Fem!bkdk For Catnip4lino & Bkgizk On Twitter ^-^

.eternal ballerina sailor neptune

and the next one in line is my fav, sailor neptune <3 beauty and grace~

Inarizaki's Kansai Dialect

Japanese Dialects are split into Eastern and Western, with the Standard Japanese dialect being Eastern (Kanto region) and Kansai region dialect being Western (eg. cities of Osaka and Kyoto, and of course Hyogo prefecture- where Inarizaki is from). The pitch, tone, and stressing of the sounds is different from standard Tokyo Japanese so you should be able to hear the difference in how the Inarizaki members speak even if you don't know any Japanese.

just in case yall didn't know, Suna is the only member on the team that does not use Kansai dialect as he was scouted from Aichi prefecture, so he basically just speaks in the standard dialect

Some linguistics of the dialect that may or may not be heard in the show:

"ya" ending vs the standard "da" ending.

Kore kirai ya. vs Kore kirai da. (I hate this.)

the use of the "h" sound instead of "s"

Han vs standard san (honorific suffix, not really used anymore)

Negation suffix "-hen" instead of the standard "-nai".

Taichou kanri dekitehen koto, homen na. vs Taichou kanri dekitenai koto, homen na. (Don't compliment him when he's obviously not taking care of himself.)

verb "oru" vs the standard "iru".

Dareka ga mitoru yo, Shin-chan. vs Dareka ga miteiru yo, Shin-chan. (Someone's always watching, Shin-chan.)

verb "temau" vs standard "teshimau"

Naitemau yaro! vs Naiteshimau darou! (You're gonna make me cry!)

Negation "suru" verb becomes "sen" instead of "shinai".

Ki ni sen dee. vs Ki ni shinai yo. (Don't worry about it.)

Some words that are different in Kansai dialect:

Honto becomes Honma (really)

Sodane becomes Seyade (thats right)

Nande becomes Nandeyanen (why)

Totemo becomes Meccha (very)

ii becomes ee (good)

"aho" means stupid in Japanese, but apparently in the Kansai dialect calling someone an "aho" is actually a compliment?! (even though it has the same definition)

Overall, I could watch the Karasuno vs Inarizaki episodes a hundred times just to listen to Inarizaki's dialect and how different it sounds to the rest of the characters in the entire show.

Although Karasuno speaks in the standard dialect (which isn't very strange since Miyagi is a suburb close enough to the Kanto region), theres a few lines here and there where one of them says something using the Tohoku dialect (the dialect that would be used often in the rest of Tohoku, such as Aomori).

(I especially like Kita's voice, thank you Nojima Kenji.)

Totally not fanatizing about ish like this at night😳

Shanks, mihawk with an s/o who is secretly very strong like y/n can be getting yelled at and she doesn't do anything and if y/n is in danger she was always saved.but this time Y/N kinda just snapped like she made a whole bloodbath

(its a bit harder to write some gore for mihawk since the man is known not to go looking for trouble so this was my best idea for him)

Shanks

he's seen you loose your shit once but he was still suspicious that it wasn't your full extent of emotions.

Shanks had a bone to pick with a certain crew for a long time however it wasnt until the bastards showed up trying to put holes in his ship that he began getting really upset with them.

"Duck!" he'd jesture for you to evade the oncoming attack knowing fully well you liked when he showed up in a blaze of glory to save your ass.

And so, you stood there waiting for the blade to strike you to feel the sting of ripping skin and yet nothing, a strong clash of metal echoed before you Shank's sword glistened in the sunlight his aura irreversably tense.

"I told you to duck, it's the last time i'm doing this." his usually soothing voice came off as an abrupt shout at you, his eyes never looking near you as he plunged the sword in the man before him.

Truth be told that ruined the picture perfect moment of saving the underdog and left you feeling bitter.

Without a warning the body he shielded with his own was long gone when he tried taking a step back to guard you from the fallen man. He looked around for you as if you had dissapeared in thin air, a loud trail of groans and painful whimpers clouded his ears as he looked forward to the sight before him.

They didn't aim to be killing anyone, however it seemed the battle had reached its peak, the floorboards creeked under your weight, the sound of bodies collapsing in loud thuds only reassured Shanks' earlier doubts about you.

You lay upon a pile of men their blood trickling down in an upsetting and horrid manner, Shanks' was stunned to say the least, he thought of you as a powerful fighter but even this beat what he had in mind.

You sat there a trail of steam forming from your breath in the cold air, nothing in your body moved, only the rise of your chest as you took deeps breaths.

There was a slight klinch behind Shanks a gust of wind going upwards as someone reached behind him their sword drawn with a coarse battlecry.

He looked at you confidently making a split second decision to see what kind of beast truly lays under this calm facade you've always put up.

