beside you, Alhaitham shifted his body out of his comfortable position against his pillow. Oh no, is he getting up to tell mom about the dark secret you just spilled to him? You didn’t get him to promise he won’t tell, will he get you in trouble? 

“Give it here.” An expecting hand reached out, palms open. 

You blinked at the hand slowly, did he want the book in exchange for not telling? Obediently, you placed the small book into his hold. His teal eyes glance over the title quickly, before he lays the book open in the space between your two bodies. Your head tilted in confusion at his actions. But as soon as his tranquil voice read the word out loud, that confusion stopped. 

“Mmm… I don’t like the boy.” You crossed your arms in front of your small body, round cheeks pushed out in a pout.

Alhaitham just finished reading the story to you, he ran his small finger along with each word he spoke so you could follow along as well. His eyes connected with yours inquisitively, waiting for you to continue. 

“The nice tree gave him so much, and he never said ‘thank you’. And he left the tree alone for so long, the tree must have been so sad. He’s mean, a big meanie and… and…”

“Ungrateful.” Alhaitham finished your sentence. 

“Un-un..grateful?” You titled your head again, the unfamiliar word felt weird on your tongue. 

“Ungrateful. U-n-g-r-a-t-e-f-u-l. It means having no feelings of thanks, you can also say he’s selfish.” The boy answered your question before you could even ask it. 

You pressed a finger against your lips, turning the newly learned vocabulary in your head. Yeah, those words fit the boy in the story very well. Ungrateful and selfish. You looked back at the boy sitting next to you, a smile stretched your chubby cheeks. The grandma was right, reading with him was fun. 

“You’re really smart.” You beamed at him. 

“That means nothing to me.” He huffed, turning his face away. 

You could spy with your little eyes the red tint on the tips of his ears that peeked out from his ash-colored hair. 

“Hehe, and you’re funny too.” For the first time in a while, you giggled.

–

What a bittersweet memory, like the fragrance of the different brews traveling throughout the small shop. Yet, the nostalgia brought a small curl to your lips. You turned away from the book, only to flinch at what your eyes saw next. 

The boy from your memories is now a man standing adjacently. You must’ve been too lost in thought to notice his towering stature. 

After that tense reunion in the hallway, thankfully Alhaitham didn’t decide to knock on your door. Not that you would’ve answered anyways. He probably had already predicted your actions, and thus saved himself the time. 

He was dressed in a suit and but the tie was loose around his neck, he must’ve just gotten off of work. The path back to the coffee bar was just slightly blocked by his wide frame, you had to get past him. 

Teal-orange eyes converged with your stare, ah it’s too late to try and sneak past now. Alhaitham acknowledges your presence with a slight nod of his head, expression blank and unreadable. Once again you didn’t say a single greeting.

As if a merciful archon had been watching this pathetic interaction, an opportunity for escape was granted in the form of the barista calling out your name. 

“Excuse me.” Was all you could muster, hastily striding past him, body pressed against the selves so as to not brush against him. 

Before you the bell at the front chimed again to signal your departure, you made sure to leave some extra mora, more than the necessary amount. Done in silent gratitude towards the unsung hero of a barista. 

It was now the last Saturday of the month, meaning it was time for your return performance. In your bathroom mirror, you smoothed out any stray hairs, straightening out your black performance garb.

A sacred ritual to slow the beating of your jumping heart. It’s a bit silly to admit, but no matter how many times you’ve performed, your nerves always went haywire. A terrible habit that made its way to adulthood. 

The tavern you were performing at was quite a popular joint among the locals of Sumeru City. The nice wooden and homey interior gave many city dwellers their taste of nature in a progressing world. A grand piano was tucked away in a clear corner of the establishment, a ring of tables enclosed the area into a stage of sorts. 

Pushing through the intricately carved doors, you entered Lambad’s Tavern eyes surveying the audience for this Saturday night. There were some tables still empty, awaiting the future stream of guests. Chatter quietly reverberated through the serene scene for now.

The atmosphere can get a bit rowdy as more and more alcohol ran through the systems of patrons. In a way, it was perfect for you, a perfect stepping stone in your slow climb. 

Checking in with the manager at the front, you got the thumbs up to start setting up for your show. An agreement had been reached earlier this month that you would be playing the piano for three hours, three hours of having the privilege to play on a grand piano again. Not on the electronic imitation of your keyboard. Eager hands glided their soft touch along the smooth keys. 

Yes, nothing can truly capture the beauty of the grand piano’s voice, not even the CDs you set up on a table nearby. Recordings with a mixed tracklist of classical pieces and original compositions, just like your setlist for tonight. 

Lifting up the fallboard, you set the sheets against the music stand. Not that you needed them. Every note, every rest, and every change in tempo memorized in your fingers. Taking a deep breath, your eyes did one final scan around the room. Most tables were too emersed in their own conversations to take note of you. 

Rubbing your fingers together to grind out the tremble of your nerves before you shut your eyes. In the darkness quiet darkness of your mind, your fingers moved into their positions over the keys. Erik Satie’s Je te veux resonated with the muddled conversations of the audience, adding to the serene air. 

You’ve always closed your eyes when performing, a trait that has embedded itself from the start of your music career. The darkness of your mind offered a reprieve from the critical eyes of judges and parents during recitals and competitions.

You first stepped into this safe haven around the time of your first recital at the age of eight. 

–

It’s been a few months since you first began your piano lessons, and your teacher was eager to announce your first recital. They had a sparkle in their eyes, keen to show off their most talented disciple. 

They had discovered an unpolished diamond among the mediocre ruff, a young naturally blessed child. Your lips were kept sealed about the long hours your parents forced you to sit in front of the piano after each weekly lesson. 

Before you only ever played under the watchful gaze of either your parents or teacher, not an audience of strangers. To say you were nervous would be an understatement, you were terrified. 

“I can’t do it.” You retracted your hands from the piano once again, as if the keys were scorching you. 

“You said you wanted to play the piano for me.” The young boy beside you huffed out, annoyed at your actions. You had repeated these steps five times now. 

“I know! But I’m… scared…” Your posture deflated. 

“If you can’t play in front of one person, how can you play for a crowd?” Alhaitham’s disinterested eyes crept back to the book he had placed beside him, you had dragged him away from his reading for this. 

“I don’t know…” A frown pulled at your face, eyes feeling the incoming burn. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. 

There was a tense moment of nothingness between the two of you. The boy quietly observed the paper propped up against the music stand. 

“Do you know how to play this piece?” His flat voice broke the suspense. 

“Yes I do! I’ve been practicing this every day, I can even do it with my eyes closed.” You huffed in disbelief at his accusation. 

“Then do that. Just play with your eyes closed.” He retorted as if it was the most obvious statement in the world. 

Which in truth, it was the most obvious statement in the world. You’ve been practicing Vom fremden Ländern und Menschen from Kinderszenen since the beginning of the month every day for six hours a day. The rhythm and keys were ingrained into your fingers by the second week. 

The solution was so plain and simple, why didn’t you think of it? Your parents were right, you are always a few steps behind the brilliant boy. 

An embarrassed flush covered your round cheeks. Suddenly his stare was heavy, heavier than the ones from your parents and teacher. The muscles in your finger felt tense. Your young mind could tell that if this continued then the tune embedded in your hands wouldn’t come out at all. 

“Can you not look?” A quiet plead. 

“I thought you wanted me to watch.” A grey brow was raised. 

“I know… But…” Around him, you couldn’t seem to finish your sentences. 

“Fine.” Deciding that prying further would be a wasted effort, Alhaitham turned his short body around on the bench so that his back faced the piano instead. Cracking open his thick book back to the page he had left off on. 

“I don’t need to look at you to hear you play anyways.” The young boy’s eyes returned back to their place among the text. 

Sitting back up straight again, shoulder back and hands into position. You took a deep breath and entered the darkness behind your eyelids. This time your fingers guided you through the moment, and the piano sang out its melodies. 

–

Coincidentally, Vom fremden Ländern und Menschen from Kinderszenen just so happened to be ending right now as the memory finished its course. You had transitioned into the piece some time ago, finishing five out of the many on your three-hour setlist. It was right about time for a small break. 

As your eyelids lifted a few soft claps reached your ears, from the growing chatter it seems that more customers had funneled into the tavern. 

The manager of the tavern was a very generous man, so much so that he offers you a complimentary drink you could claim during each of your breaks. You would be a fool to turn down such an offer, but you reminded yourself that you need to maintain a certain level of sobriety. For the sake of your performance. 

The sweet wine felt divine running down your parched throat. The alcohol did wonders in mellowing out your racing thoughts as you returned back to your place at the piano. Just like before, you did a small survey of your surroundings. Big mistake, for your mind kicked into overdrive when locking gazes with teal eyes.  

‘Speak of the devil, and he doth appear’. 

A superstition you should really be more mindful of. Shifting your body towards the piano, you ended the impromptu staring contest. Ah, what song were you supposed to play now? Thoughts scrambled as you can still feel the heaviness of Alhaitham’s gaze on your back. ‘Just play’ you internally scolded.

Letting your fingers take over the piano, retreating back into the comforting blackness. 

“Who was that?” Kaveh creaked open the door to his new apartment, inquiring his now former roommate about the scene that unraveled moments before. 

Alhaitham observed the heavy metal frame that closed you off from him once more. This was certainly an unexpected surprise. It’s been seven years since he last hear your voice. Seven years since you marched forth on a path carved by your own grit and resoluteness. 

Many things have changed these seven years.

Who are you?

Eyes still following the cracks of the paint running up your door, the ashen-haired man’s mind recounted a scene from long ago. 

–

It’s been a few months since you first moved into this neighborhood, taking Alhaitham’s title of ‘only kid on the block’ away. During your first introduction, you wouldn’t even greet him constantly tugging on your father’s pant leg and staring at your feet. 

Now you wouldn’t stop greeting him. After lunch, almost like clockwork, there would be a knock at his front door. Disrupting his precious reading time. You’d be there on the other side with a new book for him to read to you, or you’d bounce on the heels of your feet inviting him to hear your piano. 

Today, it was the latter. Alhaitham had his back facing the piano, the position that made you the most comfortable. A book was open in his lap, but his mind was busy pondering a mystery to pay attention to it or to the tune you were playing. Grandma said it wasn’t good to hold in questions, lest they consume the curious mind. Best to get answers from the source of the mystery. 

“Why do you seek me out?” His flat voice interfered with the sharp notes.

“Huh?” You turned to him perplexed, fingers now hovering over the keys.

“Are we friends?” He asked directly, it’s good to be straightforward. 

“Of course we’re friends! Even if you’re a bookworm, you’re still a precious friend of mine.” Chest puffed up at your bold declaration. 

“If I am a bookworm, it’s only appropriate to call you an earworm.”

“E-earworm? There are worms that live in the ear??” 

“No, it’s just a figure of speech. Earworm refers to a tone or melody that repeats constantly in the mind.” 

“Ooh. Earworm…” You pondered the term for a bit before another splitting smile spread across your face. 

“Yes! You’re a bookworm and I’m an earworm.” A finger was directed at him then back at yourself, giggling. 

Strangely, the young boy felt a tickle at the back of his throat, as if your laughter was contagious like a cold. He decided to hold it back in favor of observing your expression for a bit longer. 

“Oh!” You jumped up from the bench, reaching into the shiny pencil case you kept close to the piano. 

Pulling out a bold black marker you uncapped the tool before climbing onto the bench, the extra height allowing you to maneuver the top half of your body into the body of the piano. 

Now it was his turn to be bewildered, quickly snapping his eyes towards the entrance of the living room, watching out for signs of your parents. Soon you reemerged from the instrument, capping the marker with a proud look in your eyes. 

“There, now there’s solid proof of our friendship.”  

Alhaitham peers into the piano, observing the words clumsily written along the wooden shell:

Property of Bookworm and Earworm

“Why am I before you? It’s your piano isn’t it?” 

“Well ‘B’ comes before ‘E’.” You puffed out your cheek at his lackluster response to your heartfelt gesture. 

For the first time ever in front of you, Alhaitham let an obvious smile appear on his face. 

–

What a bittersweet term. Friends. Yes, the two of you were once friends long ago. Close friends who morphed into strangers. The catalyst for this change? With each new stage of life, branching paths will appear, the parting of ways is just a natural phenomenon. 

He is Alhaitham and you are you. Separate individuals with separate lives on separate paths. 

“Just someone I used to know.” Came his candid answer. 

“Right.” Kaveh rolled his eyes, clearly displeased at how the ashen-haired man won’t give his question an actual response. 

Alhaitham removed his eyes from your door, picking the cardboard box back off the tiled hallway. Kaveh didn’t need to know the specifics, the precious details shall forever make their home in a safe corner of his mind. 

Alhaitham exited the ornate doors of the office building. Currently, it was the closing quarter, meaning the office has been more bothersome than usual. Even with his perfected front of acting busy, more and more troublesome characters have been strolling into his office. It’s irrelevant now, for the secretary is now off the clock. 

The sun was still in the sky, perfect weather to grab a bit to eat from a local coffee shop. It’s been a week since he last picked up a new book as well, there was one place that came to mind that would allow the man to kill two birds with one stone. Long legs walked with swift strides towards his destination. 

Even will his earphones in, Alhaitham could still hear the hustle and bustle of the crowded streets. In Sumeru City this was expected, construction, traffic, and pedestrians, everything thing muddled together in noisy inference with his thoughts. He turns up the volume. 

Opening the door to the cafe, the bell sounded his arrival. The usual barista was there at the counter. With a quick glance up the barista instinctively placed his order, a testament to just how often the ashen-haired man frequents this place. Good, this saves him the trouble. 

Without pausing his music, Alhaitham began pursuing the nonfiction section of the small shop. There were a few new scientific journals that have been published, maybe he’ll give them a read. 

Although his ears were currently occupied, that doesn’t mean his other senses were dulled. He could feel the weight of someone’s gaze upon his back. Usually, the man would simply brush such occurrences off. But there was this small nag coming from a corner of his mind. This could be a result of a brain being bored by a day’s worth of paperwork. He’ll indulge his curiosity. 

Returning the weight of the gaze back to the mysterious source he felt his jaw clench just a bit. There you were again, staring at him with your lips pressed together tensely. Your wide eyes were very reminiscent of a spooked songbird. Everything about your body language read startled and for flight. 

This time, Alhaitham doesn’t encroach, he simply nodded his head in a small greeting. It seems even this small action sparked you to flee. You mouthed something before quickly strolling past him. 

Shamelessly, his teal eyes followed your path as you paid for your coffee and disappeared out of sight from the shop windows. Yes, his statement that these seven years have brought about much change was correct. It wasn’t like this before.

–

“Alhaitham, why are you reading here?” His grandma inquired about the reason behind her grandson situating himself at the window nook instead of inside the library. 

“I just wanted to enjoy the sunlight.” Came his crafted response. 

From this small nook, the window gave a clear view of the front steps and the path that led to the house just across the street. The older woman took note of this, kind eyes giving the young boy a knowing look and smile. You had begun attending the local school.

Meanwhile, Alhaitham adamantly wanted to stay home and self-study instead. Stating that all the material the school covered he already knew. The old lady didn’t raise any objections to her grandson’s decision. 

“If you go over to her house remember to be polite, and inform me before you do.” A wrinkled hand tussled through his soft ashen locks. 

“There’s no need. I’m just sitting here to read.” He leaned into his grandma’s touch. 

