#// and then learning first hand what they are capable of

[yanderedrabbles]

Two Faced -Yandere Stalker/Cop

Yandere! Cop who pulls you over for a DUI. You're barely under the legal limit and it's clear you can't hold your liquor in the slightest.

Yandere! Cop who feels his cock twitch when you blow into the breathalyser, your eyes flickering up at him all half lidded like he's just fucked you raw, teasing him that most fellas don't say please as nice as you do officer.

Yandere! Cop who says he'll follow you home, just to make sure you're safe. You don't see anything strange about it, he's a cop after all. But now he knows where you live, he knows what car you drive, he knows that your roommates always leave for school at the same time you do.

Yandere! Cop who looks so damn good in his uniform, who has the muscles to fill it out just right.

Yandere! Cop figures out early on that you're a hard-core party girl. Different guys coming home with you every weekend. He doesn't like it, but he understands. You're probably just lonely - filling your bed with strangers to chase away the cold.

Yandere! Cop aims to fix that.

Yandere! Cop who makes sure he gets the weekend off and who makes sure to run into you at the club. You're totally wasted this time, hanging onto his arm and running your fingers up his biceps, giggling about what big muscles you have officer.

Yandere! Cop who takes you home and just let's you sleep it off in his bed. His cock is raging and he wants to fuck you more than anything, but he's a gentleman and you're hammered.

Yandere! Cop who makes you breakfast and a good ol' fashioned hangover cure all the cops swear by. He drives you home and tilts your chin up to kiss you. "How about a proper date, babydoll?"

You giggle and blush and slip away before he can get an answer.

Yandere! Cop who can never get with you in the daylight. You'll kiss him and grind up against him on the dance floor and warm his bed later that night, but you're almost always gone by morning.

Yandere! Cop who doesn't want you as just a fuck buddy. He wants you as his girlfriend, maybe his wife someday.

Yandere! Cop who'll take what you give him. He'll fuck you screaming and when you leave the next morning, he'll bury his head in your pillow and try to catch the remnants of your scent.

It goes on for months. He's becoming a neglected dog, fed on the scraps of attention you give him. He's starving, he's ravenous, he's slowly going rabbid.

Yandere! Cop who does something he didn't think himself capable of - he starts following you. Just a little at first, just so he can learn more about you. He's curious and you don't talk about yourself so it makes perfect sense, right? It's harmless.

Yandere! Cop who breaks into your apartment when you're in class. Just to make sure everything is safe. And if he jacks off into your used panties, it's just a kind of payment. He's going above and beyond for you, doesn't he deserve a little reward?

Yandere! Cop who sees you kissing another man on the walk back from school. You've got your hands on his chest and you're standing on your tip toes under the magnolia trees, like the poster of a sappy fucking romcom.

Yandere! Cop who's never been more angry in his life. And so he sends you a bloody bullet in the mail, your name carved into the steel.

And it works. You call him, terrified that you pissed off the wrong person somehow.

Yandere! Cop who loves being there to comfort you, who feels so masculine and strong when you cling onto his arm and sob about your big, scary stalker.

Yandere! Cop who takes endless pictures of you going about your day and leaves them on your doorstep.

Yandere! Cop who slowly becomes your boyfriend. Who's there the second your stalker gets too close or frightens you too badly. Who makes you feel so safe in his arms.

Yandere! Cop who carefully suggests you move in with him. He's a cop afterall, and no one would be stupid enough to break into his apartment.

Yandere! Cop who'll do something vicious everytime he feels you straying away from him.

Yandere! Stalker who leaves your pet's head in a box on your porch when you refuse to cut off your male friends.

Yandere! Cop who coos over you when you sob, as though he isn't the one scaring you.

Yandere! Cop who is extra careful with everything he does, so that you never suspect that he and your stalker are one and the same.

He's a cop afterall, and he's just keeping you safe. Even if you don't always see it that way.

[chocodile]

Amaranthine Magic System PART II: Spellcraft for Wizards

This is Part II of a three-part worldbuilding set. Part I is here! Part III is upcoming.

So, what makes a wizard different than a non-magically capable mundane? A few things:

Unusually strong personal magical field

Ability to sense/”see” magical energy

Some unknown characteristic that allows them to manipulate their own magical field as if it were an extension of their body. Possibly a physical difference in brain structure?

The last part is the most important and is truly what sets a wizard apart from every other creature on the planet. Though, of course, without the first two traits, it’s going to be of limited use.

As mentioned in Part I, wizards cast their spells by applying a mental “filter” their own magical output. This is referred to as active casting. Passive casting, which will be covered in Part III, is typically the realm of animals and plants. Being able to filter something mentally is an extremely unique skill only possible by sapient creatures (probably) due to the complexity involved. However, wizards do typically use hand gestures in casting as well. Hand gestures provide an additional optional channel on which you can “filter” your spell. Because it’s easier to do hand gestures than to teach yourself these complex mental filters, it’s common for amateur wizards to use many more hand gestures when casting, while very advanced wizards use fewer of them because they are capable of juggling a larger number of simultaneous “filters” mentally. Additionally, hand and arm gestures are commonly used like the barrel of a rifle, to control and direct the magical energy being shaped by the mind.

Learning how to control magic like this takes many years of study and practice. You must really understand the “physics” of how the waves work and how each puppeteer string will affect the shape of the waves when pulled. On top of that, you need a good understanding of the object you’re interacting with. Magic will move differently through water, air, or stone. If you are trying to create a spell that will create a net of energy that will catch fish in a river, you need to be very familiar with the physics of how magic will interact with water and flesh, as well as have an approximate awareness of how deep the water is, whether the bottom is rocky/uneven or not, how fast moving the current is, etc. Gathering that info will require several steps of study and reconnaissance before you ever get to the “make a net and catch some fish” part.

Healing magic is very tricky for this reason. Flesh can be knit together, but because the blood vessels and nerves and such are so small, and so many different types of material are present in, say, a cross-section of an arm, successfully re-attaching a limb would be something only an expert who has dedicated their life to studying anatomy would be able to pull off. You know those radioactive tracers doctors use before imaging tests? That sort of thing gets a lot of use in healing magic. Healers can train themselves to recognize the tracer (well, a magical energy equivalent) and follow that through a body, then target their spell on the location where the tracer ended up. Much easier and more reliable than trying to guess exactly where someone’s alveoli are from outside their body.

Spellcraft has two primary “branches”. The First Branch is a school of magic based on unleashing your own magical potential in a very basic, direct way. Its rawest form would manifest as something like a lightning bolt: an erratic, jagged bolt of pure, difficult-to-control energy. Pretty much all “attack” type spells are variations on this, as well as any spells that involve pushing/pulling/moving things. This branch of magic is seen as much easier and, ironically more beginner friendly. Though it does have the capacity to cause grievous injury, the concentration and mental effort involved mean it’s very hard mix up a “pull” spell and a “fireball” spell. Western Kingdom schools almost exclusively teach this branch.

The Second Branch deals more with manipulating the world’s “background radiation”. (if First Branch magic can be visualized as a line, Second Branch magic is more of a plane or 3D sphere) The wizard alters and exaggerates the shape of their own magical aura to exert pressure on the “background radiation” around them to produce type spells that are more like buffs/debuffs in a video game. Some examples would include a spell that makes everyone in the area feel weirdly invigorated or sleepy, or slows down/speeds up time in a small area, or makes a room with your dead mom in it really, really cold (cough, cough). These spells tend to be more subtle and frankly kind of weird… it’s a very versatile branch of magic with some interesting potential implications. However, it tends to be the harder type of magic to learn by far and requires a very steady hand and calm mind to maintain.

Though they use First Branch magic as well, it’s worth noting that Second Branch magic is very common in the Eastern Kingdom, where it has been well-studied for thousands of years. Their extensive library of research is kept by the Eastern Kingdom Sultan in his private library. Westerners tend to view the Second Branch as shady and manipulative… who knows what a Second Branch wizard could be doing to you without you knowing? The only Second Branch magic to be commonly used in the West is healing magic.

However, as mentioned before, one important thing about the magic system in Amaranthine is that wizards are not psychic. They don’t have x-ray vision and do not innately know how every object or life form they encounter works, and a lot of specialized magic involves knowing the inner workings of things and being able to picture things clearly in your head. A wizard cannot use telekinesis to pick up an object they don’t know the location or shape of (if they tried, it would likely either not have any effect, or they’d break it/damage it/knock it over by targeting it incorrectly, depending on how “off” they were). Nor could they use magic to pick a lock if they didn’t already know how locks worked well enough to visualize the inside of it.

For this reason, wizards tend to be pretty well-read in general, as you have to know a lot about the mechanics and structure of the world around you in order to make the best use of your powers. Hyden specifically has a lot of esoteric nerdy technical knowledge about how things are put together but also huge blind spots when it comes to how the world works in practice. For example, he may know a lot about the anatomy of a corn plant because he had to study them one time when the Royal Mages tasked him with purifying a village’s corn field of crop blight, but still be unable to identify a carrot or yam. He may be able to draw a detailed diagram of the wheels and axle of a carriage because he helped assemble a fleet of them once upon a time, but not have any idea why those parts go together or what they specifically do.

