#which is important since at least some of this seems to have happened thousands of years ago

[awake-my-oceans]

Out-of-context Genshin lore

We’ve lost at least one moon. But we may have lost at least two moons, and given the sky’s a lie, we may have lost all three moons. Literally no one in-game talks about it.

#the best people to drill for answers are probably Venti and Zhongli #because 1) “Mondstat” and “Liyue” both irl-translate to “moon city” #2) Venti and Zhongli are some of the oldest known characters in-game #which is important since at least some of this seems to have happened thousands of years ago #(one record specifically mentions that Moon Events allegedly happened when Rex Lapis was young) #and 3) we know they both have important knowledge but are holding out on telling us for various reasons #mind you—Aether and Lumine have some strong sun-moon imagery going on so for all we know THEY’RE hiding important moon lore too #TELL US THE SECRET MOON LORE HOYO #genshin impact #not bnha

[capslocked]

PART & PARCEL

male reader x sana && tzuyu

18k words

“Is it too late?” Sana asks, and here’s how it always starts with her.

Nevermind that it’s not a question in search of an answer. A normal person could, should, text you. Hey, what’s up? or something equally inconspicuous before turning up the dial, are you busy? can I, like, come over? 

Instead, she’s at your doorstep again, twirling a bundle of honey-blonde between her fingertips as if she doesn't know what all that does to people. Some people say, incorrectly, that these are the hours of the night shared with ghosts. And to that you say: No, these hours belong to Sana, clearly, and apparently nobody fucking else. 

Now in a way, you do get it. It’d be easier to turn back over in your bed and ignore the elegant simplicity of a text message, or one step beyond that, do the unthinkable and finally tell her no, but when she’s standing there - there with that face, like a thousand different excuses or a million little reasons why she needs something from you, right now - and all she has to do is push her lips together, eyebrows going high - 

It is a bit like magic, after all, this feeling when she comes around. 

Everything that happened before - her visits, the first one and then the next - no matter how impossible, gets washed away, and suddenly all you have is her. Her voice, her hair, and a sneaking suspicion that the time apart really isn’t such a bad thing, because you don't always have a guess as to what comes next.

Of course, you were always going to let her in.

“I saw the lights were on,” she adds, starting to shrug off her coat like she knows you will.

“I mean, I’m here,” you say, non-committal.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

The door's half open and the only substantial hesitation you have is when you peer over her shoulder. There’s another girl, propping herself up against the doorframe, with a pretty head of glossy, sable hair falling gracefully down her shoulders, and she looks at least a few years younger than Sana. You smile cautiously at her before giving Sana another, much longer glance. In response, you receive a wink that's as subtle as a brick through a glass window (which only raises more questions). You ask the one that seems most important.

What else would Sana, of all people, possibly want to bring you if not some plaything or another. You've seen it all: girls who liked her money, girls who liked her body, girls who just flat-out liked girls, whatever. The dynamic always seemed to be, as long as everyone is having a good time, nothing to get hung up about - because at the end of the night, everyone comes around to Sana again.

And she comes around to you. 

Why question it.

“This is a little… irregular,” you say with a nod of your chin, as you step back from the door. "Who's the plus one?"

Sana motions the girl in with a sweep of her hand and throws you another disarmingly flirtatious smile - the same one that'd first left you utterly hooked by this strange person, who had, when you first met, walked into your life for five minutes, then fucked your lights out the way she wanted. She goes further with this, of course, teasing a warm smile and slanting an eyebrow.

"I figured I'd bring you a gift," she coos, in this sultry, dusky sing-song of a voice that really needs no followup whatsoever, other than maybe take my clothes off right now, as she makes a show of how she's pushing her shoulders back, like there's an audience to be impressed with the curve of her bust. "Since we were celebrating."

"Uh-huh. What's the occasion?"

"Whatever the hell you'd like," Sana chirps.

With that, she takes you by the collar. And even though the girl she brought is in the middle of, like, peering around curiously in your foyer, Sana leans up on the balls of her feet and kisses you hard. It's a real kiss - no preamble - which is sort of funny, given you would have been more than okay with some. So, naturally, you're caught entirely off-guard. It takes a full ten, fifteen seconds of feeling her hot little mouth pressed insistently up against yours, your mind gone blank with the suddenness of the moment. Your body taking it for granted.

Meanwhile, the other girl blinks - long, dark lashes batting the curve of her cheekbones slowly until Sana has moved to stand in front of her with the full, earnest intention to cup her jaw, tilt her head down a smidge, and kiss her too (very thoroughly, also, in her own way).

Sana lets the girl go with a sharp draw of air and a peck. Then she looks at you, just this side of playful. The way her teeth flash over her bottom lip suggests how she's enjoying, to her bones, this state of affairs: a dalliance with control, with desire, where she can flaunt it.

She tells you to relax, unwind, which you suppose is code for taking another of Sana's friends and bending her over every horizontal surface in your flat and fucking someone the way you've wanted for the last however-long it's been since Sana dropped back into your life. You've done as much. Some rotating cast of characters: Mina, Chaeyoung, Nayeon, the raven haired girl with the perfect tits; some names and faces starting to run together the more Sana pops up at your place with a girl under one arm, usually looking half bored and half shy - or at least putting up some pretense that might justify Sana telling them to strip down while she's already eyeing you with this look like she's wondering which article of clothing you'll be ripping off her first.

"Does she have a name?" you ask, with a nod vaguely in her direction. Of course it's a loaded question. What's her name doesn't matter. You don't know most of their names.

But when you do a double-take, remembering to steal a good look, you're not sure you've ever seen anyone pull off that perfect little white dress quite the way she does - the kind that goes right up the back, tucked under the neck, sleeves coming to a neat point across her fingers. Sana may or may not have a thing for pretty girls in cute dresses, but this is, without question, the most obvious bribe you've ever witnessed in your life.

Sana's still smirking - so much for being considerate, you think for a second, until you’ve got a dainty hand stretched into yours like you’re brushing up with royalty. And well, maybe you’re getting a better look now that she isn’t bathed in the calm, assured wickedness that two A.M. might only ever know - the dark curling like wind around her fingers and down the lines of her spine, cajoling.

She is gorgeous.

And she says - 

“Chou Tzuyu,” in this charming little voice that’s even more mesmerizing than you anticipated, this taut thread winding itself up between the two of you. She says her name with a gentle sigh, a light in her eyes that you know, intimately, not to trust, but you get the sense that she'd rather you make an exception for her - or at least for the night. “Everyone calls me Tzuyu.”

You feel a squeeze at your fingers, an anxious reminder from Sana's thumb, as if she feels the reverie in which you've lapsed. It draws you back, just slightly so.

"Tzuyu," you say, taking mental note of the faint smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth when you do. "How much do you know?"

She twists in Sana's direction, and oh, look how eager and innocent and coquettish Tzuyu's making herself in front of her, smiling. What do I say, the gesture is asking. You can see her effort to hold back a giggle or two as she bites her lip, trying, as all the pretty girls who come through these doors often try, to come up with something cute and modest and small that'll allow you and Sana to picture exactly the right thing. You can tell when a person is not used to having an audience.

"I know Sana..." Tzuyu's voice trails as she gives Sana a furtive glance. "She talks about you a lot. And I figured, you know."

"What? That we were good friends?"

"Sure," Tzuyu laughs to herself lightly again. "Whatever makes it easier."

Sana has her fingers threaded beneath Tzuyu’s chin, studying her like she’s an artifact that belongs behind glass. Expensive. One of a kind. And oh-so-excessively fragile.

The way Sana touches her, she may be trying to prove the point, guiding her body's angles and edges towards whatever form she sees fit, with just fingertips and the slightest tug, showing you exactly how malleable the girl can be. The look on Tzuyu's face is hardly discomfited when her dress slides past the dips of her shoulders or the slope of her waist, when the fabric gets crumpled in Sana's hand like the most expensive balled-up tissues in the universe. You can't decide what animal comes to mind: perhaps a deer, some cute, unknowingly doomed elk.

"No underwear," you note, watching.

Sana draws herself a little closer to Tzuyu with an appreciative gaze, lips gently landing at her shoulders, neck.

"Why bother?" Tzuyu muses. "What were we going to use them for?"

A pull here, a tug there, and the dress puddles around Tzuyu's feet, silk shimmering like the inky dark of a starless sky. And just shy of a pedestal and perhaps a fucking moonbeam, she's the spitting image of perfection: porcelain skin stretching out over a masterwork of curves and bone and muscle. A sculpture, a study in the form that so frequently leaves people just absolutely dumbstruck and thirsty in their wake.

Sana trails her hand around the width of her hip - drawing your eye along the skin of her leg, up and around the perfectly curved thigh - stopping to splay her fingers just so at the base of her spine, as if in demonstration of ownership. Like this: mine.

"Don't get it confused," Sana tells you. "The whole naive innocence thing is a total fucking misdirection."

"Tzuyu," you say again, this time noticing the way it feels in your mouth, syllables sweet and sticking to its roof like honey - maybe something more of an excuse to move forward and touch her yourself, palm her face, brush your thumb over her bottom lip. A taste, something subtle but intense, spreads to the back of your throat, the moment her teeth graze gently over its pad. "Is that true?"

"Are you asking me what kind of girl I am?"

"I didn't put it exactly like that."

"Just answer, sweetheart," Sana says, brow quirked in a faux-display of nonchalance, fingers still pressed, spreading gently at her neck. She's enjoying this a little too much. Though, you're enjoying this too. It doesn't have to be an either-or kind of scenario.

"It's better if you say it," she adds after a second of consideration, and even though it's obvious by now she's only prodding and that this is a foregone conclusion, Tzuyu puts an emphatic twitch in her lips - red, wet, a vision in crimson - like the thought is deeply troubling and will likely require lots and lots of thorough explanation later.

"Fine, okay, in that case," Tzuyu starts with a weary sigh, and then with a blink-and-you've-missed-it flash of a smirk, there's no way anyone's buying any of this, "I’ll say: I'm whatever kind of girl you want me to be."

Sana was right, and she didn’t even need to go so far as to say it. It’s clear - you want her.

But it's half as easy to pinpoint where it all starts: there's the way Tzuyu melts, sinking just that much further when you guide your hands around the curve of her ribs, fingers following the flow of her soft edges, the slopes and valleys of her breasts, and she parts her lips even before yours touch the seam of her mouth, her breath warm, heavy, the kind of anticipation that sends jolts down her neck, her spine, the body electric - a real live wire.

Or, it's because of the way she likes it - like, really likes it. There's something exceptional in a girl who will wrap her legs around your waist and suck your tongue and whimper just by a feather's touch around her hips or between her thighs, where it's damp and hot and holy shit, this is unreal in a very tactile, visceral way. There's no mistaking the noise for anything but genuine pleasure when Tzuyu's trying, unsuccessfully, to bite down the whine sneaking up her throat and into your mouth - where you're kissing her, still - the kind that presses heavy at the bottom of your stomach.

Or, there's Sana yet, pulling her clothes off, and instead of leaving a trail in her wake, folds each piece neatly until she's bared down to this fine little number of lace and cream-colored silk that'd make your head spin if you weren't, y'know, pretty busy, mouth occupied by Tzuyu's pliant moans, both of your tongues colliding.

"God," Tzuyu groans out quietly as you pin her to the wall, and again after another string of kisses, sucking your lip. 

There are fleeting moments that slip through like sunlight that have you thinking: Right, this was a good idea, nothing other than a sweet girl like this all messed up and squirming with the shallow dig of your nails. But only close to perfect.

Sana will explain it.

"Mm. Not god." Sana is grinning when she leans up for the same kiss, but she takes her time with it: mouth slotted tight against Tzuyu's as her long fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of Tzuyu's neck, working her grip up slowly so that the strain gets more noticeable until the girl is a gasp on a choke of breath. The curve of her back is drawn out by that same hand and her ribs pressed, pert and rosy, into the cool air.

"Sir, and please," Sana then instructs, voice just harsh enough for Tzuyu to understand. 

You might imagine she's also drawing in with her nails, teeth, a full-body drag up her exposed front, like some kind of prize, marking and tasting and fucking every inch. There's a whimper, desperate sound of, yes, right, fuck, please, and sir slipping like a sigh off the edge of Tzuyu's tongue. 

"Or better yet," Sana adds, with another searing press into the junction of her collarbone, "say daddy, please," then follows through on the plea with another slow-pull.

You try not to roll your eyes. It's Sana's kink, not yours. It's a whole thing. And with Sana, like most things, you find it best when you simply play along.

More than that, you indulge her. You both do.

"Okay, daddy." Tzuyu's teeth catch the corner of her mouth in a self-amused bite. Twisting and twisting the swell of her lip further until it snaps forward. "I want you to tell me something," she says, which, for the way this typically goes, is a little more self-assured and pressing than the usual fare. Even Mina, who was perhaps less than enthusiastic about the - uh - title in question, came around eventually when she had Sana's fingers, your cock, all sunk so deep inside her she forgot what any fucking words were anyway.

So maybe Sana does know what she's doing with this one. Maybe you oughta thank her.

Tzuyu just lifts her chin, says, "this isn't what I expected when I showed up here."

"Obviously, it's not," Sana says.

"What I mean is, this is all good fun, of course," Tzuyu explains. A charming indignance that slips past, like the fingers down her belly. She swallows hard, muscles clenching as your palm runs slow over a hip, squeezing. "Though I guessed when we left Sana's, I would've been bouncing on his cock five minutes ago."

Sana's lithe little frame ends up closer - nearly naked in lace and wholly difficult to miss. She's a half head shorter than the girl in front of you, but with a tilt of her chin and a beckon of her hand, it's a powerful look about the lines of her face: eyes slightly hooded, mouth curved and devastating. It's as if, at every hour of the night, the simplest glance will have the fabric of someone's clothing coming undone, regardless.

Tzuyu is just slowly trading looks between the two of you. So curious. "So what then, do I have to do," her words curl like smoke up her throat, "to get fucked by both of you, hm? In, like, the next five or ten more minutes, preferably."

"He's not going to fuck your brains out simply because you ask." Which by the way, is the first real lie Sana tells tonight.

Tzuyu is unimpressed, or maybe she's a stoic. "Clearly," she deadpans.

Whatever the expression is that is fluttering those gorgeous lashes, eyebrows pulled down, adds a faint mark of distrust across her brow. The prettiest scoffs you've ever heard. "Isn't the point to get me spread out on your sheets so you can use me like a little fucktoy?"

A sigh from Sana: heavy, calculated. She does not reply in any obvious way to that, no flimsy assurances that it would be whatever the hell Tzuyu likes (though you think maybe Sana might want to take this whole fucking opportunity, all this thinly veiled begging for it, for the first taste of what will probably be the main thing that'll hold her over the edge of an orgasm or two). 

So, instinctually, Tzuyu pushes it, just enough - she tilts her head, and the motion is followed by a wide sashay of her hips as she gently presses a fingertip to your chest, encouraging a step back to better your balance, like the pull between you has a little more gravity.

"Don't go quiet on me." Another sultry note pulls from her mouth when she guides you another foot - or however many, until the foyer opens up into your living room. The chair, the sofa, a table, you watch her eyes wander like she's mapping the territory. And then finally she drops her hands from your shoulders, reaching instead for Sana, taking her waist in her palms.

Holding her. Kissing her.

There's a delicateness about both of them, clearly, and not only how Tzuyu angles their lips, as if she doesn't fully intend for the two to merge but instead taste the line, test the edges, or something; but Sana doesn't fight this. In fact, when Sana's being drawn gently, but confidently into a deeper, harder press, a very eager give, her eyes slip closed. There's a war, and Sana - though she'd be the last to admit it - is losing.

Tzuyu, at the end of a particularly sharp draw of air, simply turns to you, eyes peeking over the tousle of copper hair atop Sana’s head, and asks: "How does daddy want to play with his toys?"

It clicks in your head immediately: she's a natural, could be an actress, maybe a pro - you have no idea where Sana found her - even if that doesn't exactly match with the diction; daddy, and sir, and the baby-girl pout. There are the things she does to Sana, this slipstream of control passed back and forth and back and forth again - a fevered tugging, the give of one or the other. An entirely different dance. Beautiful, fluid, intense.

Eventually, it lands in your lap. Literally and metaphorically. Tzuyu looks up from where she's kneeling between your legs and with a little pinch of your hips, tells you with that intoxicately sweet, melodic voice of hers, that you seem like the sort who wants someone who just takes initiative.

And she's right.

"May I?" she asks, breathlessly, fingers at the zip.

"Of course,” Sana answers for you, settling into her side like you both belong to her. Like she’s about to enjoy this just as much as you are.

What does the room sound like, the darkness giving away? Everything. The hum of the appliances, the purr of the heat, something in the walls is settling into its final position for the night as the floorboards sigh. Breathing. Listening.

What you don't hear:

Chou Tzuyu moving - whether she shifts onto her knees, or adjusts how her slender fingers fall from the waist of your pants, doesn't matter - no crunch, no shuffle. She doesn't swipe away the hair from her eyes or drag the pad of a thumb over her swollen, bottom lip. All she does is pull, just a bit, and the zipper breaks the silence, comes apart down the way.

Sana clears her throat gently, hoping, possibly, that Tzuyu might be the kind of girl who just loses herself to the moment, caught in the headlights. The way every delicate, doe-eyed girl is supposed to do. Sana likes them a little helpless like that - makes her feel big.

It's too bad really, because Tzuyu doesn’t appear like she's awash with anything in particular. Or at the very least, she's done a fairly convincing imitation of not being the slightest bit off-put, completely disarmed or whatever Sana had been looking to see.

She does look up though. Long, pretty face still managing a bit of devastation from this angle. Those full lips slightly pouted and slick in red: such an inviting color against her pale skin.

"Sana," she coos, eyes wide and brilliant - innocent, yet taunting all at once - and she's deliberate in what she says next, flitting her tongue across her canines to punctuate every sound: "Isn’t daddy going to use me now?"

"Oh." Sana leans in, eyes flicking up at you, Tzuyu's hands, her body, and starts slowly, like she's exacting a punishment, "Tzuyu, baby," her own anticipation beaming off the surface of her thousand-kilowatt grin, "you're going to take that perfect cock," the words dripping off Sana's tongue, heavy, sweet, "you're going to take it, get your pretty little lips all over it sweetie, you're going to show him just how good you can use that filthy fucking hole of a mouth for him. You're going to take him until he cums in your throat, and then you're going to beg him for more. And if you can do that, well. Then we’ll fuck you exactly how you wanted."

Tzuyu blinks - doting and innocent like the angel everyone probably thinks she is.

But then what you've learned about the angels that Sana brings you: they're devils in disguise, well familiar with the sin and lust that resides in these places; sunk into the cushions of the couch, pressed against the cold pane glass of a window, wound tight in the springs of a mattress. You had long thought - and think, you do, particularly when doing the unthinkable - it's easier that way, to leave aside thoughts of right and wrong and ask: Just how far can an angel fall?

"Ah. Perfect," Tzuyu says, sounding like an answer, and her eyes widen as she peels past that band of elastic.

Your cock springs forward and bumps into the pad of her finger, which traces the length of it like it's hers to own, to pleasure.

"God," she hums with satisfaction, and even without looking up, or even before you say a damn word, she draws her tongue up along the underside in one swift, wet lick. "Sana you weren’t exaggerating: daddy's cock is fucking gorgeous."

There is that tiny whine, or more precisely a tiny, oh fuck when Tzuyu curls her hand around your shaft. Sana gives her a push. "Say it, Tzuyu," she all but growls at her.

"Daddy," she says, always pausing on the word. Testing it further. "Please."

"Please," Sana mimics in faux-sweetness, repeating it again once you start to nod.

Not that it changes much - the stare that Tzuyu fixes you is charmingly determined, like a challenge. Then, she inhales.

Deep.

That slide into her mouth is smoother than anything, hot and slippery and oh, right - you remember faintly with a shudder: those pretty teeth hidden away behind a perfectly lascivious mouth, so much that a couple sharp, expert brushes are enough to send lightning dancing along your spine. Sana moves her hands across your hips, to the buttons on your night shirt, working her way up until the fabric has fallen to the side and she can open your chest up to the air, let Tzuyu swallow the rest.

This, Tzuyu likes. "Ah," she gasps around you, or she tries to, your cock propped up on her soft little tongue.

She likes the way that feels. The way you fit in her hands, her mouth. And it shows. Her posture curls deliciously, under the satisfaction of her lips wrapping finally having something to wrap around tight, tight, tighter - under Sana's roaming touches, the skirting of her nails down Tzuyu's chest, reaching with slow deliberation across her stomach until there's a whisper of skin across sensitive flesh.

“She’s so fucking wet,” Sana tells you, smiling at Tzuyu from above and fitting a fingernail between her teeth. "Good fucking girl, aren't you Tzuyu?"

The moan that leaks out around the weight of your cock is pure. Pure lust, pure pleasure. Pure perfection. Her tongue flattens beneath you and finds you surging even deeper, a firmer slide of Tzuyu's wet lips that brings you right into the roof of her mouth - as she twists her face around you, a soft scrape against the inside of her cheek.

You sigh.

And Sana sighs back.

"Of course. Always such a hidden talent," she notes, as Tzuyu's perfect mouth moves and plucks and teases your nerves, twirling her tongue around your tip. Again as she swallows you down, slow, savoring.

“Tell me,” you say, because the heat of Tzuyu’s mouth is starting to remind you of a daydream, “how exactly do you know each other?”

"Work," Sana answers, flatly.

"Like-"

"Yup."

"She sings?"

"She does - rather, she will." Sana glances sidelong with a bit of a grin. "You have no idea what that tongue can do to people when it's got some good backing tracks, when it knows a goddamn fucking thing about rhythm. Speaking of," Sana looks down at where Tzuyu has her silky brown head of hair bobbing between your legs.

And then it's clear what she means, Tzuyu humming and rolling your shaft through the flat of her tongue. It's all slick, soaking heat and the tension building and building in your balls, aching, just absolutely desperate for more friction, to be taken and used and stuffed in her throat - or just more of this.

"Here," Sana's fingers are hooked in your pants, helping them off your legs, your ankles, pulling you further to the edge of the sofa. Let me, she's telling Tzuyu, this slight murmur of want she just can't wait on.

"Wait, I'm -" Tzuyu attempts, pulling her lips off the curve of your cock, to where pre-cum is weeping out of its tip, and she kisses it so very tenderly, going back for round two. Round three. She floats her fingers up over her eyebrows, into her fringe, all to tuck some dark, wispy hair gently behind her ear when she starts to hollow her cheeks and again suck your cock in earnest.

Until -

"Tzuyu," Sana reprimands her, "don't play, daddy's got his work cut out for him tonight. So be a good girl, and let me show you what he likes."

It takes a second, maybe three. It might take longer if Sana didn't have her fingernails digging into her thighs, sliding further to grab hold of Tzuyu by the hair and pull her lips off your shaft. There's a thin trail of spit coming off her mouth and stringing across you. Sana closes her fist in the back of Tzuyu’s hair and doesn't so much as blink while studying the look on her face: lips glistening, just absolutely needy, like she can't help the whimper in her throat.

"Hm?" Sana cocks her head to the side.

"But... sir."

"You are his toy," Sana explains, flashing her eyebrows because apparently it needs to be said, "not the other way around."

And it may be the first time you've seen it happen since Sana walked in with Tzuyu and declared her intentions: the fluster, the pink spread across Tzuyu's features like some scarlet-lettered stain. Defenses dropped like a draw-bridge. She's not quite every bit as cool and composed as she wants the two of you to think she is. (They never are.)