“Of course, of course. Then I shall make use of this afternoon to review some material. Remember what I said.” 

“Yes, grandma.” Came his reply. 

With that, Alhaitham was left to his own thoughts by the window. He didn’t really know why he felt the pull to sit by the window. Was it to get a glimpse of you? The neighbor’s daughter? 

You and he were the only two kids on the block, so it wasn’t surprising you would often seek out his company. A friendship formed by virtue of close proximity. However, now you were attending classes filled with other kids your age. His company would sooner or later fade into obscurity. 

Alhaitham has always been very attuned to the situation around him, displaying a level of maturity and insight way beyond his years. Perhaps he still retains some semblance of that childish essence. Demonstrated by his current position, the book in his lap only held half of his attention, the other wondering out the clear glass. 

What is he hoping for realistically? Others can provide you much livelier company than he ever could, and yet he still-

The boy puts down the book, short legs pattering across the wooden floor swiftly carrying his body to the door. Small hands turned the cold brass before he channeled all his strength into prying the wooden mass from the frame.

Revealing your bewildered face, hand frozen in its position ready to knock on the now open door. Once your eyes met, it wasn’t long before a smile replaced your expression. 

“Hi, Haitham! Wanna hear me play today?” 

–

Yes, that was how things used to be. Even as your social circle grew, even as new families moved in, you’d still appear back in front of him. Beaming that smile he lost the privilege to see. Like a songbird that returned every day to sing in front of his window as the solitary child read.

 Alhaitham’s eyes found themselves locked once more on a door, the one you had rushed out of not so long ago. There was a weight pulling down on the corners of his mouth. He entered Sumeru’s education system during high school. Missing the crucial formative years previously where cliques and social labels were formed, he stood alone as a loner. 

But You always rushed towards him through crowded halls and rooms. Breaking away amidst your social circle from orchestra and band. Just to tap him on the shoulder and eat lunch together in the sanctuary of a private practice room that housed the school’s piano.

These repetitive memories plaguing him brought a bitter taste to his coffee. Perhaps it was the dreadful combination of sweet memory and awareness of the current state of affairs. 

Finally, the end of the month has come. Meaning things at work have sorted themselves out, at least for another three months. In lieu of attending an actual company-sponsored dinner, Alhaitham decides to get a drink at the local tavern.

Company dinners were noisy, filled with black ties and white lies. Too troublesome. However, recently his mind has been filling the silence of his house with redundant thoughts. 

A drink from time to time is a good way to destress and quell the mind, Alhaitham reasons as he enters the establishment. Lambad’s Tavern was a local joint that provides a small solace from the rambunctious city streets. A place the man likes to visit on occasion, usually when an invitation was extended. 

From the moment he entered through the doors, he could hear a piano ending its cords. It seems that there was live music tonight. Usually, it was nice to have background music accompany the chatter of the other patrons. But why a piano of all choices tonight? Alhaitham takes a deep breath before letting out a small sigh, it’s as if a ghost of the past is haunting him. 

Placing an order for a bottle of wine to be delivered to a secluded area, Alhaitham makes his way to the usual table. His body maneuvered through the sea of flushed face patrons, and the sight of the grand piano came into view.

The bench by the instrument was empty, perhaps his mind really is just conjuring up a ghost. Regardless, once the wine comes these thoughts will settle. 

“Your wine.” The alcohol was set down. 

“Thank you.” Alhaitham swirls the glass a bit before taking a sip. 

 His bored eyes began to wander once more, looking for anything to bide the time with, unsurprisingly they were beckoned towards the piano. Only this, time it was no longer empty. No, this time it was no ghost invented by a bored mind, it was you. He stiffly swallowed down the wine. 

He wasn’t subtle nor careful with how obviously he was staring, thinking too occupied by astonishment. This must have tipped you off, as once again your wide-eyed gaze connected with his heavy one. You made that tense face again. You broke away, tightly shutting your eyes before your fingers hit the keys, making the piano sing. 

‘Oh, so you still closed your eyes when you played’. Alhaitham found a strange satisfaction in this fact as if he found comfort in the one constant he still knew about you. Arms and fingers moved fluidly, a sight he used to not be able to see out of respect for you. 

–

Your parents were busy with their research, and his grandmother had her hands full with academic responsibilities. It was only Alhaitham who had the time, a resource only abundant in youth, to attend your recitals and concerts.

As the crowd and the judges bored holes into your figure up on stage, the young man kept his eyes peeled on the book in front of him. 

The young man didn’t mind attending these events, the audience was mostly silent save for the occasional applause. After so many years and lunches spent by your side at the piano, his ears have gotten used to the melodic accompaniment to his reading.

The final chords of your performance reverberated throughout the air, followed by the rolling clapping of hands.

He lifted his attention up to the stage. Although it’s ironic how the only time you wanted him to watch your performance was at the end, he’ll respect your wishes. From the brightly lit stage, you were finishing your bow, and as your head rises your eyes connected with his. A beaming smile was directed at him.

Was it you or the stage lights that stung his eyes? 

“How’d you think I did, Haitham?” Was the first thing out of your lips after rejoining him. 

The concert hall had emptied out some time ago, and Alhaitham had been waiting by the backstage door to walk home with you. You held a thick folder against the front of your formal black gown, a bounce in your ballet flat steps. Alhaitham pretended to contemplate his answer. 

“I’m not well versed in acoustics nor how to judge music, so I don’t see how my opinion would matter.”  Came his flat reply.  

“Haitham, you listened to me play for years. How have you not learned a thing?” You pouted, just like how he predicted. 

The young man gave you a simple shrug. Of course, he found your performance exceptional, he was there for the hours of practice you put in. 

“Whatever, now that it’s over. I can start looking at the piece the conductor wanted me to accompany for the school’s orchestra. Ahh, I only have three weeks to practice.” You made a face as you dug through the thick folder as the two of you continued to walk. 

He only hummed in response, shifting his focus back to his book. It was the sweet Sumeru Spring of your third year of high school, the perfect for a serene walk home.

Over the top of the pages, his teal eyes could see your lips press into a crooked line, desperately trying to suppress your snickers as you sightread the notes on the sheet. 

“Is that a piece by Debussy?” 

“Huh? How’d ya know, Haitham?” 

You were easy to read. After knowing you for over a decade now, you were like an open book to him. The journal hides his small smile from your sight. 

–

The memory reminded him to advert his eyes, focusing back on the glass of wine in front of him. He came here for a drink, he should follow through with his plan. The wine quickly vanished as Alhaitham signed for another. It took an impressive amount of willpower for his eyes to not wander back, he won’t let them. 

Your small performance had come to an end, sounded by the closing of the fallboard and how the bench dragged against the floor. He knew you were bowing to show thanks to the audience, yet he still refused to look. From your earlier actions, it was blatant that you despised his presence.

So even as your figure passed by his table, Alhaitham refused to allow you into his line of sight.

It’s been an hour since you left the establishment in a rush, and Alhaitham had run up quite the tab now, best to call it a night. Tossing some mora onto the table, the ashen-haired man stands up ready to begin the taxis ride back. 

The effects of the alcohol must have made his eyes wander back to the piano, a fruitless attempt to watch one last glimpse. And a glimpse they found, in the form of a CD you had carelessly left behind. 

You had abandoned it, thus it was now free for the taking.

It was unlike the stoic man to order rounds after rounds of wine, but he needed something to busy himself with. Just as how you were busy with the piano, he needed the alcohol to quell undesirable impulses. However, as his unsteady steps made it up the front porch, he was chastising himself for that decision. A hangover was guaranteed in the morning.

Roughly slamming the door shut behind him, Alhaitham entered the asylum of his home. The newfound stillness of the house was usually a luxury the ashen-haired man indulged in. However, at the moment it was a tribulation, for his noisy thoughts filled the silence. Its volume only exacerbated by the alcohol in his system. 

When he was younger, Alhaitham naively thought the knowledge gained from academic journals was equivalent to experience. After all, he had just read about another person’s experiences, he could pinpoint their flaws and learn from their mistakes so as to not repeat them. 

Just like the knowledge obtained from his books, he assumed that you too shall always remain in his possession, you shall always stay by his side. Of course, only a naive teenager, no, only a naive child would think this way. 

Did you know that the downfall of many great kings, heroes, and gods was their hubris? Excess self-confidence blinds their vision. Excess confidence only a naive child would have, believing he could analyze everything. 

Oh, how life works in mysterious ways, finding lessons to humble such egos. Alhaitham, against his will, reminisces about the event that taught him a valuable lesson in the noisy silence of his house. 

–

“Haitham, I can’t believe they did it.” You were curled up on the couch of his grandmother’s home, tears streaming down your face. 

“They sold my piano, Haitham. They sold it because they wanted me to get over this ‘hobby’. Hypocrites, as if they weren’t the ones who forced me to practice hours a day since I was a kid.” 

Alhaitham said nothing, silently holding the tissue box out to you. The pair of you had just returned from school just a few hours earlier, bidding goodbye before returning to your respective houses. However, just an hour ago his quiet reading was disrupted by frantic pounding on the front door. He had opened it to your tear-stained face. 

“How could they instill in me a passion for all my life, but when I want to continue with it as a career, they do their damnedest to snuff it out?” You were furiously wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. 

Oh, so that’s what happened. Alhaitham had already seen this coming, knowing how your parents were, it was predictable. They had valid reasons for not wanting their daughter to pursue such a career path.

You still had stage fright, constantly telling him to not look at you when you played. How would you make a living like this? He analyzed the statistics and figures before he comes to his own conclusion. 

There was no reason that you couldn’t balance a stable career with your passion for piano. In Sumeru, they had one of the most progressive work cultures of all of Teyvat. There were generous amounts of paid time off, sick days, and reasonable hours. You had more than enough time for music.

He decides to share his conclusion with you. 

“Music should stay a hobby. Even graduates from the most prestigious music universities aren’t guaranteed a career. To be frank, it’s better if you pursue a degree that leads to a steadfast position. Of course, be firm in your boundaries so that you can have the time for piano.” 

The room fell silent, your wide eyes stared into his calm teal ones. A heavy hush hung in the air as the grandfather clock continued to tick away, until it rang, signaling the change in the air. After the last resonance of its chime faded, you let out a laugh, but there was no joy in your voice. 

“Of course… Why did I think you’d be different? This is why they love you.” Your tone was dry as your shoulders shook, eyes now trained on the floor. 

“Look at Alhaitham, what a level-headed guy he is, you should learn from him. Look at his grades, why can’t you be top of the class? He’s so talented and good at everything, what can you do? Why can’t you be more like Alhaitham?” You spat out his name as if it was poisonous. 

“Comparison is the thief of joy, you shouldn’t-” Alhaitham needed to de-escalate this crescendo.

“If only you were born their son… Then I wouldn’t have suffered.” More tears fell from your eyes as you stumbled off the couch. 

“I hate you, Alhaitham. I hate you for ruining my life.” 

Alhaitham once believed that words, which have no physical form, couldn’t hurt him. The stab in his chest from an unseen force dismissed that notion.

Your burning eyes reconnected with his gaze. He knew that look, he’s seen it many times. Jealousy, anger, and hatred. They were familiar emotions that others cast his way, yet he found himself taken aback. You’ve never looked at him like this before… Have you? 

Before he could utter another word, you stormed off. All the young man could do was watch the back of your figure as it disappeared from sight. 

–

There was a firm frown now on Alhaitham’s lips and a furrow between his brows. He wanted this horrible play to end, for his brain to stop showing him events that have already passed. It’s always one’s own mind that can show the most cruelty to itself. 

–

It’s been a month since you’ve last spoken to him. Taking long about ways to school so as to avoid crossing paths with him, your lunches were spent locked in private practice rooms.

Young Alhaitham had a whole month to analyze and reanalyze at which moment everything fell apart. After much deliberation, he concluded that he made a miscalculation. He overstepped his boundaries. 

In the end, it was your life, you should be the one to decide how you will live it. His unsolicited suggestion was wholly unnecessary. He knew an apology was needed.

However, he could read from your actions that you weren’t ready to talk to him just yet. It wouldn’t be wise to approach you, lest you look at him again with those eyes. That’s fine, he can wait until you came to him. Alhaitham bided his time with more books. Was reading without music always this lonely? 

It was the day of your graduation. From within the sea of celebratory gowns and cheering students, teal eyes honed in on your figure. You were intentionally avoiding his gaze, instead going to congratulate and talk to fellow musicians and classmates. His hand balled up into a fist before he unclenched it. It’s fine, you need more time, and he’ll respect that.

It’s the least he could do. Either way, the two of you had the whole Summer to make up before university started. 

Another miscalculation on his part. 

Alhaitham recalls the panicked ringing of his doorbell, but instead of you, the door opened to reveal your parents. You were gone. Your phone was left behind, important documents missing from filing cabinets, and a bag full of belongings gone. You’ve vanished, the only explanation they got was a note: 

“Don’t Bother Me”. 

You’ve already become a legal adult, how could the Matra have any justification to drag you back? 

That whole hellish Sumeru Summer Alhaitham read at the nook located by the front door. For that whole Summer, the young man answered any number that flashed on his screen. He knew that you had limited money, after your pitiful savings dried up you were bound to return. If not to your house, then at least to this haven.

Your voice was never on the other side. 

Laughably, it took the prodigy Alhaitham an entire Summer to finally come to terms with the facts of the matter. The songbird had left its tarnished cage, and it will never return. He started university without you by his side.

–

Grey lashes fluttered open as the play finally ends. Memories that once looped like a broken record in his mind. With time this memory became a softer hum to his thoughts. An earworm that burrowed deep within so as to remind him of his past shortcomings. 

Yes, his past mistakes made him aware of his limited human vision. That he did in fact not know everything. The series of errors that strayed you away from him. Humans weren’t books, they’re not as easy to decipher as scripts on a page. The growing pains of maturing. A lesson he has learned well.  

Once was an accident, twice is a coincidence, and the third time… a chance. Alhaitham doesn’t believe in gods or fate, but he does believe in opportunity.

Teal eyes made their way to the CD left on top of a polished ivory top. This time, he shall turn around and chase after the ghost, to return to her what was rightfully hers. 

If these occurrences were bound to happen more often, then it’s best for you to catch up with the seven-year backlog of information. Of course, instead of consulting the primary source for the much-needed answers, you turned to a secondary source instead. You are nothing, if not a coward.

Hence why on this warm Thursday night you were out at the local bar, wallet getting emptied by the blond slumped next to you. 

“Ugh, that man was a tyrant. Leaving books everywhere, letting dust just pile up, and every other sentence had to be a snide remark.” Kaveh finishes another glass, another cry from your wallet. 

You were still nursing your second glass while Kaveh’s got a scarlet glow already. A part of you regrets inviting your hall neighbor out, but you appreciated the wealth of information he spilled out once a drop of liquor hit his tongue. 

Currently, Alhaitham is employed at the top company in Sumeru city. he’s the secretary but quickly raising up the ranks. He also owns his own house in a rich suburb, one he used to share with the drunk man beside you, but now it only houses himself. 

“Not only that but every week like clockwork that apathetic bastard would bring home the ugliest furniture. He once brought home an old piano. It took up so much space and clashed against the dark wood of the house! He wouldn’t even try to arrange them, he messed up the feng shui! He can’t even play! What was it for then?!” 

Ah, you can see why the architect was willing to move into the lackluster apartment, he was desperate the spare his blood pressure. You don’t blame him, in fact hearing about your former friend’s spending habits brought a sour aftertaste to your wine.