[branwinged]

what i've always loved about catelyn, is that she doesn't wait for others to do things for her and instead takes matters in her own hands, from the way she goes to king's landing to deliver that warning to ned in person, to how she decides to release jaime, not out of delirious grief but as a calculated gamble for the lives of her daughters. if the amount of narrative agency and voice catelyn gets within asoiaf is meant to be a subversion of the archetype of the plot irrelevant mother of the conventionally heroic main character (robb), then her story is also that of the men in her life doing their very best to put her back into that box of genre expectations. she's reduced to a helpless spectator by both stannis and renly at the parley at storm's end despite being the only voice of reason there. both edmure and robb ignore her advice in acok and later regret doing so. asos opens with her in confinement at riverrun—a marked contrast to the amount of travelling she undertakes in the previous books. and the last thing robb does to catelyn is make arrangements for her to wait out the rest of the war in some tower. (Is this my punishment for opposing him about Jon Snow? Or for being a woman, and worse, a mother?), permanently sidelined and imprisoned far away from the site of narrative action, such a fate effectively undoes her entire character. it's not surprising that she dies in the very next chapter. the freys also intend to take her hostage after robb's murder, but catelyn self harming leads to a change of plans. and if you read her final moments at the twins as one last resistance against that fated passivity, then her returning as lady stoneheart becomes significant in another way.

brienne compares the grey stoneheart dresses in to that of the silent sisters' (Grey was the color of the silent sisters, the handmaidens of the Stranger. Brienne felt a shiver climb her spine. Stoneheart.), and is that profession not a means through which westeros discards and punishes its women for having broken social codes, for transgressing westerosi patriarchal ideals. that catelyn's misery doesn't end with her death is doing something similar. she is both being discarded by the narrative—she stops being a POV character, just as she loses her voice ("She don't speak,"—"You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers.") and being punished for having resisted her socially expected passivity. and i know catelyn discussions focus a lot on the mistakes she makes over the course of the books, but i do think her spontaneous decisions would've turned out differently if she had possessed the power her husband and son were given freely by westerosi society. ned wouldn't have had to carry tyrion to the eyrie only to lose him to lysa's jurisdiction, he had the personal authority to conduct a trial all by himself. robb had power and men at command to transport jaime entirely unharmed to king's landing. which is something to consider when discussing her character, that her reasonable decisions (given what information she had, capturing tyrion was the smart thing to do) not panning out well, had a bit to do with the power denied to her as a woman.

westeros's violently misogynistic, feudal patriarchy first suffocates her will, through her slow entrapment by the men around her. and when she finally breaks in her final moments, no longer capable of performing the role of the perfect lady, she's promptly pronounced mad. and then she's brought back as a shell of her former self, hollowed out of everything that defined her as a character and denied a voice, only left with the memories of the wrongs commited against her. i point all this out because catelyn is often talked about as a woman who learns to navigate societal restrictions by having made her peace with them, as if this allowed her to thrive as a lady, as if she was content with her lot in life. that all that went wrong with her life was an unlucky, tragic mistake or two. but that's not true, is it. because there is no way to win as a woman under westeros's feudal patriarchy.

[nenelonomh]

guys,, don't forget to do your research (AI)

researching ai before using it is crucial for several reasons, ensuring that you make informed decisions and use the technology responsibly.

it actually makes me angry that people are too lazy or perhaps ignorant to spend 15ish minutes reading and researching to understand the implications of this new technology (same with people ignorantly using vapes, ugh!). this affects you, your health, the people around you, the environment, society, and has legal implications.

first, understanding the capabilities and limitations of ai helps set realistic expectations. knowing what ai can and cannot do allows you to utilize it effectively without overestimating its potential. for example, if you are using ai as a study tool - you must be aware that it is unable to explain complex concepts in detail. additionally! you must be aware of the effects that it poses on your learning capabilities and how it discourages you from learning with your class/peers/teacher.

second, ai systems often rely on large datasets, which can raise privacy concerns. researching how an ai handles data and what measures are in place to protect your information helps safeguard your privacy.

third, ai algorithms can sometimes exhibit bias due to the data they are trained on. understanding the sources of these biases and how they are addressed can help you choose ai tools that promote fairness and avoid perpetuating discrimination.

fourth, the environmental impact of ai, such as the energy consumption of data centers, is a growing concern. researching the environmental footprint of ai technologies can help you select solutions that are more sustainable and environmentally friendly.

!google and microsoft ai use renewable and efficient energy to power their data centres. ai also powers blue river technology, carbon engineering and xylem (only applying herbicides to weeds, combatting climate change, and water-management systems). (ai magazine)

!training large-scale ai models, especially language models, consumes massive amounts of electricity and water, leading to high carbon emissions and resource depletion. ai data centers consume significant amounts of electricity and produce electronic waste, contributing to environmental degradation. generative ai systems require enormous amounts of fresh water for cooling processors and generating electricity, which can strain water resources. the proliferation of ai servers leads to increased electronic waste, harming natural ecosystems. additionally, ai operations that rely on fossil fuels for electricity production contribute to greenhouse gas emissions and climate change.

fifth, being aware of the ethical implications of ai is important. ensuring that ai tools are used responsibly and ethically helps prevent misuse and protects individuals from potential harm.

finally, researching ai helps you stay informed about best practices and the latest advancements, allowing you to make the most of the technology while minimizing risks. by taking the time to research and understand ai, you can make informed decisions that maximize its benefits while mitigating potential downsides.

impact on critical thinking

ai can both support and hinder critical thinking. on one hand, it provides access to vast amounts of information and tools for analysis, which can enhance decision-making. on the other hand, over-reliance on ai can lead to a decline in human cognitive skills, as people may become less inclined to think critically and solve problems independently.

benefits of using ai in daily life

efficiency and productivity: ai automates repetitive tasks, freeing up time for more complex activities. for example, ai-powered chatbots can handle customer inquiries, allowing human employees to focus on more strategic tasks.

personalization: ai can analyze vast amounts of data to provide personalized recommendations, such as suggesting products based on past purchases or tailoring content to individual preferences.

healthcare advancements: ai is used in diagnostics, treatment planning, and even robotic surgeries, improving patient outcomes and healthcare efficiency.

enhanced decision-making: ai can process large datasets quickly, providing insights that help in making informed decisions in business, finance, and other fields.

convenience: ai-powered virtual assistants like siri and alexa make it easier to manage daily tasks, from setting reminders to controlling smart home devices.

limitations of using ai in daily life

job displacement: automation can lead to job losses in certain sectors, as machines replace human labor.

privacy concerns: ai systems often require large amounts of data, raising concerns about data privacy and security.

bias and fairness: ai algorithms can perpetuate existing biases if they are trained on biased data, leading to unfair or discriminatory outcomes.

dependence on technology: over-reliance on ai can reduce human skills and critical thinking abilities.

high costs: developing and maintaining ai systems can be expensive, which may limit access for smaller businesses or individuals.

further reading

mit horizon, kmpg, ai magazine, bcg, techopedia, technology review, microsoft, science direct-1, science direct-2

my personal standpoint is that people must educate themselves and be mindful of not only what ai they are using, but how they use it. we should not become reliant - we are our own people! balancing the use of ai with human skills and critical thinking is key to harnessing its full potential responsibly.

🫶nene

[hannahbarberra162]

Heat Transfer, Chapter 4 (Platonic Yandere WBP x Sea Naga)

On Ao3

<3 Thank you to @gouraminnow for Beta-ing this and all my thoughts <3

All the other chapters

Baby's first swear :3

Your POV

You watched Ace’s fire hand wide eyed and curious. He was made of fire , that’s why he was so warm, that’s why he could heat rooms so easily, that’s why you were drawn to him. Your sisters had told you some humans were special but not that they could be made of fire. You watched as Ace heated the food and popped the eye in his mouth, crunching it between his embarrassingly flat teeth. You weren’t sure when he became fire and he became flesh, but you were interested.

“ ��S good,” he said in a happy tone, extinguishing the fire and curling his fingers into his palm and extending only his thumb upwards. You hesitantly brought your forefinger to touch his thumb, trying to determine the trigger for when he turned into fire. When his thumb didn’t ignite, you took his hand and uncurled his fingers gently, rubbing his hand with the pads of your finger. Ace watched you calmly, letting you take his larger hand in your own webbed one. Scraping at his palm gently with a claw so as not to harm him, he seemed to be made of normal human flesh once again. 

“H-hey, that tickles,” he said, yanking his hand away from you. Did you make him annoyed? You wished you could communicate with him easily but you appreciated that he was speaking to you so much, you were hoping to learn human quickly. You clawed another eye out of the fish, extending it to him. You wanted him to make the fire again, maybe he could only summon it for food? He looked at you with his brows drawn slightly and his head tilted, but shrugged and turned his hand to fire once more. You watched intently, looking above and below his wrist for the billowing flames to engulf him. Reaching out, you grasped his forearm below the flame - it was perfectly fine, uncharred and surprisingly not overly warm. Curious. How much of his body could he make into flame?

“Oh, that’s what you want? Heh. Watch this,” Ace said to you as he chewed the second eye. You hoped he appreciated it, those were your favorite parts of the fish. You were taken aback as Ace’s lower half turned to flames, propelling the small boat towards the larger one at a rapid pace. It felt like when your sisters let you hold on to their hair when they swam - freedom coming as fast as you could take it. You laughed out loud with your mouth wide open, something your sisters told you was entirely from your human half, winding your tail around the pole in the middle of the boat. You threw your arms in the air, feeling your hair whip around your face. Pushing yourself higher on your tail, you closed your eyes and enjoyed the rush that came with moving so quickly as Ace maneuvered the boat towards the larger ship. Looking at it, you realized the front looked like a happy whale, which you found charming. Maybe the Captain could turn into a whale like Ace could turn into fire? It would explain his larger size and maybe he could swim with you in the sea.