But the fact that Tzuyu's coy little smile returns into her lips - how she's wiping the spit off her mouth with the sharp edge of her hand and pointing your cock in Sana's direction with a delicate, arched brow, how she then moves on, untangling herself from Sana's grasp, eyes heavy, but on her - is a marvel in and of itself.

It’s an amusing surprise, a welcome one, for the simple reason that Tzuyu keeps showing both of you that she can have anything she wants exactly like this: wrapped around a slender fingertip, flushed and helpless, and without breaking a sweat. 

"Have you considered daddy wants both our mouths on his cock and maybe a few less words?" Tzuyu scoffs. And even though Sana does scoff right back in retort, that's exactly how it plays out.

(And you may, upon occasion, reflect: you're a real lucky bastard.)

Sana always puts on this act. One that you’ve learned to see right through. 

Like she isn't too eager to follow the momentum, that she hadn't just been just as impatient to touch you - to be on her knees with Tzuyu, all aside this beautiful girl who gives you a pretty smile when her tongue finds the base of your cock. Who likes being bossed around but can just as easily turn her face towards yours - in what seems almost like a taunt - as if saying: You know what else I like? to be challenged, and sometimes when the mood’s right, pushed and punished. 

But Sana doesn't let you see what kind of resolve she has until she's gone another minute, licking, lapping her tongue around your cock - this is her idea, after all. The little white dress in a heap, the adoration and worship that comes with fucking girls she knows are the prettiest things to see ruined.

Listen - even if Sana’s veneer is as blatantly obvious as it is shatterably thin, she’s no less dangerous. 

When she first pushes the very head of your cock inside her mouth, and just that - because why rush it, she's so fucking perfect with those pretty lips - the rest of your brain is shouting something to the tune of fuck me sideways because she knows you better than anyone, knows what really gets your blood burning. 

A few slow brushes, one kiss, this lick that goes bottom to top and over and around. It’s like she's testing the surface, dragging her lips across your aching cock as she settles on a rhythm, a tempo that starts to mirror the movements of Tzuyu's hand.

Tzuyu lets you see: this slow twist, this slide of skin up and down the length of your shaft, her soft fingers rubbing tight circles up and down the path of her palm until it meets Sana’s mouth. And like it’s the most simple thing in the world, she dips down, finds a place at the base of your cock, where Sana’s lips can’t quite reach, and drops a hot, messy kiss right across the spot.

Fuck.

She kisses you everywhere.

"Sana," you start to say, and she looks up through the strands of blonde fallen slightly in front of her face. Her lips sink further down the length of your cock - until she hears your breath catch in the bottom of your throat. Until she’s pulling you up and out, again, just barely past her teeth.

Fuck.

"Mm." She hums it right into your skin, and her eyes are hooded, dipping right down with another pull of spit, and then another, before her lips are at the tip once more, flicking across the slit with her tongue - wet and rough.

"Sana," you try again, biting into your lip as you reach a hand into the gold locks of hair framing her deceptive, pretty little face, and tug, a warning, a reminder. You need. It's too early for you to be repeating yourself, and Sana knows that.

A pop, the release of her mouth slipping off the top of your cock, and Tzuyu moves - wrapping her lips tight and silken around the sides, the rest. It all happens in an instant. You're being taken with the sudden, harsh suction of one mouth, the other, fluid and slipping back and forth again and again.

Sana's nodding along, impressed, as she watches Tzuyu take you - completely, nose to your hip - and has a glint of pure hunger shining through her eyes when you hiss, when she kisses along the lines of Tzuyu's stretched lips. There's another flick of a tongue, and you can feel Tzuyu moan something muffled and choked, a frantic pulse at the base of your spine - pressure gathering like a fucking flood.

"Just how you like it, hmm?" Sana says, her breath warm on your balls as she seals her own mouth right over the base of your shaft. And you swear there's something about this: the drag and suck of both their lips as your hips stutter forward, the feeling of them pressed together in a perfect line, heads tilted and mouths fucking dripping with saliva and sin - your hands, resting on the backs of their heads as they're returning you these greedy little moans that vibrate off the top of your cock and nearly kill you in the process.

“Tell me,” Sana adds, dragging a hot, hazy kiss over the sensitive skin up your shaft. "How's daddy feeling? Hmm? Feels nice and perfect, doesn't it. Feels like you could just let go and release, a hot, sticky load of cum, right down her fucking throat. I know she’ll swallow every drop."

"Fucking hell, Sana-"

Sana doesn't exactly answer to your begging, only hikes Tzuyu a fraction higher over your body to gain better control of the rhythm, and a better view: the hollowed out cheeks, her watery, half-shut eyes, tears welling in her lashes - because the prettiest girls always come apart in the most perfect ways.

You grip into all that silky brown hair, thumb running gently up and over the soft skin behind her ear as she finds an exacting little movement with her lips that will have your spine twitching uncontrollably as you fuck deeper down the perfect arch of her throat, Sana keeping rhythm, guiding you all the way in - a searing heat, and then a new rush of saliva dripping off Tzuyu's chin and back down into the tangle of tongues, fingers, throats, mouths.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The pair of them. The things they're doing.

"Or maybe," Sana muses, tilting her head on an angle that suggests she's weighing her options, and then, massaging a quick, firm twist into the very base of your cock she finally lets spill: "You could make a mess of that perfect face," Tzuyu's faint whimper hardly slips out unnoticed, "I'd hold her hair for you while you cum all over her - how about that baby, should we make a big mess of your pretty face?"

The whimper grows louder - Tzuyu moans long and low, right up against the tightening tension gathering between your hips, right as your balls pull, that familiar coil about to break - and, god, if there's some part of you committed to holding the moment, waiting and wanting to stay in the vision of these two perfect mouths pressed together, it's a fleeting and useless notion - but, as usual, Sana already knows.

The way they're blowing you in perfect tandem, their mouths locked together, kissing around your shaft as they continue to pleasure you, filthy and open - a little more, the thought percolates, a little longer, to let the pressure swell.

"Sir," Tzuyu says, swallowing her next breath, and that's the first you've heard her sound like that: whining, pleading.

She slaps your cock against her lips, her tongue - it's all so wet with spit and precum and slick that her chin is coated, her fingers. A demonstration of what you should have already known: Sana's girls aren't just straight down the line. They want the messy, roughness that comes with the sin; the split in the seam, the wail, the raw, uncut want.

You watch Tzuyu’s lips curl, this quiet smile pressed against your cock, and after a slow draw of air, they fall open again. Asking, "aren't you going to fuck your toy's slutty little mouth?"

The silence of the night swallows up the sounds of Sana's low chuckle and the responding squelch of her fingers tearing free, her hand trailing after. Here’s three bodies in the otherwise ordinary emptiness of your living room, on the edges of the leather sofa, so completely drenched in anticipation and hunger.

There’s a flash across Sana's rounded cheeks, hot, like she's just this small space shy of smirking, or giving into something, you don't know. Tzuyu, however, you've got a fairly clear view of - how her eyes glaze, pupils going wide and dark, staring up at you as she places the shape of your cock so acutely up the length of her perfect features: chin supporting its base, the cute, button-like tip of her nose teasing the soft underbelly of skin pulled taut - a fucked up preamble to whatever the hell it is going to feel like, once she's ready for more.

"Say please, sweetie," Sana says, fluttering her fingers over Tzuyu's neck. And then to you, as an aside: "If there isn't a better way to break in a toy."

When Tzuyu doesn't immediately reply, Sana leans over her, with a fingertip under her chin, guiding her hot, wet lips to the edge of your cock.

"Ask daddy to fuck his filthy little whore."

"Ah," Tzuyu lets out an awkward exhale. "Daddy?" she pauses to swallow, licking her lips, then, with just the slightest inflection, this tight line, right at the border, somehow managing to hit both notes of I'm going to make you beg for it and is it okay for me to be begging you for more: "Please, daddy. Fuck my face."

But then the way she fucking looks - petulant, needy, like if you don't shove your cock down her throat in seconds it could kill her - that's the realest thing you've seen from her since she shuffled through your front door wearing a dress that belongs in someone's heaving, pent up fantasy and left it in a careless pile in the middle of your foyer, tits bouncing on her way into the living room. And somehow, that's a lot to take in: to think this whole debacle has led up to her, this girl you're probably never gonna see again, pressing the pucker of her perfect, pretty lips to the underside of your cock, and -

"Open," Sana cuts in, "your fucking mouth."

Tzuyu gulps thickly and stretches her jaw, blinking expectantly as her pink, slender tongue sticks out the faintest, most insinuating inch.

You lift your hips with one good thrust, the plushness of her mouth becoming soft and velvet as she opens wider, and wider still, and you're balls deep, hilt hitting her lips as she opens her eyes, taking you down her throat, slick and slow.

"Good girl," Sana grins, watching Tzuyu swallow around you. 

You may be buried into her throat but the sound of Sana's encouragement has Tzuyu keening, this wrench in her brow like she wants to focus so fucking badly. Only made worse when Sana bundles a handful of Tzuyu's long, glossy hair into a fist and gets her voice into the shell of her ear. 

"I know you love it, Tzuyu, how he's fucking taking you, huh? That's it. Show daddy how good of a toy you can be."

And oh, the reaction - the very clear one, no less. Tzuyu grips onto the cushion of the couch, a full set of fingers curling around Sana's forearm, any part of you - the one closest and she's digging her sharp nails into your skin and whimpering for Sana to keep talking like her life depends on it.

"Let me see if you can be as good as you think you are," Sana murmurs, and you shift forward again, bucking your hips just barely but getting there, and then there's more, fuck - getting closer to a good steady pace. Slow, forceful. Hitting the very back of her throat, the bottom of her lips.

Tzuyu can only respond by taking you impossibly deep.

"Remember what you told me?" Sana's biting her lip, finding as much satisfaction out of the mere display.

"Mnnph," Tzuyu chokes out before slipping off your cock, only long enough to gasp for another breath, "I said, I said - all the things I would let him do to me." Her voice sounds so wrecked. Broken. Desperate. Filthy, the kind that needs to be fucked. "Please, please," she says again.

"Tzuyu." Sana's fist tightens in Tzuyu's hair, and down Tzuyu goes. "You sounded so sure, baby - when you said you'd making him fucking cum so easy, how you'd make him bust over and over with this mouth, so -"

You're getting too close. It's really not your fault, it's the two of them. Every wince on your face a result of Tzuyu's swollen, shiny lips wrapped tightly around your cock, cheeks flush and hollow with every move of her mouth. She keeps doing this little flick of her tongue as her lips slide around you - even while Sana lifts her jaw up, down, up down, fucking her mouth onto your aching cock with a sort of callous disregard for how it's fucking her up - how it's fucking you up.

"-the prettiest girls make the best fucking cumrags, you know. Really - makes your toes curl," Sana finishes, giving one particularly pointed tilt of her head at the sight of how bad your knees are shaking.

And then, out the corner of her mouth, teeth locked over her lip, because you're so caught up in how good it feels fucking your length through the vice of Tzuyu's mouth, sliding across her wet tongue - "she's not lying baby, is she? Fuck, I bet she feels so fucking good on you doesn't she" - her voice hoarse and desperate, a hint of something caught at the back of her throat like she can almost taste what it's like. What it must feel like.

Sana pushes, and even she can probably feel you pulsing at the way Tzuyu chokes when the tip meets the drain of her throat.

It gets... it ends up too much, too fast. Borderline abusive - and not just the speed, or the sheer roughness - Nayeon was here on her knees, like this, in the middle of the night not too long ago, and deepthroating you is far from the unusual or accomplished, at this point. But, fuck if that isn't something you build up to.

The slight curve of Tzuyu's arms, rising as they tremble with the effort, the little tears that slip down her cheeks, and those lovely sounds she makes. It's not at all intentional - and you're so stupidly certain Sana didn't think you'd be this riled so quickly, like there's not an ounce of willpower in the world that could save you at this point.

And while that's not too surprising on its own - Sana knows you well, this is what she agreed to - Tzuyu must have understood (it was part of the plan, in fact) what she was walking into, what she was signing up for. But fuck it: she was still pretty new, an amateur. And an amateur just wouldn't be capable of doing the things she does, and looking the way she looks, not to the same extent as this.

"Can you cum from nothing but the feeling of daddy's dick hitting your throat? I'll have him sit back and relax while we work," Sana tells her.

It'd make two of you.

"Would you like that?" she's asking you, tilting her head when you've gathered yourself long enough. "No touching, just take my orders while we pleasure you. How does that sound, daddy?"

"Sana, easy," you practically growl, biting down on the inside of your cheek because the twitch in Tzuyu's pulse has you coming far too undone, her chest hitching and lungs heaving and face wet with spit and tears and cum as it's spilling down her chin. You're seconds from telling Sana to dial it back when a low, guttural sound, sputtering, leaves Tzuyu's throat.

The grip in Tzuyu's hair goes loose enough that she pulls herself up, swallowing up as much air as she can. 

And fuck, look at the damage: that swollen mess of her red, glistening mouth; the dark runs of mascara and drying tracks that make a ruin of her face, her neck; a heart-stopping shine of white drool. She blinks the tears off her lashes in a moment.

Sana’s eyeing her over the same way a surgeon might approach a task with a scalpel and a careful hand, or perhaps a fisherman surveying the quality of a catch - before tossing it to the back of a truck to be hauled back home. Like the kind of sight she gets just a little too much satisfaction at. And it's the eyebrow she shoots up into her mess of toffee-blonde hair that asks, quietly, too much?

Fuck. Maybe.

But Tzuyu's eyes shift toward Sana's, and without even an ounce of hesitation - without anything more than a heavy exhale - she opens her mouth again so you can see her tongue run across her top teeth, incensed in her lust. More, fuck me, have me, use me she's saying, telling with you the slight indignance in her eyes that Sana finds perfectly irresistible.

Then, as if unbothered by how far your cock had been slotted in her throat, she swallows. Says, "is that all, sir?"

And the sound that follows it, that shuddering sigh - breaking, cracking, shattering into the calm quiet of your apartment - Tzuyu takes you like it's more than enough. She's swallowing it all back down again.

“Fuck, Tzuyu, you’re-” you try, only to have her moan loud, so loud, when she drags her tongue down your cock and swallows around the whole thing in a way that has you gasping. Your hands end up wound tightly in her hair, weaving through the smooth waves, knuckles straining when it really sinks in. Just how deep down her throat you go, so perfectly deep, the stretch of her lips holding on the side of a grimace because she needs it that way. She can't have it any other.

"Go on," Sana murmurs into the side of your face, drawing closer so she's got her nails curled down into your thighs, leaning in to place a wet, hot kiss into your cheek. "C'mon baby, she'd told me she'd let you do anything - said she'd swallow everything, like the fucking cockslut she is."

Sana's chin digs against the bone in your shoulder, eyes unwavering on where you disappear over and over inside Tzuyu's throat. And it's not just that - Tzuyu's hair clenched tight in Sana’s one hand, the other curled hard into a fist around the base of your cock, her harsh breaths washing over the bare skin of your neck. It's fucking indecent, how needy she's gotten. How needy she always gets. You can feel her greedy little lips finding your ear and biting just shy of savage enough to break skin, and licking - flicking across the vein beating down in your throat, and then -

"That's right," Sana says with a low growl when you look at her. "Cum."

An impoverished sound rips right through your chest. Spreads through you like wildfire.

And just like that, you're spilling inside her, thrusts growing unsteady and lost in the wet, searing heat of Tzuyu's perfect, wet lips, slapping and sliding into her throat, spilling on her tongue with every surge of pleasure drumming in your blood.

Tzuyu sinks down further. So deep that the brush of the back of her throat feels like a hand on the hilt of a knife, tearing into the ends of your nerves, where they’ve come alight and been set ablaze.

Sana picks up again whispering into the cuff of your ear. It makes your head feel like it might explode. And you're almost entirely certain that's what will actually happen, when the combined pressure between your ears and that of your cock becoming so desperately spent builds and builds and doesn't stop, as though waiting. 

Biding time for some perfect snap.

Only, a tickle at the back of Tzuyu's throat has her choking out. The same uncontrolled way your hips start to falter - shaky, jerky motions instead of any precision or rhythm - and you're tilting and winding your head in circles, jaw tensed, squeezing her scalp and oh, oh fuck. Tzuyu's mouth slides itself all the way off you in one hurried gasp, then two and three, just barely giving her a chance to steady herself, all while you're still leaking thick, white cum all over the slick swell of her bottom lip, up over the ridges of her elegant features, the curves of her cheeks, the high arches of her brows.

Look - you're cumming all over Tzuyu's face. You’re cumming all over her pretty face and she just takes it.

She's, fuck - she's so, so good. And not just because her mouth is fucking perfection, or her eyes are all at once bleary but wide open, watching you twitch, her own cheeks flushing as she stares up at you - trying desperately to breathe, taking a quick lick off the end of your cock, flitting her tongue between her knuckles, because apparently another taste can't hurt.

"Ugh," Sana hushes, right into your neck, "would you just fucking look, see that - god, Tzuyu, how does it feel, does he taste as good as you hoped he would?"

There's a subtle, unmistakable bob in Tzuyu's throat as she's swallowing everything down, the evidence, and a small flash of her tongue. "Good, mmn-" and you can see how she struggles in her restraint to simply say so, to let her hand drift to the 'V' between her thighs and sate that ache.

But even if her body seems ready for more, Sana's finger finds its way underneath Tzuyu's chin to prompt, with one, simple command, "let's get you cleaned up before we give you what you came for. Go on, get our little girl up to the shower, won't you daddy?"

-

It's a minor miracle the three of you make it upstairs and down the hall without so much as a trip or stumble, the girls with their fingers woven together and hips swaying as you all stagger up. It's a minor miracle you don't pin either of them against drywall or up against a doorway or do any of the number of filthy things on the mind of a man just fucked, still coming down, with two gorgeous, perfect faces - two perfectly sculpted asses - all in arms' reach.

The bath mat is still bunched at the back of your bathroom door. Still damp from the last shower - Sana's last morning here - which you have to pry apart just a little so the two of them can file in.

And well - it does happen. Eventually.

At the sink.

Just inside the en suite of your bedroom.

With Sana, being the way she is.

While the faucet in the shower starts up a shallow stream of water - tap running warm, steaming the length of the mirror and condensing the glass that Sana will soon have Tzuyu's face up against if she has any say in the matter.

"Tzu," Sana says, carding a hand through her hair and bringing a damp washcloth up to the bend of her jaw. There's a slow trace of fingertips across the lines of her neck. "Keep your eyes right on his while I clean you up, ok?"

And then there's the mirror in the center. The three of you arranged - a sort of hierarchy - with Sana stepping forward and adjusting her stance in order to survey, and clean the mess she's made. (What you've made.)

In profile, you can't exactly make out a distinct detail about Tzuyu's face in the reflective surface, only the silvery blur that is the curve of her neck, and the silhouette of the small frame that her long, slim legs form against the cabinet. But the idea's always the same - she's being used like a perfect canvas. Like an empty, ready-to-use doll that you can twist and turn in the ways you want until all your control breaks and you're just fucking into her, or having her lick and suck all over Sana's gorgeous fucking tits while she's bouncing in your lap.

Whichever happens to come first.

"You missed a spot," Tzuyu tells Sana, as though she hadn't missed several - her head tilts in your direction, eyes wide still, endless in depth. Her mouth gives away what's already burning its way through her blood. "Maybe another pair of hands will help?"

"Mine are a little rough around the edges," you explain, coming in close. The bathroom is this tight, congested space, but at the right angle there's plenty of room, even if your hips knock slightly into Sana's body. Tzuyu's delicate body already has her back flush against the sink basin. "You want to feel them?"

She shakes her head, and even though the hunger on her tongue hasn't been satisfied, even after having a good fill, there's something else she'd rather have now.

"I think," she starts, her words cut off by a hitch of breath when Sana's lips travel to the very tips of her hair and work their way up to the soft skin behind her ear. "Rough is good, when... when I'm being," Tzuyu's closing her eyes - partly so that she doesn't fall off the edge so easily, partly to lean into the sensations of two warm bodies, all attention placed solely on her.

"When you're being worked over?" Sana offers.

"Ngh," she responds - with an attempt, as best as she can, at a smile. And then there's one, light, teasing stroke across her jaw, her mouth. Sana's thumb pressed gently into the crease. "When the fucking gets..." and you'll have to fill the gap - finishing her thought with your hands slotting themselves onto the gentle arch of her hips, pressing a kiss that doesn't even come close to satisfaction on the supple dip of collarbone.

She lets out this pretty sound at the feel of your lips, Sana's, all ghosting down her throat.

"Hard and deep?" you say. Sana smirks at this - continues the effort, "A little fucking nasty, huh, sweetheart?"

"Mhm." Tzuyu is, above all else, a little helpless. “Because - you know me so well.”

But make no mistake: Tzuyu is exactly where she wants to be. With the heat radiating off her bare body, she leans into it all, only flinching when your teeth catch her nipple - when Sana's tongue laps a rough circle over the other. The scene, the feelings, all of it orchestrated precisely - these are the things she likes, maybe loves even.

And after the soft sounds slip through her lips, a moan and another hum, she finds her words and voice, "hard and deep and, rough and, ff-"

"And?"

The quick brush of your tongue flickers across the hard tip. The sensation draws from Tzuyu this very faint cry and the exhale of a word: "Fast."

"Naughty little thing," Sana presses into her jaw, pulling back to regard you both. To lift a finger, wet the pad with her tongue - and reach down, down, down until her fingertips brush the very line of her thigh, into the slick between her legs. "I love it when girls get all messy."

"Please," is all Tzuyu has to say, barely anything but, as Sana's finger drags slowly inside her folds.

"Patience baby," she murmurs into Tzuyu's open mouth. The exchange is swift but thorough; you watch, all tongue and spit, and your fingers twitch with a sense of loss. "Why don't you remind me how this went last time?"

"Mm, listen here," Tzuyu says in an astute breath, the sound of it like tables turning. There's a firm pull on your wrist - the grip on it guiding you, encouraging you, just where she wants them, into the band of lace around Sana's impossibly narrow waist. You feel Sana sigh in relief, shiver at the touch of a warm palm up against her thighs, and into a pulse-wet cunt, as though the slightest touch will kill her. "I think you might be remembering wrong, Sana."

"And why might that be?"

"Weren't you the one begging me? When I had two fingers up your cunt in your apartment," Tzuyu presses forward, voice lilt and darkening like ink, and Sana whines and crumbles in her palms, knees buckling when there's one sudden and rough slide of fingers right on the base of her spine.

"Yeah?" Sana asks with a rising blush, already knowing the answer - it's her fatal flaw: she's all sharp edges and pointed teeth, right up to the point there's a finger at her own throat, a cock in her hands and a girl working at her clit until she's drooling. "Are you suggesting I'm easy? Is that where you're heading with this?"

Tzuyu's leaned up against the counter, turning Sana's slender frame around in her hands, until she has her fingers up on the over the wire of Sana's bra, palms hot beneath the thin cups, feeling for her nipples, and the change in dynamic is as palpable as the steam rising in the room.

"Let’s not put words in my mouth," she responds simply, dropping another kiss into the back of Sana’s hair. There's another one laid along the sweep of her neck, like a careful bite, and with a lift of a brow, a look that tells you what you've always known, "but if you’re asking, then sure, the sluttiest of all sluts. Easy," she pulls the cups down Sana’s chest, "as fuck."

It gets to her, clearly, as if that moan falling out of Sana's parted lips could mean anything else.