Oh, how nice it must be to have such financial freedom. 

“Then whenever I make a polite suggestion that he try to consider aesthetics, his response? ‘It is my life, my house, and my money. Suggestions from others are irrelevant and should be ignored. I’m guessing such philosophies are difficult to uphold for designers who must bend to their client’s will.’ Can you believe how insufferable he is?”  

“Hypocrite.” That word rolled bitterly off your tongue, a past dialogue resurfacing from the back of your mind. 

The blond’s hazy eyes peered at your inquisitively. Then his drunken mind sparks a thought: Why were you asking about Alhaitham? He also remembers that he had unanswered questions as well. 

“By the way, what is your relation to that detached man?”

“Just a nobody who got compared to his brilliance.” 

That doesn’t satisfy his question at all. 

“Not this game again. Seriously, just what went down between the two of-”

“For a person who prides himself on his empathy, you sure are oblivious to the discomfort you’re causing. Prying for details that don’t concern you.” A deep voice from behind made your skin prickle. 

Why was he here?

You didn’t need to look to feel the heavy weight of his teal eyes, boring holes into your stiff frame. The wine tasted awful now. It’s rude to ditch the guest that you had invited out, but you needed to get out of here before bile begins to taint your palette. 

Quickly signaling for the tab, you didn’t even comprehend the number before you slammed down a bunch of mora. 

“I’ll leave first. It was nice drinking with you, Kaveh. Let’s do this again sometime.” An excuse and lie. 

“Hey, wait-” The blond lifted up his hand. 

“I’ll walk you home. It’s quite dangerous this time of night around here.” Alhaitham’s body turned to follow you. Ah, he’s pointing out how shit your neighborhood was, isn’t he. 

“Oi! Stop interrupting your senior-”

Alhaitham tosses an extra handful of mora onto the table. Kaveh was nearly shaking with rage, but he couldn’t resist the temptation of another few glasses of wine.

You were taking exaggerated strides across the uneven concrete, trying to put some distance between you. However, your legs were no match for the towering man’s steps, as it wasn’t before long until he caught up. 

The clicking of your shoes and the thumps of his steps filled the tense silence. You refused to meet his gaze. But the thoughts racing through your mind needed answers, in particular, why is he haunting you now of all times? 

“Why are you here?” You punched in the code for the entrance of the complex. 

“I was looking for you. It just so happens that I spotted you through the window of the bar.” 

There was an annoyed twitch at your eyebrow. He is not aware of how creepy he sounded right now?

You swiftly pulled the heavy door open and tried to slam it behind you, to create a barrier. However, Alhaitham’s foot was just a bit faster. His tall figure continued to loom behind you as you ascended the stairs. 

“I have a reason to seek you.” 

“Oh? Then pray tell, why a young professional would follow a woman to her home.” Keys fumbling to fit into the loose door handle. 

“I took a CD. I’m no thief, and I believe that a musician should be fairly compensated for her work.” Came his flat reply. 

That’s it? You already had a terrible week at work, becoming the scapegoat for the incompetency of managers. Now, his presence was only exacerbating the negativity flowing through you. Maybe the heat of the fire hasn’t been completely forgotten. You don’t want his money, you don’t want his pity. 

For the first time, you whipped around intentionally staring straight into his teal-orange irises. You don’t need his money nor pity. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, maybe it was the mounting stress on your shoulders or a damning combination of both.

You wanted to wipe that indifferent look off his handsome face, you couldn’t stand it. 

Alhaitham’s lips parted ready to continue the transaction, only to be interrupted by the crashing of another on his. Your fingers were tangled in the collar of his shirt, wrinkling the crisp fabric. Your burning stare never left his slightly raised eyes, wanting to observe anything hint of human emotion. 

Shock? Disgust? Fury? You’d take anything over his infuriatingly stoic face. 

Instead of shoving you off like you inferred, Alhaitham slowly lowers his eyelids. Parting his lips even more as if to grant more access, allowing his tongue to dance with yours. These actions only irked you more. 

This wasn’t your first kiss with him, the first time happened while two friends were sitting by a piano, heads turning to face each other too fast. An accidental brushing of lips. It irked you that the mushy feeling from that day was currently making its grand return. 

Breaking away to allow oxygen back into your burning lungs, a thin strand of saliva trailing between. You were panting as his eyes reconnected with yours, something else was swimming behind those impartial irises. Too bad you were too impatient to decipher it, as you pulled his face back down.

Back pushing the rusty apartment door ajar. Two bodies disappeared behind the awful singing of its hinges. 

–

For once, you woke up before the screeching of your phone. The sun was just barely peeking through the blinds. A muscular arm was draped over your bare torso, sheets still a bit damp from sweat. You knew that smell currently suffocating you in the room. You just slept with your former friend. 

Your hand itched to slap your face. Idiot, you avoided him for all this time just to welcome him into your bed. 

Stealthily shimming your body out of bed, you could feel the slight wobble of your legs. Of course, he’s good at sex, he’s good at everything. You cast a quick glance at his slumbering form. Teal eyes were still hidden behind closed lids. Good, he’s not awake.

Like a thief in your own home, you toed around the clothes scattered across the floor, careful to avoid the creaky wooden planks you’ve memorized. 

Swiftly grabbing a random assortment of items out of your closet, you deemed the outfit professional enough for work. Trying to glide across the cluttered apartment like a ghost, you put on your heels, ready for the walk of shame away from your apartment. At least your gym membership will see some use now, a shower would be great to wash the shame and guilt off. 

It’s not like you had anything worth stealing. Grabbing your bag off the table, you exited the scene of the crime. Hinges announcing your departure.

If the you from a few months ago saw what the reunion of friends had morphed into, she’d probably keel over in shock. Can you even call yourselves friends anymore?

The next Saturday following that incident, you had finished up another gig at Lambad’s Tavern. An all too familiar face made his way up to the piano. Browsing through the selection of CDs you still had on display. 

“I’ll take this one.” Alhaitham held the smooth plastic in one hand, as his other reached for his wallet. 

You gestured for him to stop. Crossing your arms in front of your body as if soothing your nerves. Pride still too great to accept his money, a resource he seems to have in excess. Just earlier in the day, after reaching the second round in the audition, the proctor thanked you for your time and lead you to the exit. Another failed attempt to join an orchestra.

You knew that returning to your cramped abode will only lead you to wallow in misery with a cheap bottle of liquor. 

“You can come over. I’ll take it as compensation.” 

How would you define this relationship? Friends with benefits? But the two of you were ex-friends, so that wouldn’t really make sense. Regardless, you knew what you wanted. To forget the sting of failure through pleasure. You turned your head to face him, awaiting his reply. An attentive stare was the silent confirmation you needed. 

Does he think you’re easy or desperate? You didn’t particularly care for his opinion anymore. Alhaitham was currently kneeling by the side of your mused bed, he was here to ‘compensate’ you, and compensate he will. Your thighs were firmly held in his large hands, spreading them apart granting him access to the honeypot he seeks. 

His hot tongue lapped at your slick folds, parting the labia and collecting your slick. Making sure to end the journey with a small flick to the little nub on top, before the wet muscle traveled back down. The noise was sinfully melodic. Your legs were straining against his hold, instinctively wanting to close in on his face, but his strength far surpasses yours. So instead, you pressed your lips into the back of your hand. Denying him the privilege to hear your moans.

This must’ve displeased him greatly, as the next thing you knew he broke from his steady tempo, and his soft lips enclosed around your sensitive clit. Alhaitham’s tongue was now accompanied by the suction of his mouth, torturing your poor little bundle. Slurping and sloppy wet flicks bounced off the thin walls. Hot flashes shot up your legs as your toes curled, a moan was fighting its way past your teeth. 

He changed his pace once more. Now intertwining deep laps of your leaking hole with the overwhelming attention on your now swollen clit. Your honey was dripping down his chin as he continued his efforts. Your legs were trembling now, unable to give any resistance against his domineering hold. Thus, allowing him to slip one hand between, two long fingers stretching out your gummy walls. Prodding their way through the tight warm hole, mapping out their way to that special spongey patch. 

Your teeth wouldn’t hold back the moan any longer. Back arching off the messy sheets, the internal and external pleasure created a maddening duo, pushing your sanity off the edge. Your vision when white was your body shook, nonsense babbling out of your lips. Alhaitham gave your pulsing clit a few more slick licks before pressing a sweet kiss against it. 

His towering frame got up from the floor to loom over your recovering body. Teal eyes observing every twitch and shiver of your sloppy face. Soon his face descended closer, this time you were the quick one. Snapping your head to the side. Denying him a kiss, lest those mushy emotions bubble up during this moment. Alhaitham stills, he says nothing, just letting his warm breath fan across your face. 

He got the message. Pulling away to give space between your lips, he searches his back pocket for a condom. Even with your bodies connected. There was still a line deeply etched into the sand, separating the two of you.  

–

Once again you woke up before him. Once again you slipped out of his embrace. Ocne more his arms gave no protest. Another journey to the gym. 

One time turned into two times, two times turned into… you lost count at this point. However, it would simply be a waste of time to think too deeply about it. It’s Alhaitham after all, that man would never bother with activities that waste his time. If it doesn’t serve to benefit in any way, he’d be the first to drop it, what an objective guy he is. 

The two of you were still young professionals with a lot of steam to let off. A familiar face of convenience to destress and feel the wisp of comfort from another warm body in this cold world. This is what’s become of the pile of ashes from a once beautiful bridge.

The back of your head hit against the brick wall supporting your body. Another rejection, this time you made it all the way to the semi-finals. Alas, from behind a curtain, the panel of judges deemed you unworthy of playing in their esteemed orchestra. Your aching fingers dug into your palms, hoping that the pain would distract from the burning sting welling up in your eyes.

The pursuit of knowledge and the pursuit of dreams were more similar to each other than what great scholars of the nation of wisdom cared to admit.

They were the shining light that broke through the murky uncertainly of life, beckoning stray souls towards them. Those lost in the labyrinth of reality desperately seek to walk the path illuminated by their glow. 

In the end, knowledge and dreams were like the sun’s warm rays shining through the leaves of a tree. No matter how many times your hands reach for and grab, you can never hold them.  

The multiple part-time jobs you juggled between your college courses taught you the most valuable lesson no lecture ever could: Dreams cost money, and so did rent, and so did food, and so did utilities. 

Scornfully, you had to tack on extra courses to your piano major, a witless minor in business administration. It stings your pride to this day to attribute your current steady stream of income to that last-minute academic decision. 

It stung because, in the end, Alhaitham’s prediction was correct. Regardless of if one was a natural or artificial prodigy like you. Even the brightest and most dedicated musicians aren’t guaranteed a career, degree or not. Perhaps, this truth that you’ve come to terms with was the water that smothered the flame of anger. Leaving behind the defeated wisps of regret and embarrassment. 

Of course Alhaitham was right, he always is. 

There was a chime from the store door opening up beside you. A certain ashen-haired man walked out with a bouquet of Sumeru roses in hand. ‘Speak of the devil, and he doth appear’.

You quickly adverted your gaze, but it was useless as he had already taken note of your presence. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Deciding to take control of the conversation before anything starts. 

“I don’t have a show tonight.” Referring to the bouquet in his hands. 

“I’m aware. I was going to visit my grandmother today.” His deep voice drummed. 

Oh. You wanted the archons to strike you down at this very moment. Stupid, why did you assume such things? There’s nothing but a tightrope formed by virtue of convenience connecting your paths. Just what were you hoping for? Your cheeks were now burning with shame. 

“Would you like to come with me?” His calm tone beckons you out of your thoughts. 

At this rate, how could you refuse? Perhaps it was due to the surmounting weight of guilt and embarrassment. But a part of you also knows it’s because you missed her. So you followed Alhaitham to his car, buckling yourself in and opening your arms, offering to carry the flowers. The car ride was silent the whole time. 

Alhaitham’s grandmother always looked at you with those tender warm eyes of hers. Extending out a warm hand to comb through your locks in exchange for every song you’d play for her. She was the only voice that offered your impoverished heart any words of encouragement.

Words that brought an inkling of warmth from the icy stares of your parents. 

–

The final note echoed throughout the common area of the hospital. Applause could be heard from the few patients attending your impromptu concert. However, your attention was focused all on the soft smile of the frail woman in the wheelchair beside you. Her thin, wrinkled hands clapped together. 

Jokingly you gave a dramatic bow from your sitting position at the piano bench, earning a gentle chuckle from her. 

“Oh, what a lovely performance by the loveliest girl.” A hand reached out towards you. 

You swiftly bowed your head under her palm, allowing her fingers to rest against your scalp. Gently she began to stroke your head, making a wide smile stretch your cheeks. Your heart’s weekly dose of encouragement. However, this tender moment was broken by the vibrations of your phone. Your eyes quickly scanned the name of the caller. 

Oh, it was your tutor, you skipped your lessons once more in favor of visiting the Bimarstan. 

The woman beside you takes note of this and lets out a huff. 

“You’re already plenty smart. I don’t understand why your parents insist on such endeavors.” 

You didn’t have the heart to tell her the hours of tutoring and cram schools you sandwiched between your demanding schedule was due to the idolization of her grandson. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t his. 

It was yours, for not being to stand on equal footing with the prodigy Alhaitham. You pressed your lips sealed. This detail didn’t escape her aging eyes. She shifted her attention to the sheet music propped up on the stand. 

“Do you know the story behind Overture to Mozart's Marriage of Figaro?”

You tilted your head to the side, you’ve never researched any piece in depth before. Reading your answer from this action, the old lady continued. 

“It was written for quite a famous play. A story and message that caused waves through society at the time. A story about servants rebelling against their masters, taking fate into their own hands.” Her warm eyes gave you a knowing look. 

“That is why it’s my favorite song from Mozart.”

“Oh? Then I’ll play it for you again. As many times as you want.” The smile returned to your face. 

You never thought that the next time you’d ever play that song would be at her funeral. Fellow professors and colleagues dressed in black filled the room of the wake, paying their respects to her and their condolences to the young man beside you.

What an awful transition into adulthood Alhaitham had. 

Tears streamed down your face, dripping onto the marble floor. Peering at the face of your dearest friend, his cheeks were dry. 

By the time the sky began to turn its brilliant pink and orange hues, the attendees had all funneled out of the room. Your parents were the first ones to leave, but you stayed firmly by Alhaitham’s side. It was only you, him, and the casket in the room now. 

She wanted a private burial, thus the staff informed you that they’ll begin the process soon. However, before they did, you wanted to play her favorite song one last time. Your send-off for her. 

Sitting down at the sleek black piano provided by the funeral home, you took a deep breath. Alhaitham takes his place next to you on the bench, with his back facing the piano you couldn’t see his face. 

The bright tones of this joyful song resounding through the room harshly contrasted the somber mood. But you continued playing regardless, fingers never skipping a note nor compromising the tempo. 

Alhaitham’s head found its way on your shoulder, the weight slightly interfering with your range of motion. However, you didn’t say anything and never stopped playing. The bright melody comforting two grieving souls. 

–

The last memories you had of her resurfacing as he places the flowers down at her grave. The tombstone is still as clean and polished as the day it was inlaid into the ground. A testament to the diligence of her grandson, the only family she left behind.

Today was the first time the day didn’t end with a trip to your bed. The mood was inappropriate for such things. 

Just two souls quietly reminiscing about the things that are now gone. As it was, it shall never be again. 