It was already night when Ace brought you back to the ship, the smell of food wafting through the air. You wanted to show that you were capable and a worthy fighter so you quickly dove into the water to retrieve a fish for Meatman to cook. Maybe he’d be impressed with your kill - or better yet - cook it for you to eat. Biting a rather large Bananafish that was lingering near the side of the ship, you hauled it up the rope ladder, looped in your tail as Ace moored his boat to the larger one. As your toxin spread the fish stopped wiggling though you knew it was still alive, keeping it perfectly fresh, how humans liked. 

Reaching the top deck, you slithered towards the food that was being laid on the large tables. The Meatman would likely be near if he was the one preparing the food. You stabbed the fish through with your talons in order to slither better. Finding the unique head adornment of Meatman, you came closer to him. He was clearly in the middle of preparing the great feast but you wanted to give him your present while it was alive. You scrunched your face trying to remember what greeting the humans usually gave one another besides ‘hi,’ you’d heard it before….

“Oi!” you settled on, throwing the fish at his feet. Though surprised at your presence, Meatman quickly bared his teeth at you in happiness. Almost too happily, you thought with suspicion. You’d keep your distance, this one was more devious than he let on. But..you had bitten him twice and he didn’t even seem upset about it, so maybe he was just…like that.

“Baby! Oh my seas, you brought me a fish! Thank you, oh - it’s…still alive….but not moving…how very thoughtful! ” the cook said to you, taking the fish in hand. He bowed his head, showing his appreciation. It was a universal gesture, your sisters bowing their heads slightly when you’d help them in some kind of way, like removing debris from their hair.

It was a pleasant night though a bit chilly, you thought as you glanced around for some warmth. Spotting Fossa, you headed over to him, winding your body around his torso underneath his vest since Ace still wasn’t on the deck. He had a smoke stick lit in his mouth, the putrid smoke billowing as he spoke to another human.

“ Oi, Baby. Warn me next time, yer fuckin’ freezin’,” Fossa grumbled as he adjusted you closer to his body. You inspected the pocket that had held the biscuits but the two of you had drained it earlier, there were no sweets there. Grumbling, you flicked your tail as Fossa continued to talk to another human while everyone waited for dinner. This one dressed differently, his robes as smooth as his long black hair. He had paint on his face, something novel for you. Apparently your sisters had glossed over a lot in your discussions about humans. He was glancing at you curiously, like you were a puzzle to be solved. 

“Bring her here,” the painted man said, taking a small comb out of his hair. Fossa grunted and moved you around so you were facing the new man. 

“ “S like moving a wet noodle,” Fossa growled, supporting your tail carefully on his forearm.

 “Izou,” the painted man said, pointing at himself. 

“Baby,” you said, pointing at your own chest. The painted man took the comb and ran it through his hair, the black strands parting with ease. He handed it to you, obviously expecting you to do the same. Maela had given you a mother-of-pearl comb when you were a child that you used to comb your hair but it had broken many years prior. Since then you’d just used your fingers when you felt that your hair was getting too matted, but it had always been low on your priority list. You tried to run the comb through your blonde hair like Izou had, but it got stuck quickly. You shrugged and tried to hand it back to him. He didn’t accept the comb, instead curling your fingers around it to show you it was yours now. You weren’t sure if he was insulting you and telling you how unkempt you were or if he was being kind and gifting you with something. You stuck it into your hair, where it was held in place by your mats, like an adornment.

“One day I’ll work those out for you,” Izou said, reaching for your head. If he patted your head like Ace did all the time, you were going to…well, not bite. You’d learned your lesson and you’d do nearly anything to avoid the muzzle again. Speaking of Ace, he was approaching you with a wistful glance at the nearly ready food on the table. 

“Baby, are you bothering Fossa?” Ace asked you, noting the comb in your hair as Izou picked up pieces of your hair for his inspection. 

“ ‘S not bothering,” Fossa said dismissively as you unwound from his body. Fossa was warm, sure, but nothing like Ace. You quickly wound yourself around his much smaller but much hotter body, pressing your face into the warmth of his shoulder and looping your arms around his neck. Sighing contentedly, you waited for Ace to walk towards the food now that other humans were sitting down at the table. 

“Should get you some clothes, huh?” Ace asked in a tone that suggested a question. You weren’t sure what he was asking but he’d show you soon enough. Ace found a chair large enough for the two of you to sit together and sat down to begin the meal.

Ace POV

Well, it turned out Sea Naga couldn’t hold their alcohol. Or maybe just Baby couldn’t. Either way, Baby was largely out of commission. The night had started innocently enough, with Pops giving a short speech welcoming Baby to the ship. Someone had put a large mug of ale in her hand which she’d sniffed apprehensively then drank as she saw the rest of the crew tipping their cups back when Pops finished speaking. Smacking her lips, Baby evidently enjoyed the taste and greedily gulped down the rest of the brew. She pushed her empty cup into Ace’s side repeatedly as he ate.

“Ace,” Baby said, ramming his ribs with the mug.

“ Ow, No,” Ace said with his mouth full of food. He wasn’t sure but it probably wasn’t a good idea to give Baby too much to drink.  Baby hissed her displeasure, crossing her arms. She’d eaten a few plates of meat but between that and the fish she’d eaten on Strike she seemed more interested in drinking.

“Aw, c’mon, let her live a little,” argued Thatch, who set another metal platter of meat in front of Ace. Ace picked his teeth with his fingernail as Baby bashed him again with her cup.

“Fine, she can have a little more. That’s it, I don’t -” Ace began as Thatch picked up a pitcher to fill Baby’s cup. She beamed at him in a wide toothy grin and snatched the pitcher from the chef, letting the cup topple to the floor. Ace watched her unhinge her jaw to drink more efficiently, allowing the pitcher to drop like the cup had previously once the container was drained. Ace was still jamming meat into his mouth but about to reprimand Baby for her foolishness when  Ace felt himself falling asleep. He set his arms on the table like Marco had shown him to do and laid his head down. The last thing he remembered seeing was Baby poking his cheek, a soft hiss escaping her worried face.

Ace awoke some time later with a wool blanket draped over his shoulders, as he always did after a fit of narcolepsy on the ship. Blinking his eyes open, he shoved the food from his plate into his mouth reflexively, almost unaware he was eating. No one else was still dining, most were either drinking and talking in small groups or had moved to the main deck for the same activity. He heard a commotion from over on the main deck and meandered over to see what was happening. There was a ring of crew encircling some fight - Ace could tell it was friendly from the lack of jeers and blood spatters on the floor. As one of the shortest members on board, Ace had to push his way to the front to see who was fighting. He often participated himself, enjoying the challenge of wrestling without his Devil Fruit abilities.

“GIT ‘ER BORS!” yelled out Curiel as Ace saw Baby in the middle of the ring, wrestling with the aforementioned Bors. She had a loop of her tail around Bors' ankle as he loomed over her with a bow staff. Ace was infuriated and was about to intervene when Baby’s tail wrapped all the way around the significantly larger man's torso in one fluid movement, trapping his arms under her tail. She grabbed the staff from the man’s hand like she was taking it from a child and threw it skittering across the deck.

“Fuckin’ can’t! She’s godfuckingdamnit so slippery and…tails stronger than ow whatthefuck it looks,” yelled back the crewman from the 10th division as he started turning red in the face. Baby smiled as she wound her tail tighter and tighter, constricting his breathing until the man was turning blue. 

“I’m not healing you if she cracks your ribs!” Marco yelled from his perch near Pops. Marco often didn't heal those who willingly fought each other using his Devil Fruit, saying it was their due for engaging in foolishness. 

Baby had her torso on the ground and was tapping her claws against the deck in a show of boredom as Bors tapped his hand against her to tap out. As soon as he conceded, Baby immediately unwound herself and Bors landed hard on hands and knees, heaving in rough breaths. Baby whooped and cheered for her victory along with the assembled crew.

“Winner! Unbeaten so far, who can take on the mighty Baby? Tenth division is out, eleventh division now! Kingdew, who're you sending?” boomed out Fossa, collecting money from grumbling crew members who'd lost their bets against Baby.

“No one, she’s done,” yelled Ace, pushing himself into the circle, taking large strides towards Baby. He was loudly booed by the assembled crowd which was quickly mimicked by Baby.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the Captain. And stop swearing around her!” Ace yelled at the crowd as he approached the still booing Baby. 

“She was doin’ fuckin’ great,” Fossa said, handing Ace the Berri he’d collected from her bets. Ace put the massive amounts of paper in his pockets as Fossa pushed Ace's chest with a giant finger. “Those are her winnings , Runt. Let ‘er buy what she wants with ‘em,” he said, reaching to pat Baby on the head. She pretended to snap her fangs at him but was clearly playing. “All right ye bums, fight’s over with Baby, but plenty more to come! Over yonder!” Fossa boomed towards the assembled crew. “Good job, kid,” Fossa said to Baby, tugging her long ear gently, earning him a lick of her tongue against his hand. Ace felt a twinge of jealousy curl in his gut as the familiarity between his Sea Naga and the crew grew. Shaking it off, Ace focused on the teetering Baby, who was looking for more beer amongst the empty barrels. As Ace approached Baby, she swayed slightly on her tail as she smiled at him and thumped the tip of her tail loudly against the deck.

“Fight,” she said happily, throwing her arms in the air. 

“Yeah, fight,” Ace replied, picking her up at the thickest part of her tail and torso. She let herself fall into his arms, almost like she was boneless. She was cold and smelled like ale and spirits, Ace wondered how much she’d drank while he was passed out. Quite a bit if he based it on her floppy limbs and current hurried speech. She was speaking rapidly in Naga, Ace wished he could understand what she was saying. Based on her hand motions, she was recounting her fights against the crew mixed with a few mentions of his own name. He’d never heard her say so much in one go before and found the sibilant sounds of her serpent language to be quite pleasant. He wanted to encourage her to speak in her own language more often; it was beautiful in a haunting way, like the sounds of the wind whipping through a sea grotto.

