You See, I’m Not Really From Here..

(Spoilers)

Okay ik this shot is funny

But have we considered how actually terrified peter b has to be here?

Like, he introduces miguel as his friend. We see he was there when miguel's universe fell apart. Miguel puts up with him bringing mayday everywhere and letting her climb all over everything. These 2 had to have been actually close.

So of course peter knew that miguel was going to talk to miles, maybe he knew miguel would say mean shit to him, but this is a face of genuine surprise. Not even the person arguably closest to miguel knew he would (or even could) act like this. Like, look at him!! Hes terrified!! The man he was there for during an entire universe's collapse, the man he considers a friend, the man he let hold his baby, is capable of doing this!!

Recently I've been seeing a lot of Sun Wukong and reader / OC with baby monkeys stuff, and I am just living for it. ( @journey-to-the-au's #Fruit Troup and @semisolidmind's #Royal Children especially) Something about baby monkeys rattled around in my little brain long enough that I had to bang out this drabble. Its my first ever x reader story, and its just slightly nsfw so beware!

Cuddle Break

Synopsis: Your reaction to snuggling a baby monkey has quite an effect on Sun Wukong

Warning / Triggers: Slight NSFW - mention of an erection and implied adult situations

For several days now the group had been traveling through a dense jungle. You had stopped for a break on the side of the road to eat some lunch and rest your weary feet. Although it was a little humid, it felt pleasantly cool beneath the shade of the jungle canopy. You would have liked to take a quick nap, but Tang was anxious as ever to get moving again.

“YN, would you mind finding Wukong?” the monk asked. He smiled apologetically, as if he knew he was sending you into the lion’s den.

Almost since the day you’d joined the group, the demon monkey had begun teasing and flirting with you. You did your best to laugh off his advances, thinking he was probably just messing with you, but lately Wukong was getting so provocative that Tang was forced to use the headache spell a few times just to get him to give you some space. You were starting to consider that maybe Wukong really was into you, which wouldn’t have been a problem if you didn’t find him so damn attractive too!

As usual Wukong had gone off on his own to scout out the surroundings as soon as the group had settled down. Normally Pigsy would have been asked to go find the monkey, but he had eaten so much lunch that he’d zonked out hard enough that even Sandy was struggling to wake him up. There was nothing to be done about it, so you set off in the direction you had seen Wukong go earlier, hoping he hadn’t gone too far.

It wasn’t much trouble to find a little footpath that meandered through the jungle underbrush. You tracked it for a while, occasionally calling out the demon monkey’s name. Eventually you came to a wide, slow running creek, and trusting the intuition that had served you so well on the journey so far decided to follow it upstream. It wasn’t too long before you caught a familiar chirping, chattering sound. You had heard Wukong occasionally making those noises, but this time they sounded surprisingly soft.

“Wukong!” you called as you got closer, “Tang wants to get going…!”

It wasn’t long before you spotted him and understood why the noises were so unusually gentle.

Sun Wukong was perched on a thick branch hanging low over the creek, surrounded by a troop of infant monkeys. It was the little ones that were chirping and giggling as they climbed on him like a living jungle gym. He seemed to be enjoying it, indulging the little ones with the softest smile you had ever seen on his face. And the babies were so cute! Little fluffy beans with their little tails and itty-bitty noses!

“❤️Oooh my gooooosh!!❤️❤️” You gushed before you could stop yourself.

The Monkey King and his tiny subjects looked at you in surprise, only just noticing your presence. The babies looked a little nervous, but Wukong’s grin only got bigger as you approached. You were glad to see that the little ones trusted Wukong enough that they didn’t run away, even when you pulled yourself up on the branch to sit beside him.

“They’re so adorable, Wukong! Do… Do you think I could hold one?”  

Wukong had never seen you so enamored before, it was adorable! “Sure,” he chuckled, “Just be careful. They got a strong grip.” He lifted one of the little ones off his knee, making reassuring noises as he handed him over to your waiting arms.