In a seconds notice the strong gust of wind from your body making its way past him sent his red hair sweeping across his face. With a proud smirk he looked past his shoulders, your sword seethed in its place the man before you already out cold in his own blood.

Before he got a word in you were already gone onto the next leaving a wake of men shouting for their crew to leave before theyre all dead.

He chuckles with new found confidance in you albeit the dripping blood that neared his shoes made him realise he might need to interferre with you personally.

Your heart was in no way weak of will yet the moment he used his Haki on you left you with a stumble to your step. His gaze was certain without a mistake he was ordering for you to stop, the battle was over they had lost and you had won, so theres no more need for you to slash through even half awake bodies.

Your eyes met his in an instant the sour urge for blood had dissapated, you sighed, a long drag to seethe your sword for the last time you walked to gaze over at the sea. There were no birds in sight only a pair of sea kings leaping through the deep sea waters.

Shanks came to stand beside you his arms hovering over the end of the ship he spoke up.

"Didn't know we kept a beast locked up for so long." he laughed the pleasant roar of his chest made even you smirk under your composure.

Mihawk

He's a man who goes out at sea only when necessary therefore hes had his fair share of witnessing you fall helplessy many times.

He nearly pities you, your way of fighting was ineffective against most who've went through the basics of swordsmanship. His constant passive insults seemed to build up in your head, his judgemental stare each time you fell down, the coldness in his eyes as he retorts to how you should work on your balance as he steps over to shield you from an attack.

Well theres a time for everything.

He agreed to take you along on one of his voyages you were standing behind him the entire time watching how the water spilled over his makeshift raft.

"Try not to fall." He spoke up clutching his black sword over his shoulder eyes pointing over to the ship before him.

It was rare when he decided to dock the ships he passed however since you were with him he wanted to see if you improved atleast a bit.

Much to his surprise a clash of green swiped past his face, it wasn't an attack he insinuated and yet it it sliced the ship clean.

He watched at the sight before him, the massive ship splitting open as it held no common ground to steady its split parts.

You walked before him and without explanation started throwing long range attacks, he stepped back a foot, his plan to passivley scold you had been taken out of the books.

He was notcing your footwork, your stance and breathing. There had been no flaws in it which left him questioning if it all had been a fluke this entire time. He watched you swing your sword in everywhich direction which made it painfully obvious you were aiming at something to be hit and yet what caught his eye was your concentration and the blood thirsty aroua around you, you were allowing no mistakes to be made.

The way you changed the angle of your attack as if you sensed someones movement on the ship, landing throws wasn't random anymore it had a purpose even he didn't see.

He was beginning to wonder when did you have the time for training with how busy he liked keeping you.

You quickly ended your attacks throwing your sword over your shoulder. In a moment of silence and crashing waves a chorus of pained wails was heard.

It had to be one of the most eerie sounds he's ever heard on the open sea as his eyes windened to the sound his scowl growing a bit more dense he kept looking between you and the now collapsed ship.

He was heavily intrigued his eyes told that much.

When you turned around nothing prepared for the total calmness he felt over the eased look in your eyes, however the glint that shined within them spoke volumes of how much expetise you had.

"Fight me." He spoke calmly haven't witnessed a power like his in a while, the water before his raft floating with debris and unmistakenly blood from the men you had attacked. You smiled at his request the two of your shared little to no place for footwork and his sword was long enough to reach the other end of his raft.

He wasnt sure if it was an intimidation tactic but the way you dipped your sword in the blody water to let it drip on his raft left him a little on the edge.

After reaching a draw he sat back, his large black hat tipping over his eyes he told you "Why have you been fighting like a newborn chick?"

You caught your breath sitting down before him on the raft you spoke with your sword resting on your shoulder. "You've never asked to fight seriously." a chuckle from you made him feel like a bit of an idiot, perhaps he should have challenged you sooner or atleast once told you to fight like it meant your life.

He sighed noticing a mark on his boot, it had been cut, not enough to fully cut through but enough to leave a mean scuff on it, no doubt your doing.

He stared long at the mark until you reached your destination, his eyes boring into the back of your skull as you offered him your presance. He had lost the duel without noticing, you left the scuff there to show him he needed not to underestimate you.

The following ride back he continued to slash his sword at you in moments where you werent paying attention, watching how effortlesly you doged his attacks you warned him "If you're attacking me, aim to kill me." You smiled with a twisted twinkle in your eyes, and he did as you said slashing true his blade left a soft incision over your cheek, payback for his scuffed boot.

Amazon, wtf

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.

it’s been long enough i’m making an executive decision that we all need to go reread the tgi fridays infinite mozzarella sticks article

the paris catacombs are 1000x more fucked up than i imagined

My mom sent me a tiny man that I have to bury in the ground. Catholicism is wild

I HAVE WAITED ALL YEAR TO POST THIS