"Daddy?" Tzuyu asks, because apparently she's enjoying the bit, easing into all parts of the character. She can't seem to contain her grin.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask, dipping your finger down into Sana's cunt, and fuck - the girl is so, so slick for it. She needs to be taken and torn, that much is clear. Her whimpers don't get softer as your hips drive into her stomach, pinning her between the two of you.

"Is she always this much of a bratty tease? Or is that just how she gets when she gets all worked up over your perfect cock. I know she's aching to feel it stretch out that tight little cunt of hers-

"It's never been all that clear," you answer, before Tzuyu can start to say anything further. A moment of composure, in case Sana wants you to step in.

Except that, she doesn't exactly interrupt the play you and Tzuyu are setting up: "So," Tzuyu remarks instead. "Just for me then."

"It's possible."

The room suddenly feels very full, very small.

"Right. Okay. Well then," you say - watching carefully, when Tzuyu gives you an appraising glance. Sana squirms again beneath the pressure of all these fingers printing over her sensitive skin - she'd love to fuck this. Or be fucked.

"That means you'll have to take good care of your needy little princess, won't you daddy?"

It's surprisingly fitting.

-

Though it hasn’t been that long, all things considered.

Not since Sana effortlessly waltzed her way into your life. And slightly less-than-that, the time it took her thereafter to find herself bouncing in your lap and tugging at your hair while you struggled for breath between her tits. This perfect storm, caught somewhere between laughing and choking and definitely, definitely falling.

It's been a year, maybe. If that. But that's plenty to know.

Know every tilt of her mouth, every sly grin. The different moans that shake loose from the curve of her lips.

Know what it means when Sana's palms hit the tiles of the shower wall, fingers splaying as she goes quiet and submissive, letting out the barest noise of frustration as Tzuyu spreads her tongue over the pucker of her ass - know that the knuckle you curl up in her cunt has her that much closer to unraveling in a stream of whimpers, needy fucking pants and a hoarse sound of gratitude.

Ostensibly for getting her so perfectly, perfectly raw.

"Fuck, yes, that," Sana barely manages, between the messy swipe Tzuyu's tongue makes over her hole. Just this thorough lick, drawing tight, swirling circles around her, lapping at the wetness before making a hot and steady pass over the sensitive stretch of skin, drenching it in spit until Sana's scrambling against the hard surface.

She's not close to going quiet: her cheeks look rounder, like she can hardly keep her noises under control as Tzuyu eases a single fingertip inside the tense muscle of her rim and uses the stretch and warmth of the water raining down her spine, to slip in deeper. Sana's sighing as Tzuyu eats her like an act, an invitation.

You push your fingers deep, deeper, slick, pulling, rubbing, coaxing Sana's mouth apart even as your lips press wet into her cheek. She groans louder, needier, with your hand flexing up a three-finger graze over that bundle of nerves. The kind that makes her back fucking arch.

"You," Sana sputters open like a struck match, burning bright in the steam-cloaked shower, "you, you, you," and it’s not really clear who she’s cursing, "going to - you're going to - you're going to make me-"

"Oh no," Tzuyu sings, starting to straighten herself out - until she’s reminding Sana that she’s the smallest of the three of you and in a possible sort of danger.

She reaches an open palm into the stream of water and splashes off the slick running down her mouth, her chin, her neck - gaze anchored to Sana's trembling figure. It's just one, heavy exhale into the hot, hazy air: "You've got it all wrong.”

Sana twists her head around, face still so wildly attractive amidst the look of worry and that flush of pink taking over from the bottom half. The tiny, imperceptible dip in her brows.

But before she can give voice to a complaint, Tzuyu has her spun by a rough grip around her waist, pinning her back to the tile - water beating down the rise of her breasts and the tops of her shoulders.

"If you're going to cum baby, it'll be all over his thick cock, getting your whole cunt so stretched and stuffed full it'll feel like he's cumming up inside your guts."

You and Sana share this wistful groan of a sigh after Tzuyu wraps her long fingers around your cock, aims you true, and brings you close. Closer. Until you can feel Sana's pulse at her cunt, lips wet and slippery and dripping, just a few inches from where the tip of your cockhead nudges the insides of her thighs. Sana's stomach is seizing in a fluttering of heat and -

"Do you like hearing her beg? That's good. Because this girl's gonna do everything she can to make sure you fuck her raw before you even let her come," Tzuyu's voice lowers, a deep register. "How long can you last, Sana?"

Sana gives you this look, all anticipation and pleasure, holding it for longer than is strictly necessary - and then, her pert little mouth falls open, keening, hissing out a shallow, almost painful, "fuck" the moment you bend at the knees and slip inside.

The feeling that washes over you is a beautiful elixir of relief, an indomitable kind of want, tinged with something heavier, and with just the tiniest hint of longing in the sense that this is not enough, nowhere near enough. It never is.

"God, Sana," is all you manage. All you want to.

Sana doesn't wait around any longer before giving you an impatient shimmy of her hips, fucking herself further down the length of your cock, like she wants to choke on it. And the feeling of it, well, she does it well - the tight warmth swallowing you to the base, her cunt squeezing you all at once, slick and smothering. Fuck, it's all in her eyes. How badly she wants to be held down, split apart. How tightly your fist finds itself locked around Sana's long, wet strands of golden hair as Tzuyu closes any semblance of distance - brushing her lips over where she can tease Sana's open and slack mouth, licking down inside, panting.

"Baby, you are so close, I can feel you trembling," Tzuyu teases, running her fingers up Sana's stomach, cupping steady the breast she can fit in her palm. She drops another messy kiss on Sana’s throat and hums: "Go ahead, cum. I'm sure he doesn't mind.” 

"You're such a prissy fucking- nnh-" Sana's words skirt right over Tzuyu's fingertips before they're shoved roughly across the swell of her lower lip and into the back of her mouth. If Tzuyu's intent was to prove a point, she's about as successful as can be - Sana can only gag quietly around her digits, working her jaw over them.

"Sana, shh-shh-shh, baby, don’t fight it; just cum around around his cock, don't put yourself in a corner and try to play games - he'll fuck you right, until you scream, I promise, and-"

It hardly ever takes much. That's something you've come to appreciate: Sana can't ever help it. With the way it actually feels, you pressing right up against where the rest of her cinches so impossibly tight. She was practically teetering on the edge, on the very cliff and within reach of falling right off of it the instant you fit the very hilt of your cock up the molten-hot stretch of her perfect cunt, sliding, fucking into her while water sprays all over her quivering body, so soft beneath the wash of rain.

One of Sana’s long legs gets wrapped around your waist and you can feel her nails start to dig through the muscles in your shoulders.

Tzuyu smirks right into Sana's temple, biting at the slickness of her skin, running the curve of her thumb around the length of Sana's jugular, and sucking with her teeth when Sana cries out. "How does our girl feel wrapped around you? Wet, huh? Needy?"

"Unbelievable," you answer honestly - and maybe that's the point; Sana's pussy is incredible. Hot and silky and absolutely unreal. There’s no question, whether she's a work of art, or if she'll fuck you up, but you love that part.

“Ruin her for me, won’t you?” Tzuyu prompts, with that twinkle of mischief you're rapidly becoming accustomed to. "She looks even prettier when she's fucked out. I know you know that."

She does, she does, she does.

Your hips snap, up, fuck in - Sana mewling around the shape of Tzuyu's first two fingers - then back, drawing the motion slow, long, full - until you’re crashing forward and sinking up into that warmth you know is spreading across every inch of Sana’s body, swallowing her up inside-out as her legs start to shake and give and her tongue laps recklessly along the outline of Tzuyu's knuckles. 

Sana knows she likes to play at coy and control, but this is never part of the act - your cock fucking her submissive pussy apart - it’s hard to argue she doesn’t love how you can come to own her: hot and fast and filthy, leaving her breathless and desperate, every thrust into her tight cunt punctuated with some pretty whimper. And here, she just… there isn't the luxury, there's nowhere to hide.

Nowhere to run or shy or look away.

Tzuyu curses when finally Sana bites down, part of a long sequence of reflexes that bloom from the depth you fuck up into her cunt. And with her voice back in her throat (Tzuyu's fingers shaking out the sharp pain) she fucking whines into it, unable to stop the steady line of nonsense tumbling past her lips, incoherent except for the single-minded purpose of her own release.

"Fuck, daddy, fuck," Sana repeats in the same way she always does, getting fucked, the letters collapsing into each other. "I'm cumming, fuck, fuck, so fucking wet. God, you're, fuck, right there, oh - I'm cumming, daddy, I’m fucking cumming," is the all further she gets, muddied with the sound of your slicked-up thighs moving in quick rhythm with the beat of your heart, slapping loudly against her skin - loud enough so that the neighbors can probably listen in through paper thin walls.

Then she goes silent, face painted with it all. She isn't crying, the tears won't come, but she's gone this quiet sort of wide-eyed that matches the way she's mouthing, cumming, over and over, you’re pulling me a-fucking-part.

And you believe her. You have to.

Just look at the way her legs are doing all the wrong things. Thighs tensing taut, muscles giving out - she’s slipping down the tiles, back bending and flexing and going limp all at once. Tzuyu's already moving, scooping her up like it's something rehearsed, before you even have to ask, "Tzu, help me hold her up, won't you?"

“Tzu, huh?”

It's not much, but it is worth noting: how Tzuyu, her fingers curling and interlacing between Sana's, holds the girl like she's breakable. Tenderly, cradling Sana's small body against her chest.

"Do you slip into pet names and all that with every girl Sana brings around? Or am I," and when Tzuyu tilts her head, her smile has this very palpable bite, "the exception?"

"Every pretty girl thinks they're special, sweetheart."

Tzuyu just glimpses one downward look into Sana, shivering, riding her orgasm down into nothing, and drops a kiss into her hair. A gentle chuckle: "And when have I ever given you a reason to doubt it?"

"Shameless," is all Sana offers up, beyond exhausted, trying and failing to take more than a passing, somewhat disgruntled interest in the scene unfolding around her, while she clings to the strength Tzuyu and the tile and your hands are putting into her body.

Meanwhile Tzuyu, this devil of a daydream - this tall, skinny thing of long hair and smirking lips and cheekbones as sharp as her wit, has her gaze locked. Still curious, and all but relentless - there's more she's dying to say. It seems almost impracticable that such a lovely woman would really be this way, weapons concealed under all that good-girl charm. And in its most uncomplicated form, that's what it is: an open invitation.

You've only managed the vaguest outlines, after all. "Do you mind?" you ask again.

The next movements feel more elegant than they probably are. Cradling Sana's limp body between you, finding a steady hold.

There’s a slight shuffle to discover a proper balance, a hand slapping the glass of the shower door, and yeah, Sana's fucked out. Slurring out sounds that might resemble the shape of words if she had the presence of mind. The rest are whines and whimpers, obscene in all ways.

“Baby,” Tzuyu tells Sana in a growling kiss to the back of her ear. "Keep your fucking legs up."

(That’s a cue if you were looking for one, to get your arms fastened around Sana's small waist as she leans heavy into your chest.)

"More," The girl in your arms starts to complain, when you truly start fucking her.

"Hurt - hnn, please, more - fuck - harder," and all those sharp edges, that arrogance and conceit, it's all gone. Her pupils are blown out, an animal-like-desire set in its place - these are your invitations to wreck her, you realize, pushing so deep into her well-fucked cunt that she arches, and that her head knocks against Tzuyu's, that the small room is entirely empty save for these movements under the metal cloud of shower water, falling like rain.

This is all there is. 

Tzuyu, smirking like she herself might get off on this. 

Sana, begging.

And when Tzuyu buries a hot smile at her throat, nibbling at the skin - urging her, urging you, this sharp, "now give her the fucking dicking of a lifetime, will you?"

When Sana’s reduced down to her pleas of, please, harder daddy, and deeper, god, I can feel you so deep -

Well,

You’re all instinct. You sink your fingers into the firm skin of her ass, grab at the soft, slippery flesh around her hips. You sink your cock into her hole again and again.

The stretch is obvious and absolutely devastating, making Sana cry out and muffle her face in your shoulder. She makes a weak sort of sound around your neck - it could be anything, maybe please don't stop, or maybe please do - it doesn't matter.

"You look incredible like this baby, does he fuck you well?" Tzuyu croons, curling around her so her head rests on her shoulder - eyes watching Sana, meeting yours. "Oh, come on, aren't you always telling me about how it makes you feel - all this, full and hot and better than anyone? Now's your chance, no hiding from him. Or me."

"It's so, god it's - I -"

"Come on," Tzuyu squeezes out one long, eager moan with her hand dropped onto Sana's breasts, pulling and kneading like she owns it. "Tell him to cum in you baby, like the good fucktoy you are, let him cum up into that creaming pussy until you’re all sticky and leaking cum all over, just the biggest fucking mess."

There is measurable irony, you suppose, in how Sana brings these friends of hers back with the clear expectation to be fucked and torn apart, how they each want the same, all wanting to get her unraveling and her knees buckling. Only Tzuyu manages, more efficiently than anyone you've ever seen, to leave her all wanton and squirming against your hard, relentless thrusts into her needy cunt.

It's easy: this isn't difficult, there is nothing hard about falling for each and every promise her face has to offer - knowing her body's secrets and drawing the story out, line by line, so you can fall in love with it over and over, all while Sana starts to go helpless at the shape of your cock filling up that tiny, wanting cunt.

So you cum. Inside her. In one final push, filling her completely.

Sana opens her mouth like she's trying to say something - say yes - say daddy, say fuck yes daddy.

"That's it," Tzuyu strokes down Sana's belly. "I knew it - now keep your pretty thighs shut. Can't let even a drop out, understand?"

"Yes, fuck. It's - fuck - good, he feels," Sana finally sobs, chest heaving as you grind the last little bits of cum deep, so far and hot as it can get. All the way in. Where it's hot and wet and throbbing and slick.

Where it should stay, because you never pull out. You savor the last bit of your pulse, sporadic and lethargic. Because in truth - your mind is made and your mouth won't say it because you don’t need to.

Tzuyu's wringing the water out of Sana's hair, picking the strands into careful folds. "Alright then," and her grin is positively lecherous.

There's a bench in the corner of the shower where you eventually arrive, panting now that you realize it, and Sana makes herself at home right in your lap, face buried in your shoulder. Grinding her hips down in this almost imperceptible circle, circling back and feeling. Holding you inside and murmuring into your collarbone.

(Fucked, Sana is simply and unfairly beautiful.)

It’s all in that exhale of a moment, when Tzuyu catches water in cupped palms from the shower-head, wiping away what stray tracks of soapiness left on Sana's shoulder-blades and breasts and thighs. Her hands all up and down her body, sudsing the crease between leg and torso, down lower still, around her sensitive pussy and her folds.

You wonder if she can hear you swallow.

"Maybe we should actually wash up before we go again?"

-

The first thing Sana's free hand goes for when she stumbles through the threshold of your bedroom is a hair band you didn’t know she was storing in the top drawer of your dresser. She fidgets around keeping her towel wrapped tightly around her chest as though modesty were an option at this point.

"What?" she asks, fixing you with a slightly-irritated, slightly-teasing smirk. "You look like you have something you want to say."

"Nothing." You laugh out loud. "It's nothing. I'm just waiting."

She makes this face at you, guilty - so sorry about the contraband - as she twists her wrists and pulls the hair band round her middle-finger, wrapping her palms around her knot of wet blonde and bundling it into a half-assembled ponytail. It leaves the length of her nape exposed and vulnerable, neck flushed pink-from-showering in all the most wonderful of places.

"Waiting," is what she hones in on.

Tzuyu is pulling out of the bathroom. Her hands, washed clean and dried off with a fluffy, off-white towel. When she sets it down, she steps back, leaning on the frame. "He's waiting, for what I wonder?"

She's made of all things smooth-and-sharply-cut. Even from here, even through the sleep-haze fog, the silhouette of her nude figure gives itself to a small sense of anticipation. The long and smooth sweep of her chest, from breast, up and out, and then tapering along down to where her hips flare. She takes a step and then another and lets her fingers ride her side, from the very top of the shallow indentation in the dip of her waist, up. Then the tautness of her abdomen and further still, running slow and over the breast, coming to cup its full weight, pushing the bottom of the curve outwards.

"Waiting to," and she wets her lips in something akin to expectation. "Pound me into the fucking bed?"

You’re smiling when you explain, "I was going to say a request…"

Tzuyu’s dimples deepen. "You mean, like, we can tell you what to do?”

You sit on the bed, which is actually more of a proposition than you realize. "I suppose."

"Sana, sweetie, is there something I should be doing for him," Tzuyu looks up, wearing that trademark kind of playful expression that is definitely deliberate and not at all a tell. "Or maybe I've got this all wrong and you know exactly what you want."

"Well," you manage in reply, sounding surprisingly sane. "Don't both start coming forward with any ideas you have no intention of following through."

"And what if I have no ideas at all? What would you tell me then," is the challenge you find hanging around the slender outline of Tzuyu's wrists, and then at the back of her fingers, as she cards her hands through her hair and pulls it prettily over rise-and-falls of her collarbones, until it's barely curtaining her breasts. 

(Barely.)

She crosses over to the bed - to you and Sana - and without much other movement than that, finds a knee on either side of you to let a lone fingertip skirt the tops of your hips. Flirting with the towel around your waist.

"For the record," Tzuyu says, flicking a glance at Sana and leaning down into your jawline. The palm she slides over your thigh is so warm, so promising of its heat and pressure you'd swear you can almost taste the touch of her. "I never, ever go back on my word."

"Try me," you tell her.

"I do have some, ideas." Every time her fingernail ends up between her teeth, it’s another drop in a well that runs god knows how deep. "Though very few of them involve this towel."

“And about the ones that do?”

"Well," Tzuyu starts to purr - reaching a hand down and spreading the flat of her palm on your chest, "I figured if I ever wanted something to bite down on, well, you know."

It's just a subtle little rock - and the perfect view: she starts like this, her hair all tucked behind one shoulder, the arch of her back lifting. Slow at first, Tzuyu only pausing after every other short breath to lick and kiss your lips with hers, and the edges of her teeth, all soft and insistent. You are sure - that with a subtle twitch, a minor jerk of the knee or hip - she is almost right over the perfect place, and when her hips grind in these micro-friction little motions that have her sighing and pushing herself flush, it's clear that all she's looking to do is rub her cunt down all over the erection you've been holding in since the last time your towel was hanging somewhere above your waist.

"Hold, please," Sana interrupts, when she leans over and plucks something out of the messy contents of the nightstand - a few hair clips, and, more importantly, a condom. She swears aloud when the package tears the wrong way, but she's quick to apply a lip balm-slick finger-tip on the inside of the ring, and hands the thing to Tzuyu by way of a passing roll, "so, I assume you've got this under control."

"Give me that."

"Mm. Have at it."

There is an intrusive thought that finds its place, wedged somewhere at the base of your skull when Tzuyu starts the careful act of lowering herself down your shaft - like this, it has an inevitability - a forward momentum, the familiar sense of excitement building a force in your heartstrings. Sana must have a similar sensation, as she scoots her ass and slides one hand over the same place you feel that force thrumming, her palm reaching right for Tzuyu's ass, while Tzuyu hisses out a tiny sound at the added stretch.

"Careful," Sana says, fingers drawn back from the cleft of Tzuyu's beautiful ass with a string of slick that's unmistakably arousal. "You try going back after having his cock. And trust me, there's nothing to go back to. Like, ever."

"That must be why you're always like this," is Tzuyu's cock-sure comeback, finding herself flush with your hips.

You're biting down. You're holding back. You're probably digging nails into your palms hard enough to break skin, because you could be double, triple wrapped, latex running up your length like a goddamn balloon and you'd still feel the hot, melting perfection of Tzuyu's pussy swallowing your cock in one, slick, seamless motion. There isn't any sound either more pleasing than that hitch-groan-slip you hear as Sana helps guide Tzuyu's hips back, forth, back again and to a steady beginning of this proper pace: smooth and full.

You both need a second, because, fuck - and she's biting into a grin. Eyes already half lidded as the speed builds. As Tzuyu starts really enjoying the drag of it, the feeling. The god-damn-fucking-stretch.

"Oh? Like what?" Sana asks, smirk filling out her lips to bridge the silence you're both groaning into. "Like what?"

"Greedy," Tzuyu says. The only part that really needs to get filled in. "Because he fucks the self-control right out of you."

Now Sana lets that settle, and it's not like she doesn't know. Or doesn't understand. And still, "Mm. That does sound like me, doesn't it, daddy?"

(Yeah, well- you- )

Tzuyu watches you watch what happens next: Sana peeling out the cotton slip of her bath towel - sizing up just how good Sana looks. Fuck-me-raw.

And then she laughs, deep and gorgeous. "Didn't he just do a number on you - hn, god. Can you hear him all up inside me? Fucking, splitting me apart."

It's true.

All of it.

The way Tzuyu rides your cock. Faster, faster, rolling her body and drawing her hands together behind the length of her hair and neck until the point of her chin is upturned, showing off the hollow of her throat. A tension that glitters with sweat.

The tightening in the space between the bottom of her ass and your cock - all of it is heaven. This slow-and-rough, rough-and-fast. Tzuyu picks the tempo of it to fuck out a particular pleasure that has you catching her and pulling her closer to your body, holding her through the upward grind, where your cock meets the heat of her cunt - pressing her closer.

That's it.

Possessive. That's what both girls have the good grace to read.

Sana's hands come up Tzuyu's ribs, fingertips skirting the muscle-taut-surface of her stomach, the bumps and grooves of her ribs, and up further still, riding the path of her breasts as they're bobbing-jostled and going full-on heavy - her thumbs go at her nipples. Rolling around the hardened tips - the faintest tug at them, enough to start to pull - then just teasing them between thumb and forefinger and loving the sight of you wincing. Loving that you love that.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Sana laughs.

"It's a real show," you bite the compliment out. The very least you can get to.

(You'll be fucked if you can hide how much you want to stay buried in this girl and cum a fucking waterfall between those perfect, creamy thighs. Oh, she knows. The dirty little smile, the filthy laugh, you're holding tight - even if the act is useless.)

"Like how she clamps down," she hums. "That's the part I've always loved, you know. She just does everything so slow, so fucking good, so... deliberate."

There's a fist in Tzuyu's hair and no trace of sympathy or self restraint in her friend when Sana tells her, "Baby, ride him slow for me, can you do that?"

When Tzuyu sucks a hiss through her teeth, mouth caught around the sharp intake, Sana just licks a slow line along the curve of her lower lip - as though saying, baby, like the slut you are, remember who asked nicely? 

And it turns out: slow is worse. You can feel every tiny tremor of friction, every little shift of Tzuyu's cunt squeezing you. Clinging tightly. Your fingers wrap around her rib cage and hold her right as her ass hits your lap, while her head rolls back into her own hair. It is enough, finally, to draw an out-of-breath little pant out of her, making a beautiful blush crawl and spread across her cheeks - there.

(Oh, fuck, your brain echoes. So, you want slow, that's what the noise from your throat says as she eases back, rising up. So slow, you-can-feel-all-of-me. She makes the effort so flawlessly, it's fucking you both over, because she's looking at Sana with this flutter-beat look, eyes wide, wet and round and pleading.)

It gets that much worse the minute Sana pushes her down by the shoulders. Giving her some resistance. Showing you both she can take you inch by slow goddamned inch.

"Harder. Deeper, sweetie."

Tzuyu does everything Sana says she'll do, loving her fingers in her hair, pulling tight. Control given as easily as that. Because she looks just how she feels: utterly surrendered. A helpless kind of want, like there's something broken in her chest when the head of your cock pushes her deep, deep. To the point she feels something more than an ache.