The baby was clearly a bit frightened of you, staring at your face with wide, darting eyes. “It’s okay sweetie,” you cooed to reassure him, stroking his head and back. “Don’t be scared.” To your delight the infant started to purr, and snuggled against you as you cradled him against your chest. You were so besotted with affection for the little guy that you didn’t even notice the intense way Wukong was staring at you.

It wasn’t until he’d handed the child over that Wukong realized the little one had fur that was remarkably like the color of your hair. Watching you snuggle and coo at the infant made him think of you doing the same with his offspring. Just imagining you getting you pregnant with his heirs drove him wild. If it weren’t for the children still clinging to him, he would have pounced on you right there.

What was worse, he was a little jealous of the little one! What he wouldn’t give to have you hold him and stroke his fur like that! That look of sweet and tender adoration in your eyes should have been for him!

Oblivious to the immortal demon’s internal struggle (and the bulge in his pants) you continued to soothe the baby monkey in your arms. The little guy was practically melting as you pet his soft fur. Then two more of the little ones abandoned Wukong to crawl into your lap, eager for their turn at cuddles. You scooped them up happily, pressing kisses to their foreheads. “Aww! Mama’s sweet babies! ❤️”

Wukong grit his teeth to stifle a groan. The jolt of arousal that went through him was so violent his hand shot up and snapped the branch above him like a twig. The baby monkeys that were still sitting on him were startled enough to scatter further up the tree.

You gave him a puzzled look, holding the little ones in your lap a bit protectively. “Something wrong, Wukong?”

“I’m fine,” he answered, jumping down from the branch. He sounded a bit more terse than usual. Obviously he wasn’t fine, but he wasn’t going to tell you about it. “You said Master wanted to get going. We should head back now.”

You sighed, glancing down at the baby monkeys curled in your lap. They had been startled by Wukong crushing the branch but had hunkered down rather than run away. “Aw, can’t we stay just a little longer?”

"C'mon, YN, let's go." Wukong shook his head, shooing the little ones with a few soft hoots. They reluctantly crawled out of your lap, and you pouted as you let them go. Then he reached up, grabbing your waist to lift you down off the branch. You accepted the surprisingly chivalrous gesture, even putting your hands on his strong shoulders to steady yourself. But once your feet were on the ground, he didn’t let go.

You felt your face heat up with a blush as Wukong stepped into your space, his grip on your waist keeping you from escaping when his chest pressed flush against yours. You could feel his warm breath on your ear as he leaned in and growled suggestively, “You know, I could give you a few of your own if you wanted…”

“Wukong!!” The insufferable demon laughed as you pounded your fist on his chest in protest. But at least he let you step back, and you took a deep breath to try calming your racing heart. And racing hormones!

Against your better judgement, you let him carry you back to the others on his cloud. You tried to ignore his tail curled around your middle, somehow convincing yourself that it was only to keep you steady.

Wukong could tell under all that flustered embarrassment you were turned on. He could smell it on you, and it made him grin victoriously. It wouldn’t be long now before he’d finally have you. He might have even been able to convince you to let him have his way right there in the jungle, but he knew there wasn’t enough time to really enjoy himself. If the monk had sent you to look for him, it wouldn’t be long before he sent Pigsy or Sandy to look for you. He could wait a little longer. You were worth it flexing a little patience, and no matter what, in the end you’d be his.

And in the meantime, seeing you snuggle the baby monkeys gave him a sneaky idea for how to get some of that attention for himself…

oooooo, I’ve never read that fic of yours that you just posted a link to. soooo good! now I’m thinking about the brothers flipping off michael (literally and figuratively) in a letter/picture back to him and michael just sat there pouting like a child being told ‘no’ for the first time.

*mwah* you’re the best

Continuation of this, Michael design borrowed from @stulili 

tw: swearing, poly MC

-

"Okay~ Everyone's in!" Asmo positioned his phone and set the timer for the photo.

"Oi, middle fingers up!" Mammon elbowed Belphie.

"They're up!" He groggily responded as Asmo rushed to lay in front of the group and add his own middle fingers to the mix.