If his colleagues were to ever discover the current predicament the raising secretary of the company was in, they’d either dismiss it or laugh at him. How unthinkable. The phlegmatic man whose hands always held the reins of control, reduced to such a complacent fool? The desert would freeze over before any of them would ever believe such a thing. 

However, Alhaitham didn’t need to justify his actions to anyone. The ashen-haired man already knew the reason behind his actions. He’s known for quite a while now. He holds his convictions firmly and will walk through hell with them.

–

Sitting down in a private study room provided by the university, a senior was currently wallowing in an irrelevant emotion. Alhaihtam knows the name, it’s grief.

Of course, it’s depressing to lose a familiar face, a person who stood by your side throughout your developmental years. However, you were still alive. Why is he grieving over a person who’s still healthy and breathing? Questions unrelated to his thesis plagued his thoughts as his paper remained untouched on the desk.

Teal irises scan the stack of books he had piled to the side. Perhaps he should review some of the material to refresh his mind about his thesis on the consequences of unrecorded words.

Picking a random psychology journal from the mound, this book could hold the answers to why his thoughts are redundant. Alhaitham began his quest for an epiphany.

The student’s experienced eyes scanned through the text, noting details that could potentially support his points. It’s not a surprise that psychology and etymology go hand in hand, after all, words were born out of human thought and the need to communicate them.

This journal was only scratching at the ceiling that prevented him from crossing into the territory of true understanding. It frustrated him. 

Disdainfully scrutinizing the text further, running through each passage over and over, until he finally reads the first line of the final page:

“Psychology as a science has its limitations, and, as the logical consequence of theology is mysticism, so the ultimate consequence of psychology is love.”

The student finally closes the covers of the book, it had served its purpose.

No matter how many times his thoughts circled back, searching for correlations and different conclusions from figurative pinpoints. Alhaitham knew in the end, they were all just excuses. 

Love is illogical by nature, an unexplainable consequence of human thought. A fever which comes and goes independently of the will. Maybe, the true explanation of love has been lost to time, the unwritten words that belonged in the spaces between the script printed in preserved texts. 

So Alhaitham will understand his limits now. It matters not if he understands the origins of love or language or words. All that mattered to him is that he understands now: He was in love. A diagnosis and truth that came years too late. With this revelation quelling his thoughts, he finished his thesis. 

Acceptance, the last stage of grief. 

–

‘This is unhealthy’ a voice in his mind chastised. Alhaitham didn’t feel the need to defend his current actions, because the voice was right. This is unhealthy. Teal eyes concealed the running thoughts in his head, watching the raising and falling of your chest.

After all these years you reappeared in front of him. The ashen-haired man knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Even though it was made from a rope of thorns, he still grabbed onto it. 

For now, he shall set aside his pride, his hubris. Sex was the only time you would willingly approach him. Alhaitham was more than willing to exchange his body for the privilege of being close to you once more. A fair trade in his mind. 

‘If you love something set it free. If it comes back it's yours. If not, it was never meant to be.’

The stoic man is sure the saying would disagree with his tampering. Like setting a songbird free, only to lure it back into his hands with the irresistible treat of pleasure. It was all he could do. Alhaitham knew that cruelly grasping at the songbird will only snap the fragile tightrope that connected your paths. 

After all, you had fled the hated cage of your childhood home the moment the door was left open. He already decided he won’t do that to you. 

Instead, he’ll keep holding out his hand, palms wide open, waiting for you to come back to taste the pleasure he offers you time after time again.

You were laying on his chest, sleep drenched every fiber of your being, heart vibrating steadily against his own. 

It’s a paradox, how can your body be so close but your heart still so far away? 

The desire for sleep outweighed his lust for answers. Or it could be that he already knew, he was just delaying the thought for the morning. His heavy lids closed.

When they open again in the morning, he knows they’ll be greeted by the sight of an empty bed. He knows the sheets that hold your lingering scent will be cold. He knows he will be left alone in your apartment.

Alhaitham knows, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

The Sumeru Grand Orchestra, the golden ticket for any musician. Status, recognition, and generous paychecks. When the auditions were first announced you were one of the first to jump at the opportunity, and so did everyone else, flooding the application sites, but you were able to secure a number: 211. 

Weeks in advance on a muted keyboard you practiced every classical piece you could, sharpening your sightreading senses. You were led into the waiting room with all the other aspiring musicians, it was now a game of survival. 

You made it to the final round. It’s been five hours since you last left the palatial concert hall where the auditions were held. The one cramped room was now a motionless void, mutterings of prayers to any archon that would listen whispered through the thick air. 

“Number 211.” 

You were the lamb up for slaughter. The audition piece that was placed into your hand half an hour ago crumbled under the force of your tense grip. The proctor closed the door behind you, stealing off your path of escape as they led you through the labyrinth. At the end of the tunnel, you were greeted by the harsh stage lights glaring off the grand piano. 

The curtains that once shielded you from the captious glares of the judges were gone. All of you laid out clearly on the stage. Your fate is balanced on the tips of their immaculate pens. The minuscule tremble of your hands couldn’t escape their hawk eyes.

Chin up and shoulders back, you strolled across the polished wooden planks, settling down at the matte black piano, it was like staring into the abyss. 

Taking a deep breath, you signaled the start. Fingers danced along the ivory keys in accordance with the notes memorized. This stanza was from Meditation from Thais, the hypnotic theme filling the empty concert hall.

It’s been a while since you hear your own playing resounded out through such a place. However, this was a turning point a chance to take fate into your own hands. 

To once again stand under the warm lights and bow to an audience enamored by your music. For the songbird to fly free from it’s grey sterile cubical. 

“Stop.” A cold voice struck the fragile wings of a bird in flight. 

You did as you were ordered, even before your mind even registered the words. Oh no, you weren’t finished, you didn’t get to complete this round. 

“Number 211 is disqualified. The playing is soulless, empty notes that just echo off the walls.” 

–

Soulless. Huh, you’ve never been told that before. Raindrops landed into your unblinking eyes as they observed the darkening sky. Was nature taking pity on you too? Crying for you when your tear ducts were still frozen in shock? You let the cold droplets trail down your cheek. Around you, the crowd dressed in suits and ties walked passed the scene of a death.

The death of your dreams. 

You used up one of your precious sick days to attend this audition, but now it might no longer be just an excuse. You couldn’t feel anything but the sharp shards of shattered hope gouging into your back. Staring up at the gray sky from the deep, cold well of your misery.

When did this happen? When did the bright fire fizzle out? When did your passion die?

A sorry excuse of a laugh slipped out. No, it might be accurate to say that there was never a passion in the first place, something nonexistent cannot die. Something nonexistent cannot be created even if the haze of a fever dream might say otherwise. Now that the rain had washed away that haze, you could now clearly see the void. 

Did you really like the piano? Or was it a lie engrained into your flesh by stern hands? 

Maybe the judges were right, your playing was soulless, pieces only ever practiced for technical perfection. Talent meticulously crafted by grueling long hours. Fingers that separated your beating heart from the inanimate black and white keys. In the end, you were an artificial prodigy, with an artificial passion that quickly denigrated under the droplets of calm rain. 

“You’re soaked.” A baritone voice resounded behind you as a warm jacket was placed over your shoulders. 

Alhaitham had just gotten off the clock, exiting the grand sliding doors only to spot your listless figure standing as an obstacle for the weaving crowd of the city. However, you kept staring at the dull sky, uncaring about how your wet clothes clung to your shivering figure. You didn’t even seem to perceive his words. 

“You’re going to get sick.” Two warm hands placed themselves upon your shoulders, guiding your body to a secluded area, away from the crowd and rain. 

This motion jostled your eyes, allowing them to read the company name proudly displayed on the front of the towering skyscraper. Was this the future you had gambled away for a false path shown to you by a dream? A steady job, good savings benefits, and prospective increases in income. All the chips you had pushed into the center of the table as you drew dud cards. 

You shifted your eyes away from the imposing letters and connected with teal-orange irises. Was his mask of indifference hiding his smug satisfaction that his prediction was correct? Was he holding back an ‘I told you so’? The bitter whispers of a green-eyed devil tickled against the shell of your ear. 

“Come, I’ll drive you home.” 

No, you can’t go back to your abysmal apartment. You couldn’t even stomach the thought of seeing the sight of your reality. The messy bedroom, the music sheets scattered all across the cluttered living room, the mocking keyboard pressed up against a corner. If you were to step foot back in there, you’ll disappear under the murky waters in the ocean called ‘regret’. 

Your trembling hands grounded themselves in the crisp button-down, crumbling the fabric against Alhaitham’s smooth skin. No words could travel past your vocal cords, throat numb to move. All you could do was shake your hang head from side to side. You could feel the ashen-haired man take a deep breath, his mind quickly forming an alternative plan. 

“Come with me.” Large hands gently untangling your fingers from his clothes. 

–

Those same gentle hands were now rubbing a fresh towel through your dripping hair, soaking up the excess water that had been trailing droplets down your skin. His house was quiet, no rumbling of car engines from the streets, no loud gurgling pipes, no thumping footsteps. Still and serene, only allowing the soft pattering of rain kissing the ground and windows.

Alhaitham hasn’t spoken a single word to you ever since he welcomed you into his home and sat you down. 

As Alhaitham continued with his efforts to warm your shivering body, all you could do was observe the spotless wooden floors. They were so polished and lustrous… just like the grandiose stage.

Something vile was creeping up your neck, slowly making its way up to the falling sanctuary of your mind. No, you needed to push it back, you needed to distract it. To buy you some time before the vileness consumes you wholly. 

Hopeless hands trailed up the toned arms of the man currently drying your hair, making his movements stop. You took this opportunity to shift your body so that it pressed against his, the dampness of your clothes transferring to his. Ah, it must be uncomfortable for him. 

Clumsily, you began to undo the neat buttons of his button-down, only for your hands to be enclosed within a delicate grip. You could feel the weight of his condemnatory gaze upon you, teal eyes observing your movements as if he was calculating his next move. 

There wasn’t any time for contemplation. The bitter bile thoughts were quickly encroaching on their destination. With your hands immobilized you used your mouth instead, nuzzling into the skin that peeked through the unopened portion.

You could feel the small shiver of his warm body reacting to your cold cheek. Alhaitham lets out a deep sigh, hot breath fanning over the top of your head. He got the message. 

Your soaked dress was pulled over your head, heavy black fabric falling to the side of the bed in which you lay now. The sheets providing your shivering body with softness and a semblance of warmth. Alhaitham presses tender kisses down the nape of your neck, stopping between the valley of your breast to push your body further up the bed.

Larger hands ran along the length of your legs, as if to warm them up with the slow friction. Your legs gave no resistance as he places one over his shoulder, lips brushing against your knee. 

You let out a small sigh, the skin-on-skin contact was just what your frozen body needed. Your body twisted further into his sheets, your other leg pressed against the back of his hip as if to spur him to hasten his pace. However, Alhaitham, being the steadfast man he is, ignored your neediness and continued to trail kisses down your soft skin. His mouth ended his journey with a slow and deep lap at your clit, causing your body to jolt. 

“Mmm.”

Your skin has thawed, every nerve now acutely aware of each slow lick his wet tongue brushed against your sensitive bud. You no longer had any pride to uphold, thus moans just freely flowed out of your mouth just as how slick dripped from your aching hole. Once more you dug your heel into him, your neglected walls yearning for attention.

This time he was merciful, running one thick finger along the slick pooling between your folds. Gathering up the dew and tracing small circles along the entrance.

A whine followed, you twisted even more along the tussled sheets, reaching a hand down to tangle into his ashen locks. Alhaitham gave you want you wanted, slowly his thick finger was welcomed into your eager walls as his tongue continued to play with your clit. Your head was thrown back, heavy pants fogging up the room in the air, lidden eyes barely anything but the back of your head. 

Another finger was soon added, stretching out your leaking hole only leaving your gummy walls craving more. A few soft kisses were pressed against your now twitching bud, before his skilled tongue took over for the final push toward nirvana. With practiced precision his fingers swiftly pressed against that spongey patch, making white flames shoot up your spine. Your quivering legs and curling toes didn’t faze Alhaitham in the slightest.

“OH!”

With a firm tug to ashen locks and one final flick to your swollen clit, your eyes meet the back of your head, a stretched moan bounced off the walls. Back arched almost painfully off the bed, Alhaitham continued the slow thrust of his soaked fingers into your contracting hole. As you rode the waves of pleasure back down, Alhaitham finally detaches his lips from your cunt, a slick trail connecting them. 

The burning between your legs didn’t stop. You needed more, legs wrapping around his muscular torso, urging him to give you more. His self-control all but turns into dust in your presence. There’s not a plausible scenario where he could ever deny you. Finally, his leaking member can have its turn. 

Fighting against the restraints of your legs, Alhaitham was able to pull the condom over his full length. Your hole jolted with joy the moment it felt his fat tip pressing up against your entrance. The slow circling before he finally sunk in, in an instant your walls clung onto every inch he pushed in, thanking him with pulsing contractions.

He sucked in a long hiss from how your warm, slick walls perfectly hugged him. You let your tongue loll out with a deep moan, legs pulling his body closer so that your arms could find purchase around his broad shoulders. 

His pace was slow and deep, warming your walls up so as to not hurt the delicate you. This greatly displeased you, evident by how your nails dug into the solid muscle of his shoulders. You need it fast, you wanted it deep, you wanted him to pound those bitter thoughts away with his thick member. Two hands clasped around your hips, snapping your body tightly against his. He’ll grant your request. 

“Ah! Ah! AH!” 

His merciless pace had your breast bouncing and incomprehensible words babbling out of your lips. Heavy cock dragging out along your grasping walls, then slamming his hips harshly against your sobbing cunt. Every punishing thrust was welcomed by your slick walls thanking him. His heavy pants fanned across your ear as he continued this ruthless speed. 

Your body was now burning, precipitation hanging heavy in the air, yet you still arched your back off the bed to chase after his warmth. Bodies entangled in a mess of limbs in an animalistic chase after pleasure and orgasm. 

The wet noises of your weeping hole welcoming him back in over and over again. In between the heavy slaps of his balls against your sloppy cunt and thick tip bullying your poor spot, you could feel the deep vibrations in his chest. 

“Look at me.” You felt him pull away just a bit so he could have a clear view of your loose face. 

You didn’t want to. Lest his searching teal eyes discover the truth of why you pulled him into bed, to give him the satisfaction. You squeezed your lids closed. The particularly deep thrust he snapped displayed his displeasure at your actions. 

“Please.” The unfamiliar words coming from his mouth made your eyes wide again. The tone is gentle. 

So, with your resolve weakened, you finally connected with his gaze. What was that look in his eyes? It was too soft to be malice, too calm to be anger, too tender to just be lust. Yet your pleasure-melted brain couldn’t process it.

 In gratitude for you granting his wish, his thumb found its way to your swollen clit, rubbing deep circles into the sensitive nerve. You pressed yourself impossibly hard against his body, walls clamping down on his thick member. 

His actions made the knot inside your stomach pull against itself taught until the treads of sanity snapped. Even though your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, all you could see was the blinding white light of cloud nine. Your walls clamped down around him like a vise, snug walls now binding his length. Alhaitham clenches his jaw, stoic face twisted in the throws of pleasure as he spills himself into the barrier deep within. 