"Want it," Tzuyu whispers out against Sana's smile. "From the back, like you promised," she says, and takes the shudder out of your breathing.

Sana cups her jaw, laughing. She puts one arm around Tzuyu's throat and bites at her chin, at her ear. "I bet he'd do just about anything to give you what you want, baby."

Tzuyu’s hips snap down onto yours again. Melting your cock in this thick, molten heat.

And again, faster. Needier.

The kind of movements across your lap that make everything louder - a beautiful chorus of small-sounds. Slaps and squelching. Wet and gasping and begging and skin-on-skin. You'd never, ever considered the act a competition before, not with Sana. But when Tzuyu seems to be seeing who can pull the most erotic of noises out from underneath your ribcage - or the highest pitched sigh - the wetter and louder it all gets -

"Sana."

"Tzu."

Tzuyu rides the pressure and finds her voice, head thrown back, jaw slack. "Sana - tell him to, I'm gonna, soon. Tell him what to do."

"Beg for him," and Sana gives her the fakest-of-all-pouts when she slips her hand along Tzuyu's inner thigh, nearing her where the two of you meet, then slowing her pace, bringing you both to an immediate stand-still, while her fingertips continue, ghosting across the shape of your stomach. "He doesn't need anything less than the truth."

Tzuyu's face. It's the most gorgeous thing you've seen. Her hips are winding slow against you when you hit a spot you're not entirely sure either of you can recreate at your own whim: deep inside. Her eyes as wide as they can be. All of her sharp edges now just these subtle things - the very shape of the shadow beneath her clavicle, the tensing of her thighs at your sides, the gentle lines that curl up from the wide bottoms of her hips when your fingers thread up her belly, palm open flat.

"I want," is where Tzuyu starts, not hiding it any part. "I want you to bend me over the bed." 

And in a breathless voice: 

"Please, please let me have what I want. Just bend me over the bed, shove my legs apart and take me. Hold me down. Fuck me and fill me and don't let me move or say a thing. Until we're both fucking finished."

You swallow. Hard.

Because here's what Sana's brought you: this tall brunette with an impossibly beautiful ass and thighs to die for, a sin-full mouth. The curves in her waist and back and tits a distraction, that you might try to map out until you're so lost you forget how to leave, how to ever take your cock out of this tight cunt.

"Is that a thing you can do?" Tzuyu practically purrs in one long tone, pushing herself up your waist, until your cock falls out and hangs there. Until you can only see all of this clear, gorgeous skin in front of you and hear her pretty little moan. "God, please, daddy, I’m begging you."

(She says this last part in a way that lets you know this isn't something either of you will get over easily, the kind of pleasure, the feeling and the flash. She's unreadable - almost, not quite- just too honest, there's nothing else for you to believe. Maybe that's where the shiver comes from, or your palms itching, or the sounds of your bedding ruffling as you spin her onto her back, her tummy - pull up on her hips until they're sky high and you can palm her breasts, let her press her knees up and apart on the duvet. Until you get that first look down the column of her spine and the sudden, stunning shape of her ass in a view you never want to say goodbye to.)

Tzuyu slides her hands across your sheets, all this stretch. A flex of muscle. When she opens her hips and you push two fingers deep, inside, easy - then back out -

"How much of that," Tzuyu interrupts, blushing furiously, "do I have left to beg with? Please."

- because she's been soaked and aching all day just thinking about it. Just begging for a good fucking - or so she told Sana, who now giggles and leaves small kisses up the ridge of her spine, crawls alongside the dip-line of the mattress, and after curling her fingers around the column of Tzuyu's throat - smooths a single fingernail up and down and presses, tracing, the groove of her jaw as you nudge your cock against her.

It’s not on purpose, this needlessly drawn-out moment - simple brush of latex against her slick, dripping folds, the tightening in her core and how it matches the tension in Sana's wrist and the coarseness of the bed-linens and the hardness of you - but everything eventually folds, into her.

And you're not helping, the way you're fastened to the narrow point of her waist like it's a handle. Your thumbs riding the arch of her hips, taking every opportunity to sink your fingers hard into the flesh, grip tighter and push, pulling Tzuyu, if only to really work that friction between your hips.

"Fuck, it's all in. Finally." Sana gasps like she's the one being bent, arched, fucked from behind, then lays herself down against the length of Tzuyu's shoulder, chin bumping her cheek. Watching Tzuyu. Taking it all in.

You have a hard time making it out, but Tzuyu starts this half-whimpered litany about how she needs to be fucked (that is, roughly - deep and long, or maybe rough and short and deep, or whatever, as long as it makes her lose composure), followed with some shoddy mix of cursing and your name and Sana's - the things all three of you might consider for another chance meeting.

And as you're following up the suggestion with a low groan, that's exactly how you notice that grind in her hips - a jerk back, a twist, bucking against you. She feels so, so incredibly tight when she writhes onto you, squeezes. Like she wants to tear her heart out her chest, she's so overwhelmed. So thoroughly and totally taken by this fuck. By you. "Harder," is all she says.

This one line does it, then two more. All in-and-out thrusts from behind, fuller the second time, then the third.

Only when you find Tzuyu peering back over her shoulder with a pair of eyes that say, please, pretty-please, all liquid and warm and wanting. "Fucking ruin that cunt, I want - god. Do you have the slightest idea how much," and that is where the words disappear into a slow and sticky whine.

"Yeah baby," Sana whispers.

She knows what it is. Tzuyu wants so much more, so you give it. Give her the just-this-side-of-ruthless fucking and the slow-pace grind you know can push her right over the edge. Give her more, all of you, and get her hands twisting in the pillow and grabbing fistfuls of sheets, burying her face into the space above her wrists and nearly choking on her hair with how she moans and yelps - loud.

Her whole body jolts forward the next time. The arch to her back deepening. Body drawing in on a flawless line.

Tzuyu does cum. Eventually.

She keens and rolls and begs you not to pull out or slow, just stay put and fill her with your cum - keep fucking going, please. The only thing keeping her from landing flat on your mattress as she practically unravels around your cock are fingers you have under her hips, tightening. Bruising.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me, you’re,” you’re railing out of her lungs, where the words hang on sex-stale air.

First with Sana whispering promises into her ears and letting Tzuyu swallow, and suck around the length of her index, then two, fingers. Then licking a kiss into her mouth, tongue tangling up hers and finishing up the act with, "cum for us, Tzu, like the sweet girl you are - you take him so well."

Then, with your hand held over her ass-

(She could cry from it. From how everything pulls you in, like a riptide, and, really, with no regard for things like safety or drowning.)

-the utterance off her lips has your stomach twisting into knots:

"Keep," you hear her ask Sana. Barely getting the words out as you ride, fast. "Please, keep, telling him that I - god."

It gets worse before it gets better.

"I can't - I need; fuck, I can’t, with the rubber, I want him," and Sana smirks like she knew all along. "Sana, please-"

"You want the real thing, sweetie. Isn't that right, baby? Hm. Of course it's okay," and Sana soothes a hand through her friend's fringe, pushes it away from her eyes and over her ears, making something that sounds like an adoring laugh slip out. "You want him to fuck his cum so deep in that pussy, I know you do, don't worry."

When you slow down the grinding, wipe the sweat from your face, Sana gets your attention and nods to the very place your cock is disappearing between the cheeks of Tzuyu's ass, "go ahead. If you want the mess-up, sweetie - let's make sure that's exactly what he'll give you."

Who exactly wants what most is hard to say. Sana's the one pulling off the condom, the rubber stretching to an obscene limit that has you fearing for your life should it snap back before it breaks. Tzuyu is already a sort of gaping mess with it all, her own fingers snuck under to rub harsh circles in the absence of cock and something firm and heavy to fill her. To feel full.

And there's you, asking, or maybe, double-checking: "Tzuyu, you're saying you want me to-"

"She doesn't care," is what you're interrupted with, courtesy of Sana. "Fuck a baby into her cunt, that's what she wants."

(Like you wouldn't fucking love it too. Or have the frame of mind to even begin to unpack all of that.)

It’s a lot, admittedly.

And not just because Tzuyu has never looked better: on all fours, pressed, and presented. Legs all the way apart and ass and thighs in your grip, with that smile all pointedly certain and wild-eyed, like, she knows, that you know exactly what to give her - what she really wants - filling her so full and marking your claim by fucking your cum right to her very core.

Tzuyu drags her head back, so she can peek over her shoulder and meet your eyes.

She does things. Like sighing this small sound and laughing and - she has this thing for noises, for things breaking under the strain, where she won't say a word, except to murmur some part of your name into your jawline, a raggedness in her breathing. Sheer hunger.

"I want - want you to, fuck me."

You will. Or you are. Or you're going to, only - Sana's lips are fast around your cock, fingers fluttering delicately between your thighs and drawing these stuttering sounds in your breath, "I will. I will. I'm - I will."

Sana just hums, copper hair bobbing in place. Her hot mouth and wet fingers pulling and sliding and pulling and sliding. Tongue moving in all the ways she knows you like.

Which, here’s a fact: Sana can be mean. No one would believe it.

But sometimes this is the price of admission. You have to be honest about what it takes, how, exactly, you intend to break this beautiful brunette whose ass is swaying back and forth in this mesmerizing little waggle of the hips. It's hard not to marvel, not to ask questions and not wonder at what a pair of friends so similar and so opposite do to each other and other people and to themselves in those small, private hours and space no one else shares, that has you panting and burning and her clasping the hollow of your neck and asking with her body if this is okay, because sometimes, in moments of absolute need, just a glance can mean your end.

So, there's no tease; Sana is well aware of what it feels like when you're throbbing and ready to burst - she's working you up and over and right to that point of no return-

"Can I? Fucking-"

"Fine," she replies, maybe having now considered every other way you might spill a hot load out and make a mess of the sheets. "Have at her," and a flick of tongue catches around the tip of your cock - the final tease, the best punishment.

And the promise of how Tzuyu makes that perfect whimpering cry. Something entirely wounded. Because as soon as it begins - your cock in the shallow depth of her creaming cunt - you're both made aware how she's wetter than she was an hour ago and clenching at nothing, hands balling themselves in frustration, palms bunched white-knuckled up in fists. She needs something, anything. Something for her to squeeze against. For her to bear down on and bounce her cunt off-

The sound all three of you make when you grit your teeth and bury yourself deep into her pussy is a guttural, aching thing, with you biting a lip and gasping. Tzuyu half-growling-half-sobbing into the sheets.

It doesn't matter that she lets Sana cover her open and slack mouth in an attempt to quiet it.

It doesn't matter because in a blink, the exact point in which you sink completely inside - where it's the first, the best, feeling of Tzuyu’s hot pussy taking your cock.

(Mind-numbing, is the word that doesn't come to you.)

Under you, Tzuyu is writhing and hot and tight into the mattress - and so desperate.

"Please," is about all that gets away from her. Which is just too cute to ignore: she's been dying to be fucked, ever since stepped into your foyer and was introduced by the softest, most deliberate of gestures that wound up being all-too intimate. "Please- I need - harder, fucking-"

Sana takes to touching you, her own little form of enjoyment that ends with her fingertips mapping the shape of your jaw. Pupils blown, "Isn't she amazing?" Sana laughs into your neck.

"Fucking," is what your first real stroke back into Tzuyu pulls out,  “unreal."

The friction has you both grinding your bodies together at the base, and she arches, this throaty moan, before looking back up at you and letting her mouth fall open - this wordless sentence of plea, over and over again. She's shaking. Body-full. It's almost something painful to see, that she's so undone - and what if you were the only person who'd ever fucked her like this: into ruin.

Tzuyu clenches around the next thrust - begging, so-sore-and-begging to cum.

The demand is practically written in her muscles, and all you want is for her to let go for the second, third, last time - until she loses track of the count. To get there before you have the time to register that she is actually doing it. She's already half-way gone and at your mercy - her only choices now, being: cum, or let you chase the orgasm you're currently rubbing all around the curve of her cunt.

Sana swallows her scream when the first little cry comes, that you've edged out of her. And it gets worse and better the second time her ass meets your thighs, where she's making a real mess on your hips and all but yelling out her orgasm in her state of such incoherent stutter and disarray. The arch to her back is this thing out of your best imagination, which has you - pounding out all her noises - gripping and curving over the plane of her stomach. Until Tzuyu's beginning to make these different cries, somewhere new, somewhere you're finding a whole lot deeper.

"Hold her ass up and fuck her 'til she's full of cum," is the advice you get from Sana in the end, as you fuck her and fuck her through the tumultuous rise and fall of orgasm after orgasm, "oh baby, does it hurt so good? Do you feel that heat spreading down your thighs and getting you all slick? You always knew the best toys are the ones that get bred, sweetheart."

And from her, barely, "fuck, yes."

That's what does it: the desperation just that tangible in all your voices.

Sana manages to get her lips on yours. A kiss that could knock the wind out of your sails under normal circumstances, one that curls a fist and tugs around a familiar part of you. But Tzuyu's eyes roll and drop low, fluttering shut, while your hips crash in quickening succession:

"Fuck-you're so-perfect, cum in me again, daddy - make me," and, "please, so fucking full, just give me more. Want more of you, until it's-"

Tzuyu gets you. Just there. Just the way you needed it. Just like that.

There's something addictive in how her muscles clench and grab around the head of your cock - drawing everything you'd been holding back to a painful front, and - Sana's taste in your mouth still so sweet, mixed with salt and sweat, while you fuck and pound, with absolutely zero respite. Cum buried deeper and deeper until it's spilling and Tzuyu whines for the filthy feeling. Until you're fucked through, emptying every single drop into her open cunt. Until your legs feel sore, a slight shake all through the muscle and the tension in your neck and shoulders, and you're growling this thing that might be her name, and "Tzu, my god, baby, you feel, so amazing," in between thrusts.

It earns you an appreciative whimper.

Something breathy and not-at-all restrained. She doubles down on it when your cock slides out of her swollen, well-fucked cunt.

At first, she only hums a sleepy smile and turns her face in toward the touch, eyes closed and unresponsive. A long exhale. Even like this - especially, perhaps - Tzuyu is lovely.

Either out of exhaustion or overbearing satisfaction, you collapse into her - bodies folding up like that old-cliche about a stack of cards or dominoes - with your cheek to her back and your arms wrapping around her chest, tight, trying to squeeze. Like you're hugging someone from behind. Which isn't too far off. Because for the next five or ten or fifteen minutes or a half-hour, you lie there, pressing your face in against the side of her neck, smelling her hair - how sweet the strands are - then down along her shoulders, and under, listening to the soft way Tzuyu falls into her breaths. 

In, out. In, out.

Sana follows all the while with, "should we not have let her ride, first?"

To which, Tzuyu says, "fuck off."

Sana brushes it off, crawls around your shoulders and slips two, three, five kisses into your forehead. That's when you know to shuffle over, dragging and tugging limbs and muscles and bone in the same direction - careful not to let the sticky sensation linger anywhere it shouldn't. Not even for an instant.

The three of you are laying in a total fucking mess. But it's your mess, and that's beautiful in a sort of thought-provoking poetic way.

You turn your head. Tzuyu's there, still, blinking slowly.

"Hello again, hi," you say and the smile comes up all sorts of natural. "Okay?"

Her gaze shifts into something vague, so much quieter, but she nods. So it must be. Okay.

-

“Is it too early?” Tzuyu asks two weeks later, and nothing has ever, ever started like that.

She’s at your doorstep, a little too dressed up for the middle of the afternoon, hair pulled away from her face in two loose braids, bright eyes, lip-gloss that shimmers just enough. Something innocent in the whole way she looks and stands and smiles. Nothing, on the surface, that gives the truth away.

You lift an eyebrow, skeptical. Always. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Yes you were," and she dangles a set of keys.

"I'm sorry, did you steal those?"

The laughter from her chest is as surprising as it is gorgeous, rich and thick like molasses, rolling over the shape of her tongue. It hits you hard that two weeks - really, any amount of time - it’s not nearly long enough.

And before Tzuyu can admit as much out loud, Sana chirps from her spot aside the door, knee bent and grinning, "maybe I did."

"Well," you say, hands on your hips, "this is all a little..."

"Irregular, I know." Sana's giving her best impression of you: so exasperated.

"Which is, honestly," she continues to explain, pushing away from her perch and approaching in these small, gentle steps. "We need, that thing you promised you'd do," she trails a finger up the buttons of your shirt, under your jaw. You're already drowning. "Whenever" - is her very worst torture - "we called."

(Might just be a little bit of trouble, is the one honest answer, to whatever you were trying to start when you saw their faces and recognized their bodies and said: yes, come inside and meet me and fuck my brains out, all that.

What a way to begin. What a story it'll be.)

a/n: these two are fucking adorable.

#twice smut #sana smut #tzuyu smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #twice sana smut #twice tzuyu smut

[cursedvida]

SAD EYES, BROKEN SMILE V (Buggy x f!Reader)

PART IV // PART VI

WARNINGS: Smut, Minors DNI please go away. I mean masturbation, dirty talk, vaginal fingering and a lot of +18 things babies.

N/A: From now to the end the series are starting to be very hot, sorry not sorry. But yeah porn with feelings.

The confrontation with the marines was not complicated, it was just a ship without a very powerful captain, so it was quite easy to finish them off. As everyone witnessed -part- of your skills, you decided not to hold back in a battle anymore. You didn't show your full potential either, just enough to get rid of a few cadets while leaving Buggy free to show off in front of the whole crew.

At the end of the battle, Buggy decides to celebrate the victory using the barrels you stole from the navy ship. Another party of many on Buggy's pirate ship, it almost seems like a habit to end up all drunk on beer and rum. You must admit you've never drunk so often before.

While the musicians begin to play a song and you hear the laughter of some of your crewmates, you feel that someone is watching you. Buggy has his eyes on you, those eyes that you like so much and that you have imagined looking at you that way a thousand times. You feel the lust and desire in them, which excites and overwhelms you in equal parts. Buggy pretends to listen to his subordinates while still paying attention to you, he takes a sip from his beer mug without taking his eyes off you. You watch him from the corner of your eye, not taking your mind off what has happened this morning: the wet taste of his mouth, his hands roaming your body, his fingers in places no other man has touched. You swallow saliva, you want him as much as he wants you, you feel a tightness in your chest too great, you feel like something inside you is going to explode.

You need some air, so you decide to withdraw for a moment, get away from the people. You go down to the cellars so you can breathe for a moment. You think that you are being unconscious, that you are getting too carried away. Who is this person non capable of thinking clearly? Since when do you let yourself be carried away by absurd desires and give up a mission on a whim? That's not you, you don't recognize yourself. You've never had time for that kind of nonsense, why is it different now? Why with him?

"Do you like to meet in this place?"

You recognize that voice instantly. As you look up there is Buggy, your captain, standing in front of you with his eyes bright from the contrast they make with the dim light in the room. You keep wondering what his face must look like without so much makeup, what his lips must taste like without the aftertaste of face paint. You lose your senses again and all the questions and reproaches you asked yourself earlier disappear.

"I thought you wouldn't remember" you say in a whisper "you were really drunk that night."

Buggy approaches you slowly, never taking his eyes off you. When he's at your level he lifts your chin gently with his fingers.

"Not that much" he admits, cocking a smile.

Your heart starts pounding at the thought of him maybe kissing you at a moment's notice. At times like this you wish your life had been otherwise, more normal, less violent. Then you could have had an ordinary adolescence, met some boys, had some experiences. So, at least now you wouldn't feel so ridiculous for not knowing how to react when a man calls out to you.

You look away, somewhat self-consciously.

"You fought very well today…" You comment shyly, radically changing the subject.

"I admit I went too far" he forces your chin to look back at him "but it's just that those suckers interrupted me at a very important moment, and I really can't stand that."

A nervous giggle escapes you. God, what a fool you are. You feel ashamed of yourself.

"Buggy, I…" You move closer to him, melting into an embrace. His smell makes you feel good, in a safe place.

The captain doesn't know how to react, after your hot encounter this morning he thought you were going to go on the lust attack without too much thought, but that embrace so warm, so intimate, has caught him totally off guard. Today he watched you fight, he watched with pleasure as you knocked out those navy pigs without ruffling your hair, it made him even hornier than he already was. But when you hug him like that, like someone holding on to an iron beam so as not to lose his balance, he realizes that maybe you were right and he was really underestimating your feelings. That maybe not a purely sexual attraction.

"I don't know what's wrong with you" you confess, hiding your face in his chest so you don't have to look him in the face "But you make me feel so silly."

"Well, that happens to a lot of people when they discover my incredible wit" he boasts, trying to take the intensity out of the situation.

"It's not because of that" you reply softly "it's just… I really like you a lot. I'm not playing games."

And he realizes then how vulnerable you are being in his arms. Your honesty about emotions is something that always catches him off guard but at the same time touches him. How can you be so insanely honest? Fuck, it feels like you're playing at leaving him unarmed.

"I want you so badly," you tell him in a whisper, and it unleashes all his most primal instincts.

Buggy lets out a sort of wild animal-like growl. You then notice how he lifts you into the air, sitting on one of the barrels in the hold. You are now almost at the same height. He looks you in the eyes again, his nose brushing yours.

"You're a dangerous little girl" he strokes your hair with an open hand and a certain paternal air "very dangerous."

At that moment you give him a gentle kiss on his nose. It's something you've wanted to do for a long time because, contrary to what he thinks, you don't find it horrible, but appetizing in a way. You don't know how he's going to react to such an action, but when his gaze changes, turning wild, you know you've pressed a button from which there's no turning back.

The next thing you know, Buggy has taken hold of your neck, kissing it, biting it, leaving a trail of red paint on your smooth skin. You've triggered his wild side, his hands are no longer as soft and slow as they were this morning, now they don't hesitate to strip off your shirt, leaving you in your bra. His mouth runs down your collarbones, down your chest and finally you notice how his tongue begins to slurp the top of your breasts. On the other hand, his hands run along your waist, down to your buttocks to remove the shorts you are wearing. Before you know it you are almost naked in front of him, noticing how your cheeks suddenly turn red.

You grab his hair, pulling off his hat and then his bandana to realize that his hair is actually longer than you imagined. Strands of blue hair falling over his face. You notice your cheeks red again, for some reason you find him more handsome than ever.

"Buggy, I've never…" you're embarrassed to even say it, seeing him so thrown. He looks at you, his pupils dilated with excitement "I've never… been like this with anyone."

The idea of being the first one able to go that far with you doesn't seem to disgust him, quite the opposite. There is a smirk on his face, he feels so full of himself. He knows that you are giving him a privilege that you have not wanted to bestow on anyone else, only him, which swells his pride considerably.

"Then I'll have to make sure you have a great time," he replies to you, mischief in his gaze.

He spreads your legs then and bends down slightly, removing your panties to expose the most intimate part of you. You notice your cheeks light up just before you feel your whole face burning. Buggy is kneeling, staring at your crotch with an almost famished expression.

"Don't do that, I'm embarrassed."

He lets out a laugh just before he approaches your wetness. That's when you gasp at the contact of his tongue with your intimacy. Buggy starts to move his tongue expertly, trying to find your clit, while you do your best not to lose your balance. One of your hands goes to his hair, while the other tries to hold on to the barrel. You feel totally vulnerable, exposed to this man who has decided to make of you whatever he wants because you let him. His tongue running along your pussy, finding that sensitive area that makes you let out a huge moan of pleasure.

"Mmm, there it is" he relishes, looking at you for a moment.

You watch him, panting, spread-eagled in an absolutely obscene position that, at the same time, excites you enormously. You love being at his mercy, moaning every time his tongue caresses your clitoris, sucking expertly as you let out sighs and sounds you never thought could come out of your mouth.