"Say, Fuck you, Michael." Lucifer said as the timer clicked.

"Fuck you, Michael!" The group resounded. After the click, Asmo rushed back over to the phone to catch the polaroid it spit out.

"MC, did you write the letter yet?" Beel hovered near you.

"Not yet. Any ideas?" You moved to a nearby table and the brothers all crowded around you.

"Tell him to fuck himself." Belphie mumbled.

"He's a rat bastard and we hate 'im!" Mammon chimed in.

"Oh, let's send him a copy of: I Never Wanted To Go To Heaven Anyway So God Really Just Needs To Fuck Off." Levi pulled the manga out of nowhere.

"Don’t forget to decline the offer.” Satan tapped at the page. 

“Calm down, I’ll get there...” You began to write on the page.

Michael,

While I appreciate the offer, I have to decline. Perhaps your invitation would have seemed more sincere had you given it to me in person. On behalf of my boyfriends, seven brothers I think you’re quite familiar with, fuck you.

I have everything I could ever want here in the Devildom. Give my regards to Simeon and Luke, I hope they visit soon.

MC

Michael’s face while reading:

Mermay series + Lumine ship

happy barbenheimer week! ✨✨ some doodles

—

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“Eyes” by Karl Sisson.

I bet if a mushroom could lap water out of your hand with a tongue that a gently drinking mushroom tongue on your hand would be the softest and gentlest thing.

Some apocalyptic nyc postcards I’ve been working on. Now I actually need to get them printed as postcards lol

genshin sugar daddies

premise: you have seven sugar daddies: one for every day of the week. a bit overwhelming, right? however, you somehow find ways to make time for each and every one of them, no matter how emotionally and physically demanding they are. it's just that, now they don't seem too keen on sharing, and you don't know what to do. (modern au)

tw: nsfw, dark content - minors dni

mondays are always harder in more ways than one. mondays are diluc's days, and that means that you're spending a good portion of your nights at angel's share.

on mondays, it's happy hour. which means that you're sitting at a booth in the corner looking pretty while diluc is tending to his customers. you're more than happy to sit back and relax while you wait for him to finish with work. when the drinks are on the house, you're willing to wait as long as it'll take.

periodically, when he's not busy, however, he'll walk over to you and engage in conversation. you act as a taste-tester for new drinks so he's always asking you if you like them. you two will talk about your day, any interesting events, and so on until diluc is pulled back into work again.

then you're back to fiddling your fingers and watching him work. over time, you've learned that he preferred that you not do anything while you were supposed to be with him. that instead, you fixated your gaze on him while he moved about. sometimes you'll catch him looking at you to see if your eyes are still on him.

even while he's dealing with a certain tone-deaf bard, there's something about the way he looks at you so intently that reminds you of a predator.

when angel's share closes, you're there to keep him company while he cleans up. when he's done, he'll sweep you away back to his manor.

you'll fall onto the sheets as he grinds against you. his shallow breaths brush against your throat. the look he gives you is nothing short of intense.

"everyone at the tavern was looking at you, you know," he mutters, running his fingers down your chest, sinking into your pants. he pulls them down effortlessly along with your panties. "didn't you feel it, darling? their filthy eyes on you. they want to ruin you. everyone wants to ruin you."

he throws your legs over his shoulders, his fingers crawling up your thighs. you jump when he suddenly inserts two fingers into your cunt, scissoring you. his free arm wraps around your leg to keep you locked against him. his eyes are glued onto you as he presses a kiss against your calf.

"but your eyes were on me all night, weren't they. couldn't take your eyes off me, could you. you're mine, dear. do you hear me? you're mine."

you don't overlook how tight his grip is. tight enough to make you wonder if he'll ever let you go. in the morning, he does, but you're scared for the day he wakes up and decides that it's for the last time.

tuesdays aren't as bad. when you’re sore from the night before, childe is there to take you out to meals, shopping, and sightseeing. he's not always available to spend time with you on tuesdays, because of his equally-demanding job and whatnot, but when he is free, he never wastes a second.

or a dollar.

childe smirks smugly from his sea. his posture is lax, one hand lazily tracing circles on the chair's arm while the other comes up to rest under his chin.