“Winner,” she said proudly, her fingers clenched into a fist. Ace’s heart swelled with pride as if he'd taught her to fight himself. 

“Good job, Baby,” he said, kissing the top of her head as he walked to take her to bed. He didn’t want her fighting the crew but he was glad she was able to hold her own in case of a skirmish. He should give her some lessons, he mused, to make her an even stronger fighter. He couldn't imagine she'd often fought opponents at her level, probably just killed for food. Ace had taught Sabo and Luffy, surely he could handle teaching Baby. He’d work with her on ground fighting and ask Namur for help teaching her more down below the sea. It was a good idea, but not for tonight. Right now Baby was in the woozy part of drinking too much, still babbling happily to him. Entering the ship, Baby thumped the paddled end of her tail against the wall as he walked towards his cabin, the staccato beats matching the falls of his footsteps on the wood floors. 

Baby was almost completely reclined in Ace’s arms when he opened his door with his foot. She picked up her head and swiveled it slowly towards Ace, her furrowed brow and flicking tongue indicating her unfamiliarity with her surroundings. Ace wished his room was tidier but between the construction and the...general disarray his room was always in, it was pretty messy. There wasn't much in the room besides Ace's bed and his completely paper-covered desk and now Baby's crate. Baby flicked her tongue with increasing speed, wiggling out of Ace’s arms and plopping without grace onto the floor. Baby slithered hesitantly towards the crate, tongue lashing out every few seconds. She touched the bars of the crate, turning towards Ace with wide eyes. It was larger than Stefan's crate but the idea behind it was the same. It was constructed of wood with metal bars on the sides and it was large enough for Baby to curl up in. Ace had placed the furs and bones he'd taken from her cave inside as a surprise to acclimate her to the cage. 

“Assse, no,” she whispered, pulling on the bars of the crate, her drunkenness extending the consonants of his name. Ace looked at her face as her smile faded, looking more like the Naga he’d found earlier that day in the brig. She reached inside with the tip of her tail, pulling out one of the furs that Ace had brought for her. Putting it around her shoulders and fastening it with a bone clip he’d brought as well, Baby turned towards Ace.

“No, Assse,” she asked again, her ears pointing down in defeat and lip wobbling in stark contrast to her winning attitude just moments before.  Ace sighed, and closed his eyes. He was so tired, he’d worked hard all day long, he didn’t have energy for another confrontation with Baby. 

“Fine, you don’t have to sleep there tonight. You’re wasted anyway, I kinda wanna keep an eye on you,” Ace said with a yawn. He kicked off his boots into the corner of his messy room, he didn’t have much more gas in his tank. Crawling into his bed, he patted the spare space next to him and said “Baby, come here.” Baby immediately brightened up and slithered to Ace’s bed. She took off her fur and wound her body all around Ace’s much like the first time they slept next to one another. She pressed her chest to Ace’s side and placed her head on his chest. Ace inhaled a deep breath and held it in exhaling into Baby’s tangled hair. Hopefully Marco didn’t find out Baby wasn’t in the crate - but how would he? Ace’s thoughts drifted as he felt Baby’s breath even out, her little tongue accidentally flicking his nipple. 

Your POV

What. the. Fuck.

But really, what the fuck was wrong with humans? They invented a great beverage that tasted delightful and made you feel wonderful but the next morning it felt like an animal was living inside your head and died in your mouth. Your head was pounding with the worst headache you’d ever felt, your mouth was dry and you felt like regurgitating like when you’d eaten something too big whole. Thrashing around, you found Ace wasn’t there but had covered you with one of your old furs and some of his blankets. You did like his scent but you missed the warmth his body provided. 

Rolling yourself onto the floor, you slowly slithered away from the bed and to the bathroom. After relieving yourself, you gulped down some water with your hands. Leaving the bathroom, you twisted the knob to the main hallway, you found it open thankfully. You slithered so low to the ground you might as well have been a real snake but you didn’t have the energy to pick yourself any further off the floor. Everything was too loud, too bright, and too fragrant for you to attempt to be upright.

You smelled cooking food and headed that way. Either someone would feed you, you’d find Ace, or the Harpy would put you out of your misery - anything was fine by you right now. Entering the room with the food, you scanned for Ace. He was rapidly shoveling yellow and white blobs into his mouth but waved when he saw you. They smelled great and he started preparing you a plate of blobs from a platter while you were approaching.

“Hi Baby!” he chirped as you sat next to him. You thought about stabbing him with the knife but decided against it. He hadn’t invented the beverage, it wasn’t his fault you drank so much.

“Fuck,” you replied, leaning your head on your hand. The table went silent as Ace narrowed his eyes.

“What did you say?” he asked quietly.

“FUCK,” you repeated loudly, rubbing your face with your hand in annoyance. You were in no mood for silly communication games. 

“GOD DAMMIT GUYS! WHO TAUGHT HER TO SAY FUCK!?” Ace yelled at the laughing humans sitting nearby. Ace was about to yell again but you took your hand and put it over his mouth. You couldn’t listen to another loud sound or you were going to explode. 

“Fuck,” you said, pointing to him. “Fuck,” you said, pointing to Fossa and Namur. Fossa gave a pleased grunt while Namur extended his thumb upwards. “Fuck,” you said, pointing to Curiel, who laughed as he ate. You repeated the phrase and pointed to everyone at the table except for Izou, all decidedly happy at your use of the word. “Fuck,” you said with finality, eating the blobs off your plate while Ace pouted with his arms crossed.

Oh, they were warm, cooked eggs! The chef was a complete genius, you’d had eggs you’d taken from bird’s nests before but never thought to cook them. You’d have to give him another fish for this incredible creation. Like Ace, you started shoveling them into your mouth as fast as you could as he poured you a hot beverage in a ceramic mug adorned with the Leader’s symbol. 

“Try this. It’s coffee. Might help your hangover,” Ace grumbled at you, displeased by your new favorite word. You tasted the bitter liquid, unsure if it would cause you harm or not. It wasn’t as good as the one from the night before but you drank it anyway. It tasted earthy and gave your belly a pleasant feeling of warmth as you continued to eat with your hands. Ace handed you a piece of pronged metal like the one he held in his own hand. Confused, you took it but set it down on the table. You didn’t need it - couldn’t he see you had claws?  You kept eating and Ace didn’t bother you again about it though he watched you curiously. 

When you’d finished eating and drinking the coffee and a few cups of water, you felt a little better. Ace waited for you while you finished and you followed him up to the top deck of the ship. Everyone was bustling around, doing whatever it was that humans did for work. Flicking your tongue out, you detected the smell of the Harpy. He was nearby but not close enough for you to see. Ace was talking to a group of humans, exchanging papers with them. Watching the humans like you would observe wild animals in their natural habitat, Ace looked up and caught your eye, speaking to you while holding a bunch of papers in his hands.

“Ok, Baby. I gotta go. You can hang out here or go find Namur? I’m not sure where he is right now  -”

“Ace, you need to look at this before we -” other humans cut off Ace, garnering his attention once more. You figured he was busy doing whatever it was that he did, and slithered off to go rest in the sun. It was warmer than it had been previous days and you felt like complete shit so you felt entitled to sit and do nothing. Though, now that you thought about it, there wasn’t really much for you to do on the ship. On your island you’d been preoccupied with your survival, spending most of your time hunting, tanning hides, gathering wood, things like that. When you did have time, you liked to swim for fun or look for shells and interesting objects on the beach. Here, all of those things were done for you. You dind’t have to hunt or gather fuel and there was no beach to comb through. Sure, you could swim and hunt for fish but you weren’t sure what the parameters around that were. You'd figure out a way to ask Ace later about swimming and catching fish.

Deciding that was a problem for you in the future, you slithered to the large Captain of the ship, who was drowsing in his chair. For someone as large as the Captain, he didn’t seem to move too much. He had strings going to his nose and arm as he rested in the morning sun. Smaller humans wearing pink were attending to him. Looking them over, you supposed they were female humans, since they contrasted so heavily with the hairier humans you’d already seen. They looked similar to you in some ways, though their mammary glands were far more pronounced than yours were currently. They had long hair in various colors, though none as light as your own. They chattered between them, giving you cursory glances but not bothering you as you greeted the Captain with a hiss.

Climbing up his arms, he opened an eye as you crawled up his large body but didn't object outright. Settling down across his shoulders like you had before, you listened to the sounds of his breathing as the ship sailed along in the good weather. You closed your eyes, stretched out in a vulnerable position, content to let the Captain’s presence deter any potential danger while you slept. Slumber was upon you when you heard an unpleasant voice.

“Oh, she’s already here. Good, I was hoping to extract her venom today yoi. Let me -” you didn’t hear the rest of the sentence as you snapped like a rubber band into a defensive position and slithered down the far side of the Captain’s chair. You wanted to avoid conflict with the Harpy if at all possible rather than confront him directly. The Captain rumbled some kind of response but you were already on the railing of the ship, preparing to jump off. If you had to swim behind the ship for hours, so be it, you’d take that over being near the Harpy any day.