"Fuck little girl, it's fucking wonderful when you growl like that" he comments just before he starts eating you again.

You notice how he has pulled his hands away from your body. As he continues to lick your pussy, he removes his gloves in midair. His hands go to your back, unclasping your bra. You are now totally naked before him. Your breasts glisten in the light of the room, your nipples are erect and Buggy's hands begin to caress them, pinching them as his tongue works faster and faster.

You let out a cry of pleasure, you can't repress it, there are too many sensations at once.

Buggy makes one of his hands reconnect with your arm, pulls his face away and starts stroking you with one of his fingers. As he jerks you off, he sits up slightly, moving closer to you. His makeup is smudged. He gets close to your ear as he inserts one of his fingers into your vagina.

"You have no fucking idea how you have me right now" he comments, as you hold your breath as you feel him insert himself into your cavity "Fuck, gorgeous, you're so tight. I think we're going to have to do some work on this."

You hold onto his neck so you don't lose your balance as you feel his finger advance inside you. Buggy grabs your wrist, pulling your hand to his crotch. You can feel the huge bulge, hard and throbbing, noticeable under his pants.

"See?" he asks, staring at you before kissing you. His mouth is salty, tasting of your own fluids, something that manages to turn you on even more "That's how you got me. That's how you get me my little minx."

"Buggy…" you moan. Slipping your hand under his pants to touch his erect member. You've never done anything like this before, but instinctively you begin to move your hand, guided by the expressions of pleasure he puts on "Like this?"

"Perfect. Mmmm... good girl" he growls, sinking his head into your neck.

He pulls his finger out from inside you and starts stroking your clit while you do the same with his member. You both start moaning at the same time, Buggy looks at you then, notices your half-open mouth, your burning cheeks, your watering eyes. He revels in that virgin face discovering sex while you try your best to give him back all the pleasure he's giving you.

"You're a insane craziness" he whispers to you without taking his eyes off you "you're going to fuck my life".

You are not able to answer him anything, you notice that you are close to orgasm, each time the waves of pleasure are bigger and bigger.

"Buggy, I think… I think…"

"Hold on a little, baby girl. I'm almost there."

You try to hold back, biting your lower lip trying to stifle your moans. You wiggle his cock quickly, noticing how he gasps slightly. He wiggles his finger more as well. You both start moaning at the same time.

"I'm going to fucking cum" he gasps.

"Me too" you moan, almost unable to hold it in.

"Fuck!"

At that moment you notice how pleasure invades your whole body, rising from your lower belly to all your extremities. Your legs even tremble, you can't modulate your moans, you start to scream disconsolately as your body fills with spasms. You feel your vision blur for a few moments and, when you want to realize it, you are half dead on one of his arms while the hand holding his cock is completely stained. He has also cum and his face is resting on your tits, breathing heavily. You feel your heart racing.

"Fuck me" he sighs, looking up.

For some reason you see him looking more handsome than ever, more attractive than any other time. At that moment, if he asked you for anything, you'd go to hell itself. He gently pulls you up. With the hand that was holding you so you wouldn't fall, he pushes your hair away from your face. He smiles then, looking quite pleased.

"You're definitely going to ruin me."

And then he lets out a tremendous laugh.

#buggy #buggy the clown #buggy imagine #buggy x reader #buggy x y/n #op buggy #buggy headcanons #buggy the clown imagine #buggy x you #buggy smut #buggy x oc #buggy live action #buggy one piece #buggy pirates #buggy the flashy fool #buggy the genius jester #buggy thoughts #buggy d clown #smut #one piece smut

[vqrtualheartss]

Hii

Every Sunday, you scanned the church's congregation for a familiar face ― Aunt Rio's son, Miles. It seemed as though she barely managed to drag him every other week given the nonchalant look he always wore. You held him as a classification of a hallway crush, never daring to do much than pretend not to stare from the other side of the alter unless you were ready to meet the god you served. Well, the God your whole family served; yeaa, you're the pastor's daughter. And I think we know how that goes, being expected to keep Sunday school each and every week, not to mention that the simplest things were prohibited like music, talking in a "ghetto" way, blah blah blah yaddi yaddi yadda. And your absolute favorite ― always keeping your appearance up to posh

"I will not have my eldest dressing like a jezebel or some boy in my own home. Go and take that off right this instant"

Were the ever present words spoken by your mother if you made the mere mistake of wearing shorts or sweats' around the house. If anything, life felt like a Greenleaf episode and not in a good way. Ranging from the secrets and scandals behind the chapel's closed doors or the fact that multiple administrators like to front that they had the perfect, picturesque family. You couldn't tell which was worse; that they had nothing like that or the fact that your own family―. Nah, in this house you had no family, not since your sister Asaria left.

With tears in both of your eyes, she barely mouthed the words "I'm sorry" to you. It could be the fact you were just eight years old to register what she was apologizing for or that the tears bound your vision so badly you mistook the statement for something else. That couldn't be it, you could see clearly the disgust-filled scowls on your parents faces and they held you back. And like all the stupid rules enforced, your family forbid you from ever contacting her, brainwashing you that they were only trying their bests at raising you. Therefore, you pushed Asaria's words and underlying warning at the back of your mind, convincing yourself that she was just paranoid.. yea. Let's just say that all the delusion wore off when it was your time to take the mic.

You never thought that they'd do this, it felt unreal, like some book with a fucked up plot. But it was happening, you were being wed off at the mere age of seventeen. You know that like all the previous fights, you'd never win. Then again here you stood, behind the chancel, arguing about the dominant latter of your life. Did it even feel like you had one of your own? You felt like a puppet being induced to what was 'for your own good' as you helplessly bantered with your parents Mr. and Mrs. Larkspur

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

"If both parents agree to it, you may be wed" Some mother you are "I was barely sixteen last week, how am I eligible to get married" "I suggest you fix your tone young woman" "THAT'S THE LEAST IMPORTANT THING RIGHT NOW"

The frilled dress I wore swayed with the movements my hand made justifying why what they're doing is absolutely atrocious. Why isn't stuff like this illegal? Tears swung from my lash line as I flashed my face from my fathers wavering hand meant to do nothing but harm. He wasn't one to put his hands on anyone but when he felt desperate or threatened to show dominance; like right now. My mother held onto her coat tightly with that same disgust she watched Asaria flea with whilst my father balled his fist. The claps of the congregation started to die down. Grunting, he walked out onto the nave, but not before giving me a scorning glare. She stood unmoved, dragging me to our house attached to the church by my arm to give the same lecture she had over a thousand times.

"YOU have full knowledge as to why we're doing this. You're father and I are growing grey and we need someone to take over the legacy of the church and with you as our eldest we cannot let you rule over alone or by yourself"

Because I'm a girl? I managed to keep up a neutral look, not an angry or sad one. I couldn't bear to show any emotions, they stripped me of them. The teachings of her scolding me for frowning or crying stood bold in the forefront of my mind. You'd think that she'd come with something along the lines of "Strong girls don't cry" or some crap like that but nope, her reasoning was that "Smiling and frowning makes frown lines and we need to look perfect" I shook away the thoughts as I listened to my mother spur verbal diarrhea.

"If I could I'd marry off your sister because unlike you, she has sense but you know what the church would thi―" "What is wrong with you― Nyla's been sixteen for only three months― Are you insane―"

She slapped me hard, a reminder that she― "Will not tolerate disrespect from a child". As much as I wanted to retaliate, I held out, rubbing the left side of my face as she continued.

"You WILL listen to you us and meet Mr. & Mrs. Nightingale's son tonight"

Oh great, the Nightingales. Another perfect family, I wonder how'd they feel if they found out that their precious son was really up to. What's his name again? Jevaughn? Jaxon? Do I even care? Mmcht

She did a once over of me before adding "Be in the church in less than 5, you will be leading choir today" Didn't even ask me to

We went separate ways; my mother to my father and I to a powder room. Composing myself once more, I hurried inside the church in front of the choir loft, feeling relief when I spotted not a questioning stare. I've learnt to hide how I felt truly behind a faux smile quite well If I do say so myself, but no matter how much I tried my eyes remained glassy― tears threatening to betray thr façade at any moment.

I gave a tight-lipped smile to the congregation as they welcomed my appearance with cheers. I laughed when Tía Rio moved to the front row in midst of the clapping, she waved to me and I did likewise but a little more erratically. She's an amazing person to know and really a nice woman, a great woman that does her best for her family. It painfully excruciates me how these women could sit on her name and belittle her as if they were someone to look up to. She's definitely a better individual than those in this church that like to claim they are combined. But the day I go off on them, I'll let them know.

After thanking the usher for the microphone I ran back to the choir unsure which song to perform. A few members suggested traditional songs and favorites, one stuck out most to me though: Man in the mirror by Michael Jackson. I bit my lip contemplating the decision, we just started to sing (somewhat) church-related pop songs in church so I was a bit hesitant; but as I said, relating, some of these people need to hear it.

I announced the choice to the band members before returning to my position, clearing my throat as I scanned the audience. No, I wasn't scared, I've done this too many times to be. Receiving a signal from the drummer I allowed the choir to voice the opening, joining when they started the second verse. Eventually, we approached the high note as I begged for my throat to not close up. I looked around the room.

“I'm starting with the man in the mirror I'm asking him to change his ways And no message could've been any clearer If you wanna make the world a better place Take a look at yourself and then make a change”

You're staring

You're still staring

Despite the song being half-finished everyone started to clap, giving a literal standing ovation. Did some of them finally heed the meaning? Coming down from the high, I took focus in my vision. Was I looking at Miles this whole time? Widening my eyes at the realization had him chuckling, he waved before continuing to clap.

First time without a stoic expression and I'm wishing he smiled more. I put a palm in the middle of my face to loosely hide my smile before waving back. A few of the young men waved even though it wasn't directed to them. Looking over to their spots Miles and I shook our heads.

Behind me, my father cleared his throat, the harsh sound reminding me of my earlier troubles. My expression died down quickly. Instead of beside my family I sat in the first row in the choir loft. Miles moved to the front of the church to his mother who began to question him about something. She turned to me and smiled, speaking softly "You did amazing" Although I couldn't hear too well over the preaching, I pieced out her words, thanking her in return.

Usually, I'd be somewhere discreetly using my phone but it was different today. My eyes moved back and forth from my father to Miles who did likewise; giggling each time we made eye contact at same.

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

Even though I didn't want to, I gathered the strength to partake in the seemingly mandatory post-service meet and greet

"'Ah dear, meet one of my good friends. Robert this is (y/n), (y/n), Robert"

The man whom he was introducing looked worn out, wrinkles showing in every crevice in his face despite (from what I've heard) being in his late 30's. He wore gold grills on his bottom canines, which I would hate to say matches well with his black and white suit.

"Hello, I'm (y/n). Pleasured to meet you"

"Likewise"

His voice came off hoarse, sounding as if someone who had smoked for a week straight finally took a breath.

Even though opting for a simple handshake, the man dragged me into an uncomfortable hug. And I mean uncomfortable, his hands trailed all about my back, quickening its pace heading underneath the mid-back vest I wore. I pulled back, crushing the man's toes with my heel as I did.

"I'm so sorry"

I innocently smiled at the grunting man that held onto his loafer tightly. With the hand resting on his left forearm I would've pinched him if my father didn't take him away. I saw my mother introducing Nyla to some boy of her age. Ew.

About 10 footsteps away I felt a warm hand on my shoulder that sent me tumbling. I probably would've fell if I wasn't caught by the hug afterwards.

"Tía Rio" I paused, resting a hand on my chest before continuing

"Hola hija"

She pulled me back into her embrace before stepping backwards.

"You were absolutely amazing out there― as always" "'Thank you tía, that truly means a lot to me" "Oh hush, I know you've heard that about a thousand times now" "Well, it means a lot from you"

We laughed a bit before she started to pat down her bag. "Before I forget" She dipped her hand into its largest compartment before taking out something wrapped in colorful tissue paper. "Here"

Handing it over I could tell by the texture that it was some type of food― cookies probably. At this point they were a symbolic part of our relationship.

------------ Flashback twin

The cold December air on the exposed skin on your knee was doing you no good. Said cold wind was what had you like this. With a snotty-nose you were headed to your mothers purse for a tissue. And when she was nowhere to be found, you frantically ran around in search for her, convinced this was some sick game of hide-and-seek.

Sitting in a random slide with your feet up to your chest, you felt tears rush when a boy with hair slightly longer than the others saw you crying and hurriedly turned back.

"If it's another stray cat we're not keeping it" "No mama"

The same boy came through the other end of the slide, pointing at you. Not knowing what else to do, you hid your head between your legs and chest, bringing it up at sudden speech directed to you.

"My mommy says you should come down. She wants to see you"

Bringing your head up by the slightest, you could see the boy's extending hand in front of your face. "You have to get out because mommy's too fat to fit in" The woman who you figured to be his mother had her mouth agape, her shocked expression turning soft when you two started to laugh.

Holding onto his hand you both slid down, the adrenaline numbing the pain in your knee. Immediately after standing up she noticed your blood stained shorts, rushing you to a nearby bench.

"¿Qué tal? How did this happen?" Even though opening your mouth for words none came out, 6-year-old you unsure how to explain the situation. Understanding your frustration she spoke up. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me" She gave you a comforting smile. Which in return had you smiling, then her son, revealing the front tooth he recently lost.

After she finished bandaging your knee she began to put her belongings back into her bag, leaving out just one thing. A floral pink and white decorative tissue. She handed it to her son who quickly hid it behind his back the moment it touched his hand.

"I wanted the purple paper mama. Pink is for girls" His mother crossed her arms, tilting her head "Do you want me to take them back?" He shook his head no, bringing out the stuffed paper with his free hand. His other was still laced into yours. He placed the tissue beside you, jumping up onto the bench so the pastries sat between you two. He brought one up to your face.

"Want one?" Being thoroughly instructed to never take anything from anyone in public made you decline― or try to. Opening your lips to refuse politely, he pushed quarter of a cookie into your mouth.

"MILES―" "Yes, mama" He smiled innocently, turning towards his mother. She stood shaking her head in disapproval, sighing in relief that you didn't choke.

"Do you like them?" He paused waiting for an answer, receiving a satisfied hum, he gloated "My mom made them" He looked at the cookies still stacked high "Want more?"

Even though saying yes once to the question, Miles seemingly made it a priority to ensure there were always enough cookies in case he ever saw you again. Given the amount of times he woke up to a fresh batch and reminded his mother of his constant request, it became robotic like clockwork to her.

''Mama, did you make enough for-'' ''Yes, I made enough for you and your little girlfriend"

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

"Yeah huh?" The sudden high pitch of her voice brought me back to Earth. The one place I don't want to be right now "This is my son, Miles. I'm sure you remember him"

I hummed in response, turning my back to my family's faces to draw any unwanted press while shaking his hand. Retracting his hands he gave that signature one-dimple smile which I felt shy to return.

"Nice to meet you" He raised a brow

"We're met before, did you forget?" I literally proposed to you with a ring pop

"Ah my bad, we have to leave― Early shifts at the hospital"

"I completely understand, get home safely" She placed her hands over my balled fists, giving me a bright smile before departing. Her son lingering behind her followed in tow, waving as he left.

"What was that (y/n)? I hope you're not talking to those people outside of church matters" My mother stood closely behind my back, so she could freely show her disgusted expression without judgement. I turned to meet her wild looking eyes of age 38.

And I thought ursula didn't exist

"No mother, I would never do such things" She said nothing but a hum, which on her part would be 'not gracing me with an answer'

"Be at the south porch at evening. We have something to discuss"

What the heck did I do.

In the Larkspur mansion there's a total of four sub-buildings: The north porch used for house-warmings, general church meetings and such, pool house to the east, church to the west, and the south porch. The south meant nothing good, being the farthest sectioned from the house it was an analogy for things to be said in the dark and only in the dark, something grave like an affair. Things like that, things that could change a person's life and given by the term 'we', probably meaning my father, mother and I. I know that whatever they had to tell could change my life for the better or worse. But by now we know that anything 'for the better' would be just for them so that's not even an option.

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

Sitting down with his legs spread my father watched as my mother pranced back and forth the hardwood floor, prepping herself to say whatever it was. She looked as if the words she were about to speak pricked her tongue before they came out and whenever they did. I watched with a blank expression, hands crossed on my stomach as the fluffed material radiated heat to every crevice of my body.

"Cecelia" His paitience wore thin as the whiskey from the glass ran low. My mother repeated the same words she had over 100 times since we've been here

"This is ridiculous, certainly there's something else" My father sucked his teeth reverting all the attention to him and he chugged the last of the liquor. Although not meaning to I stared into my his eyes with some hope he'd continued what my mother couldn't start. His stare got intense, hardening every minute the contest went on.

My grandmother always told me that "It come like puss bruk coconut in yuh fada yiy" meaning that he was one with seemingly dry eyes or that he was an ill-mannered person to hold a stare to absolutely no limits or regard to who it be with. She always told me that it was something I inherited from him but unlike my father it looked better on me.

"You're changing schools"

I swear to you my eyes nearly dropped out of their sockets is a sign?

"Recently there's been a spike in teenage pregnancies at CHS and with such a tainted image we cannot have you attending there so, we had arranged a transfer for you to Brooklyn Visions"

Despite the sudden relief radiating from my body I sat still, muttering a compliant response before getting up to the exit. "And you're meeting with-" My father got cut off by my mother placing a hand on his upper thigh. Through my peripheral I could see her smirking as I went off.

I love my parents right, but sometimes (most times really) I swear— I'm going crazy in this house

--------------------------- like 2 days later

If it's one thing I know though— the sexism is gonna get you right. Long nails, lashes makeup and everything was one point but maybe there was one teeny tinyy thing you despised, clothes. You knew that Cinderella princess wardrobe of yours was too much and so you were going to argue for it.

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

As we were leaving I contemplated asking for some new clothes — speak now or forever hold your peace.

"Mother "

"Y/N?"

"Aren't we getting new clothes"

"And why would we do that? You have a plethora of dresses back home"

"That's it, the dresses are a bit.... pricy and might get the attention of the wrong crowd. I mean other than the great neighborhood around Brooklyn Visions there's its opposite too" I sucked in a breath knowing that this could go one of two ways— I could get what I want or they'd put an ankle monitor on me.

"I guess I'd never look at it from that perspective. Atleast that brain of yours works"

Excuse me.

Despite that little backhanded thing I smiled, that's 1 point for Y/N.

--------

So that's it, I'm too lazy to decorate ATM but I will

#black tumblr #earth 42 miles x reader #spotify #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #miles morales #across the spiderverse #e42 miles #dae

[nevesmose]

Bandages on Broken Souls: A Nostramo Culture/Lore Post

Sometimes I think about the wee lower-deck people that were all covered in bandages in the Night Lords Trilogy. Why so bandagey? (Bandagepilled wrapmaxxers, not beating the bandage allegations, etc)

She glanced at the wretch, who was unhealthily tall and sexless in its overcloak, keeping its face behind stained bandages. Several others lurked close to the door, whispering amongst themselves. It was impossible not to smell their sweat, their stinking, bloodstained bandages, and the rancid oil-blood of their bionics.

Those ones. The attendants providing for Octavia's needs as a Navigator. Octavia's attendants.

It turns out ADB does tell us a bit later on:

The chlorine reek of them offended his senses, the way it rose in a miasma from their antiseptic-soaked bandages, as if such trivial protections could ward against the changes of the warp.

This is very interesting to me for a few reasons since it can lead to various interpretations about Nostraman culture, even though it's important to bear in mind that what we're seeing is the degraded situation after however-many thousand subjective years of dicking about in the Warp, Eye of Terror etc.

They believe, or at least Ruven the POV character here thinks they believe, that warp mutation can be defended against with purely physical items i.e. bandages and disinfectant. While it's easy to point to examples of people from all kinds of cultures in the setting using spiritual or metaphysical ways to protect themselves from the warp, I find it interesting that this doesn't seem to occur to the Nostramans.

In fact, unless I'm remembering it wrong (always a possibility tbh) other than a small mention in one of the Gendor Skraivok short stories about there being a secret Lectitio Divinitatus cult among the serfs, there seems to be very little spiritual/religious belief organic to Nostramo itself.

That makes some sense, I think. It is after all Space Gotham, a world of armoured groundcars and looming starscrapers where everyone is living under some form or another of very high pressure just to survive whether that means getting their next meal or keeping their position in high level gang politics. Whatever beliefs the original settlers brought with them to the Sunless World were, I imagine, ground away over time as generations passed and people had other, more visceral concerns.

There are a few scenes in the 1984 nuclear war TV movie Threads that take place in the period about 10-20 years after the bombs have fallen. It's clear that the by now rapidly deteriorating survivors of the pre-war world are trying as best they can to provide some kind of education for their post-war descendants, but this is extremely limited and relies on what they can gather together from whatever books, VHS tapes etc happened to survive the war:

"The skeleton of a cat! A cat's skeleton!"

And we can see that it simply means nothing to the children and young adults whose entire existence revolves around basic survival - mostly food and the things they have to do in order to get it.

This, in a way, is what I think happened to whatever beliefs in anything beyond the material that may have ever existed on Nostramo by the time we see it in the Crusade/Heresy era. It's a sad, stunted little world and I feel immensely sorry for the nasty, skeevy people it produced.

Another factor affecting this would of course be the Night Haunter. You don't really need to have a spiritual/metaphorical figure or system dispensing rules and justice when Konrad is actually real and inside your home making it brutally clear what his views on law-breaking are.

So, in my usual roundabout way, we come back to the bandages again. My view, as I've expressed before in my ramblings, is that Konrad didn't truly eradicate crime on Nostramo so much as eradicate the appearance of it.

There's a legend from Ancient Greece about a Spartan boy training to be a warrior which I'll post as a screenshot below since I think we could all do with a break from my writing style for a bit:

"He could steal and suffer and die rather than be found out" is the relevant part here I think. Much like the idea that snitches get stitches or the mafia code of omertà where one's value in society and life itself hinge on a mutual keeping of silence against any and all authority figures.

We know that even before Konrad arrived, Nostraman society functioned on a gang allegiance basis, so already fertile ground for a very insular and secretive type of culture. But then we add the Night Haunter to the mix and the numbers spell disaster for you at Sacrifice the social pressure in this direction ramps up massively.

It's also made very clear pretty much everywhere that Nostramo is a vicious, predatory society. There's a description in one of the Skraivok stories of Phy Orlon, the canonical smallest saddest uwu-iest Night Lord:

It astounded Skraivok how such a vulpine little thing had made it through the selection process. Even bulked by legionary gifts, Orlon still managed to convey the impression of feebleness. Towards the end, Nostramo had been providing only the dregs of the dregs. No wonder Curze had levelled the place.

Weakness was like the scent of blood in the water to the Night Lords. Legionaries like Orlon would always attach themselves to those they deemed powerful, for protection. That explained the ridiculous batwings welded to the top of his helm in emulation of Sevatar, and why he had appointed himself as Skraivok’s adjutant.

It's like prison or high school. Even the transhuman supersoldier Nostramans still function this way. What hope do ordinary people have?

Not much at all, I think. Just in order to survive day to day it'd be necessary to conceal any injury, weakness or deformity at the risk of having it being ruthlessly used against you by just about everyone.

So we come back to the bandages again. Told you I'd get there eventually. We see that the attendants are in fact completely covered in bandages Joshua Graham style:

‘Lord,’ they hissed through slits in their faces that were once lips. Their bloodstained bandages rustled as they shifted and lowered their weapons.

[...]

She raised a bandaged hand, as if she could possibly bar the warrior’s passage with a demand, let alone with her physical presence.