"how about you twirl for me, girlie? you look so beautiful."

you giggle, observing yourself in the mirror. "why thank you."

you bask in the way the soft satin kisses your skin. the way your newly-own earrings sparkle under the dressing room's light. just a couple years ago, you could've only dreamed of being dressed so prettily.

"do your side-bitches ever treat you as well as me?"

"childe!" you chide.

he laughs, getting up from his seat. but you both know better than to believe his little chuckle is genuine.

he approaches you, sliding his hands around your waist. tucking your head under his chin, he stares at you through the mirror's reflection.

you don't say anything, and childe doesn't either. it appears he's more than happy to enjoy just standing there. his gaze is glossed over, far away.

the two of you sway side to side for what seems like forever until he decides to say something.

"do they buy you pretty things like i do?"

of course they do, you think. although you spend one-on-one time with each and every one of them, they are all aware of each other. it's only right that they did. it was the first thing you said when you brought the idea up to them, that it wasn't going to be exclusive.

but when you see the way he looks at you, you can't really tell him the truth. not when his focus is redirected from his thoughts to you.

"the things you buy me are a special kind of pretty," you reply.

it seems like that answer is enough for him, because he doesn't say anything else. instead he hums quietly, letting the vibration ripple in the back of your head. he slides his hands down your hips and before you can say anything else, he whips his head around.

"i'll buy these sets." he motions over to the closest clothes rack to an attendant you hadn't noticed. "and that one. and the dress she's wearing. how many colors does this come in, by the way?"

the attendant doesn't hesitate. "five colors, sir. they come in bla—"

"great." he shuffles through his pocket to pull out a black card. "pack them up, we won't be here any longer," he retorts.

the attendant looks ecstatic, quickly shuffling out of the dressing rooms towards the cash register with newfound glee.

"childe," you whine. "i don't think these will fit in my closet."

his hands crawl lower, his finger hovering over your clit. "then they'll fit in mine. come over any time of the week when you want to wear one of my special pretty things."

your breath hitches as he rubs slow circles on your clit. he pushes the two of you back into the dressing room and closes the curtains.

"what are you doing, she'll be back any second—"

he kisses the corner of your jaw, pressing his lips close to your ear. "no worries. if there's one thing i'm sure about, it's that no one undresses you faster than i do."

wednesday is when usually everything calms down. kazuha will typically invite you to a new park, scenic route, or gallery. together, you'll write haikus, sonnets, and limericks together. some hours you'll just sit in silence, putting pen to paper. and when the sun goes down you'll exchange poetry.

out of the seven men, kazuha probably scares you the most. he was the first person you decided to do this whole ordeal with, after all. and since he's known you the longest, he also knows about your circumstances more than others. maybe that's why he's so focused on treating you as if you were a fragile cherry blossom petal. his touches feel like ghosts, running down your forearm as he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

in exchange for his protection, his money, and his care, you give him honeyed words. you act as his muse for when he's hit a creative block. you're there to listen to him read out verses when the wind can't bear the strength to carry them. you listen to his grief about his best friend, his loneliness when he was forced to leave his home country. as someone many of the locals looked to for wisdom, he too carried the emotional burdens of being someone's rock. emotional burdens that he let onto you (whether purposefully or not, you're unsure). but you listen anyway, hearing him talk about days of poverty, where sometimes he had to worry about things to eat, or how to get proper healthcare.

you can't lie and say you're always stable enough to hear some of the things he has to say, but you try.

even if you sometimes feel like you can't take it, you just smile and squeeze his hand tighter like you're supposed to. sometimes your mind will go on autopilot, and sometimes you'll stand up on the grounds of needing to go to the bathroom. but at the end of the day, this is what you signed up for. this. making men happy so that you yourself won't have to worry about your endless debt.

you peer over your notebook to see kazuha immersed in his own writing. but instead of his usual peaceful expression, he looks somber. his hands won't leave the paper, his eyes glued onto the words that he's drawn onto the pages.