“Not so fast,” you heard the Harpy say as you lept, already in the air. The Harpy caught you in his talons mid-jump to your shock. It reminded you of the flight he’d taken you on when he’d kidnapped you from your island. You curled around his legs, trying to crack his bones but for some reason the Harpy was immune to your attacks. “Stop that,” he admonished you, as he dropped you back on the deck. You were panicked, you didn’t know what to do but felt the need to escape. You didn’t want to bite him - that was a sure way to get the muzzle back on - but he clearly wanted you for something and you didn’t want to find out what that was.

The Harpy brought out a covered jar from his pocket, showing it to you. You eyed it suspiciously, unsure what its purpose was. He then fished out a dried hank of meat from his sash and held it in front of himself, as if to give it to you.

“Come, you can have this. Yes, this is for you yoi. Come,” the Harpy repeated the command, wanting you to move towards him. Wary of his intentions, you ignored what he said and tried to make another escape. You weren't going to be fooled by his bait and switch trap like a simple minded animal.

“This can be done easily if you cooperate. Or not, if you prefer it that way,” the Harpy said, sighing. You were already turning back to the railing as he cornered you against the wall of the boat. Faster than you were able to detect with your eyes, he had you in a headlock with one arm, the other pushing on the underside of your mandible, a large taloned leg pinning a portion of your tail to the deck. The pressure he was putting on your jaw forced you to open your mouth and extend your fangs against your will. Once your fangs were extended, he pushed one through the cap of the jar and continued pressing against the soft underside of your jaw, causing your bite reflex to activate. You tried hissing your anger but the positioning of your mouth made it impossible. He exerted so much pressure in such an exact spot, his course of action must have been premeditated.

You thrashed your tail as hard as you could, attacking his arms with your claws, even trying to go limp to wriggle away but nothing worked. You found he was also made of flames, but not like Ace whose flames were made of fire. The Harpy’s flames protected him from anything you did, making your actions futile. Though it couldn’t have been more than a minute, your acute humiliation felt like it went on for eternity. You didn’t know why he had to do this now , in front of the Captain, in order to humiliate you. You guessed that he was being prevented from eating you and wanted to take his revenge but you didn’t have a clear understanding. Last night as you’d wrestled the other humans it almost made you feel like you belonged with them but the Harpy was quick to remind you that you were a captive, a nothing. 

Finally, the Harpy finished collecting your venom and pulled the jar off your fang, tilting the jar to inspect the contents. He didn’t release you though, he kept you in place as he put the jar back in his pocket.

“I don’t see Ace and you can’t roam around by yourself on the deck, it’s not safe. Maybe one day, but not today. Come,” he said to you, giving you the same hand motion as Stefan. You had no choice but to follow him as he lead you back towards Ace’s room. He was stronger, faster, and in a position of power on the ship over you. There was no point in trying to argue with him like you did Ace since the Harpy was undeterred in his actions no matter how you reacted. 

You kept your head down as you followed to Ace’s room, the scent of Ace combined with your furs and bones increasing with every slither you made towards the room. Once inside, the Harpy opened the door to the cage and motioned for you to enter. You slithered inside, curling up so all of you could fit within. He shut the locked door to the cage and crouched down to observe you inside. You turned your head away, not wanting to see the victory likely present in his eyes. He placed the hank of meat between the bars near your tail and stood up to leave. He closed the door to the room as he left, your freedom no closer than it had been the day before.

taglist: @mfreedomstuff

[another-lost-mc]

Something something about Zee, an advanced synthetic assigned to protect you as your ship makes its long voyage back to Earth in a futuristic Alien AU.

Along the way, you realize something's changed as he starts to act a little too human at times, when before he shrugged off your attempts to become friends, your silly jokes and harmless teasing easily swept aside and ignored. The ship lacks luxury and privacy with its cramped quarters and with the rowdy, abrasive crew as the only other options for company, you still find yourself gravitating towards him. The human crew members are cruel to him, ridiculing him for his very existence. Despite his gruff demeanor, he's gone out of his way to make sure you're cared for and as comfortable as one can be on a rickety space in the middle of outer space. The last thing you want is for Zee to think you're as callous as the rest of them are. You appreciate him for what - who - he is.

When his previous annoyance at his prime directive, protecting the most obnoxiously cheerful human he's ever met, fades away into something else, he finds new reasons to stay closer to you than ever before. He lingers on the edge of your peripheral vision, the second shadow that follows your steps - and whether you can see him or not, you know he's there. Never more than a room away, you wonder what it is he's waiting for, or why you shiver with anticipation every time you feel his stare rake over your skin from somewhere nearby.

Forced together and living in close quarters, who knows what might happen before journey's end?

You can't remember where you first heard the rumors, but you knew - or at least suspected - that certain androids could have sex. Your android could, if you weren't mistaken about the shape of his body underneath the form-fitting jumpsuit he wore around the ship. (And when exactly did you start thinking of him as yours?) You've heard that some of the most advanced androids are capable of feeling pain, but are they capable of feeling pleasure too? You're woefully uneducated on this subject, not that you've had much reason to consider the question at all, but thankfully, he's a very patient teacher with a fondness for hands-on learning.

What he tells you, not with words but in smoldering glances and firm but gentle touches as he peels away your clothing, piece by piece, is that pleasure itself is possible. At least, the sorts of pleasure a synthetic being like him can experience. In most circumstances, those mimicked sensations, a trick of wires and circuitry far too difficult to explain, aren't usually enough to entice him to indulge in such messy encounters.

All it takes to change his mind is for someone else to look at you a certain way, or an innocent touch that lingers long enough for him to notice and frown at its meaning. Suddenly, the idea of sex is very appealing if it means tempting you away from anyone else he deems unworthy of your time or attention.

As a synthetic, sex isn't a sensory feast the way it is for humans. The rhythmic movements as he snaps his hips in a slow and deep but unyielding rhythm doesn't tire him out. Instead, he focuses on watching every tiny expression that flits across your face, listening to the soft noises you think he can't hear over the sound of squeaky springs as he moves, and nearly smothering you with his weight into the thin, uncomfortable mattress in your sleeping quarters.

He doesn't know why the single drop of sweat trickling down your face and over your jaw is so enticing - but then again, he's never felt hunger like this before either. Maybe next time he'll be tempted to taste the salty trail, if he's not transfixed watching the pleasure and adoration that brighten your gaze instead.

When you bite your bottom lip between your teeth to try and keep quiet, he runs his thumb across your mouth, ack and forth with a hint of pressure, until it's shiny and wet with spit. With a slick glide, he pushes it inside slowly until he can touch the tip of your tongue. It's a pleasant picture, one he'll think of often long after this day ends. He decides that if he can't hear all your little sounds, then feeling the vibrations as you suck the digit shallowly into your mouth is the next best thing.

Above all else, he doesn't want you to turn your face away, or to close your eyes even as your eyelids flutter and your head tips back against the threadbare pillow. His low voice, rougher than you've ever heard it before, cuts through the warm silence like a knife as his fingers hold your chin in place to keep you still. He can't help but stare at his own reflection, hair wild and expression desperate as any living man, in the shimmery film that glazes over your eyes.

In the dark ocean of space, surrounded by nothing but a sea of stars, watching you fall apart underneath him is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

[swordmaid]

having shri’iia thoughts as one does bc GUESS who’s save file completely died when the new patch came out nooo we have to replay her again 🤭 alas. just stewing on the thought of how she never got to fuck her Mistress even though she wanted to…!!!! like she was out there getting psychologically tortured and mind broken but she was just like WHY won’t you fuck me im literally doing everything for you. which is so bad for her, woman who already has an excruciatingly low self worth because she missed the mark on the standard for lolth’s children (and that’s worse than not fitting in the standard at all) by something out of her own control btw (not being born in a noble house) but she’s been recognised and blessed by her goddess, and she’s been invited to join a drow house so everything should be good right?? she should be desirable right?? finally everything is correct and well and good and the way it should be right????? but no..!! it’s not..!! and so she’s doing everything for this woman, no dignity left, literally doing anything to get her approval, to be told that she’s finally enough, and she’s finally fitting in - and she gets it sometimes, she gets ignored most times tbh and it’s just this painful excruciating stew of self loathing and insecurity that she’s in, and she’s in there for a century but the thing is she can’t even give up. it’s not in her nature to. and she’s done too much to just give up , and she’s been doing this for a long time that she can’t give up and lolth didn’t raise no quitters so she sticks by it, trying to achieve that hopeless praise. but then one day she gets dropped like nothing, everything she’s done and suffered and worked towards and sacrificed gets thrown out bc her goddess isn’t pleased with her and good luck going home btw you’re not welcome here anymore bc ur pathetic. the rug gets pulled under her feet and she’s left in this strange world that she can barely navigate in let alone speak the language and u expect her to b fine with that…?

[windor-truffle]

*chants in increasing volume* ghost AU ghost AU GHOST AU GHOST AU

[s0urte3th]

mom is bitching at me how i need to wear short sleeves TOMORROW, and just get over it

[coockie8]

ok i dont know why it never occurrd to me that issuns legs would be hella strong

Poncles are really strong just in general, but Issun's particularly ripped 'cause he travels a lot, a year of which he did so on his own, so without Ammy as a mount. It's probably like that for all the Celestial Envoys since they get out the most.

[teaboot]

This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

"DAD!"

Bruce sighed at the familiar call, instantly recognizing the voice. It was you, the child he never intended to have, thrust into his life by forces beyond his control. He still wasn't ready for this—wasn't ready to be a father.

In the early days, you’d tried calling him "father" or "dad," hoping for a connection. But he’d ignore you every time, barely acknowledging the title. Frustrated, you’d started calling him "Mr. Wayne" out of spite. And to your surprise, he responded. Since then, you'd settled into calling him as if he were just another public figure, like some distant acquaintance. You learned quickly that Bruce Wayne didn't want to be publicly labeled as your father, that he wasn’t comfortable with the label at all.