I can imagine the impulse to cover up and conceal any weakness applies very strongly to warp mutations of any sort. Curdled and degraded over millennia roaming the immaterium in the bowels of a ship with the changes becoming worse and worse the longer they go on, it would be plausible for this to develop into a need to cover up and disinfect every inch of oneself in order to maintain some pretence, however flimsy, of being a capable human being.

The saddest part of it for me, though, is that all of the attendants are like this. It's a situation where everyone is quite literally in the same boat, undergoing the same suffering, and yet they still retain this deeply-ingrained need to hide and conceal themselves from each other. It feels like even here, ten thousand years after its destruction, Nostramo's poison is still influencing them, still flowing through their veins to keep them separated, afraid, and deeply alone.

Oh wow, a few paragraphs from ADB somehow led to a great long wall of text. Congratulations if you've made it this far!

PS: This being ADB I feel obliged to consider the possibility of Ruven either lying or being mistaken. I don't think this is likely since he is a) also Nostraman and b) a sorcerer meaning that if there was any spiritual aspect going on he would more than likely have the requisite cultural/magical knowledge or experience to be aware of it or otherwise detect it. Ruven is a conniving goth thot but he has no reason to lie in that particular bit of his own thoughts.

#night lords #lore #nostraman culture #lore post #wh40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #horus heresy #nostramo #warhammer lore #in this house we respect Hound who deserved far better than what he got #nightlordposting #is this domestic lore? i feel like it is #domestic lore #this will be the 327th post in which i have mentioned Threads (1984) and i have become exceedingly good at it #neves loreposts

[blueskittlesart]

Something that I wish I saw more people talk about is that 10,000 years between cycles is a /really/ long time. Like, all of human civilization long. Personally I think that feels like too long and it kinda frustrates me, like, stagnating in the middle ages for that long just seems incredibly unlikely. What're your thoughts on this? Do you think there's a reason they chose this time frame? That is has some sort of significance, some thematic tie-in to waiting and hope, etc?

the 10k year gap is the most important piece of botw's setting and it's fundamentally the reason everything in the story happens. you're right that it seems frustratingly long. that's deliberate. 10k years of peace is an unprecedented amount of time, especially for hyrule, which we know to be stuck in a repeating cycle which has NEVER taken that long to reset before. if you want to know why i think the gap happens in terms of like, in-universe cause and effect you can read this, but from a writing perspective, the 10k year gap gives context to the entire setting of botw.

botw is one of the most interesting explorations of the franchise's lore to date because it shows us a hyrule which has essentially forgotten its own history. every game post-sksw except botw has shows us hylians with a decent understanding of the creation myth and the reincarnation cycle. how much is remembered and accurate varies from game to game, but hyruleans almost always know that the goddess hylia gave humans a gift (the triforce) which offered a wish/ultimate power, and that throughout history evil forces have risen up to try to claim that power for themselves, requiring the goddess's heir and a hero chosen by fate to work together to defeat that evil. sometimes the courage/wisdom/power balance will be well-known, sometimes it won't be, but they almost always have at least a baseline understanding of that story. botw hyrule does not.

botw hyruleans have only the most surface-level understanding of what's actually going on irt ganon -- they know that he is somehow related to another evil force which rose 10k years ago, they know that the princess is supposed to inherit a power with the capability of stopping ganon, and they know that the soldier who is capable of wielding the master sword is supposed to help the princess somehow. this is the complete extent of their knowledge. it's unclear if zelda even knows that her power is because she is directly related to the original reincarnation of hylia or not. the triforce has been completely lost to time, and with it the reason why ANY OF THIS is happening in the first place. with so little actual understanding of the conflict they find themselves in the middle of, OF COURSE link and zelda are doomed to fail. Zelda can't possibly awaken her sealing power with no understanding of where it comes from. Link can't possibly defeat ganon without zelda's power to back him up, not to mention the inadequacy he feels for not being able to hear the sword's "voice" -- presumably fi, who hasn't been heard in a single game since sksw, but link doesn't KNOW that. he only knows that there's a voice he's supposed to hear that he can't. no one in hyrule has any idea what ganon's motivation for attacking them is because they don't even have any CONCEPT of the triforce anymore. they had no chance of winning because they had no understanding of what they were up against. and the REASON they have no understanding about what they're up against is because it's been then thousand years since that knowledge was last topical. maybe the knowledge was passed down for a hundred, or even a thousand years after the last cycle, but after a couple thousand years of peace humans will start to wonder why they bother learning all this complicated war history if it's never going to be topical again. thus, the knowledge that might have saved modern link and zelda is lost to time, and so when the time comes that a new hero and princess ARE needed, they are forced to spend years carrying out empty gestures, with no clue what they ACTUALLY need to defeat ganon. i think the most obvious example of this is the spring ceremonies zelda does in botw. they're obviously imitations of the purifying ceremonies sksw zelda went through to regain her memories as the goddess hylia, but to botw zelda they're just motions she has to carry out in the hopes of gaining hylia's power. she doesn't understand the significance behind the motions she's carrying out, so of course she doesn't get the desired result.

so yeah, tldr the 10k year gap is the most important framing device in all of botw. it contextualizes the struggles of link and zelda as they attempt to recreate a story they only have a few burnt pages of. thank you for coming to my ted talk

#asks #zelda analysis

[ogata77]

Rain --- Aiai-gasa ☔🧑🏼‍❤️‍🧑🏻

I don't know if I'm thinking about things too much, but since with Yoneda we are used to living in paranoia I couldn't help but overanalyze Rain's promotion. Some time ago I found interesting information about the word Aiai-gasa (相合傘) which means sharing an umbrella: 相合 (aiai, “doing things together”) +‎ 傘 (kasa, “umbrella”) but which has a strong romantic implication since the first two characters are pronounced あい (ai) just like the word love, then this would have the connotation that both people under that umbrella would be in love.

With this information you can already imagine everything I started to create in my mind. The first thing I thought of was finding all the moments related to the umbrella theme within saezuru. I remembered some emblematic cases, but the truth was that I did not give it so much importance to others and that is a mistake when reading saezuru.

For example, something important is that Yashiro doesn't share his umbrella with anyone like Aoi and Kageyama do. When Aoi insists on waiting in the rain for Doumeki to come out of the Shinseikai's office to convince him to quit the yakuza, Yashiro would rather buy him an umbrella at the kombini than share the one that already has this clearly because he thinks Aoi is Doumeki's girlfriend and sees her as a problem.

In the case of Kageyama, when we travel back in time to high school, Yashiro doesn't share his umbrella when he decides to go see him because of his father's death, let's just say Yashiro doesn't know about kindness at this time in his life and it's just beginning to discover his feelings for his "friend".

A detail that I found very interesting is that both Aoi and Yashiro as a teenager use a light-colored umbrella and the rest of the characters only use dark colors, even Yashiro's changes color now in his maturity. I leave them for reflection.

Using Kageyama's school life we ​​can see that scenes of couples walking together under an umbrella while it rains are common in Japanese culture, it is said that you can tell which of the two people loves the other more by looking at who is wetter . In addition, paintings from the Edo period have been found that include the aiai-gasa symbol where the person writes his name and the name of the person he loves.

Another interesting scene of the umbrella is the one that has to do with the relationship that existed between Misumi and Kurobane, which for me is a faithful reflection of the one between Yashiro and Doumeki. On several occasions it is hinted that they could have been much more than yakuza brothers, at least that is what I felt when the president of the Doushinkai tells Misumi that he has lost his better half. What if it was clear that Kurobane felt the same level of devotion for Misumi that Doumeki has for Yashiro.

Now we are going with one of my favorite scenes from the manga that combines almost everything that saezuru symbolizes. Let's start by remembering the difficult time Yashiro is going through having to get rid of the man he loves. Yashiro and Doumeki already had sex and Yashiro broke into a thousand pieces because he found out that he had been a victim of abuse and that nothing that had happened was his fault. Yashiro kept reflecting that being with Doumeki would mean giving up everything he is and can't afford to. After Doumeki gets out of the car, Yashiro focuses on a mother and son walking under an umbrella in the rain, perhaps there can be a greater love than this.

Notice how all the cartoons up to that moment are in white and that after Yashiro sees the mother and son, everything goes dark and it even seems that it is raining inside the car. Seeing this, we can sense that Yashiro wonders why his mother didn't protect him when he was a child and allowed him to be abused. Then Doumeki re-enters the scene, everything lights up again and he brings an umbrella to protect him from the rain. I'm not crying ladies and gentlemen.

Finally let's review how we went from the scene of an extra at the beginning of this manga to the last drawing of Yoneda. The situation is the same but how the language of the characters has changed. In the first scene Doumeki doesn't even dare to be under the same umbrella as his Kashira, he is getting completely wet, so the legend is true whoever loves the most is who gets the most wet. In the second scene, Doumeki is already under the umbrella because now he is no longer Yashiro's subordinate, now they are in equal rank and feelings, who could doubt at this point how much they both love each other despite the fact that the outlook is not very encouraging especially knowing how chapter 50 ended. If we start to analyze, the rain is another character within saezuru and it is no a coincidence that RAIN is the name of the next event.

Thank you if you have come this far reading my ramblings and obsessions. If there is something misspelled, you already know that Google Translator is to blame.

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #saezuru #saezuru fandom #saezuru feels #yashiro and doumeki in love #yoneda kou #rain #saezuru analysis

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I’d love to read more of your (and Vinelle’s) Twilight fanfics, but I can’t wrap my head around a lot of the lore. I only have vague memories of the books, with the Volturi details being extra vague. Care to give a summary of the Aro/Carlisle situation you tend to write about? The fics seem so interesting but I’m left confused about their characters and history!

Look, @therealvinelle, praise!

And oh dear god.

If it makes you feel better this isn't a ridiculous ask as I'm having a pretty tough time coming up with what I need to summarize here. There's a shocking amount of background about very obscure characters required to 'get' all of our fics.

Well, the easy (if time consuming) answer is to go through the blog. A lot of our Twilight readers have a leg up because they've read all the metas including "what if X happened" and so are quite knowledgeable about what @therealvinelle and I will write in a given story (compared to readers of The Man Who Would Be King, HP where @therealvinelle and I have written comparably less metas, and the readers guesses are all over the place).

This will give you pretty much everything you need to know about everything we write.

Otherwise, I'll have to give a quick and dirty summary here.

The Volturi

The Volturi are the big bad of the Twilight novels if there are any at all. They're the ones who cause much of the conflict in the latter novels (if we ignore Edawrd causing all of the conflict) and are the large threat to Bella after James and Victoria are dealt with.

What's important for our fics is that they're the iron fist of the vampire world. They're not so much rulers, as they don't tell anyone what to do, don't supply any cultural institutions, nor demand tithes or taxes, but enforcers of this one law that they made up thousands of years ago. They have only one law which is "do not get noticed by humans" which has a bunch of caveats to ensure this singular law is followed.

They have such strength in gift ability and such a strong network that they're able to enforce this law across the globe and easily deal with large masses of vampires. (This has given them a terrifying reputation and causes vampires like Jasper to regard them ambivalently as he appreciates things like newborn wars not spiraling out of control but is utterly terrified of them.)

They have done this for at least two-thousand years (Meyer is notoriously terrible with dates so @therealvinelle and I get into a lot of headcanons to make this work. Given the names Aro, Marcus, and Caius and that they are reputedly Mycenean they probably gained significant power/reputation when Rome was the dominant power in the region some 1500 years after each of them was turned, meaning it's been ~2000 years that Volturi law became absolute in the Mediterranean region if not further). And have presumably been settled in Volterra since that time.

Also of note is that the Volturi (primarily Aro) recruits, sometimes heavy handedly, gifted vampires to be members of his guard. This is how he's maintained such control as he uses powerful psychics to obliterate opposition.

The Cullens run afoul of this law (or appear to) multiple times. First when Edward goes to Volterra confessing to having told Bella he was a vampire and then abandoning her while she was still human (the law is she must either be turned or die at that point), the second time hours later when Edward planned to walk into the sunlight and reveal himself to the city of Volterra, and the third time when Irina witnesses what she thinks is an immortal child and reports this to the Volturi.

This last culminates in a very tense confrontation between dozens of vampires as they try to clear up what the fuck Renesmee is and if she's a danger to herself and others.

It concludes peacefully, but tensely, as Aro concludes Renesmee is not a problem and walks away but everyone is unsure if a violent confrontation will happen later.

The Aro and Carlisle Situation

Carlisle canonically spent around 20 years (Edward notes a few decades but never specifies exactly how many) as a guest of the Volturi, specifically as a friend of Aro.

What Edward tells us canonically is that while he enjoyed his time there and was shocked to find that vampires were learned and cultured beings after all, he couldn't convert any of them to his diet and left to find kinship among other vampires (this did not go well until Carlisle turned Edward some 200 years later).

Some of the fics go over this more than others, but @therealvinelle work with the assumption that Carlisle was very young as a vampire when he came across Volterra. He'd met Alistair before that point but no one else. Volterra was then what convinced him that vampires were not inherently damned and could be learned people (something Carlisle would not have associated with demons as a 17th century priest) who have great appreciation for the arts and great knowledge of antiquity.

What @therealvinelle and I tend to presume is that Aro and Carlisle had a romantic relationship during this period (and that Sulpicia and Carlisle did as well for hilarious reasons). However, while there was true romantic affection there, it couldn't resolve the large differences between the pair and ultimately Carlisle had to leave.

Fast forward to the start of canon and Carlisle is very fond of the Volturi. He hangs their painting in his office and Edward initially speaks of them with... distant respect I suppose we'll call it which speaks to Carlisle's respect for them as Edward would get that information from him.

After New Moon Carlisle off screen was likely extremely grateful and relieved that Edward had not been executed despite Edward doing his damndest to get himself executed. That they were all returned home, Bella human even, is a relief beyond measure and Carlisle is likely very grateful for this. He is very aware that Bella must be turned though and gives his vote in New Moon (aided by the fact that the situation has become untenable for all parties involved).

However, Edward is vocally suspicious of the Volturi's intentions and Carlisle trusts Edward's judgement as well as his gift. Edward notes that what Aro really wants is his and Alice's gifts to become omnipotent. Now, this doesn't make much sense as Aro's is Edward's gift but better and if Aro had wanted this then why would he ever have let the three go when he had every excuse and ability to keep them there and bind them to the Volturi with Chelsea, but it does plant seeds of suspicion especially when Aro is notorious for adding to his guard and trying out gifted members to see if they fit. Where Edward's theories start to gain credence is in Eclipse.

Victoria is obviously building a newborn army. The death rate in Seattle skyrockets as Victoria turns ten-twenty vampires in quick succession with humans floundering for an explanation (they at first state gang violence then a serial killer as they try to figure out why this is happening). Ordinarily, the Volturi would swoop in and take care of this as soon as it becomes obvious with absolutely no issue (using either Jane or Alec for the task). The Cullens wait for the Volturi. And wait. Then wait.

It becomes clear that the Volturi aren't coming. The Cullens try to get the Denali involved (this doesn't go well) and without any other option are forced to team up with the wolves where they win the battle with no losses but with great physical injury to some of the wolves (notably Jacob has a rough time of it). Then the Volturi show up at that very moment, making it clear that they'd intentionally waited so the Cullens could be wiped out or at least had their numbers thinned. Then Jane in front of them lights a girl on fire while noting that Bella appears to be very human today, doesn't she?

Carlisle at this point concludes that Edward is correct and Aro is trying to poach Alice or sees the coven as a threat and is trying to underhandedly eliminate them.

On Aro's end, the running theory in our fics is that Caius was in fact behind this without Aro's knowledge or consent. Caius had seen Aro sending Alice, Bella, and Edward home without any restrictions as a debilitating weakness that had to be dealt with/made an example of. Caius saw an opportunity, likely the only one he'd get, and he took it giving the death squad orders to stall and wait for the battle to finish before they cleaned house. Unfortunately for Caius, this went sideways. Unfortunately for Aro, he now knows that Carlisle thinks he tried to murder his entire family in the most underhanded shady way imaginable and that nothing he can say will make it look less bad.

However, all of this is okay to a point, as Bella's being turned shortly and Alice is there to tell the Volturi that it's all going to be over and then they'll have no reason to interfere.

Except Bella gets pregnant with an alien and then Irina reports that alien as an immortal child to the Volturi.

From Carlisle's perspective this is a nightmare, they've given the Volturi a valid excuse to come and wipe them off the map. Their only hope is to gather every witness they possibly can to oversee their trial and confirm that Renesmee is not an immortal child/prevent the Volturi from murdering them all over false charges. Carlisle no longer trusts that the Volturi have good intentions or that this is simply a misunderstanding, he has a very strong suspicion that they will use anything they can to kill them all.

From Aro's this is also a nightmare, as not only is an immortal child reported (something he absolutely has to kill everyone culpable over) but Carlisle starts immediately gathering what seems to be an army. Aro has to gather an army in turn and confront him at the trial where he's witness to the world's weirdest trial where it turns out the immortal child was actually an alien and uh... guess she'll grow up okay.

However, because of how that trial goes down two things happen: Aro loses face and Carlisle's worst fears are confirmed.

Aro tries to use his powerhouses against an increasingly hostile/suspicious opponents, what happens is that Bella blocks all of them. Chelsea, Jane, and Alec are refuted in turn and Bella shows in front of a large amount of witnesses that the Volturi can be thwarted provided they have the right amount of numbers. The worst gifts they have are no longer debilitating so long as Bella is around. Everyone who's ever wanted to sack Volterra now can look over at the Cullens and see Bella Swan, a woman who is now very hostile to the Volturi.

On Carlisle's end, he sees Aro use Chelsea, Jane, and Alec presumably to murder not only his family but all of his friends who had come here only to be witnesses to see that the Volturi behaved as they are supposed to in these situations. It's worse than his every fear confirmed, Aro proves himself to be a power hungry tyrant who will stop at nothing to get what he wants including the murder of children.

Aro walks away wishing he and Carlisle might somehow repair their relationship but knowing that it is likely impossible. He also leaves knowing that a confrontation is likely inevitable and that he will more than likely have to kill Carlisle's family if not Carlisle himself.

Some if not all of this usually comes to play in @therealvinelle and my stories depending if it takes place pre, during, or post series.

Other Tips

Read fics in order they were published.

@therealvinelle and I tend to use shorthand references to things gone over in depth in other fics as we hate writing the same thing twice. Nebuchadnezzar's Dream by @therealvinelle for example goes over a lot of the canon events dealing with Aro and Carlisle and how they reacted to it as well as Carlisle's hypothetical gift that @therealvinelle and I theorize is totally a thing.

A lot of the lore in the fics that doesn't come from canon was sort of uh organically grown within the fics themselves. (Unintentionally, they all kind of take place in a weird shared universe where similar things have often happened or they diverge at a single crucial point).

Otherwise

Uh... you got anything @therealvinelle?

#twilight #twilight renaissance #aro #carlisle cullen #writing #vinelle #therealvinelle #praise

[obitv]

i feel like. for the most part, pd fans dont think about the spirit world often. despite the ENTIRE ARC they spent there the ost people take away is mal = big evil guy and.. idk. the wispering woods Exists? but there is SO, SO MUCH going on there thats so much more important than youd think. just for starters

its a SERIES OF FLOATING ISLANDS IN A VOID, JUST LIKE FAUNA

mal? not so important there. his guide, ghoul (who we see a grand total of ONCE, in episode 10, and is mentioned again in episodes 11 and 12), is POTENTIALLY THOUSANDS OF YEARS OLD whereas mal i wouldnt put above 50, and thats even a stretch (i will get to the why later)

domains! those floating islands? all domains! ghoul? technically owns most of the domains! what does that mean? HE KNOWS EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS THERE AND CAN CONTROL IT.

also i think everyone forgets this but william was, visually, in his wisp form the entire time they were there

oh also ghoul has dozens if not hundreds of paintings of a man who might be jason king (ORIGAMI) in his castle.

so. ive taken the time to compile most of the information i could find on mal, ghoul, the spirit world, the wisps, an more into a handy post because im fucking insane (note: im only up to e13, the smoke samurai fight, in my rewatch. this IS where the majority of spirit world facts come from anyway, but anything i mention that isnt from those episodes wont be in as much detail bc my memory is ass. if you remember more things, let me know!) (also also, im going to avoid bringing up deadwood as much as i can because.... i think ive talked about it enough 😭)

starting with: GHOUL!

lets be honest. theres a very small chance you even remember this guy exists. but he is FASCINATING

to start with, he has a.. symbiotic relationship with mal, from what ive seen. he needs mal to interact with the physical world, mal needs him to go to the spirit world. ill go into this more in mals section

aside from that, mal is NOT the first physical vessel ghoul's taken. its not clear when he began working with mal, or how many forms he had before, but he's one of many

(also just a note because it can definitely be confusing... ghoul and mal seem to share control over the castle, but before seeing that mal is waiting for them in the dining room everyone was focused on ghoul and mal was barely brought up. its not clear if the things they see in the castle before going in to mal were his choice or ghouls but... ill include the paintings here)

on that note: the paintings!

what the fuck is going on in there

so. yeah. ghoul has.. dozens. and i mean DOZENS, hundreds if you count that they repeat over and over, of paintings featuring a man with "blond hair and chiselled jawline" in various important historical events. they line the walls of the upstairs corridor (the one that seems endless) and are never brought up again

do i think this is jason king? well im not convinced they ARENT... i will touch on this again later just keep it in mind

jumping back to domains, ghoul seems to have.. some degree of control over all of them. at least in the part of the spirit world he rules over, which i assume is. why he rules it. going by the king stuff its like. he owns all the land and "rents" it out to other spirits

rent is a nicer word, since he can CURSE PEOPLE to control domains and dictate how they behave

thats why the carnival is evil, if you remember. ghoul cursed the carnival skeleton (the REAL groundskeeper) to rule the domain and attack anyone who entered

what the fuck

also ghoul is a king

when looking for ghoul in ashes book, despite the very low roll they got some VERY important info: ghoul (who, when we see him, is comapred to antivenom from spiderman) -

this guy

HE WAS A HUMAN KING. his name is mentioned ALL THE WAY through ashes book, from front to back. a picture of a man in royal garb, was labelled with his name

something.. happened. that turned him from that spirit world king to a monstrosity.

its also never made clear if the man in the paintings is ghoul? we dont get a description of the kings face in the book and we dont get a description of the mans clothes

also, finally: when theyre in the physical world, mal and ghoul essentially share a body, with the body turning into That Thing ^^ when ghoul is in control. ghoul HAS to take control to open portals to the spirit world - he does it to william, and cantrip mentions it too when they interrogate her

he also appears separately from mal when they take william to the spirit world, but we dont see him at all in any other domains so thats a small sample size

BUT he Does have a fucking. encyclopedic knowledge of domains (which ill talk about later). he "knows all of these places [domains]"

NEXT: MAL!

where do i fucking start.