"what's got you so worked up?" you ask curiously. "is it something new?"

it's like your voice snaps him out of his trance. he blinks, looking up at you. there's a smile you know all too well on his lips. "yeah, i suppose you could call it that."

"could i look at it? i want to see what's got you so focused like that."

his lips press into a straight line. "hmmm, maybe later."

his words catch you off-guard. usually he's the one who's eager to share his work, regardless of the quality. "oh? is it something you want to keep secret?"

he doesn't many any hint of an answer. instead, he puts down his pen and stares at the ground in contemplation. he's picking and choosing what words to say.

"i could protect you," he says, shuffling his papers to the side. you turn to him, curious. his expression slowly hardens. "by myself, i mean. i could take care of you."

"kazu—"

"i have the means to make a living for the both of us. i could sell more of my poetry, i know they'll sell well—"

"where is this coming from?" you move closer to him, brushing his hair aside. "kazu, are you worried about something?"

there's something that's stopping him from saying anything. his fingers intertwine with yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

he purses his lips, before turning away and sighing. "no, not really."

after that, he doesn't say anything else. the two of you bask in silence once again. even though you're used to the quiet, there's something deep down in you that feels nervous. like something in the atmosphere changed. there's a sudden resolved glint in his eye as he get backs to writing so diligently on a piece of paper he won't let you read.

after all these days spent talking about himself, somehow you're scared for the day he suddenly decides to stop.

on thursdays you're usually at tighnari's greenhouse, watching him take notes of other plants while you twiddle your thumbs. once in a while, he'll begin rambling about the plants—what kind of species they are, how rare, their medicinal properties, and the like.

you're more of a companion, than anything. someone who can make his days a little less lonelier. and you appreciate it. it's much more tranquil with him. you can enjoy his sharp quips, especially when cyno comes to visit.

his sex-drive is relatively normal, if not a little below average. just like wednesday, you also expect thursday to be a typical rest day.

except when spring comes.

when spring comes, your routine get a little wonky. for one week, at least. because that's when tighnari's heat hits him like a fucking monsoon.

you can already tell when it's coming when he begins to hover closer to you. whenever you take your hand out to do anything, even the slightest gesture, he's already taking it and dragging it towards his sensitive ears.

the moment you've made your plans set to 'take the week off' and help him out, he's already on you, face pressed into your neck as if it's his oasis.

as you can tell, he takes this week very seriously.

"i bet—shit—those other fucks don't get to hold you as long as i do," he lets out as he fucks into you like there's no tomorrow. his hands hold onto your waist like he owns it, pressing sloppy kisses down your spine. "looking so pretty for me. i wonder what they'd say if you got pregnant with my babies. you'd be so much more beautiful plump with my kids. is that what you want huh? to make them angry with my cum stuffed in your gorgeous pussy?"

some days you almost can't believe how uncharacteristically aggressive he is. he dicks you down like he's trying to imprint his shape into the core of your body so that none of the others can fit inside.

and when he cums, he'll take whatever unfortunate portions slip out and smear it all over your chest. especially where your heart is.

then the process starts all over again.

when it's over, he'll spoon you. as if he didn't almost fuck you to death. his touch is tender, like a ghost's hovering over your skin.

"why won't you leave them all for me?"

you shift a little to look at him and kiss him softy, sweetly, on the line of his jaw. "oh, nari, you know i can't."

his ears droop at your words. "you can't, or you won't."

his words make you freeze a bit.

you think back to last week, and the week before, and the one before that. you think about why you started selling your services in the first place, the endless debt you used to be in, and the progression of the relationship between all seven of your...contacts. even if you wanted to, you don't think you could back out if you tried. you've dug a hole for yourself. one deep enough to cause some sort of disruption if you ever decided to stop digging.

so you just hum. "you know how much i love routine."