But now, hearing that word—"Dad"—from you in public, his irritation rose. He’d told you ages ago not to call him that outside the manor. Yet, there was also a sliver of satisfaction; he finally had a reason to confront you over it, something he’d oddly wanted since you’d moved in.

Turning around to find you, Bruce stopped short. There you were, arms around Harvey Dent, laughing in a way that sent a pang through him. It was the kind of bright, easy laughter he’d never heard from you in his presence. The warmth in your eyes, the carefree lightness in your smile—it all seemed reserved for Dent, a scene that felt oddly father-child-like.

His grip tightened unconsciously, fingers curling around the grass he’d been holding. Harvey looked back at you with an almost fatherly pride, and it stung in a way Bruce couldn’t have anticipated. In that moment, the crowd faded around him, and all he could focus on was the two of you, bonded in a way he hadn’t managed to be with you.

Your laughter rang in his ears like a melody he’d never noticed before, something beautiful and elusive. And for the first time, Bruce felt something new—a desire to be the one to make you laugh like that, a yearning to hear it directed at him. He wanted all of it for himself.

Bruce’s hands clenched involuntarily, his fingers digging into his palms. He told himself that he was better than Dent in every way that mattered—stronger, more capable, more disciplined. But in this, seeing how effortlessly Dent could make you feel safe and valued, he felt an unsettling flicker of doubt. Bruce could face any enemy, any challenge, but standing here, watching someone else make you feel what he couldn’t, he felt almost... inadequate.

The feeling was absurd. Jealousy wasn’t supposed to affect him; he’d trained himself to be above such things. But he couldn’t stop the bitterness gnawing at him as he watched Dent with you, a man whose easy warmth contrasted so painfully with Bruce’s own guarded nature. It stung to realize that, for all his power and reputation, he was losing you to his own friend. Dent looked at you with pride and affection, the kind that came naturally to him—and Bruce hated that Dent could offer you what he hadn’t even known you needed.

And then, through the murmur of the crowd, your voice rang out again—“Dad!”—directed at Dent, not him. Something twisted painfully in Bruce’s chest, his vision blurring as he watched you lean into Dent’s embrace, trusting and relaxed. The sight was a punch to his pride, yes, but more than that, it was a revelation of all he’d pushed away, all the moments he’d let slip by because he hadn’t wanted to be vulnerable.

For the first time, Bruce felt an unfamiliar desperation creep in, a fear he’d never faced even in the darkest moments of his life. Losing you to Dent seemed almost absurd, yet it was becoming a reality before his eyes. He was starting to see the damage his own indifference had caused, each unspoken word and dismissed gesture now cutting him deeper than he would ever admit aloud.

If only he’d turned around that first time you called him "Dada." If only he’d been there, shown you warmth instead of distance. Now someone else was in the place he’d abandoned, and he feared—truly feared—that you were already too far out of his reach to bring back.

(A/n: feel free to use this idea to make a story! Though you needa tag me too😼)

[yieldtotemptation]

RITUAL ft. Yujin

yujin x male reader smut

7k words

Let’s be clear: you’re well aware of what a monumentally stupid idea this is.

For you, it’s just a job. You’ve been fired from plenty before, and there will be plenty more after.

But for her, for Yujin, it’s her career. Her life. Her everything.

And yet, here, in the cramped confines of a bathroom stall, your hand on her ass and hers diving down your jeans; you can’t let go of the nagging suspicion that maybe that’s the fucking point.

“How much time do we have?” Yujin’s lips are on your neck, tiny, hot breaths tickling your skin, nimble fingers at your waist, negotiating with your zipper.

“We had fifteen minutes, an hour ago,” you remind her. “We’re gonna miss soundcheck.”

“It’ll be fine.” Yujin’s unbothered, dismissive of anything that isn’t freeing your cock from its denim prison. “They’ll wait for me. They always do.”

There’s that hint of arrogance, that unshakeable confidence of youth, the invincibility that comes with being that absurdly hot. You can’t blame her at all for it.

What Yujin wants, she gets. You've seen it first hand.

It’s one of the many things you’ve learned about her over the past few weeks.

Well one of the few that don’t concern how good her cunt feels when she rides you, or how her eyes roll to the back of her head when you hit that spot just right, or the way her voice goes hoarse when she screams your name.

“Oh, it’s so perfect.”  Yujin’s seen your cock before, tasted it, taken it, had it in every way possible (in every place available), yet that still doesn’t stop her eyes from lighting up the second she sees it springing out from the waistband of your briefs, standing tall and throbbing painfully. “I’d say this is worth being late for.”

You’ve got a groan for her when she takes you into her hand, her grip firm and familiar. A half-hearted protest, too: “Yeah, but if we’re late, Princess Yujin gets a slap on the wrist, whereas I get fired.”

Yujin scoffs at that. “Well, I am your boss, so I think I get the last say if it comes down to it.”

Part of you wants to correct her, wants to explain that technically you’re not her employee but an independent contractor hired by the touring company. However, that part of you needs to shut the hell up, because the intricacies of employment contracts for musicians-for-hire really don’t seem pertinent at this moment.

Regardless, it all becomes trivial in the face of Yujin. So annoyingly, unfairly pretty, not even the unflattering harshness of the bathroom lights are capable of marring her in the slightest.

You’d probably give her the world if she asked.

She’d happily settle for your dick.

Her hand’s moving now, her fingers dancing around your shaft, exploring the contours of your cock from base to tip, and she's forcing you to resign, “Your logic, as always, is flawless.”

“See?” Yujin smiles up at you, that wide, confident grin that’s graced a million posters, been on every magazine cover and TV channel, and is now laser focused on you. “I’m always right, aren’t I?”

Her point's made with a squeeze around your length, stroking you in earnest, building to a rhythm that’s become so familiar over the past week—quick and precise, dangerously efficient. Like she was made for this. Made to tease your cock. As natural for her as breathing, really.

Yujin’s had plenty of practice, after all—on the morning of every concert, in the evening back at her hotel, on tour buses and in dressing rooms. On a plane once, even. It's the same torrid routine that’s now become a required pre-show ritual. A quiet spot, a secluded room, and she steals you away, bringing you to the brink and back.

And to think it all started because she asked you to help her ‘calm her nerves’.  

Or more correctly, fuck all the worries and concerns out of her pretty little head.

Still, she's never pushed it this far, never cut it this close.

You lean back against the stall door, your breath catching in your throat, the cheap plastic giving slightly under the pressure. Outside you can hear it, hear the bustling sounds of the venue coming to life—staff moving about, the distant roar of fans, the occasional clang of sound equipment. But in here, it’s overpowered by the noisiness of her palm sliding along your shaft, slick with her saliva, and it fills the small space, echoing across the cold tiles beneath your feet.

She’s undeniable—you know you’ve spoilt her. You’ve let her get her way with you far too many times, let her push this arrangement past any semblance of professionalism. Let her poison your mind with whispered sweet nothings that have you pounding her into the nearest available surface whenever she gets a twitch of stage fright.

But you’re also acutely aware of the fact that without these moments, without the promise of her tight, wet cunt wrapped around your cock, you’d be out there on that stage sleepwalking through just another concert with nothing but a drum kit and a bunch of songs you could play with your eyes closed.

“Fucking hell, Yujin, you look too good doing that,” you manage to get out, doing your best to endure her fingers gliding along your length, to last under the microscope of Yujin's dark, hungry eyes.

Another thing about Yujin: there's a special thrill she gets just from watching you, eyes glued to your face, taking in every single nuance of agony she’s wringing out.

“So fucking—” you settle on the most obvious word in your lexicon, “pretty.”

Yujin keens at the praise, her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, her teeth grazes the soft skin of her bottom lip. It's hardly new for her to hear this, to have people rave about how she's the hottest piece of ass this side of the equator. Yet there's something about hearing it from you that has her eating up your words every time. "Am I, now?"

You nod, voice momentarily failing you as she pumps your cock, her grip never wavering, never faltering, like she’s milking you, milking words of adulation from your lips.

You still haven't pinned down exactly what it is about you that unwinds Yujin, that makes her chase you so hard. Maybe it's because you're slightly older, a touch more mature than the usual plastic smiles that try to charm her out of her pants.

Or maybe it's because you said 'no' the first time she sniffed in your direction, and then made her scream 'yes' every time after.

Whatever it is, it has Yujin’s other hand reaching up to fiddle with the choker at her neck, flooding your mind with memories of your hand around her throat, her gagging on your length, her eyes watering while you fuck her face.

“And what about this outfit?” She asks, oh-so-innocently. “You think the fans will like it?”

“Yujin,” you say, like she doesn’t already know the very obvious answer. You’ve seen her in it all—tiny hot pants, tight little bralettes, that fucking leather catsuit. Yujin’s a fucking goddess in anything she wears, even a blind man would burn from the sheer heat radiating from her body. “You look fucking incredible, as always.”

“But?”

“No buts.”

“I heard a ‘but’,” Yujin ponders, her hand still working your cock like it’s her favourite toy. “Like: ‘but the shorts are too short, and everyone’s gonna see my cheeks when I bend over’.”

A blatant invitation to take a glance, to look down, down at those denim shorts so tight against her curves, the fabric stretched so taut that it might split open at any moment. Look down at her thick thighs, the way they flex and release as she jerks you off, every movement making the material cling tighter to her skin, moulding themselves around the outline of her perfect, round ass, those juicy cheeks that you’ve had the honour of spanking and biting and bruising.