Long fingers painting the sides of your hips red as he recomposes himself. Chest heaving from the exertion. He helps himself to a few more slow thrusts in your gummy walls, riding out his own orgasm even as his red tip teetered on the edge of pain and pleasure. Your soft thighs still entrapping his towering frame. It looks like you still haven’t come down yet. 

Alhaitham’s hand gently cupped your messy face. Your lips were off limits, so he shall kiss those bitter tears away from your eyes instead. 

Like always you woke up before Alhaitham again. However, this time you couldn’t bear to look at his face. Was this out of embarrassment, shame, or guilt? You didn’t know and didn’t care.

Unwrapping his arms from around your waist, you hobbled towards the clack lump of your dress. The fabric was still ever so slightly damp, ah, the sensation against your skin made the bitter bile restart its journey again. 

You couldn’t help the envy that bubbled up in your system as you observed the spacious halls of Alhaitham’s house. Footsteps softly tap along the polished wood floors so as not to awaken the sleeping homeowner.

Of course, he has a nice house in the most upscale neighborhood. Of course, it's located in a quiet suburb a commutable distance away from the raucous city. Of course, it has nice big windows and expensive dark wood furnishings. 

Of course. Of course. Of course. It’s because he’s Alhaitham. He’s got everything. 

Your face scrunched up as bitterness crept up from the back of your tongue. It wasn’t from the bitter waters of regret, no, it was from a certain green-eyed creature. You needed to leave this house as soon as possible before you did something foolish. 

You dug your hand into your purse for your phone, ready to call a lift back to your shabby apartment. It was all becoming too much. Just at the end of the hall, you could spot the solid oak doors that blocked off the outside world. Get out of this cage and breathe the fresh air. 

You no longer cared about the noise your steps were making, thumps echoed throughout the halls frantically carrying you toward the shiny knob. A shaky hand grasped onto the cold smooth metal, ready to twist the deadbolt free. A glimmer of white coming from the side room caught your eye, reeling it back from its tunnel vision. Your head couldn’t help but follow. 

It was a grand piano. 

His former roommate was right, the white lacquer finish on the piano contrasted harshly against the dark wood bookshelves. It really did look out of place, taking up too much space in the side library. The dark walnut wood piano seat looked odd next to it as well. 

The viridescent seat cushion looked a bit worn as if it had been sat in regularly. Still, the pearly finish that reflected the morning rays beckoned you closer, the sense of nostalgia growing stronger with each step. 

It looked exactly like your old piano, your most cherished treasure that had been plundered from you so long ago. Trembling hands ran along the glossy fallboard, not a speck of dust was found along the paths of your fingers. You caught sight of the gold lettering inscribed along the front, it was even the same brand. 

The pull of intrigue was too great, you had to know, but do you dare? Why are you lifting your hopes up so high? Have you not learned your lesson after being dropped over and over again onto the cold pavement of disappointment below? Maybe you were some type of masochist. Just like Schrodinger’s cat, you can’t confirm if those hopes were dead or alive until you opened the lid. 

A resounding creek rang out from the protesting hinges, the lacquered lid heavy as if trying to conceal the truth away from your searching eyes. But your determination beat out any old hinges, lifting the heavy top above your head. Your breathing halted. 

Property of Bookworm and Earworm

It was written clear as day on the naked wood concealed by the glossy outer casing. Clumsy letters scribbled in harsh black permanent marker. The proof of authenticity. This is your treasured piano. 

Your arm lost all strength, the heavy lid slammed down reverberating all the strings and hammers in a chaotic symphony of shock. The clashing vibrations pierced your ears, causing the ringing that was now the background music to the realization crashing down upon you. 

All this time, Alhaitham stayed himself. His unfazed individuality moved through life to the metronome of his own heart. Like a firm apple tree whose roots held the ground below him together. The fruits of his labor dropping down to satiate a heart hungry for encouragement.

The shiny red fruits were given at every meeting, in exchange for every CD and performance attended. All this time, he never once looked at you with pity nor disdain. He treasured you.

And what have you given in return? You participated in gossip behind his back. You looked at him with the same prejudice you promised to defend him from. You broke your promises to him. You lied to him. You used him, even down to his physical body to further your own self-interests. 

When did the whispers of a green-eyed monster turn you into that selfish child from the storybook? 

If your past self was there to witness the scene in front of her, she’d be appalled. She’d beat you with hatred at the torment you put her beloved friend through. Yes, she’d hate you. You hate you. You’ve never hated yourself more.

How could you do this to him? You really are your parent’s child. You never considered how the shrapnel of consequences from your actions would wound those close by. 

You couldn’t even look at the reflection staring back at you from the polished white surface, her eyes stared back at you with malice. You were a selfish traitor. 

Too self-absorbed in your own wallowing to notice the slow steps approaching from down the hallway. Alhaitham’s steps were slow as he stared at the back of your figure. Like a watcher trying not to startle a resting songbird. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes, making sure he wasn’t just looking at the afterimage of a person who had long left the house. 

A small creak was all it took for your head to snap toward his approaching figure. Eyes wide and shaking. Alhaitham made sure to stop a arms length away as he accesses the situation. It looks like you’ve discovered his small secret. A fragment of the past that he relentlessly searched for, the only time he ever asked anything of your parents. He planned to return it to you one day. 

You looked like you could collapse at any moment, so Alhaitham held out his hand, palms open and awaiting. You reached a quivering hand out, pulling back slightly a few times before finally landing. Your fingers clasped onto each other, you drew closer to his board figure until your forehead was resting against his chest. You didn’t dare look at his face.

He made no further moves. 

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry… I’m so fucking sorry.” Your mouth couldn’t stop spewing the regrets deep from your heart. 

Even though you were apologizing, you didn’t want him to forgive you. You couldn’t even forgive yourself, how could he? It would be easier if he just hated you. If he were to just say ‘I hate you’ right now with that stoic voice of his, you could die peacefully. The best end that you deserved. You could feel the wet spots forming on his shirt from your tears. 

“I won’t forgive you.” The vibrations from his deep voice were felt against you.

Four words cut into you deeper than any knife ever could. But you deserved this pain. Your bottom lip clenched tightly between your teeth, on the verge of splitting open from how hard you were biting back your cries. You didn’t deserve to cry. 

“Not until you play Overture to Mozart's Marriage of Figaro.” 

Those words halted your breathing. Like a rope that’s been thrown down the dark well you were wallowing in. Will your hands reach out and grasp onto this opportunity? Slowly you lifted your gaze up. Something behind the calm teal of his eyes was egging you on to do so, to take a hold of the lifeline thrown down from the bright sky. 

“… Of course.” You let go of him. 

Moving back over to your grand piano. Lifting the smaller section of the lid first this time placing it gently back on the larger section, allowing the music rack to appear. Setting up the notches into position, you then lifted the heavy back lid up. Placing the prop up this time so as to not put your piano through the same chaos again. 

Finally, the dustfree fallboard was lifted up, revealing the keyboards that held the faint imprints of history. You settled your self-down at the bench, your hands hesitantly reaching out only for your fingers to retract the moment your soft tips brushed against the smooth ivory. The bitter shame of failure scorching your delicate senses. 

Inhaling a deep breath, you turned to face Alhaitham reconnecting with his teal gaze as he stayed in place. A silent plead. With quiet steps, he approaches closer to the bench, the wooden protested under the added weight. Two bodys not touching, facing in opposite directions. Ah, just like a familiar scene from many years ago. 

Once more, you attempted to reach out your fingers, emboldened by the soothing body heat of the man besides you. Placing your fingers back into position, the scorning of your finger tips becoming irrelevant. Lulling you to return back into the blackness of your sanctuary of mind. Recalling the song that symbolized a period of great change, wonderful change. 

The pressed keys played their notes, the hammers inside your piano striking against the string. Ringing out the awful tones of stings that have gone out of tune from years of unuse. Even if it stung you ears and his the same, you continued to play the chipper overture. The bitter bile fizzling out like sea form, as laughter tickled the inside of your throat. 

“It sounds terrible.” You giggled honestly. 

“Mm. I’m not all that familiar with performance etiquette, but I’m certain talking during a show is bad manners.” There was no bit to his words. You couldn’t see his face, you could hear the smile. 

Two hearts now closer than previously, became the metronome for the off-key rendition of Mozart's Marriage of Figaro, accompanied by the bright giggles of the pianist and the content sigh of her audience. Outside the window, a songbird chirps to greet the beautiful sun that resurfaced after a day of rain.

He absolutely adores you, he always has. He knows that you know now. But he also knows that you weren’t ready to hear it. The weight of three small words would be enough to topple the stability of your consciousness. It wasn’t strong enough to handle them, not after the mangling hands of guilt and regret vandalized it. 

So he won’t say those three words, not yet, not until you’ve repaired your cracking foundations. Alhaitham will wait to tell you ‘I love you’. Like a patient tree standing on the hill biding its time for the return of a beloved creature. 

Fin~

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

[spiceofvy]

🐙 here. again. How about Stray Kids as sugar babies? I don't mean that they're like, broke, but like if their partner treats them so much and so often that the sugar baby sugar parent jokes speak for themselves.

Anyway, who likes what kind of gifts; such as For-maximum-eyecandy-effect, being taken to events, cool tech, treated to food, that sort of thing. ...something around those lines, I mean, you're the writer so maybe you got a cooler spin on this.

Am currently unemployed and can't treat nobody rn but I feel the itch to be a sugar parent nowdays.

Hope you knock em dead ✌️

Spoiling SKZ with gifts

cws: fluff, gender neutral reader, two sensual innuendos (hyunjin, jeongin)

Chan: Noooo don't buy him things. He is the one that wants to spoil you instead. That's like his duty in the relationship. But he will wear anything and everything you buy for him. Especially if it's skzoo merch, but only if you also get something matching for yourself or else he will get it for you. Will pout and blush when you give him something but when someone asks him about it he will proudly tell everyone that you got it for him.

Minho: Shamelessly asks for things he likes but only he is 100% percent sure that you don't mind spending money on him and actually enjoy buying him stuff. Would totally love some expensive cat toys, or those treat dispensers that cats have to activate by pressing a button or solving a puzzle. Also enjoys being taken to super fancy restaurants, but he always insists on paying for the dessert. Once send you a picture of a fancy kitchen appliance as a joke and was very shocked when you actually got it for him.

Changbin: Our rich boy makes a challenge out of it. Who can spend more money on the other? Doesn't love to go out to restaurants but likes to get luxury takeout instead. Also enjoys a lot of expensive workout gear. Sends you even more workout pics afterwards. Answers any gift of yours with one of his own. Also shares every piece of food with you that you paid for and asks you to come to the gym with him so you can see him in the new gear.

Hyunjin: Less shameless than Minho, he wont straight up ask for things but instead sometimes just sends you links to stuff he likes. Especially likes being taken out to art shows or galleries. Or full shopping trips. Always models the stuff you got him afterwards for you. Especially when it's jewelry or perfume he wears only the jewelry and the perfume. Will totally tell the other boys that you paid for it, like the proud sugar baby he is.

Jisung: Mostly asks for food. Like snacks and (imported) candy. Ask absolutely shamelessly for it. Especially at food stands, picks like every different taste and makes you try it with him. Gets super happy about the good food. Also likes to be taken out to carnivals and theme parks. Prepare to pay and wear silly headbands and pose for all the photo ops. Also always buys you something in return.

Felix: Really enjoys being treated like that. Blushes dark red when you give him something and thanks you by plastering kisses all over your face. Especially like some fancy gaming equipment or lootboxes or genshin pulls. Totally shows off his new equipment to you and brags about it towards the others. Would never directly ask for anything, except for plushies. He gives them names and then treats them like they are your children.

Seungmin: Was really shy when you started to buy things for him. But he actually enjoys being spoiled. Mostly baseball tickets and manga. Really impressed when you know a new release before him. Gets soft about those gifts and treasures them a lot. Always blushes a little when he gets something from you. Invites you out for dinner shortly after you gifted him something.

Jeongin: Really enjoys being spoiled, full maknae mode. Loves getting clothes and short vacations. But always pays you back afterwards. Models the clothes, and gets you something matching. Massage your shoulders on the beach you took him too. Surely only with the intention to spread sun protection on your shoulders and back. Don't mind his hands wandering lower, and his pretty new clothes landing on the ground.

[cuubism]

"A van Dyck," Dream drawled, dragging a light finger along the gilt frame of the painting propped on the top of one of Hob's shelves. Hob really should do something more formal with that. "Interesting thing to have in your living room, Hob."

"I tell people it's a print," Hob said, coming to stand beside him and handing him his tea.

"Oh, but it is not." There was a smirk dancing on Dream's lips, Hob knew without even looking at him directly.

"Makes sense that you'd be able to tell," he sighed.

"Of course. Just how did you come across such a thing?"

"Well, I was still mingling with the aristocracy in the early 17th century. Met some interesting people." He shrugged. "Really should have sold it when I was, well, destitute, but couldn't bear to. Managed to stash it away. One of the few things I have of that time, actually."

"I can only imagine you had more than one valuable thing in your possession over the centuries," Dream mused, sipping his tea. "Why this one?"

Oh, God. He knew, didn't he?

Hob rubbed at the back of his neck. "Reminded me of you."

Hob had never known much about art, particularly back then. He hardly would consider himself a collector and certainly not a connoisseur. But that particular portrait had caught his attention immediately for its similarity to Dream.

The likeness was, indeed, striking. His hair was longer than it had been when they'd met in 1589, sweeping over his shoulders, and his features were half-draped in shadow, but his eyes. Hob would know that haughty, intense gaze anywhere.

He'd never quite discounted the idea that it was a portrait of his stranger, except that he couldn't imagine him having the patience or cause to sit for it, or the desire to be immortalized in that way.

"It is me," said Dream.

"What? Seriously?" Hob turned to stare at him and found Dream already looking back, ethereal and lovely. There was only one lamp on in the living room, night falling around them, and it cast his face in a similar light to the portrait, soft gleaming skin and plunging darkness as backdrop, limitless shadow in his eyes. "You, allowing a portrait? You're not having me on?"

"I do not joke." Dream took a step closer to him, setting his tea aside on a table. "I suppose I must have been in good humor that day."

Hob raised both eyebrows. "Oh, uh-huh, you in good humor?"

Dream's lips ticked up in a half-smile. "It happens occasionally."

Hob leaned against the shelf, careful not to jostle the painting. "For someone who so disdains the waking world, you sure are very aware of the art scene."

Dream leaned beside him, tilting his head. "You might consider me a patron of the arts."

Hob chuckled. "A patron? Or an inspiration?" He reached out and dragged his thumb along Dream's lower lip. "Dream?"

"A lover of artists, perhaps."

"I'm sure." Hob swept a hand along his cheek, breaking up the light like he was dragging a wet brush through paint. "You look like you could have stepped right out of that painting right now. You could have stepped out of any painting."

Dream looked at him from under his lashes. "Are you calling me a work of art, Hob Gadling?"

"Always."

Then Hob kissed him, hands framing his beautiful face. Dream was like an artwork, constant in essence but changing interpretation in every new light. Hob could imagine how many people over the centuries had had a fleeting encounter with him and come away changed, just as he had.

Dream hovered near him when they parted. Hob looked over to the painting again. No mere depiction could capture Dream in all of his colors, but it really was a rather good try. Van Dyck had gotten the depth of his eyes just right.

"The Baroque period suits you," Hob told him.

"Now who knows something about art?"

"I've picked up a few things over the years. I'm in love with the world's greatest artist, after all."