basic mal facts: asshole, british, very powerful, knows far too much about the spirit world to make any sense

just a basic overview of his powers, btw:

he can create illusions, float/fly (in the spirit world, at least), ghostshape, go intangible, and mayyybe has some sort of connection to earth or gravity powers because theres one point where he makes the ground beneath someone burst up but also that mightve been a weird ghostshaping trick and im honestly too scared to think about that

basically he seems to have most of williams powers + illusions and whatever that ground trick was. the only things we havent seen are invisibilty (which considering mechanically its just a flavouring of an advantage which isnt technically a power, makes sense) and the wisp form, though id consider the ghoul transformation to b the equivalent of that

oh in case you forgot he can also FREEZE. TIME. william isnt affected by this but im not sure if that was because mal wanted him to see what happened or because spirit shenanigans

also little aside but while williams powers manifest as wispy blue flames, mals are always black lightning (his ghostshaping, most noticeably)

the biggest mal question is.. how does he. know all that shit? youd expect ghoul to be the one who actuall has the knowledge but mal is ALWAYS the one they deal with

now you may be wondering: why is this an issue? well the thing is. we dont actually know ANYTHING about mal. we dont know where he comes from, what he wants, how he met ghoul, if his powers are his own or all come from ghoul... none of it

what we can ASSUME: mal was alive when he made some sort of deal with ghoul, because he obviously had a physical body. my personal theory is that mal is (one of?) the previous owner of ashe's book, since so far that's the only thing we've seen that allows you to summon spirits and allow them to possess you, and its full of references to ghoul. and quite honestly the thought that theres MULTIPLE books like that is terrifying. so

ok i actually just came up with that one on the spot but if mal had a better understanding of the language the book is in than ashe and wasnt so afraid to use it then actually him knowing a shitton about the spirit world makes so much sense. what the fuck

bizly bizlychannel youre prying that theory from my fucking corpse im in love with it now.

so. yeah. presumably, mal and ghoul made some sort of deal, because they work together. its not clear if mal is working to get william on his side by his own volition or if ghoul wants him to, or if its like a "ghoul brought it up and mal decided to go for it because hes better at talking and also isnt a horrifying monster" but whatever. unlike william and the wisps (amazing band name) who fight fucking constantly because william never ASKED for his powers, mal is comfortable with them

another thing mal seems to have control over is ghouls castle. he lays out the red carpet and makes every door lead to the dining room and also makes it impossible to leave

specifically, irt all the doors going to the dining room, bizly said "if he can control this castle and where it goes, thats what he wouldve done"

the corridor upstairs (without the carpet, with the paintings) also goes on literally forever. you cant go back once you walk far enough you have to go through a door. i have no idea if this was mal or ghouls choice

another thing! specifically layed out on the walls next to the carpet ("things he specifically wanted them to see") is an ornate dagger in a glass case. which vyncent with a gun steals but i dont think is brought up again ??? also the wording made me feel like there shouldve been more items listed but since condi immediately started stealing he just didnt include the rest ?? unsure

this is just a weird thing to note but theres like these freaky black tendrils that grab the table and hold it down when dakota tries to flip it. i dont know what to do with this information its just there

when william confronts mal on how much the spirits seem to hate him and ghoul, mal says "that's not what im here for" and, when pressed, says thats "a conversation for another day"

DOMAINS! AND THE SPIRIT WORLD IN GENERAL!

first: basics

the spirit world is, from what we've seen, a collection of floating islands over a void. these islands seem to all be "domains", places that are controlled by special spirits

the spaces between domains is the dead zone! this is where people go when they die, like 99% of the time. going there without special means (the hot air balloon, the carriage) will kill you.

so, how do you get a domain? ah. good... question....

one way is to kill whoever currently owns it. then its yours! congrats! you can alsp give away domains, but the only time we've directly seen this happen was the groundskeeper who was also cursed at the same time and ghoul seems to still have some control over the carnival anyway??? unclear

which leaves. william fucking wisp. because he has a domain! i am not getting into it here because ive said it all already but its there

also a little worth noting that williams domains seems to be shaped subconsciously without him even knowing it was there

i honestly cant speculate much more on williams domain because we just. dont have the answers. i could ask domain questions all fucking day like "did the wisps give william a domain" or "by being a powerful spirit did he just get an empty one or was one created just for him" etc etc we have no way of knowing

domains we know about: williams graveyard, the carnival, ghouls castle, the wispering woods (perhaps a series of domains? unknown), and the tricksters... house thing. do not ask me what the chaos zone is, i dont know and it scares me. if i had to guess itd be a series of. well. chaotic domains perhaps all partially ruled by the trickster but i also dont have ANY trickster lore written down bar "has a domain" so ill come back to that another day

and the obligatory deadwood mention: from what we can gather, the woods surrounding deadwood are where the barriers between the physical and spirit worlds are thinnest. specifically the area william died in was brought up which is totally linked to Everything about him

the wispering woods, in ashes book, is described as a "sanctuary" or "oasis". barely anybody has ever seen it and come back to say what it was like

ok bonus fact time. i dont know where to put these

WILLIAMS DAD? MAD FUCKING SUS

when they first talk to mal in his domain, he says the phrase "william! be a sport, be a pal, be my friend." its specifically noted that william recognises that phrase as something his dad said to him a lot as a child

mal is also pretty much.. the only person to call william "wisperer" consistantly. but for that phrase he said william

additionally, this entire. interaction between bizly and charlie

ill go crazy if i dont bring that up. so its here

AND! FINALLY! JASON MOTHERFUCKING KING!!! WHAT IS UP WITH THAT HUH?

in williams party city doritos induced fever dream (i am not talking about that ghost. i refuse) he sees the spirit world (floating islands) and he sees a throne made out of paper. this reads very clearly like a reference to origami/jason king, since hes dead at the start of the story

also i just want to say there IS a rolled where they say how jason died but theyre laughing really hard so i have absolutely no idea what theyre saying all i can hear is "dickass" im so sorry

so yeah. with that image in mind, hearing ghoul be described as a king (who HAS A CASTLE), and having so many paintings of a man who sounds similar to jason (am i reaching? maybe. but hes also the only prominent dead figure who already has connections to spirit world royalty and hes blond so let me have this) is just like. insane coincidence

i have nothing i can really prove here, because have o idea HOW jason an ghoul could be connected. but they are. i know it. believe me

thanks for reading this far it took me 2 hours to compile it all. if you have anything to add esp from later episodes PLEASEEEE PLEASE DO also if you wanna discuss anything i mentioned here i am always down.

#prime defenders #jrwi #william wisp #mallard conway #jrwi pd #primedefenders #mypost #theorytag #hi. do you still love me. very sorry if parts of this are hard to read i dont proofread anything

[skz317cb97]

Heyyy

Love your writing, can i request a imagine where Chan thinks y/n is going to break up with him cause she has been distant but in reality she is preparing everything to propose to him?

Love you

The Break Up

Bang Chan x Female reader

Word Count: 2K

A/N: Here you go my love! It's one of my shorter fics but I hope you like it and it meets your expectations! 🖤 Thank you for enjoying my stories and for sending in a request! Warnings below the cut.

Warnings: Strong language/cursing, I think that is all. If you happen to spot something that should be a warning, please let me know and I'll add it immediately!

Work was Chan’s life. Work and you. You had known Chan’s career was his dream and his whole life when you both decided to take your casual dating to the next level. You both made it work with compromise, communication, and understanding and you had been together for four wonderful years because of that, the last two of which you had been living together, at least whenever Chan didn’t have to stay in the dorm with the guys.  

The last couple weeks Chan had noticed something had seemed a bit off with you though. He seemed to see you even less than normal and when he did see you, you seemed distant with him, quiet. Chan wouldn’t have worried typically. You had a great relationship but everyone has their ups and downs.

None of yours had been especially bad, some bickering here and there, usually about his lack of resting, eating or forgetting important events when he got sucked into his work, every now and then maybe a difference of opinion that needed a little more talking out than usual. You weren’t the type to yell at each other or give the silent treatment but to Chan it seemed like you were giving him the cold shoulder. He wondered if it had anything to do with the incident that happened a few weeks before at a showcase performance him and the boys had attended.  

After they had finished their performance one of the female hosts of the show they were on, Leah, ran out on the stage, wrapped her arms around Chan’s neck and planted a kiss right on his lips. Chan was upset but tried to contain his reaction since they were on camera and in front of thousands of people watching. He gently pushed her away with his brow furrowed, shaking his head. 

“What the fuck are you doing? This is live! I have a girlfriend!” He covered his mic and whispered harshly at her. The smirk on her face disappeared instantly. 

“I... Ryun... the producer he said to... I’m so sorry Chan.” Tears started to well up in Leah’s eyes and Chan felt bad for snapping at her. He led her off stage trying to calm her, assuring her he knew it wasn’t her idea. Evidently one of the producers had put her up to it for ‘good television’. Chan made sure to give him a piece of his mind once they were all off stage.  

That had happened weeks ago. You’d never mentioned it so Chan never brought it up either. Then you started to get distant. Fuck he’d thought, he should have said something about it right after it happened, even if you hadn’t seen. If you found out later it looked bad on him, like he was trying to hide something. Yea he had pushed Leah away and looked upset in front of the camera but he also walked her off the stage right after when she had started to cry. Then he didn’t mention it at all. So, if you knew, it didn’t look good, he knew that.

Chan decided to try and get you to join him for lunch. It wasn’t often that he stopped working long enough to have lunch so he was hopeful that you’d say yes because of that. He opened his phone and shot you a text. 

You didn’t reply. Chan had hoped inviting you for lunch would ease the tightness in his chest but it had only made it worse. You were still giving short answers and wouldn't tell him what you were doing. The needing to have a talk line was the nail in his coffin. You had seen the showcase he was certain of it. You had seen Leah kiss him, you had to have. Why else would you be acting like this? Why else would you two need to sit down and talk? You had seen her kiss him and he didn’t say a thing and now you were going to break up with him.

The rest of the work day Chan stressed about you and your relationship. He’d forgotten all about lunch, he had tried to at least finish what was on his check list for the songs he was working on in the studio that day but he just ended up staring at a wall or a spot on the floor, getting lost in his thoughts about you, about the talk you wanted to have.

When Chan looked at the clock on the wall behind him, he realized it was 12:30 at night. How!? He was kicking himself. He was supposed to have been home hours ago. He got out his phone and saw a bunch of missed calls and texts from you. When did he even get those? How out of it was he about all this? 

FUCK! He cursed at himself. How could he lose track of time like that? He quickly grabbed his hoodie and pulled his beanie on his head. He grabbed the handle of the studio door pulling it open, getting ready to run out and text you while he hailed the first cab he saw. He was in such a hurry he didn’t realize you had just been about to walk in and he ran straight into you. His hands grabbed your arms steadying you so you didn’t fall over. 

“Shit! Baby girl! I’m sorry!” You fixed your clothes and looked up at Chan irritated. 

“For what exactly? Almost accidently knocking me over? Or for not coming home? Or for ignoring all my calls and texts when I told you we needed to talk?” Chan pulled his beanie off and ran his fingers through his curls.  

“All of it. Come on in. Let's just get this over with.” He sounded exhausted, defeated. You furrowed your brows at him as you walked past him and into the studio. He shut the door behind you and sat back down in his office chair while you sat on the couch across from him.  

“What do you mean get this over with?” Chan picked at his cuticles unable to lift his head to look at you. 

“You’ve been distant y/n. That kiss on the showcase happened, then you started pulling away from me, and now you want to talk or in other words, break up with me.” Tears were welling in Chan’s eyes already.  

“WHAT?!” You were shocked. 

“You want to break up with me, it’s pretty obvious.” Your face contorted at his words. 

“Is it?” You were confused by how he’d come to this conclusion and that was why you’d asked that. To Chan though it sounded like confirmation that his gut feeling had been right. You did want to leave him. He broke down on the spot.  

“I’m so sorry! She just ran up and kissed me! I swear I didn’t kiss her back! I swear! I should have told you; I love you please don’t... I... I...” Chan was starting to hyperventilate. You kneeled in front of him in his chair and wrapped your arms around his midsection pressing your face into him as you started crying too. 

“Oh my god Christopher no! I’m sorry baby I’m so sorry! I would never... I’m... I’m not breaking up with you Chris! Leah called me after the showcase and apologized for kissing you so I just never mentioned it, I knew it wasn’t your fault baby. I’m so sorry!” Chan wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your lavender scented hair, sobbing. 

“Please honey please calm down.” You squeezed him tighter and nuzzled your face into his body more trying to make him feel every ounce of love you had for him. You sat there holding each other like that until you both stopped crying and silence filled the room. Chan pulled away first wiping his tears off his face, his eyes and face red. You felt horrible. You supposed that you had been a bit distant lately but it was for good reason. You never meant for Chan to think you were upset about Leah and the kiss let alone leaving him over it. Finally, he asked the questions that had been plaguing his mind all day. 

“If you aren’t breaking up with me then why have you been so distant? Why couldn’t you come to lunch? What do you want to talk about? It sounded like it was serious. I was so worried all day...” Chan’s questions came one after another and he started to get a little upset again but you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs soothing him before you slunk back on your heels pouting. 

“Ugh I’ve ruined everything. Chris I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you or make you worry. I’ve been so busy trying to put together a surprise for you that I didn’t realize I was being distant. I couldn’t come to lunch today because I was setting up the apartment for a romantic dinner for us and then I had to go to the airport to pick someone up.” Chan looked confused. 

“Who did you have to get?” You smiled as you stood up, holding up a finger. 

“Just one second.” You ran out of the studio leaving Chan completely perplexed as to who you could have brought with you. When the studio door cracked open Chan was expecting to see you coming back through. Instead, his eyes were drawn down to the fluffy white and brown dog proudly marching her way in with a black bow tied around her neck. Chan’s eyes went wide and filled with tears again. 

“Berrie!!!” He ran over to the pup and picked her up nuzzling his face against hers as she licked him all over. You walked in just as he noticed the small black velveteen box attached to her bow. Chan looked at you and then back at the box before he opened it revealing a simple, black, man’s wedding band with a thin ring of black crystals encircling the entire band. The tag that was also attached to the bow had black calligraphy letters that spelled out the words ‘Will you Berrie me?’ Chan looked at you with his eyes and mouth wide open. 

“WHa- ho- whe- I... I..” Chan seemed to be glitching so you just explained. 

“I called your mom and dad a couple months back and asked if they would give their blessing for me to ask you to marry me. When they did, I started planning immediately. I wanted it to be so special Chris. Your ring is made of tungsten and the stones are actually pieces of a meteorite. I picked it because you love space so much. I got your parents to agree to bring Berrie to Korea so that she could help me ask you. When you didn’t show up tonight and weren’t answering you phone or texts I was a little upset but I decided if the mountain won’t come to Mohammad well, then I must bring Mohammad to the mountain. So, I packed up Berrie in the car and we came here instead.” Tears were rimming Chan’s eyes again, this time tears of joy. He pulled you in and hugged you so tight. 

“Baby girl, I’m sorry I ruined the surprise at home but this is so perfect. Truly, I couldn’t ask for a better partner in life than you.” Chan pushed your hair away from your face and tenderly kissed you. 

“So is that a yes?” You whispered against Chan’s lips and he laughed. 

“Yes baby girl, that is a yes.” 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

@jquellen27 @chansynie @caroline-ds-world @ughbehavior

#stray kids #skz #bang chan #stray kids fan fic #skz fan fic #bang chan fan fic #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan fluff #skz317cb97 #cal's asks 🖤 #cal's requests🖤

[hollowistheworld]

Dancing

Day 1 of IBWeek2023, hosted by @the-bureaucracts-are-everything

Also on AO3

“I’ve heard,” Gabriel says, voice pitched low in a conspiratorial whisper, “that this is called people watching, and the humans do it too.”

Beelzebub snorts. “That’s ridiculous. Why would humans watch each other? They already know everything!” 

“It’s true!” Gabriel insists. Beelzebub is sure the angel believes it, less sure that he’s right. “Humans do that sort of thing all the time, you know what they’re like.”

Beelzebub has to concede on that point, at least. Humans were puzzling when they were created, and they’ve only gotten worse since. Still, the idea that they might spend their time just watching each other, as though there’d be anything interesting to see, is baffling. “Where did you even hear that?”

“From a human. When I was waiting for you. He said that’s what it looked like I was doing. Told me this was the best seat in the building for it.” 

Beelzebub shakes their head. “No matter how strange I think they are, they always manage to get stranger.” 

Gabriel nods. “It’s sort of fun, honestly. Wondering what they might do next. They’re nowhere near as predictable as angels.” 

Beelzebub nods. “Demons too. Sometimes I think I only wanted Armageddon to happen because I got so bored with all of it.” 

There’s a pause, and when Beelzebub looks up, Gabriel has a look on his face like he’s about to try biting into the frightening amalgamation of burnt flesh and roasted wheat that he’d purchased for each of them in tonight’s efforts to ‘blend in’. 

Thankfully, that isn’t what he ends up doing. “And now?” he asks instead. “Are you still… that bored?” 

Beelzebub raises an eyebrow. “We have an agreement. I realize demons are known for lying, but I wouldn’t cheat my way to victory on something that important. I do have some honor.” 

“No, I know that,” Gabriel says, and thousands of years of experience have Beelzebub marveling at the simple statement. Gabriel trusts them. Even stranger, they trust Gabriel. “I meant, with the boredom. Are things still so boring you want to go to war?” 

It’s a loaded question. A treasonous question. And it’s the easiest question Beelzebub has ever been asked. “No. Things have gotten… Very interesting, these last few years.” 

Gabriel smiles at them, and in true Supreme Archangel fashion he looks a little smug about it. 

“I never said I meant you,” Beelzebub says, though they’re smiling too, which is definitely undercutting their words. 

“But you do mean me.” 

“Isn’t pride a sin?” '

“Pride is. This isn’t pride. It’s confidence.” 

“Oh, I see.” Beelzebub laughs, their chest light in a way that’s becoming familiar and it’s… addictive. They’ve been checked out of work for a while now, a problem that had started a few centuries ago and only been exacerbated by Armageddon blowing up in their face. This thing they’re doing with Gabriel is different, refreshing, exhilarating… Peaceful. In all the millennia they’ve existed, there’s never been anything like sitting quietly with Gabriel, occasionally nudging one another to point out something some human is doing across the bar, exchanging stories of the stupidest thing some underling did today. 

“What are they doing?” Gabriel asks. 

Beelzebub - equally baffled by but a little more familiar with human activities - straightens in their seat and peers around Gabriel to see what’s going on. It takes them a moment to recognize the behavior - for some reason humans never seem to do it the same way twice. “Oh, they’re dancing. To the music.” 

“I thought dancing involved more…” Gabriel makes a vague sweeping gesture with one hand. “Lines?” 

“It used to.” Beelzebub observes the two humans, who look like they’re trying to fall over and step on each other at the same time. “They’re always changing how they do it for some reason.” They take in Gabriel’s expression, which is unangelically curious. Something had sparked in him a few weeks ago, when he’d miracled that jukebox. Something about all these human inventions maybe having something to them after all. Beelzebub is starting to agree. Maybe Crowley’s been onto something all this time. 

“Do you want to try it?” Beelzebub asks, before they can think better of the question. 

Gabriel startles a little, then gets a sheepish grin on his face. “Angels don’t dance.” 

“Angels also don’t have secret meetings with the leader of the demonic opposition,” Beelzebub points out, grinning. “What’s the matter? Afraid you’ll like it?” 

“Do you dance?” 

They shrug. “Never tried. But I’m not scared of it.”

“Neither am I.” Gabriel stands and maneuvers himself out of the booth. “I am the Archangel Gabriel. If humans can do it, so can I.” 

He’s really so easy to get riled up, it almost feels unfair. Good thing Grand Dukes of Hell don’t care about fairness. 

Gabriel holds out his hand as Beelzebub follows him out of their seats. “Of course, it appears to be a two-person activity.” 

Beelzebub rolls their eyes. They know full well that dancing can be done alone, and they suspect even Gabriel knows that much as well. But of course he isn’t just going to get up in front of the music-maker and make a fool of himself alone. 

Beelzebub takes his hand, and allows themself work out just where the music. The two humans already dancing don’t seem to notice them, too busy staring at each other and swaying back and forth like there’s a powerful and mercurial wind in the room. They don’t notice as Gabriel looks them over and holds his hands out, attempting to copy them. Beelzebub follows suit, starting and stopping a few times as they do by the way they both go still. 

It clicks together like a puzzle piece, and Beelzebub knows Gabriel feels it at the same time they do by the way they both go still. 

“I didn’t realize we’d be this close,” Gabriel says quietly. “It seemed… farther. When we were watching them.” 

Beelzebub wants to say something dry and witty to that, but their mouth’s gone dry. Not in the usual rot-of-the-damned way either. “It’s fine,” they manage, and the word couldn’t be more wrong. It isn’t fine. Beelzebub isn’t sure what it is, isn’t sure if they want to step closer or wrench their hands away, but it definitely isn’t fine. 

They stand like that for a long moment that might be all the eternities they’ve lived through. Beelzebub’s world spins as they process just how much taller Gabriel’s form is than their own, as they take in the glint of purple still present in his eyes, despite his toning it down amongst the humans. 

“…I think we’re supposed to move our feet,” Gabriel finally says. 

Beelzebub nods. “Yes, I - I think that’s important.” 

They both glance over at the other couple, but whatever they’re doing with their feet doesn’t make any more sense than it did the first time. 

“We should-“ Beelzebub begins at the same moment Gabriel says “So then we-“ and they both try to move their feet, immediately stepping on each other and falling over. Beelzebub stumbles into Gabriel, who catches them with one arm and promptly falls against a table. Beelzebub briefly loses track of exactly where all their limbs are, and barely stops themself from summoning their flies - anywhere else, with any other company, this would have meant they were in danger, that it was time to leap into a fight with the full forces of Hell behind them. 

But this is just Gabriel. Just an old archenemy who is proving to be so much more, to not actually be all that different from Beelzebub after all. 

They untangle themselves, Gabriel rights the furniture he crashed into - and discreetly miracles away the new crack in the chair leg - and they turn back to each other. No one else seems to have even noticed their mishap - or maybe it’s that Beelzebub isn’t paying close enough attention to notice anyone else’s noticing. 

Gabriel dusts off his jacket, which probably didn’t have anything on it to begin with, and says, “Do we want to try again, or decide there’s a reason angels don’t dance?” 

Beelzebub smiles. “Oh, do they give up that easily in Heaven? The War will be even easier to win than I thought.” 

Gabriel frowns and tugs them back toward the music again. “No, we do not give up that easily. It was probably your fault anyway. Demonic sabotage.”

“You are nowhere near talented enough to make me resort to sabotage.” 

They settle into position a little more quickly this time, and it feels just as right as it did the first time. More right, even. Beelzebub thinks they might like the feeling of Gabriel’s hand in theirs. 

“Follow my lead,” Beelzebub says. “I think that’s where we went wrong last time.” 

“Demons are known for being terrible dancers,” Gabriel objects, but when Beelzebub takes a step forward he allows himself to be pushed back without protest. 

“That still makes us better than your lot,” Beelzebub points out, and Gabriel grins. 

“It does make me want to watch Michael try,” he says. 

Beelzebub snorts at the idea and stumbles again, but this time they at least both manage to stay upright and away from the furniture. 

“See?” Gabriel says. “Terrible.”

“I could lead you right through that wall, you know.” 

Gabriel’s smile is soft, happy, nothing like the polite baring of teeth that has always marked their work-related meetings throughout time. It’s a nice smile. Beelzebub wants to see it more often. “You won’t.” 

Beelzebub pulls the two of them back a few steps. “No, I won’t.” Gabriel steps on their foot and they have to reset again, both of them grinning as though it’s funny, even though they’re both typically the sort to kill anyone with the misfortune of catching them at less than perfect. “I won’t on purpose, anyway,” Beelzebub amends.

Gabriel laughs. “I’ll admit, it’s sort of fun. I think. I’m still not sure we’re doing it right.” 

Beelzebub nods their head toward the other couple. “I think we’re doing as well as they are.” 

“Assuming they’re doing it right,” Gabriel says, and glances over. “They’re closer together than we are.” 