“Or is it: ‘but your top is cut too low, your tits are gonna spill right out’?”

She’s drawing your gaze upwards, over that smooth, creamy expanse of skin, her stomach flat and toned, up the thin fabric of her flimsy excuse for a shirt, that dips just enough to tease the tops of her breasts, squeezed together and pushed up by her bra. It's so thin, wrapped so tight around her, highlighting the faint outline of her nipples poking through, already stiffened and calling for your tongue.

“Or maybe it’s: ‘the outfit looks good, looks nice and slutty, but you’d much rather rip it off me and just fucking ruin me like I deserve?'"

Yeah, that’s more like it.

You take that as permission, and reach for the hem of her top, eager to finally see those tits, to feel their warm weight in your palms, to have her stripped and laid bare like she knows you’d love to. But Yujin’s too quick, slapping your hand away with a laugh.

“But unfortunately, there’ll be none of that, drummer boy.” Yujin stops, her grip on your cock tightening for a brief, painful second. “Can’t have you ruining my outfit before I go on stage, can I?”

There’s a challenge there, a test to see if you’ll argue, maybe grab her, throw her against the wall and show her just how little of a fuck you give about anything that takes place outside of this toilet stall. But you know she’s right. You're the adult here, remember? Besides there’ll be plenty of time for that later.

You settle for her lips, leaning down, pressing the pad of your thumb against her chin. You tilt her head up towards yours, only for Yujin to pull back, leaving you kissing air. “Seriously?”

Yujin grins, clearly delighting in denying you again, in making your blood boil and cock throb. “Can’t ruin the make-up either,” she explains, making sure to bat her long, fake lashes for extra effect.

“So, I take it that means the pigtails are off limits too?” You ask, idly toying with the ludicrously slutty hairstyle that’s framing her face, bobbing slightly with every stroke she gives you.

“Now you’re learning.”

So, with a frustrated grunt, you keep your hands at your sides, resigning yourself to Yujin’s sweet torture. It’s maddening, just standing there, panting and so horny, at the mercy of Yujin’s slow strokes. “And no concern for my outfit, whatsoever.”

Yujin’s eyes wander over your choice of clothing, and laughs, rather insultingly, if you're honest. “I’m sure all the fans will be very focused on the drummer’s fashion choices,” she says, trusting you to pick up on the sarcasm.

You feign injury. “Ouch, I put a lot of thought into my clothing.”

“Sure you do. Thoughts like: how easy will it be for your little fuck buddy to tear them off?” Yujin’s thumb finds that sensitive spot just beneath the head of your cock, swiping over it with a smugness that’s both infuriating and incredibly hot.

“You’re going to get it later for that one,” you warn, your hand curling into a fist.

“Oh, I know.”

Yujin picks up the pace, her hand a blur, running up and down your shaft, fingers sliding across your slit, smearing the pre-cum that’s beaded there over your cockhead. And there’s a glint in her eye, that needy look that tells you she’s getting off on this, getting off on having you, having someone she shouldn’t be left alone with, squirm and beg and be so desperate for her.

“Look how big you are for me, daddy.”

There’s that word, that sweet, sweet ‘daddy’.

The first time she called you it was an accident, a slip of the tongue during a particularly intense moment when you had her against the window of her hotel, tits squashed against the glass, cunt dripping with your cum. But every time since, it’s been deliberate, calculated, a button she knows she can push to make you give it to her as rough as she wants; as rough as she craves.

“Look how big you are in my tiny hand.” She’s got you moaning now, melting between her fingers, bucking your hips for that extra bit of friction. “You love it when I jerk you like this, don’t you, daddy?”

‘Daddy’ again, rolling off her tongue like a fucking love letter, a song to send your head spinning and your cock pulsing in her hand.

There’s another challenge, can you last a little bit longer? Can you resist the urge to cum all over her fingers? Paint her pretty nails a fresh shade of white? Or would you rather wrap your hand around her lovely neck and force her to admit that she loves all this just as much as you do.

You swallow down the groan that’s building in your throat, your teeth grinding together to maintain some semblance of control. Yujin catches it, sees the effort it’s taking you, and she shakes her head, her lips pursed in a perfect little pout.

“Don’t hold back, daddy,” Yujin's chiding you, disappointed with your restraint. “I want to hear it. I need to hear how good it feels, how desperate you are. Need you to show me just how much you want to see me filled with your cum.”

She twists her hand down on your cock, squeezing when she reaches the base, her other hand coming down to cup your balls, tickling them with her fingers. That has a moan escaping your lips, a low, desperate sound that makes Yujin preen.

“That’s it,” she’s overjoyed, getting what she came for, basking in your pleasure, “tell me how much you want it, tell me how much you want to cum for me.”

And so you do. You tell her, your voice strained with the effort of keeping your orgasm at bay. Not yet, not until you’re deep inside her, not until you're sure that not a single drop will go wasted. “You're too fucking much, Yujin, too fucking hot,” you manage, the words a choked noise that you hope she can hear over the blood pounding in your ears. “You’re driving me fucking mad.”

Yujin’s strokes keep building, one on top of the other, and she’s pressing herself against you, the warmth of her, soft breasts pushing into your chest, her lips sucking at your neck, kissing into you hard. After all, who will notice? Who gives a fuck if the drummer shows up on stage with a few extra bruises on his skin?  

You fall into the crook of her neck, your forehead on her shoulder, as her lips make their way up your throat, across your jaw, until she’s nipping at your lobe, whispering in your ear, “You’re desperate for my cunt, aren’t you, daddy? You want to fill me up right before I go on stage?”

“Yujin,” you grit out, and you’re holding her, hands on those perfectly round cheeks, holding on for dear life, pulling her close to you so that she can feel just how right she is. The words spill out of you like a confession, “I need to fuck you now, Yujin. I need to feel your cunt, make you cum so hard you won’t be able to fucking move, let alone dance.”

And Yujin leaves one last, lingering kiss on your pulse. “So do it, daddy.”

Her words are a fucking gunshot, and you’re off to the races.

You spin her around so fast she yelps, your chest to her back, your cock trapped between her ass cheeks. Her shorts are barely an inconvenience, yank them down, denim catching on her hips, sliding down to her ankles, leaving her in just her panties.

Yujin gasps, the cool air meeting her bare skin, and she braces herself against the wall of the stall, needing something to keep her on her feet. She’s all soft curves and sweet smells, so insanely proportioned, like she's built for this, curvy and thick in all the right places.

While she’s distracted you sneak a kiss onto the creamy-white skin of her shoulder, hard enough to give her a mark to match yours, a badge of honour that brands her in the same way she’s done to you.

Her panties never stood a chance, completely drenched to the point of ruin, sticky with anticipation, snug against her lips. You pull them aside, thumb brushing against her swollen clit, making her hips jerk forward. She’s on your time now, you’ve got the green light to turn the tables and drag her through the same torment she’s put you through.

“Look at this,” you’re in her ear now, taunting, “you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Yujin’s cheeks burn red, and she’s pushing back against you, grinding her ass into your cock. “Of course I am. I can’t help it,” she’s a little breathless, a little shaky, “I need it.”

“You’re so beautiful,” your hands like magnets on her bare ass, squeezing, marking her in places only you'll ever know. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Please,” Yujin whimpers, as you slide your finger down, between her legs, tracing her wet slit, testing her tightness, feeling her warmth, feeling how ready she is. “Please, fuck me now.”

You can’t resist her, you never can, not with so little time left and so much of her to ruin. Your cock dips, lining up with her pussy, the tip nudging at her entrance, and all it takes is one strong thrust, and you’re pushing into her, burying yourself to the hilt in a swift, brutal motion.

There’s a scream from her, a grunt from you, blending and echoing through the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles and the stall walls. Someone’s going to hear it, someone’s going to come in and see you fucking the star of the show and that’ll be it for the both of you.

But really, fuck all of that.

Fuck the concert, the venue staff, the fans, the tour managers, the PR nightmare that will follow.

Fuck everything that isn’t inside this stall, that isn’t Yujin’s tight cunt squeezing around your cock, that isn’t the way she’s shuddering in your arms, gasping your name, needing her daddy to fuck her harder, faster.

There's no easing her into it, not like you know you should. You fuck her hard, just like she’s begged. Your hips snap against her ass, the sound of skin slapping skin drowning out the noise outside, again and again, in and out, over and over.

Yujin’s never needed much to get started, always so easily soaked, so easily ready. She'd told you as much one late night (or one early morning): "I can take it, take anything, as long as it's coming from you. "

Her walls clamp down around you, she’s already pulsing, her cunt desperate to wring you dry. You’re gliding in and out of her, using her, letting her mold herself so perfectly around you, her juices coating your cock, making it slicker with every thrust.

“Yes—that’s what I fucking need.” Yujin cries out, her voice high-pitched, her head thrown back, and the flimsy plastic isn’t enough anymore, she needs you to hold her steady, to dig your fingers into her hips and nail her into the wall.

Each stroke, each thrust into her cunt, each time you fill her, stretch her—each one could be the last one, the one that has you exploding inside her. Could be the one that overwhelms you, the one that makes you forget where you are, that there’s anything that exists besides fucking this needy, little brat.

It’s the way Yujin clenches around you, tight and perfect, like she’s made just for you, like she’s never been fucked this way before, will never be again.

(Even though you have. Even though you will.)

Each time is like the first, you’re discovering her all over again, peeling back layers of this beautiful, untouchable idol, and finding something new, something beneath the sheen of purity and perfection. Something that makes you want to ruin her, bring her down to your level, to roll around the filth with the rest of you mere mortals.