as some sort of apology, you give him and open-mouthed kiss, one he's almost desperate to return. he moans, hands cupping your face to bring you closer to him.

you're well unaware how much your words have an impact him.

at the end of the week, all al-haitham wants to do is unwind. it's the only logical thing to do. no late-night drinks with the colleagues, no stressful trips to some tourist trap. on fridays, al-haitham comes home to a meal made with love.

when al-haitham's at work during the day, you're usually running your actual errands. it's when you have time to make those one-in-a-blue-moon visits to your actual home, although it's getting harder to call it that.

when it gets to the late-afternoon, you'll usually head to al-haitham's place to start cooking. if you didn't know how to cook before, you do now. every ingredient is handled with care, measured meticulously just as you knew he preferred.

and when he gets home, tired and stressed out, you're there to welcome him with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

during dinner, sometimes he'll talk to you about work or the latest research he'd gotten himself immersed with. in return, you tell him about some of your childhood memories. your likes, your dislikes, what used to be your hobbies. you do your best to keep your personal matters out of the conversation, no matter how many times he tries to pry into your private life.

sometimes dinners feel like a full on investigation, the way he keeps greeding for more information about you. he watches you eat with calculating eyes. you pretend to pay no mind to it.

in the beginning, kaveh used to join you for dinners. you always liked the guy, the way he bickered with al-haitham and riled him up. but now you've begun to see less of him, as if he never comes home on fridays at all.

after dinner, there are two different outcomes depending on his mood:

outcome one is that you'll spend the rest of the night curling up on his couch, the both of you immersed in your own books. al-haitham leans on your shoulder as he flips through the pages as if they're nothing. you can't help but feel ticklish whenever his hair brushes against your jaw.

somewhere in the middle, he'll move one hand to start fidgeting with the end of your shirt, sometimes crawling underneath to caress your sides.

outcome two is less quiet. the moment he gets home with that solemn face, you know it's coming. his voice is huskier, his responses shorter. it's usually a result of an impending deadline, colleagues being more peskier than usual.

the moment you two are done with dishes, he gingerly takes your hand and leads you up to the bedroom.

his kisses tastes like green tea and dinner. his hands run up and down your torso, trying to imprint the feel of your skin into every inch of your brain. you whimper when his thumbs press softly into your nipples, rolling them around as they harden.

your hands find purchase on his collar, tugging him impossibly close. he groans at the contact.

you let out a yelp when your back suddenly falls onto the bed. your hands are pressed onto the sheets, al-haitham's fingers encircling your wrists. his knee nudges your legs further apart, rubbing at your clit.

"don't look at the ceiling, dear, look at me," he breathes out, his hands leaving your nipples to gently guide your face towards. "that's it. good girl. just me. just look at me. only me."

he smiles.

"now, let me do god's work on your divine body."

saturdays with ayato can sometimes get hectic. some saturdays you're out getting bubble tea together and enjoying the city, and other saturdays you're hurrying to some publicitiy event hosted by the kamisato clan.

on those type of days, you can expect to wear gowns layered with shiny nylon tulle fabric. it's not as revealing as what you'd try on in dressing rooms with childe. in fact, it's a bit more modest.

today you're wearing a light-blue gown to match with ayato. you turn around to get a good look at the cute bow attached at your waist, your diamond encrusted earrings swaying along with you.

it's as if you've put on another costume. another front to wear for the night.

ayato enters the room just shortly after. in his hands is a diamond necklace to match with your stunning earrings. small smile falls upon his lips when he clasps it on.

"you're beautiful," he mumbles. you giggle when he kisses you square on the lips, licking away the tinted color.