Dream moved in as if to kiss him, but paused to speak against Hob's mouth. "There are other works of me out in the world, if you care to seek them out."

"Don't open that challenge because I will do it," Hob informed him, quite seriously.

"I hope so." There was a sharp gleam in Dream's eyes. Hob could only imagine what kinds of paintings might inspire that look. "I look forward to seeing what you find."

[lunisoular]

Hello!!

I wanted to ask if you had any asl brother fanfictions??

I'm literally not even close to those episodes but I've seen so many spoilers and art about them that I'm already obsessed lmao

It's totally cool if you don't have any or just don't want to share, it just seems like you would know some good one lol

Hope you have a good day! 😁

SO SORRY FOR THE LATE RESPONSE tumblr hasnt been notifying me lately

there’s so many fics i’ve gone insane over i’d be overjoyed to share !!!!!

i don’t know if u or anyone else want to avoid major spoilers, but just in case, i put a red star (*) next to those that have them 😗

light up, light up - taizi

aaah taizi has so many great fics but this is one of my favorites; u can go thru all their op works to find more i didn’t list. it’s focused around sabo and is like a role reversal. definitely teared up

a little murder never killed anybody - loserlife592

family reunion !! asl expresses their ways of affection and boggles some minds. so cute……..

a song to bring you home - taizi

canon divergence—not sure how much u’ve seen, but it’s definitely still worth the read. it’s wonderful and cute and makes me ILL

without you by my side - capisback

ace and luffy get into a small scuffle; ace figures things out eventually. brotherly love….. oh im dead on the floor it’s wonderful

fish day (it takes a village) - hyperbolicreverie

luffy drags ace and sabo to a festival. they have fun, there’s cool villager dialogue that never fails to satisfy me, and cuteness

*all for one - missmungoe

okay i have a fair amount of alternate marineford fics but damn it i am nothing if not a sucker for good endings. read if ur fine with slight spoilers lol !! good bonding moments

soft and quiet and peaceful - whirlybird70

snow day….. just some nice fluff. can never go wrong with that

where the wild things are - space_ghost_with_the_most

FRIEND GHOST HAS LOVELY FICS !! u should check them out !!! 23k words of feral jungle children asl and it’s WONDERFUL

light up the sky (with you) - whirlybird70

luffy once again drags ace and sabo to have an adventure, this time with fireworks !! + makino cameo. it’s so cute the way they’re written…. !!

bedtime rituals - poisonstain

sweet n soft sickfic…… the series is about something different, this is a flashback, so u can check out the other fics in it if u’d like !

signal lamps - cowboy_emoji

ace and luffy catch fireflies, dadan and luffy talk a bit about ace. luffys his weirdly perceptive self; dadan continues to deal with them. love <3

*take a step in mine - soccersarah01

another alternate marineford—if ur fine with spoilers, it’s good ! it takes a sec, but sweet asl reunion <3

*time moves through you - lampalot7

technically only ace and luffy but i’ve reread this one so many times. it does have both marineford and gear 5 spoilers tho, so keep that in mind if u want to avoid them. time travel, little luffy cameo, AUGH it’s all so cute

*there is thunder in our hearts / you were always gold to me - taizi

these are also both alternate marineford + the latter gear 5, sorry 🫢 i think u get the gist by now

put your faith in what you most believe in - taizi

taizi just has lovely asl fics it’s insane. sickfic, sabo worries, but they both feel better in the end <3

here in spirit - lampalot7

GHOST ASL FIC !!!!! i’ve loved it for a while, and it inspired a few aspects of my own ghost au. made me cry……. god i love ghosts

close calls (or, monkey d. dragon’s no good, very bad day) - isntitlupintic

dragon’s perspective and focuses a lot on him, but there are some sweet asl moments !!! dragon saves the day !

[ranbitteeth]

Hello! Could I request a sub!mizu/bottom!mizu x softdomGN!reader that features a nipple play smut scene with a lot of moaning please? Mizu's titties deserves all the love and praise and pleasure!!!!!! Thank you❤️

Note: Ahhh OP this should NOT have taken as long as it did. It was originally to be a modern au, frankly rather vanilla and sweet— but my interests have been seized by shibari as of late. And, guess what I’ve found? The art of “shibrai”( or Kinbaku) in Japan first originated in the Edo period. The art made itself!

So, do take this as a tribute to Mizu’s titties and also the lovely art of shibari. If it’s not to your liking, I can always write that modern version!

——————————————————————

Speak, Fetch, and…

——————————————————————

Tags: Bottom!Mizu, Submissive!Mizu, Dominant!Reader, Top!Reader, Shibari, Edging (if you squint), Light Degradation, GN! Reader, Bondage, Gag Uses, Breast/Nipple Play

——————————

A/N: Made [Reader] A rich and powerful Shibari enthusiast in this to apply settings and dynamics. Hopefully it adds a layer of kinkiness to this piece! My inbox is always welcoming requests, so feel free to drop some! Regardless, Please enjoy! ^^ <3

“You look so perfect like this.”

The words spill past your lips flowing with the adoration only heard in the prayers of the most devout monks. Mizu, the demon samurai, elusive, raging, and entirely inaccessible to all but you. There she was, the most feared bastard in all of Japan, laying on your bed, bound and panting, drooling with a gag in her mouth as a whore would in any decent brothel. Crimson red, thick and bruising knots were intricately designed to fit snugly around her body, expertly marked by your hands— deft with skill, in loving patterns tracing up and down pale skin. The body that could move like a monster, the body that has taken so many lives and maimed thousands— subdued and helpless, entirely at your mercy.

You see her cheeks redden with embarrassment at the compliment, you see her entire body shudder as goose pimples spike across her scarred skin, you see the glistening quality to her cunt that has your knees buckling with the insatiable desire to run your mouth against her core.

But all things in due time.

No, in the heart of your gaze were the two pert, round, soft mounds of skin that made up the two halves of her buxom, rising and falling as her chest heaved with pleasure. Moving in hypnotic, wave-like movements in sync with her breaths were the two lovely buds that bloomed at the tops of her petite breasts, the color of soft petals, of womanly skin. Your ropes only accentuated the shape of her body, the emphasis on her maidenhood.

“Are you feeling alright, dearest?” You croon, running your fingers along the tight patterns across her body, teasingly tugging at a select few strands that ran the texture of your ropes against her skin in a delicious friction, so much so that her head flew against your mattress as her toes curled and shook with ecstasy. Oh, and to think that this samurai had yet to be defeated in battle. What would his foes think, seeing him as a woman, crying out for pleasure as her voice cracked beneath a gag, face flushed and eyes brimming with tears. You’d barely even touched her.

“I could keep you like this forever, you know…” you begin to contemplate aloud, finally deciding to crawl towards your truest possession on your hands and knees, your warm body hovering over hers as you continued to tease at her desires and fantasies with a malicious tongue.

“You’d fit in beautifully with every display in my palace, every work of art. I could invite the most revered men and women of the nation, I’d let them see you..” Mizu moans at this, writhing with the desire to hide but unable to move. Shy. Finally, your face is aligned with the samurai’s chest. Unable to hold yourself any longer, your mouth falls against the plush skin, hungrily wrapping your wet lips around the hardened bud with a carnal desire, eagerly running the warm, slick muscle of your tongue against the buds of her roses while her entire body contorted with pleasure.

Mmmmph! , she’d say something, anything at all— but your infatuation was unending. With your opposite hand, you grope and massage the delicate, long-abused tissue, milking out the sweetest, most unheard of noises from her pretty mouth. And to think that the display beneath your face would have been mistreated and hidden away all these years behind rough, ugly binds.

You pull away from her breast with a ludicrous pop noise that communicated only filth before you moved your mouth directly over the other half, unleashing the same cruelty of your mouth. The first little bud, now swollen and wet with spit, was pinched in between your thumb and forefinger, the suddenness and crassness of the action making Mizu grunt and buck her hips with want. As a punishment, reward, and reminder, you gently bite down on her breast until she draws in a sharp, stuttering hiss. You groan against the firm, supple skin of her breast before you pull away to take in the sight you created, the ropes binding around and in between her breasts, accentuating their shape— the swollen, reddened bud of her nipples, slick and shining with spit, all because of you.

Your eyes finally move from her chest to her face, soaking in that flushed, almost embarrassed expression she held in her usual sharp features.

“You want it off, fighter?” You ask teasingly before you quickly move to dispose of the gag in her mouth. She’s earned it, after all, being so good beneath you.

By the time it leaves her mouth, the cloth is wet and heavy with drool and Mizu is gasping for air, chest shuddering as she desperately forces her body to catch up with the racing thoughts in her mind. It’s even better like this, you think, seeing Mizu grit her teeth, bite her lips, and grunt in all attempts to keep her dignity and not moan like the whore you knew she was. These thoughts enrich your psyche like opium, and your hands absently find their way to each breast as you straddle her hips. You are comfortable like this, and Mizu is entirely at your mercy.

“Can you imagine your enemies seeing you like this?” You ask lightly, your hands trailing down from her breasts to the smooth dip in her waist, subtle and firm. “The damned, all powerful, blue-eyed half-breed; moaning in my chambers in my palace...”

“(N-Name…)” she tries to grunt, though it escapes her lips as a whimper. She’s embarrassed, humiliated— in any other context you would have backed away and apologized— but you felt her pussy against your skin, you felt the positively soaking quality of her privates against your sheets. She loved this.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” you say knowingly, making those dazzling blue eyes flutter and turn away from you in shame. This calms her, in a way. Words now seem on the verge of leaving her mouth, though shyness, or perhaps embarrassment bids her silent.

“What do you need, dearest? Go ahead, don’t be scared.” You say, encouraging, one hand now abandoning the possessive hold around her waist to gently cradle her cheek. Unable to keep herself from doing so, she leans into the touch, relaxing.

“Water…” she rasps, and your thumb gently runs along her upper cheek.

Easily, you reach over for a chalice filled to the brim with water, gently ushering her head higher before bringing the rim to her lips as you watched her lips drink up the water.

“Just like that, good job…” you hum, making her relax and sigh beneath you. Finally, she’s had enough, almost having drank the cup empty before you put it aside, now facing her seriously.

“If it ever comes to be too much, use the signal. Understand?” You ask as you adjust Mizu’s legs to sit around either side of your hips, bringing yourself closer until your nakedness was flush with her own. She nods affirmative like the good pet she was, going as far as to spread her legs further to grant you better access, an action that made something molten and possessive coil in your chest and gut. No one else in the world would ever see Mizu like this, pliant, shy, and oh so pretty. The sight of those eyes submissive and watery, those cheeks flushed red and those lips bitten to Hell and back were yours and yours alone.

Your hands move down south before you could stop them, swift and eager as one hand pinned Mizu’s left thigh open and against the cushion while your dominant hand pushed two fingers into her gushing warmth, making her grunt and squirm against her bonds. You laugh something genuine as you feel the sheer quality of her arousal on your hands, pulling away just to show her the arousal that has already coating your palm.

“Look at yourself,” you say, eyes blown and voice rushing with warmth. Before Mizu could fix her lips to say anything, you bring your soaked fingers up to your mouth and place them over your tongue, making Mizu gasp in shock at your actions. Mizu’s wetness floods your tastebuds, makes you groan into your hand before you eagerly continue your efforts of working her open and relaxed. To be used, to be worshiped, to be claimed. You shudder at the thought, easily thrusting your fingers in and out of her while she gasps and moans your name like a prayer. A chant, a hymn. [Name! Name! Name!] for all of Japan to hear in answer to the question of who she belonged to.

“K-keep going! Don’t stop! Don’t…s-stop…!” she whined, almost demanding as her cries rise from the depths of her belly in guttural moans— as if she were in battle. Your fingers slow down, caressing her insides in slow, deliberate, cruel swipes of fingers while your thumb circled her clit.

“Is that anyway to ask for anything?” You scold, pushing your thumb against that swollen little bundle of nerves until she hissed and arches her back, leaving her body in a beautiful display of rope, power, and pleasure.

“[N-Name,] please— don’t stop…” she gasps, twitching as her orgasm inches closer and closer the longer you deny her the friction of your touch against her sweet snatch. You only stare expectantly at the near puppy-like gaze she shoots at you, and you begin to understand why people call her a dog. Good dogs listen, good dogs obey. Good dogs get their rewards.

“Beg.” You say, and she sees that your eyes are swarming with a raging storm of lust with her at sail in the dead center. Your hands only slow down to a near stop, and she could’ve sobbed at the loss. She was losing her mind, on the verge of fainting. Despite this, her hands were free, the signal in a moments reach. If she needed to stop, all she had to do was snap her finger and you’d cut her loose, rope be damned. But her hands only shook with desperation as she opened her trembling lips, voice cracking.

“Please, please…please,” she begged, voice breaking as she emphasized the final syllable, to which you easily obliged, attacking her cunt with a ferocity only shown in battle that made her cry out in shock and pleasure. It was an exquisite sight to behold, one that would forever be ingrained in your memory. Here in your bed by your hands, the strongest and bravest swordsman in all of Japan lay moaning like a whore as her orgasm washed over her body and loins in a wave of fire. Yes, she had her blade, her strength, those eyes—But you had your ropes, your tongue, and your wit.

So far, you remain completely undefeated.

[mblue-art]

Hii!! I am a huuge fan or your beautiful art, and I just want you to know that you are so amazing at what you do, and that you shouldn't ever give up, no matter how hard it gets! ^^

Cross, Epic, Lust, Killer, and everyone's rooting for you, Blue (Including me)!

(Drawings not mine, credits to the owner) Cross: U-Uhm... I-I really like the way you d-draw, B-Blue.... -////- A-And I've seen the comics you make, and uhm... th-they're r-really good...

(Aww, look at the bean blush ^^ <3)

Lust: Hello, love~ Who knew there was someone out there who drew me so good?~ Hehe~ I'm just kidding, darling, I love your art! It's soft and lovable, like me! ;) Anyways, they really are rooting for ya, Blue! Keep doing what you do because lots of people love your art!! <3

awww/// /)/////(\;; hehehe hiii thank youuu you are very nice 🥺 that's very cute of you to write 💙 hope u have a nice day, op 🫶

( 💜 💜 )

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/749333039047442432/httpsolderthannetfictumblrcompost74884185043?source=share

Sorry, long rant incoming.

Someone in the replies said it, but I think it needs to be said again where everyone can see it: I think a lot of the attitude that anon is somehow secretly pro-censorship because they think certain preferences are skeevy, and strenuously insisting that bad attitudes can NEVER be media's fault.... idk, maybe take it out of the context of debates about sexually explicit/pornographic media for a moment?

There are works of media that had pretty direct effects on activist and political movements, good and bad. Uncle Tom's Cabin inspired a lot of people to fight against slavery. The movie Birth of a Nation, which showed a history of the U.S. with the KKK as heroic, is considered by most historians to be a major contributor to the revival of the KKK in the 1920s. The Nazis used films, books, music, art, and so on in their propaganda, knowing it would help their ideas go down more easily. The Soviets did too. Every dictatorship did. Even democratic countries have done it as well, usually but not always in more subtle ways.