Beelzebub looks over and sees he’s right - the taller member of the duo is leaned over and practically draped over their partner’s shoulder. “I don’t think we’re to that point.” 

“No,” Gabriel agrees. “Not yet.” 

There’s promises in those two words, promises that make Beelzebub’s chest seize and lurch. Promises of some day and next time. The two of them hadn’t even made up an excuse for tonight’s meeting - they’re here because they want to be. Because they wanted to see each other. Because they wanted to talk. To dance, apparently. Because Gabriel makes better company than all of Hell, and he appears to prefer Beelzebub’s company over all the hosts of Heaven. 

For the first time - but not the last - Beelzebub wonders what would happen if they just left. If they kept trying to learn to dance and left Heaven and Hell to toil away without them. 

Not a conversation for tonight. They aren’t ready to give voice to such traitorous thoughts, not yet. They doubt Gabriel is either. 

Not yet. 

#IBweek2023 #ineffable bureaucracy #gabriel x beelzebub #good omens #beelzebub #good omens gabriel #my writing #i have written SO MUCH fluff for this week you guys i think my teeth are gonna fall out

[a-bucket-of-trash]

The Sound of the Love- Kelvin x Neutral Reader – One shot

Prompt: You are too used to talk with yourself thinking Kelvin can’t hear you… Unles…

Tag: Fluff and Smut but not explicit.

All summer had happened on that island in the middle of nowhere and now the cool air was making itself felt, the soft wind purring in the trees dyed red and gold. It was a beautiful landscape, if it weren't for the randomly screaming of the cannibals. But you were determined to cleanse the island of those beings. You did not believe in a possible rescue, especially since some abandoned buildings seemed to have been disused for at least a year. So you were going to make that island YOUR island. If you two were rescued, fine, and if not, it didn't matter. You were going to make sure that YOUR Kelvin, that soldier who followed you everywhere, could finally rest and lower his guard, no matter what.

He should rest, he had to rest, but he was too stubborn. Convincing him to stay safe was difficult, as difficult as convincing him to stop carrying logs in pairs, or to stop guarding cave entrances when you explored them, or to stop getting into your fights with cannibals so that they would deflect the attacks at him as well. Kelvin seemed to have an urgency to prove that he wasn't useless, even though he was deaf and brain-damaged.

You were thinking about that, standing on one of the paths, with the soldier at your side. You heard him approach you, make the “deer” sign, and aim into the distant bushes. He had extremely sharp eyesight and he saw danger or prey a hundred times better than you, you only saw plants.

Agilely you took your bow and aimed, even without knowing exactly where the animal was. Kelvin stuck close to you, from behind, watching, slightly adjusting the angle of your arm and patting your side when he figured you were in line of fire. You let go, seeing the arrow fly silently and you heard the dull sound of something falling to the ground, so you ran to finish off the animal. He smiled, raising his thumb up, to which you replied in kind. You know that, if it weren't for his hands shaking too much, he alone, with a bow, could kill twice as many enemies and animals.

You both returned to the base you had built, a relatively safe area next to a river, with the simple wooden shelter that was beginning to spread under the idea that it would eventually be a cabin. You stayed near the river, dissecting the deer, removing everything that could be useful. Luckily you had grown up on a farm, you had learned, at a very young age, how to process cattle. Sitting next to you, Kelvin, watching what you were doing.

"You calm down, my big boy, today you will eat well" You murmured.

You had that habit of talking to him when he didn't see you, even though he couldn't hear you. That not only kept you a little sane, but it helped you remember that he wasn't a machine or a dog. Besides, you liked to do it, you often told him how attractive he was or how much you had fallen in love with him, things you could never say looking into his eyes.

And the fall wore on with the weeks, everything was turning more red and brown, and Kelvin had undergone some remarkable changes. His hands seemed to gradually stabilize, his dizziness subsided, and he seemed much more awake and aware, as if his brain was returning to its old self, allowing him to be more proactive, more independent, and able to make important decisions for himself, at least until he passed out of the blue, to spend a whole week flying in fever, barely waking up. You forced him to stay still, while you tried to cool him down and keep him hydrated, hour after hour, staying by his side, day after night. You were terrified at the idea that his internal injury would get worse, that he wouldn't wake up anymore, that your partner would die there.

Luckily his fever was coming down, but you weren't going to let him get up, not until his head was cool, not until you were a thousand times sure he was okay.

That afternoon he watched you enter the pseudo-cabin, tired after annihilating the cannibals that had approached upon noticing the abrupt tranquility of the area. You left your ax near the bed and sat down heavily on a box that you used as a seat, near him, sighing, recovering, giving him the “Ok” signs to keep him calm.

You took off your gloves and gently reached out to touch his forehead and cheeks, feeling him healthily warm. He hadn't had a fever for a couple of days, but even so, you didn't want him to get out of there, you desperately needed him to be safe.

Kelvin gave you the "Ok" gesture and tried to get up, but you pushed him gently, leaving him sitting in his place, to which he looked at you, confused. You knew he was looking for an explanation, but you didn't have a way to tell him what was going through your mind, there wasn't enough paper on the island for that.

You sighed, sitting back on the edge of the bed, looking away from him, but leaving one of your hands in his hair, stroking him. “God, I wish I knew how I could explain it to you… But… It's just… Can't you stay still, you big clumsy? I don't want anything to happen to you… Okay? What happened to you burns in my soul, and what could happen to you burns even more... Just stay here, safe... Stop trying to prove to me that you're useful, silly, I know you're useful, but it's just that... Wait a bit more, wait until I clean this damn island of those stupid bone suckers, okay? As soon as I kill everything that could harm you, you can walk in peace, honey... I promise I will, so you'll have a more relaxed life, a nice cabin just for you. I promise my love. But for now, just get well, I couldn't survive without you by my side… I love you… I need you…”

Another of your constant sighs came out of your mouth, when you were going to get up to get the notepad. Kelvin grabbed your arm and pulled firmly, to lie down completely, taking you with him, resting you on his chest. Somewhat shocked by his reaction, you heard him laugh softly, hugging you tightly. Your eyes locked on him, seeing him smile, his warm brown eyes meeting yours.

"I can... hear..." He said, smiling, his voice raspy after months of non-use.

"What? What!?" You smiled widely, feeling your heart skip a beat and bathe in warmth “Really? Can you hear me!?"

"A little" He nodded, laughing more "Don't yell..."

"I'm sorry" You laughed with wet eyes, excited "God... I'm so happy for you... Kelvin... Finally..."

“I heard a… plop…” He smiled wider “A little before… you came back…”

"That's great!" Your smile faded momentarily when you remembered what you had said a few minutes ago, thinking that he didn't hear you. "O-oh... OH..." Your face turned completely red.

"Mhm" Kelvin nodded softly, looking at you with more tenderness than you'd ever seen in him, while he held you firmly. "Love you... too..." He whispered, his eyes wandering over your face "For... a long time..."

You didn't give a shit for how long ago. You held his cheeks to kiss him hard, listening to him laugh softly for a moment, before kissing you with more impetus than you expected, as if he were carrying the desire in his heart, for months.

From there everything went to majors, and not long after, a good scandal could be heard from that part of the island, and whose origin was not exactly cannibal.

The sun was going down and you were still curled up next to him, skin to skin, your chin on his chest, looking at him, your mind and body relaxed, feeling one of his hands wander absently up your back.

"Excuse me, you told me not to yell" You murmured, rubbing his waist "I did my best, but, well... You didn't give me many options, Kelvin..."

The soldier laughed widely, denying, to hug you even more, resting his face against your head, taking a long breath. "You make me... very happy..." He gently kissed your hair "Let me take care of you... We are two... We are... A team... Don't leave me behind, I don't like being left behind..." He squeezed you.

"Okay" You smiled, rubbing your face affectionately against his "But don't worry, I'll decapitate anything that comes near you"

"I love your overprotective violence" He purred, running his hands down your back "When you dismember cannibals... Well... I get a little... you know..."

"Kelvin!" You laughed, patting his arm lightly.

“Why do you think…they hit me?” He smiled "I get distracted looking at you..."

You were still laughing a little, when he looked for your mouth to kiss you, ready to do a different type of "manual work".

#kelvin #sons of the forest kelvin #sotf kelvin #kelvin x reader #one shot #sons of the forest #sotf

[sophierequests]

zoya nazyalensky

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Angst: ☾ ┃ Fluff: ♡ ┃ Hurt/Comfort: ☆ ┃ Smut: ♤

“You are strong enough to survive the fall.”

oneshots

not how it was supposed to go (☆ / ♡) → Zoya's crush on the reader is becoming more and more obvious, how will she react when she sees them with another girl?

Maybe dumped wasn’t the right word for her current situation, since you two weren’t technically together. You had obvious chemistry, constantly flirting and spending time with each other, but none of you had yet dared to make the first move.

putty in your hands (♤ / ☆ / ♡) → When the new supposed Sun Summoner starts going on Zoya's nerves, the reader decides that it's time to cheer her up. But what happens when cheeky flirting turns into something more?

She sighed, eyeing you slowly, seemingly taking every inch of your body intently. Her eyes stopped as she met yours again. In the blink of an eye, you saw her face upside down, hovering over yours, never breaking eye contact.

the sun and her storm (☾) → The Apparat's cult is weird, but they wouldn't go as far as kidnapping the only known Sun Summoner, whilst knowing who their girlfriend is, would they?

The priest didn't budge from his spot, engaging in a tense conversation with Zoya, who was close to pushing him from his creaky wooden box. You didn't understand what they were saying, the casual chatter from the passing people overshadowing their talk.

i only want to be with you (♡) → After Genya's constant teasing reveals that the reader has a crush on somebody, Zoya gets slightly jealous.

A few weeks prior, you accidentally let it slip that you had a slight crush on a certain squaller, which seemed to not surprise your friend at all. Since then it became one of her most talked-about matters, effectively managing to drive you up against the wall. As soon as she realized that it wasn’t just a little innocent infatuation, but fully developed feelings towards your mutual friend, she didn’t want to let it go, constantly teasing or encouraging you to ask her out.

pages thumbed, heartstrings strummed(♡) → Zoya seems to be in the library more often than usual. What could be the reason for her sudden interest in the old tomes?

However, before you could even properly begin reading the book on amplifiers, you had planned on working through, the door opened again. A young woman with black hair and a blue kefta entered the room. You recognized her immediately.

the universe must have divined this (♡) → Zoya thinks the reader should dump her boyfriend.

At first, she considered leaving, knowing that she wouldn’t get any real chances to make a move on you. But when the friends you were currently with opted out to join the masses on the dance floor, you were left alone, still waiting for a man that wouldn’t show. Now it was her turn.

i don't need you (but oh i do) (☆ / ♡) → Zoya's and the reader's relationship is very unclear, causing her to deny even having feelings for her. When a certain Heartrender visits the Palace, things are bound to change.

"If you want me to." he smirked, "You're terribly tired because you didn't spend the night in your room. I knocked earlier and guess who I found inside? No one. I'm not quite sure whose room you slept in, but I think I have a sneaking suspicion of who it could be."

it's obvious i wanted to (☆) → Zoya can't admit that she likes the reader, and it starts getting difficult.

There was no point in denying that Zoya had developed feelings for you. No matter how hard she tried to push them away, to treat you just as a friend, she couldn’t deny that she liked you. Nikolai had already tried to convince her to confess at least a thousand times, but she knew that she wasn’t able to.

i'd marry you with paper rings (♡) -> Zoya and the reader recall some of the most important incidents in their relationship.

“Do you still remember the night when we first met?” you asked, looking down at Zoya, who was currently laying in your lap, absent-mindedly fiddling with the fabric of your skirt.

you drew stars around my scars, but now i'm bleeding (☆) → Memories of a long-lost relationship start to resurface.

Without giving yourself time to think, you pulled it out from underneath the clutter, absent-mindedly brushing the dirt off and letting your fingers run over the intricate silver embroideries around the collar. It was slightly damaged from being worn on the battlefield and during training, but that only made it more real. It was her kefta.

gift-giving (♡) → Zoya really isn't a holiday person.

Zoya wasn’t a holiday type of person. She didn’t do feasts, celebrations, dancing or gift-giving. She didn’t dress up, she didn’t decorate and she certainly wasn’t one to be jolly or merry. Not even after a Genya-induced drinking spree would she sink down to the level of celebrating Christmas of all things. At least that’s what she told herself. 

i need you more than you can ever know (☆ / ♡) → After a figuring out that she has feelings for the reader, Zoya decides to distance herself from her and their friendship with benefits. When a sudden accident causes more hurt than good, she finally comes clean.

The relationship you had was entirely and strictly platonic. You were co-workers that occasionally slept together when they needed some form of release, and that was everything there was to it. Until it wasn’t.

headcanons

zoya nazyalensky x f!reader dating headcanons (♡)

zoya nazyalensky x bookworm!reader headcanons (♡)

queen!zoya x fjerdan!reader arranged marriage headcanons (♡)

zoya nazyalensky x f!reader marriage headcanons (♡)

#zoya x reader #zoya nazyalensky x reader #zoya nazyalensky #zoya nazyalensky smut #zoya nazyanelsky #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse headcanons #grishaverse x reader #grisha #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone headcanon #shadow and bone imagine #netflix shadow and bone #shadow and bone

[writing-plurals]

Hello! I am not plural and the characters I am writing aren't exactly original, rather, they are an interpretation of an already existing one that gets referred to by two different names, which sometimes get interpreted as plurality. I am quite fond of the idea, but from what I've seen, the fandom usually gravitates towards just two alters in their system, which is not in any way wrong, however I would like to make them more similar to my friends who are systems. The story is happening in an alien world, where the closest equivalent to humans is still very different, but the story mainly focuses on the giant semi-biological supercomputers they left behind. Naturally, their plural experience is probably very different from one of a system in real life, and I apologize if that complicates things… How their plurality functions is that a supercomputer's mind is made out of thousands of processing units, powerful mini-brains, all constantly processing and exchanging information, like a human brain but in zero gravity and essentially infinitely larger. The origin of system that I am writing is a condition that causes their processing units to struggle to exchange information as smoothly as intended, often clumping in separate groups, the groups may fall apart and redistribute to the rest of the supercomputer, or stay together long enough to, essentially, split a new alter. Due to just how large the processing power of the system's brain is, all of the alters are conscious at once, however some of the processing units will still be exchanged inbetween alters automatically, leaving some in a more dissociative state from time to time. They all don't share the same memories, but can create logs and manually exchange and copy the memories into another alter's memory, though they usually don't do it unless it's something important like scheduling or simulation results. The supercomputers don't exactly have a body in the traditional sense, though they do have an avatar their creators used to anthropomorphize them and act as a sort of output, like how monitors output some of the computer's data. They only have one avatar as their plurality wasn't intended by their creator. They cannot really customize it since they probably don't have a way to get any paint, accessories, or anything similar for their metal plating without the help of their creators, who are gone, however they can project holograms on top of the avatar with some of the details of an alter's preferred appearance (Headspace appearance? Would that be an accurate term?), but they don't usually do that. I guess the closest equivalent to fronting would be that since a supercomputer has only one "user", which means if they want to communicate with other supercomputers, all of the alters can have one "account" in each broadcast group/private broadcasts/etc., and the broadcast system cannot be modified so there can not be a Pluralkit/Tupperbox equivalent, which creates difficulties either always having to clarify who is speaking or only restricting certain groups to be used by a specific alter. A lot of the alters either don't speak in groups at all or only lurk, but 4-6 (haven't landed on a solid number yet) front quite frequently. I apologize for the amount of text…I would talk about each of active alter's arc, their relationships with each other and how they cope with the major event that happens in the plot, but I am afraid I've already given too much material to work on. I am worried whether the depiction of plurality in this system inside a supercomputer is respectful and if something is missing

It took a few read throughs, but what I processed of that, that definitely seems respectful so far, and like you've thought it out a ton! There's the line of logic as to how they form, function, and attempt to express themselves. And especially hearing that there's an arc for at least several of the alters that are all distinct, there's the added individuality that can add to a story a lot!

(For any future asks on this one specifically, something to note the different bullet points like a - or something like that would be Very helpful in breaking up the text and making it easier to process.)

-Mod Tick Tock

#mod tick tock #actuallyplural #pluralgang

[bestworstcase]

we see a lot of mistrali citizens listening to ruby’s broadcast in 8.5: jaune’s sister and in-laws + the crowds in the transit station. it has been months since haven academy closed, but—even more so than vale, which gets the subtle glimpse of the dust shop open for business as usual—it’s made clear that mistral is weathering the storm. in fact, for ordinary civilians, it really seems like not much has significantly changed at all.

with that context, i think it becomes profoundly interesting that 1. ruby doesn’t mention mistral in her broadcast at all—admittedly, in part because there’s no one ozpin trusted left in the kingdom—and 2. the kids direct the evacuation to vacuo, an impoverished state they know to be salem’s next target, instead of mistral, the much larger and more prosperous kingdom that they left behind in perfectly good working order after salem’s forces departed. now in one sense, this was a short-term tactical decision in that the kids have an urgent need to get to vacuo before salem does and, with less than an hour to plan a city-wide evacuation, some longer term strategic thinking obviously fell by the wayside. because, yanno, crisis mode.

but! there’s also a beat in before the dawn where jax thinks “with the global cct disabled, vale in ruin, haven leaderless, and atlas closed off, vacuo was theirs for the taking.” and conversely at another point theodore refers to haven as “mistral academy.” so there is a consistent pattern here—across the full spectrum from villain to corrupt old guard to hero—of equating haven academy to the kingdom of mistral and vice versa. ruby gives a shoutout to glynda (who as far as she knows is still actively fighting to reclaim beacon) but says nothing about surviving haven faculty—or about her other allies, like the belladonnas, who presumably got looped in and earned some serious goodwill from the mistrali public by showing up to prevent another beacon from happening at haven.

the conflation of the academies/the huntsmen with the whole world or humanity itself is nothing new—the entire “salem wants to destroy the world/salem wants to destroy the academies” blurriness can only exist because the civilian world is so invisible from within the huntsmen institution—but this feels like it might be the most important occurrence, because there were explicitly thousands of people in mistral watching this broadcast and hearing this huntress mention BEACON but not haven or mistral.

and most of those people would have heard cinder’s broadcast during the vytal festival tournament. the broadcast where she identified herself as mistrali and specifically gestured toward the “undesirable” situation with the huntsmen institution there. what does ruby’s broadcast tell these people?

- the powerful, malevolent entity responsible for the horrific fall of beacon intends to “destroy the huntsman academies”

- this entity already attacked haven, forced the academy to close, and then left. they weathered the storm. they’re safe.

- this person—or someone connected to her, at least—claimed to act out of resistance to, as she saw it, the corrupt and tyrannical huntsmen institution, especially in mistral, and the huntress on the broadcast effectively confirmed that claim

- the huntress in the broadcast also doesn’t acknowledge that mistral even exists

- ???

talk about planting seeds of doubt.

and ordinarily i’d stick this in the headcanon/fic fodder pile because the narrative is clearly headed to vacuo, but… a decent chunk of the major supporting cast is stranded in atlas now. with a falling communications satellite and what amounts to a flying pickup truck as their only resources, meaning that basically the only place they can reasonably escape to is argus.

oh. and anima already has a fairly sizable population of people who don’t like how the kingdom runs things enough to take their chances with the grimm and rampant banditry rather than live within the kingdom’s protection

#ruby tried to be honest without losing control over the narrative #and maybe she did—for vale and vacuo and mantle #but for mistral? #what do the people of mistral make of all this #without a huntress to guide them?

[lancerious]

Gimme any of your King thoughts you have rn

Good heavens

Uhhh I'll just list a bunch of random thoughts I have that I hope are fresh and not repeated a thousand times over lol

I imagine Spade King suffers from something called separation anxiety disorder, or SAD. If he doesn't have SAD specifically, then he at least has some general anxiety. There are a few parts to this, mostly involving theorizing and speculation. First, we have no idea what happened to Spade King's parents, though I headcannon that said parents passed away when their son was still fairly young. Regardless whether the parent/child relationship was healthy or not, they were still separated somehow. The same goes for Queen; we don't know the specifics of their relationship--though it likely was far from perfect, given how they're divorced--but they were separated regardless. I feel like this is most important with Lancer, as it's the one person Spade King likely holds in high enough regard. Given how the relationship between them is a bit...messy, with characters like Susie only making it worse, there's bound to be some anxiety from that. This is without mentioning how Spade King's presumed first interaction with Lightners ended abhorrently. I feel like all of this adds up to there being at least some anxiety in Spade King, perhaps it's mostly contained within him at the moment, even if he does lash out at times. This was a long one lol, but I think it's an important idea and likely has some footing.

Don't ask me why but I headcannon Spade King as having some Scandinavian accent, ofc we don't have an actual voice for him but I think a Scandinavian accent would fit him lol.

I like to think Spade King always had--and still has--a very wild and active imagination! I imagine he would daydream a ton, often to escape the likely not-so-pleasing reality he found himself in. Maybe he even wrote some of those said daydreams down when he was younger, but has since given it up.

I have the idea of Spade King--and the other overthrown kings by extension--knowing Jevil & Seam since he was a child. It's not entirely unlikely this is the case, as both Seam & Jevil are likely two of the oldest Darkners we know so far. We can only speculate, though I bet younger Spade King saw Jevil & Seam perform for the then-current monarchs, whoever they may be. Maybe Spade King found it entertaining, or maybe he wished he was doing anything else lol, who knows.

Another headcannon, I think Spade King is generally suspicious of Rouxls Kaard. There is some merit to this idea: first, Rouxls Kaard seems a bit out-of-place amongst the other Chapter 1 Darkners. Even if he fits the general theme of cards/puzzles/whatever, he still stands out. I imagine his introduction to then-Card Kingdom is akin to Sans & Papyrus from Undertale, what with them randomly popping into existence one day with no given explanation. Second, the idea of Rouxls being the "Duke of Puzzles" despite his much-blatant incompetence is a bit, well, odd. There were literally Darkners in that very area who specialized in puzzles, so why replace them with someone who seems horribly unfit for the job? See, I think there's a lot more to Rouxls, a lot more potential, and he's attempting to hide it by acting incompetent. That, or he genuinely doesn't know how to grapple with his large amount of power. Either way, I suspect Spade King was, and still is, aware of this to a degree. Perhaps he was trying to get Rouxls to snap out of it, or wanting to see how the notorious Duke would thrive in a position of authority. Who knows! It's just a theory I have.

Bit of a random thing, but if there was any Darkner from Chapter 2 who would have a decent chance at getting along with Spade King, it would be Swatch. First, Swatch runs a café. If Spade King does love to cook/bake, which is what I and clearly others think, that's already a good start. Second, Swatch has a very laid-back, professional, and overall "proper" personality. I think that sort of personality would go well with Spade King's--I doubt Swatch would get on his nerves often, if at all. I could probably think of more things, but still! I can see Swatch & Spade King being decent buddies, or at least tolerating each other, which is already impressive for Spade King lol. Though Swatch being loyal to Queen is a stumbling block now that I think about it, but hey, everything else works! Yaaay...lol.

This one's a bit out there and has nothing to back it up, but I like the idea of Spade King having resided in what is now Lancer's room when he was a child. Room inheritance! I guess you could say this works by process of elimination given what we know about Card Castle's layout, though it's possible said layout was different in the past. I dunno, I just think it's a sweet idea!

Whelp that's it lol, that's all my scatterbrained mind can think of for this post. It's difficult to think of things to say without being given proper guidelines lol but I have something!

#idk what else to add in tags so that's it ig lol #ask #mutualio #needlessly long #deltarune