"ayato," you press in-between kisses. you place a hand on his chest to gently push him away. "you're going to ruin my lipstick."

he pulls away with a cheeky smile, taking your wrists to wrap around his neck. "you can always put on some more later."

you pout but kiss him regardless. he tightens his hold on you in reaction, moaning into your mouth.

at these kinds of events, you're there as his plus-one. just so that other officials could stop introducing girls to him when he clearly wasn't interested in them. it'd be arguable to say that you might even be there to make the events a little less intolerable.

somewhere along the lines, you'd sleep with him in addition to being his arm candy at parties. sometimes even before: you two rushing to put on your formal attires and fix your hair minutes before the event started.

but beyond that, you started to get to know him better. he'd whisper into your ear about funny stories relating to the guests as you meet them. sometimes you'd run away in the middle of the party to binge out on the food and talk about your other interests. surprisingly, he doesn't talk about the politics behind his duties as the head of the kamisato family. not as much as you expected, at least.

instead he talks about his dreams for a family. how many kids, what their names would be, how he'd raise them. and as he talked, he'd give you this heavy gaze that you're not sure what to do with. as if he was expecting something from you.

you're beginning to believe that ayato has somehow confused contractual girlfriend with actual girlfriend.

when you had met ayaka months ago, ayato introduced you as his girlfriend. you didn't attempt to correct him—that's ayato's business. not your's. but when you're expecting ayato to come clean to his dearest sister, you're sorely mistaken.

instead, while he kisses your lips so hungrily, he subtly slips a diamond ring onto your finger.

sundays are usually kaeya's days off. although the cavalry captain's duties are seemingly never endless, he takes the day off to take a breather.

in other words, he sees you.

at first, it was just candlelit dinners. he'd walk in with a bouquet of roses, complimenting your dress and staring at you as if he was undressing you with his eyes. he'd take you to somewhere fancy, pull out the chair for you and sweet-talk you all through the night.

conversations were fun with him. you didn't have to think much at all, not about how to pay the bills, the six men in your life who seemingly began to want yours to only revolve around theirs, or being someone your not.

kaeya was probably the only one who you felt you could be comfortable with. he made you laugh, he'd tell all sorts of interesting stories, and he never made the silence feel awkward.

at least, that's how you used to be.

you see, usually after these candlelit dinners you'd both go back to his place, with him ripping off your clothes the moment the door closed. but as of recently, he's been asking to come over to your place instead more often. almost too often.

and that's not the only thing that's changed.

the sex used to be rough. heated. almost as if he was consumed by all of his pent-up sexual frustration and was only focused on getting off. he'd slurp your cunt like a man starved but he'd still rail you as if that's the only thing he cared about.

but as time passed, he's been getting more and more...sensual. the sex is much more slower. personal, almost.

vulnerable.

after dinner, he slowly slips off your clothing. one article after another, until your left in your underwear. he first kisses you on the mouth, then your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. slowly, he makes a trail of them down your body, as if no skin deserved to be left untouched.

although you made a rule that no one could leave your marks on you, it doesn't mean he doesn't try. as he kisses your lower lips, sometimes he'll attempt to leave marks close to your clit. if you're not careful, diluc will find it tomorrow.

his thrusts were always deep, but now that he's much more purposeful about it. it's rhythmic, as if he's trying to reach a new spot inside you. somewhere no one's touched.

the pillow-talks are much more longer as well. he holds you tighter now, wrapping his arms around your hips as he tangles his legs with yours.

instead of ranting on about the silly incidents he witnessed on the job earlier in the week, he talks about his feelings. towards you. towards diluc. towards himself. some nights you can handle it, some nights are too much.

but you can't say anything. not when he's holding onto you like you’re his lifeline. not when he helps you pay off your debt. and so you let his raspy voice whisper in your ear as he combs his fingers through your hair. you listen to him mumble sweet-nothings.

you're not sure if you like the adoring look he gives you as you drift off to sleep.

One time when I worked at the Dollar Tree a man came in with a little boy and he said to me, “This is my adopted son. He’s autistic.”

He told me this story. “When he got to be about 4 years old his mother realized he was growing up autistic and she didn’t want to raise him any more. So she drove out to the middle of nowhere and pulled over on the side of the highway and put him out of the car. On her way back in to town she was driving behind a van with a two story ladder tied on top. The ladder got loose and slid through her windshield, killing her instantly. They found her head in the backseat.”

I was like 😶 “your total is 13.95”