Do none of those count, because "oh, people who were going to be convinced by Birth of a Nation would be racist anyway"? "Good, non-racist people wouldn't be convinced by it"? I mean, the latter is true: there were plenty of people, especially black Americans but plenty of white allies too, who boycotted the film at the time. The NAACP led a boycott. But do you really think NO ONE was convinced? (What about people who previously didn't feel any way about it one way or the other? Were they just innately more evil, even if it might've just been that they weren't aware? Do supposedly progressive people in fandom realize how much this sounds like Christian original sin rhetoric...) And does it matter purely about media fully changing minds, or also how it galvanizes people who already think one way? If it gives them new talking points, new ways of thinking about it and convincing others? If it helps them believe their cause is more important and worth fighting for?

So why does this all suddenly change when we're talking about sex? Is porn really this special class of media where somehow all the rules about how we can both like things and also be critical of how media (fiction, news media, whatever) influences us - "be critical of the media you love," as a tote bag sold by Feminist Frequency said - just stop applying for some reason? Or maybe if something is bypassing your rational brain entirely and going directly for the pleasure centers, there's all the more reason to think critically about what it's saying? Propaganda is designed to bypass all that, too.

Also, if media really has NOTHING to do with it, that just wouldn't explain why it's disproportionately anime that feature these specific elements that seem to attract more people arguing for why it's wrong to be upset by rape or child exploitation in real life. I don't believe that everyone who watches slavery isekai or lolicon approves of those things irl - I think for the vast majority of people, it IS a fantasy and that's the point - but I have noticed that in places like the Anime News Network or Crunchyroll forums, the comments become a cesspool of creepy people arguing for why ages of consent should be lowered and mean feminists who don't like watching media with rape in it just need to get over themselves, in a way they just don't when you're talking about Attack on Titan or My Hero Academia or Shoujo Romance #4891 or whatever.

As another person in the notes said, abusers ARE opportunistic. They'll use something like Twilight as easily as they'll use the most uwu, soft, "non problematic" ship to argue for why they're allowed to abuse you. But I don't think that means we can't be critical (not calling for censorship, of course! but like, writing op-eds and stuff) of media that makes their arguments a little easier, maybe even directly makes their arguments for them.

You can believe both that everyone has the opportunity to read, watch, listen to, play what they want and make up their own minds about it, and that it's wrong for the government to ever decide what media is and isn't "acceptable," and also believe that media often is saying things that aren't apparent on the surface and that you should be critical of those messages, *especially* with the stuff you like.

The point is just that porn isn't like, fundamentally different from other fictional media in this way. (Or, hell, I would argue that fictional media isn't functionally different from other mass media in this way. If anything, fiction's politics are often more insidious in a way that makes it easier for them to reach people who might not otherwise be open to those messages in the form of, say, blatantly right-wing news media.)

It's particularly strange to me when people jump all over someone for expressing how something can be insidiously creepy in a more mundane way. The line people are upset about that used the word "unpack" was just making the point that even if we can agree lolicon isn't outright advocating pedophilia, even if we agree the point is that it's a fantasy and they're not like real children at all and that's what people like, it's still working within an idealization/fetishization of helplessness, innocence, and dependence, and that still has a lot that you can critique from a feminist perspective. It's still a thing that plays into some crappy societal ideas about who women are supposed to be, and is selling that to men as a romantic ideal. There's still a lot we can talk about there! And it's still totally fair for women to be wary of men where that seems to be all they're into - because for some (and I believe this was what anon was initially trying to say was their experience), it does impact how they treat real women. It doesn't have to be everyone for it to have an impact.

There's a lot of anime that presents women that way, even way outside of lolicon. A lot of it's anime I like! I'm still critical of that aspect of it. I still wish that particular part of it were different.

I still don't see how this makes me "pro censorship" unless I believe some kind of institution should mandate that that not be included. And whether that's the government, or the industry itself (people do kind of narrowly focus on "the government" in a way that would make a lot of industry-run censorship that was still very harmful, e.g. the Hollywood Hays Code, not "count"), or anyone, I very much disagree with that. Creators should be able to create what they want. A lot of what creators are doing with this is unconscious, is reflecting societal biases they learned but haven't thought deeply about.... which is precisely the point of critiquing how those show up in a work.

People love to talk about "secretly 'anti' attitudes" but at the end of the day, support or opposition to censorship is pretty straightforward. You believe someone should be stopped from making a particular kind of media, or you don't. If you don't, you're not pro-censorship, no matter how much you personally may not like that that media or a particular aspect of it exists. Most people who care about media have some media they wish didn't exist. It's about what they do about it that makes them pro or anti censorship. Talk to people who donate to or even work for the ACLU or other anti censorship groups; most of them don't like racist or sexist stuff, but they also don't believe it should be banned and that's the point.

Bringing it back to the discussion at hand, I think the point was just that you can't be blind to how power dynamics influence this stuff. I wouldn't even say specifically cishet men are at fault here, since some people who read this blog seem to think that anyone saying that is automatically talking about bioessentialism as opposed to like, societal stuff (don't ask me why, this has been explained on here enough times in enough different discourses over the years, I think). I'd just say anyone with power in that particular context. There's a reason why it's specifically mainstream media, aimed at groups in power, that tends to draw in creeps excusing the real thing... in a way that just similarly is not true of people in fanfiction fandom, who are usually a member of one or more oppressed categories, exploring that in their own marginal work. Fans of rape fanfiction just don't act the way that fans of slavery rape isekai do. It's because there is fundamentally a difference both when you're someone whom society tells you are entitled to everything you want in this particular arena, and also when a work is mainstream, broadening its reach, and speaking a particular message from the lens of people with economic and social power (who are making these mainstream works) and given approval by publishers/media studios/etc. in a way that is not the case with amateur work with tiny audiences. And, frankly, there's a difference between something that eroticizes rape from the point of view of the perpetrator vs. the victim.

Not a difference in terms of how legal it should be. Not a difference in whether every single person who watches it or likes it is bad. But a difference in terms of what it's saying, how it's saying that, and often the effects they have as a result. That, too, is true with every topic, not just sex.

I feel like a lot of people getting mad at these do fundamentally agree with this, but just have a weird blind spot when it's put in any sort of terminology that reminds them of certain bad arguments they've seen in fandom, uses any words that can be dismissed as "radfem" or "anti" or whatever, and so just refuse to engage with the actual meat of what is being said.

If you do actually believe though that it's wrong to EVER think media can have a negative effect on what people believe about irl issues, because there was always something "already there" that was going to "come out anyway" if it affects you that way (again, people: this is "original sin" rhetoric), and if you ever privately judge people for the media they like you're secretly pro-censorship. You do have to recognzie that both you personally come up short and also most peopel doing real concrete real world things to fight censorship would also come up short!

I think sometimes of an editorial that said "if you love Return of the Jedi but hated the Ewoks you understand feminist criticism" in terms of how you can be bothered by the sexism of a piece of media in a way you'd be bothered by any one individual element of it, and still overall like the whole. And also, you can be offended by something, even wish it didn't exist (don't we as nerds all have entries in some franchise we like or another that we wish didn't exist for fannish reasons?), without believing that it should be officially made to stop existing or have never existed in the first place. That last part does actaully matter as like, its own thing. It is in fact separable from just being able to have personal judgey feelings about media and about the people who liked it.

And opposing it does not mean in any way that we have to just stop thinking critically about the media we love, or that we have to act like media can never have any influence on people. We on the left tend to talk about sexism, racism, homophoia and so on as being influenced by culture and society. Well, guess what is part of society and culture? Fictional (and other kinds of) media. That's part of that societal programming we get. It's why you'll see some of it even from people whose parents very much tried to resist teaching them certain things, because they get it from media anyway. I was raised by strenuously feminist parents: it was the media that taught me what gender roles were and how I was expected to adhere to them.

--

Look, I realize it's a bit rich of me to say this, but people are not going to engage with your actual points if you cannot be more succinct.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Five

The thing is I absolutely love the album that comes out of this mess. Like I know a lot of people do not like Let It Be, but so many of my favorite songs are on it. One of them being “I Me Mine.” The walz element is haunting, and I can read the lyrics as anti-capitalist even though George himself mostly wasn’t. 

Laughing my head off at two boys from one of the best grammar schools in England, who have at this point made millions off of their writing, genuinely not knowing whether it should be “more freer” or “more freely”

The difference in how George shows Paul his new song vs John is striking. For Paul, he’s relaxed, nonchalant. For John, he stands up and performs it. And I think both are a defense mechanism, poor baby, because clearly, although Paul was very supportive of the song while they were alone, when John is roasting it, Paul just laughs along and George has to go “I don’t give a fuck whether you like it.” 

Ah, the famous “up-against-a-wall” conversation. Paul comes in all dominant and sure. “Haven’t you written anything else? Haven’t you?” But then John touches him, and makes him laugh, and Paul’s a melted, goo-goo-eyes mess. This is the real reason why John got to be the leader isn’t it? Because Paul was too damn soft on him to ever follow through with his bossiness.

Their scouse sounds BEAUTIFUL compared to the stupid ugly RP and MLH’s transatlantic shit.

“And now John’d like to say a few words on the subject.” John starts singing, Paul strums along and joins in on the “chorus.” They can’t communicate like healthy people, but they Can do this. 

So Peter Jackson took out Paul’s bitchy nod at Yoko as he’s stealing her man in real time right in front of her eyes. Unforgivable. But he kept in this adorable laugh, so that’s something. 

Three more covers that I think *mean something* “Stand By Me” and “Spinning Like a Top” by Paul, followed by “You Win Again” by John. Yoko’s sweet little shoulder kiss. Thank you for taking care of the poor wet kitten, girly. Maybe don’t introduce the poor wet kitten to heroine, but you do you, I guess. (OP recognizes that poor wet kitten is also an adult capable of making his own decisions)

The cut from Paul literally dancing to get John’s attention straight to John dancing with Yoko while inside Paul’s head a silver hammer is clanging ominously. I can’t. Followed by the knowing, loving smile from Ringo to Paul. You know, those moments when you validate your friend’s bitchy thoughts with a look. 

George is literally SO big inside himself, you know? You have to have superhuman self-love abilities to watch your friend – who is supposed to be helping you – shamelessly make fun of your art . . . and just “Do you wanna do that walz on the show? That’d be great.”

But did you guys know John was actually a really great mover?

“Yes, alright. Just sod off.” I love John. Paul’s people-pleasing ass would literally die first and he needs John to do this kind of shit for him and John’s only too happy to.

The moment when Paul and John are on the same wavelength about Dennis O’Dell’s stage. 

OK but. Did John get the clear plastic idea from Yoko’s art exhibits? 

“Any time we do anything it’s always got to be the best.” Poor Ringo. They’re all literally so tired of carrying so much weight for such a long time. 

“See, I’d watch an hour of him just playing the piano. Cause he’s so great.” With that fond, loving, smile. SUCH big dick energy here. The others could NEVER. 

“And I’ll have the plastic when you’re finished.” Literally for what, though? John, you little hoarding goblin. 

And then Ringo responding to MLH’s “I love you” with “Yes, I love you too.” Yeah, Ringo wins the prize for most healthy beatle of the day. 

*Pattie Boyd voice* “I just wish I knew what was going on there. But something. Something.”

Ugh, John looks so hurt. So tender. So heartbroken. While Paul is over there playing a damn funeral march because that’s the only way he lets himself express anything. But I actually love how Dennis O’Dell knows the clearest path to cheering John up is to say that Paul liked his idea. And how well it works. They’re literally so obvious to everyone but themselves. 

I love the bit when John walks in on the rest of them discussing the live show and MLH calls, “We’ve decided. We’re going to Africa.” And Paul hurries to cut in, “No we’re NOT.” Because he knows exactly how John can get and he’s going to nip this in the bud before John gets let down. And of course, John is all “YEAH LETS GO LETS GO!” And he’s talking about how they always wish they were recording abroad. “We could be in LA, or FRANCE.” (side eye emoji) 

Paul’s “Well said, John.” and “I’ve seen it, John. I went to the premiere. I thought you were great.” Why do all your compliments to him have to be in silly voices? Like, I know you think everyone is going to call you a pussy for saying something genuinely kind to your best friend, but they’re not, and he needs it. 

Holy shit this was a long day. See you all tomorrow with another long-winded-ass post.

[lale-txt]

❦ 𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒

Every time he lowers his eyes, a strict ‘tsk, tsk’ of yours reminds him to keep looking at you as he obediently follows your instructions, always so eager to please.

a/n: one of my fics for @op-xreader-zine ♡ i don't write Katakuri often but when i do, he gets pegged. you can see the spot art Mew drew for this on AO3 (i didn't embed it here since i'm not sure what the current rules for explicit drawings on Tumblr currently are oop but click on the link for a treat)

contains: ns.fw under the cut, Katakuri/Reader, afab!reader (no pronouns or descriptive words for reader’s genitals used), pegging, praise kink, dirty talk, fingering (reader receiving and giving), size kink, spanking

word count: 2.2k

“Mmm.” 

You let out a content sigh as you sink into the bathwater and right into your boyfriend's arms. Instantly, he wraps them around you and pulls your body closer to his. There’s been this heat between the two of you ever since Katakuri suggested staying in tonight and having a bath together instead of going out. He’s never been one to enjoy the company of many people anyway, preferring to spend his shared solitude with you instead.

One hand of his is big enough to wrap around your torso fully, holding you in a tight but not painful grip. Even if you tried, you could never wiggle out of it. Not that you wanted to—you loved when he held you like that. The sheer size of him made you feel safe and sparked a fire within your core.

Tonight isn’t any different.

“Sweet little thing… you’re squirming.”

Katakuri’s voice is low in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin and making you tremble slightly. It doesn't go unnoticed by him with the way you arch your back and rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. How your heartbeat speeds up a little when he presses his fingertips deeper into your soft flesh. Your habit of biting your bottom lip when you want to hold back your needy mewls. For him your body speaks a language of its own and Katakuri understands every syllable of it.

He rests his chin on top of your shoulder after dragging messy kisses along the side of your neck while his free hand spreads your legs under water with ease, hooking them over his knees to keep them wide open for him.

“So good for me,” he whispers and trails a finger along your slit, almost making you jump in his embrace if it wasn’t for his firm grip holding you in place. His touch is never rough, always gentle; he's well aware of his size and never wants to hurt you. But oh, could he lose himself in the way you whine and moan when he pushes one finger inside your hot core, followed quickly by a second. And when you beg for a third as your walls already twitch around him, Katakuri can’t help but grant your wish, stuffing you until your head falls back on his shoulder and you let out the sweetest sounds of pleasure.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum around his fingers, your walls fluttering them as if they never want to let him go. Katakuri keeps on pressing kisses to your jaw and the side of your neck before he removes his fingers carefully, holding you against his body as you come down from your high. You feel his gaze lingering on you, and you tilt your head up to meet his warm, crimson eyes. Every tiny wrinkle around them you know by heart, having lovingly traced them countless times with your fingertips.

Katakuri reaches for your hand and brings it to his lips, placing another soft kiss on the back of it. You hum gently and turn around in the tub so you could face him directly without cranking your neck—and maybe also because you want to take in the sight of his throbbing cock that has been pressing against your back the whole time.

“How can I make you feel good tonight?” you ask, your voice dripping with hunger as your fingertips run up the inside of his thigh, making them tremble a little. You love how sensitive he is, the slightest touch enough to turn him on. Your eyes rest on him, waiting for him to reply.

There are a few seconds of silence between the two of you–not the uncomfortable kind, the good kind–before Katakuri speaks again, his voice low and making your heart skip a beat.

“There’s something I’ve never tried before… if you’re up for it.”

It's a sight to behold.

Katakuri, leaning against the headboard of the bed, his breath hot and heavy as he keeps fisting his throbbing cock under your stern gaze. Every time he lowers his eyes, a strict ‘tsk, tsk’ of yours reminds him to keep looking at you as he obediently follows your instructions, always so eager to please.

“Spread your legs for me,” you demand as you sit opposite of him at the other end of the bed, lazily stroking the strap-on around your hips, all lubed up already. You smirk when your man does as you tell him and bends his knees further, pushing his legs apart to grant you a better view of just how deeply he desires you.

Two fingers are pushing deeply past his puckered hole, and they glide in and out of it slowly.

“Good boy,” you say in a low voice, eyes wandering from his flustered expression to his throbbing cock, a few drops of precum leaking from it as he continues stroking himself for you, his rhythm getting slightly faster whenever you praise him in a sultry voice.

“Gorgeous… Does it feel good, touching yourself like that?” you ask as you watch him add a third finger, stretching his hole further for you. Katakuri nods, his breath a bit ragged by now and a thin sheen of sweat covering his massive chest. “You wish it was my cock, filling you up…?”

He nods again and you can tell that he is close from the way his fingers clench tighter around his cock, how his thumb circles the tip of it, and how his hips jerk forward slightly as he silently begs you with his eyes to cum. You muster him up and down as his whole body shivers slightly, then you smile and grant him his wish.

“Cum for me… let me hear how good it feels…” you whisper, though your voice leaves no room for disobedience. Usually never one to be overly vocal, Katakuri cums with a whimper, fingers still gliding in and out of his stretched hole as his load lands on his stomach, leaving a sticky trail all the way down his abs to this still throbbing cock.

You don’t leave him any time to breathe.

“On all fours,” you command. “Bend over and spread your cheeks for me, can you do that?”

Seeing Katakuri this obedient, this aroused, it stirs something inside of you. When he told you earlier about his curiosity about pegging, having never tried it before, you were curious too, trying to imagine what he’d look like when he was at your mercy.

It is a sight forever burned into your memory.

His whole body is trembling, face pressed into the pillows and a blissful and fucked out expression, all the while his fingers slide in and out of his stretched hole for your eyes only… it makes you fall all over for him, the trust between the two of you only growing. You lean over him and trail kisses down his spine, mumbling words of adoration against his hot skin, making him whine quietly.

“So good for me,” you coo as your hands cup his ass cheeks, spreading them wider for a better view which has Katakuri moaning, muffled by the pillows. “Shh. Hold still–”

The sound of the bottle of lube clicking open is followed by soft pants from Katakuri when you pour the cold gel where his fingers were moments before, now replaced by two of yours, rubbing slow circles around his twitching hole. You watch your digits disappear inside of it, his ring of muscles clenching around them as you push them in and out slowly, eliciting the sweetest sounds eliciting the sweetest sounds Katakuri's throat has to offer.

“One more,” he mumbles in the pillows, his knuckles turning white when he grips the bed sheets as you add another finger, taking your time to make sure he’ll be able to take your strap with ease. With your free hand you land a sharp slap on his ass cheek, quickly followed by one on the other. His moans are getting deeper now, more needy, which makes your whole body tingle in return.

“Think you can take me…?” you ask, your own heart also beating faster at the sight beneath you. When Katakuri nods, you can’t help but smile and curl your fingers slightly against the sensitive spot inside of him, having him on the edge the whole time before you leave him empty and whining, though if only for just a few moments.

You add a generous amount of lube as you stroke the strap in your fist again, then line yourself up against him with the tip of your fake cock rubbing between his spread cheeks teasingly.

“We can stop anytime, okay?” you whisper, waiting for Katakuri to give you a sign to show that he was good to continue, before you nudge your strap against his entrance. All your gentle preparations from earlier is paid off when you see how easily he swallows you as you push in slowly.

“Sucking me in so greedily.” You smirk as you grab him by his hips, gently guiding him deeper down on your strap. “Feels good…?”

Katakuri breathes heavily as he almost loses himself in this new sensation. All words are lost with every inch you push in deeper, having him mewl and growl under your constant praise as you stretch him so deliciously. He looks so unfairly pretty like this. Part of you wants to ruin him, wants to hear him beg and cry as you fuck him into the mattress, until his eyes roll to the back of his head; another part wants to take this so painfully slow that he just cums untouched, cums without a single finger of yours wrapping around his cock to help him get off, cums from your lazy thrusts that hit his sweet spot inside so well.

Then you’re all the way inside, your hips grinding against him, your fingertips leaving faint red marks where you hold him in place as Katakuri’s whole body trembles. His heavy pants bounce off the walls of your bedroom and send warm shivers throughout your whole body. You’ve never seen him like this and you can’t get enough of the sweet sounds you’re eliciting from him.

You lean forward, a hand of yours finding his hair and gently tugging on it as you kiss down from the side of his neck to his shoulder blades, mumbling soft words of praise and affection against his sweaty skin. From the way Katakuri arches his back for you, rocking his hips back and forth slightly, you can tell that he wants more and you can’t help but laugh softly.

Still bottomed out all the way inside, you kiss his broad back a few more times before your hands wander to his sides, then all the way around his stomach until they find his throbbing and neglected cock. Your fingers of one hand wrap around it, the other around his balls; both are heavy and pulsating in your tight grip, begging for sweet release.

“You poor thing,” you coo. “Have you been holding back? Does my cock make you feel this good? Look at you, so pretty for me…”

Katakuri mewls when you give his cock a few lazy strokes, too light to get him off, yet the feeling of being so full of you is so intense it almost has him seeing stars. By now he is drooling and whimpering, the feeling of pleasure almost too much to handle, his curiosity more than satisfied.

“Will you be good and cum for me?” you whisper as you slowly start thrusting again, almost mesmerized by the way his hole stretches around your strap on. If you could, you’d watch this for hours. Your fingers wrap his cock harder, feeling it twitch underneath your touch when you rub your thumb over the pink tip.

Katakuri is a mess by now, his moans caught in his throat as he begs you to go faster, sweet pleads to let him cum. And you do—

One last thrust is all it takes to push him over the edge. You feel his whole body shake beneath you when he cums, making a mess of the sheets and everything else. His load trickles from your fingers down to your wrist as you keep milking him, lazy strokes that have him whimpering from overstimulation until you finally release him from your grip. You pull out your cock slowly, watching how his hole clenches around nothing before he slumps down on the sheets, followed by you right next to him.

He has his eyes closed in pure bliss when you brush a few strands of his crimson hair out of his face before leaning down to kiss him gently. For the moment no words are needed between the two of you, the air still radiant with the trust and love the two of you hold for each other. One arm of his comes to wrap around your waist and pulls you closer to him, so close you can feel his heart beat erratically in his chest, every drum an echo of your name.

[chocosnowflake0]

im sorry but is that narinder's cloak thing sown onto corrupted bishop! lamb's outfit?

i don't know if it's cause i have had an emotional morning but genuinely trying to hold back tears right now fuckkk, aAAaa the implicATioNsss, trying to piece the story through the design and every detail is just making me wanna cry moree why does lamb have so many cat skulls is it like an in memory/trying to keep nari's memory close or or i fhujfesihr

your art design is absolutely gorgeous op, wonderful work and as always your style is so pretty, dunno why i always love how you draw lamb's snout if that makes sense

it's very shapes/pos

hello anooon And yes! thats Nari's cream cloak, the upper part of it at least. Their cat's gone and now its time for the Lamb to keep going by themselves which... didnt go well btw. I mentioned somewhere in a post some weeks ago that the Lamb would be kinda lost without Narinder by their side and imma holdin' onto that idea. Fluffy soft thing rolling into madness once they noticed they (for some reason) are not able ot revive Nari 👀

THEYCRYHEREHEREANON /PATSPATSINTENSIFIES tysm, honey! <3 Here to gib y'all some furry floofy lamb to enjoy Also,,, sum au sketches ; )

The Fox here to give terrible advises -> corrupted Lamb starting a whole cat genocide campain thanks to him. the cats skulls are just victims trophies since skulls arent the type of bones needed for rituals -

/dissapears sorry if my english slipped somewhere, its rusty af

[yawarakaizai]

hi lovely!!

can i request a really oblivious, kinda sleepy and gentle reader with any char that you prefer? (literally any!) her personality is quite similar to chii from chobits and hachi from nana for reference! thank chuu🌷

ⵌ GOLD SATIN DREAMER, GOLD SATIN HEART

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT Jouno Saigiku (BSD) CONTENTS non-suggestive usage of 'daddy', fem pet-names, protective jouno, reader is babied but bodily an adult, crybaby reader, fluff, cuddling, nightmares NOTE You had a childlike wonder for everything in this world. You felt as free as a bird in the wild, a swan with its lover. You must dutifully wait for his return to you every day, and in his hands would always be a bouquet of only the brightest of flowers for his princess. COMPANY Gold Satin Dreamer

A/N thi s was a cute req ues t <33 i'v e actual ly never watched na na ;; !! onl y cli ps ( > ᯅ < ) !!! read er is more chii - like ,, i h ope th ats okay !!

You were something special, something out of the ordinary and peculiar. Not much made sense of you. Unreadable and always thinking, your mind felt of savouries and sweets.

The voice you kept soothing and as soft as the faux fur you huddled in for warmth on this cold winter night and you lingered at your own pace as butter melting on fresh, warm brioche.

Your clever hands skilled in the art of sewing, weaving and spinning yet there was only much you could do before your dwindling attention could move you along.

You've been in such way for as long as you can remember.

You fluttered and danced as you pleased - holding your tongue and sitting there quietly. An observer, is what you were.

There was little you found worth your time. Even littler that you found worth piquing yourself into.

You carried yourself with elegance, so much so that your movements seemed almost robotic. It wasn't something you were ever self-conscious about.

Until you'd end up upsetting someone with your distant, lost staring. Your apologies were monotone, as was everything else that you'd say. That was simply how you were.

You can not recall much of your childhood, you knew you had a mother and a father, but that was as far as your mind would remember.

Here you lay idle as Eurydice, with the tune of a lyre far off yet never out of your reach. You had everything you could ever ask for.

The howling wind left you shivering under the weighted, fuzzy blanket. You were not 'big enough' yet to figure out how to turn on the electric fireplace, even when you stomp your foot and proclaim you've grown two inches taller that week.

Your Jouno wouldn't allow you to push yourself.

He did it with good intentions in mind.

You may not notice it yourself, but your flimsiness caused Jouno great worry. See, he knew you were a big girl deep down. Just not yet big enough to do things on your own or do things alone.

When you would, you'd end up hurting yourself or almost hurting yourself.

Even if you've been alive and know you're as human as everyone else, nothing was ever able to stick with you for too long.

Forgetful, clumsy and oblivious to all dangers - your daddy worries for you.

He's argued with professionals whether you were ill or anything of the sort - yet all tests would return inconclusive. By the time he'd be explaining the details to you, your lashes were already fluttering shut with your heavy eyelids taking you away into the land of clouds.

You gaze at the dark clock hanging over the wide television hung diagonally from the bed. Jouno would be arriving home soon from work. He'd kissed you this morning and told you, " 9pm, not any sooner, not any later. "

He had also called you something sweet, but it slipped your mind.

'Darling', was it? No, it must have been 'princess'. He always calls you princess. But he uses 'baby' interchangeably too.

Like this, you'd keep yourself entertained for hours if your colouring books bored you and the dresses in your closet were too complicated to wear without daddy's help.

He didn't like when you'd rummage through things without permission.

One time, daddy had bought you makeup. Something that the big girls wear. You stacked up the cardboard boxes that daddy kept to store your princess shoes in and climbed high up to reach the shelf to find the stash of makeup.

It turns out that bold red lipstick was difficult to wipe off and also difficult to remove from white fabric.

Daddy left you kneeling in your time-out corner for what felt like hours. Your pretty tears tugging at his emotions until he caved in and ended up letting you off with a slap on the wrist.

You liked being a good girl, and he liked when you were a good girl too. In spite of his adoration of when you'd act up.

Your daddy was scary. He was cruel when you were naughty. You can't remember his punishment methods because they'd always change before you could begin to expect what is to happen.

It was getting too cold in the penthouse for you to even think of sleeping calmly. Shuddering, you counted the seconds left until you'd hear the joyous twisting of a key.

You'd snuck into daddy's room when you begun to miss him too much, hauling your favourite blanket with you but resting your face against daddy's pillow, the faint scent of him lingering on the covers.

You were a big girl, and big girls had their own rooms.

Which was an unfortunate shame that even though daddy spent so much into decorating you your own gorgeous pink room, he'd always lift his covers to find you there clinging to his waist.

He couldn't bare wake you.

As time ticked by, you found yourself waiting longer and longer. Absent-mindedly, you had begun to chew on your thumb.

Daddy had a dangerous job, daddy worked going after bad guys. But what if daddy one day slipped up and got caught? Or what if the bad guys caught up to him and killed him, and you would never, ever hear or see from daddy again.

You could feel yourself shaking but it was not from the cold anymore.

It was something that hurt your tummy and made your chest feel like an anvil had been dropped with intent to crush you against its heavy weight. Everything was loud, and scary and-

" Hey, hey, princess? "

Your felt your body be nudged left and right, a soft hold on your shoulder shaking you awake.

" Princess, It's alright. I got you, 'm here, daddy's here. "

Your foggy eyes opened barely enough to see your daddy sitting up by your side, your little night light was on and it displayed little slow, spinning stars around the room with a slow hum of an accompanying nursery rhyme to it.

It took you a while to process what was happening, but your caring daddy spoke for you.

" It was just a nightmare. It's alright, everything's fine. " His hand always remained somewhere on you. You didn't even notice that both your hands slid up from your sides to grasp around one of his. " Daddy.. " you mewled.

" Shh, shh. It's okay, such a brave girl. " He pulled you in close to him and soon enough, great shame and fear caught up to you.

Sensing your incoming tears, he swiftly sat up even further, pulling you into his lap where you'd rest the side of your face against his bare, scarred chest. You were on fire. Your increased body temperature must have woken him up, undoubtedly.

Your daddy had a gift of heightened senses. He'd lost his sight but as he tells you, it only helped him learn more.

This particular gift had the ability to charm you, care for you and embarrass you.

Oh, how you adored him.

" Mm, you weren't there. " Your thumb instinctively went to your mouth to chew, but his hand intercepted and held yours away from reaching your mouth, he said nothing about it but you knew how much he disliked your habit.

" Weren't where, princess? " He asked, rocking back and forth steadily, listening to the beating of your heart slow.

You hadn't sobbed, yet you still shed some silent tears from the nightmare. " You weren't with me, and I thought you died. "

Jouno felt he should laugh, but hearing how serious you were about it, he opted otherwise. " How cute of you, Y/N. " Softly laying back down, he kept you on his chest, reaching to throw the covers over your back.

With little words and little gestures, your daddy always knew how to cheer you up. Maybe you just did not ask for much or maybe you take into account everything daddy does for you that you aren't aware of.

He buys you clothes and toys, he takes you to see the latest movies, he tells you bedtime stories and places a kiss on your cheek before tucking you in for the night.

Alone, they were little things. Paired and grouped, they were more than you could have ever asked for.

" Sleep now, little princess. Daddy will fight off any scary thoughts. 'm not going anywhere, ever. "

His assurance continued, his sleepy voice whispering sweet nothings until you fell asleep in his arms, comforted by his warmth.

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