And Yujin knows it.

There’s a need to make her feel it, and there’s her fucking pigtails, dangling in front of you like a carrot, flicking up and down in front of your face with every thrust. You need to grab them, to yank her back onto your cock, to force her to take it as hard as you want to give it. It’s almost too much to resist.

But even in your haze you know better. Instead, you settle for that choker on her neck, your thumb sliding under the black leather band, feeling the pulse of her blood racing beneath her skin. You grip it, tight, but not too tight. Just enough to make her gasp, to make her cunt tighten, to make her cry out—

“Gah—God—fuck—”

Strangled cries have her screaming, have her needing you to go deeper.

“Fuh—fuck—yes—right there—right—fucking—there—”

She’s chanting, almost sobbing, doing her best to take everything you’re giving her, everything she’s needs, everything she deserves. You’re tapping into that deep, dark desire within her. The one that gets off on being treated rough, the one that loves having a daddy, the one that needs to be nailed to a wall and reduced to nothing but a shaking, mewling mess of climaxes.

You dare to snake a hand under her top, you’re not going to mess her outfit, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get a taste of what’s underneath. Your fingers stretch under her bra, testing the elasticity of the cotton, before finally finding the swell of her breasts, cupping it, filling your hand with it.

Yujin’s moan is all the encouragement you need, a wordless permit to squeeze, to pinch her nipple, roll it between your thumb and forefinger until it’s a hard little nub.

“Oh fuck yes—touch me. You love touching me, don’t you?” She's feeling it, really feeling you, the stimulation of your palm on her breast, the sting on her nipples. “You fucking love my body.”

It’s the damn truth—these past weeks have been a crash course in Yujin, and you haven’t found an inch you didn’t immediately fall in love with. Every curve and dip and line, every soft place and every sharp edge; the weight of her in your arms, the way she fits against you, how she responds to your touch like she’s been waiting for it, for you, for fucking ever.

“Fuck, yes, just like that, daddy, just like that.”

“You’re so fucking perfect, Yujin. So tight, so wet, so fucking mine.”

You slur words into her, words that make her shiver, make her tremble against you, make her so fucking happy to hear them. It’s the words that she loves, hearing you talk like that, like she’s the only one who can make you feel this way. And maybe she is.

So you keep talking, keep whispering those loving, filthy soliloquies into her ear, keep telling her how good her cunt is, how desperate you are for her body, how much cum you have to give her. And her body has an answer for you each time, each syllable a caress that sends shivers down her spine.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Yujin. So beautiful when you’re like this, when you’re all mine.” You can feel it boiling up inside you, that pressure building with every smack of your hips against her ass. “I’m going to cum so hard for you, princess.”

There’s the guitar, the bass, the keys, the band tuning up outside, noise filtering into the stall, faint but unmistakeable, the only thing missing is the beat of the drums, the only thing missing is you.

Yujin’s grinning, knowing she’s the one keeping you occupied, knowing it’s her cunt that you’re buried in, that’s not letting you go.

“If only they knew,” she’s giggling like a schoolgirl (she might as well be with those pigtails), “if only they know how good you’re fucking me right now. They won’t have a fucking clue, will they?”

“Such a fucking tease, Yujin.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and sends a coy, “Who, me?”

“Yes, you, you little slut,” you answer, not bothering to mince your words. Your hand tightens around her choker, not enough to cut off her air, just enough to keep her right there, panting and needy and yours. “You know exactly what you’re doing out there. I see how you dance, how you move. Like you’re forcing them to picture you fucking, making them all want a taste of what they’ll never have.”

The truth makes her shiver against you. “They all wish they could do this to me, all wish they could fuck me and fill me like you are.”

There’s a tension building inside her too, the blend of your words and the reality of the performance she’s going to have to put on afterwards. It has her body tightening like a bow string, ready to snap at any moment.

And you’re going to be the one to release it.

You venture a hand downwards, gracing over her stomach, her belly button, until you reach the wetness of her pussy. There's her clit, ripe for teasing.

You fuck your cock in deeper still, matching the swirl of your finger with the pounding of her cunt, timing it just right to make her leak all over you.

“That feels so—fuck,” Yujin purrs, so, so blissful. “Only you—only you, daddy. No one else will get to have me—fuck—fuck me like this.”

“Whenever I want, any time I want,” you’re telling her, promising her, even though it’s more likely to be the opposite. That it’s Yujin that will seek you out on those lonely nights and those quiet mornings, or just whenever she’s bored and needs someone to fuck all the nerves and stress out of her system.

“They’d be so—gah—so jealous if they knew. I see it when they look at me—how much they want me,” she’s straining to say it, but needs you to hear it, needs you to know it. “I see it—read it in places they think I don’t look.”

She’s lost, lost in a sea of her own musings, thoughts of how everyone with a working pair of eyeballs wants to fuck her. Relishing in the knowledge that she's found the only person that can fuck her right, and that their cock is buried in her cunt, their fingers working her clit.

“They call me a slut, a whore, but that’s not true, is it, daddy? I only fuck you,” Yujin repeats, “I’m only a slut for you.”

There’s an edge to her voice, a raw, animalistic need that makes you want to prove her right. Want to erupt inside her so badly that she’s forced to carry a part of you inside her when she’s on stage.

“Yours to use,” Yujin taunts. “To fuck, to fill...”

Jesus.

“To break.”

Fucking.

“Maybe I should let you rip off my clothes, fuck up my hair—fuck—my makeup. Go out on stage with all the marks you’ve left on me, with all your cum—gah—all over me.”

Christ.

It hits you like a sledgehammer, adding another layer of taboo to this already fucked up situation. The thought of it is fucking wild, ridiculous to contemplate, you’re sure it’s all just part of the game, another button Yujin’s pressing for her own thrill… right?

“Then everyone would know—everyone would know that it’s you—that you’re the one that’s fucking my brains out when no one else is watching.”

You’re all over her and deep inside her, lips on her throat, her jaw, hands at her tits, her cunt. Devouring her, all of her, from those tightly binded pigtails all the way down to her carefully manicured toes.

And then she stops dancing around the subject and demands it.

“Ruin me. Fuck me, please, daddy. Just—kiss me, now.”

“You said—”

But Yujin’s already twisting around at her waist, angling her body so she can seize your lips, smear her lipstick across your teeth, flood your mouth with her tongue. She’s got fistfuls of your shirt, pulling you closer, as if she’s trying to claim you, claim every inch of you as property of An Yujin.

Now that you’ve got permission, you thread your fingers into her hair, gripping tight, pulling her by the pigtails like you’ve been dying to, kissing her like your life depends on it.

You’re getting rougher with her now, tugging her head back, peeling her lips away from yours, sliding your cock out of her. You ignore the whine, ignore the tears. It’s game over for her makeup, for her hair, her outfit. She’s a beautiful, chaotic mess—so shamelessly yours, so perfect in every way.

The separation barely lasts a second, you’re lifting her up, turning her and depositing her atop the toilet seat, spreading her legs wide, putting her on display.

This is the real show—Yujin looking up at you, eyes dark with need, tits out and heaving with every breath; thick, toned thighs glistening with her juices, your precum; and her pussy, all puffy and so ready to be filled again.

“Daddy—” Yujin starts, and ends, as you’re inside her again. Inside her tight, welcoming cunt, her back arching off the cold porcelain, her legs wrapping around you, ankles crossing and locking in place.

Just one hard thrust and you see it—it's in the watering of her eyes, the wobble of her lips.

She’s close, and you’re not far behind.

“Please.”

It’s barely a whisper, nearly lost somewhere between your haggard breaths and the sloppy wet sounds of your bodies colliding.

But you hear it, and it’s all you need.

It’s her pigtails in your hands again, strands wrapped around your fist, and you’re taking a front row seat in the spectacle that is Yujin falling apart.

“Please, fuck me.” There it is again, louder now. “Fuck my tiny little pussy, daddy. Make me yours.”

It’s every single sound out of her mouth, every folding and crumpling of her perfect features, every single drop of sweat sliding down her neck, every time she says fuck me, or break me, or over and over again—make me yours.

You want to savour this, burn this image into your mind, live off the memory of Yujin’s cunt pulsing around you, but there’s no time, no time to do anything but kiss her again; clumsy, hungry, wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Please,” she’s biting into your lip, licking into your mouth, clawing at your shoulders, “say my name.”

“Yujin,” you give it to her, offer her name like a sacrifice. “Yujin, I’m so fucking close.”

The porcelain is doing its best to bear your weight, to survive the punishment you’re hammering into Yujin’s tight, perfect body, to outlast your relentless fucking. “Cum for me daddy, cum for me.”

But it’s her, it’s Yujin that crosses that threshold first, coming apart until she’s nothing but a mess of whimpers, moans, and cries of your name. Of pleases and thank yous, until she’s just a hot, tight cunt getting used for your pleasure.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m cumming—daddy, I can’t—it’s so—”

It’s all there across her face, all in the way she’s shaking, the way her cunt is gripping you, her walls fluttering around your cock like a fucking heartbeat, tightening and releasing in endless waves that crash down on her.

“So good—you’re so good—you’re so—fuck—fuck—cum—cumming—"

Her entire body seizes, tenses all at once, and you’d be worried if you hadn’t seen it countless times before, if you didn’t know to expect her to lose all control of her limbs, to not be able to do anything but stare at you, all teary eyed and feeling so, so good.

But you keep going, hips pumping, cock driving into her, keeping her steady, helping her climb to her peak, filling her tender, creaming cunt over and over again. You want to make this last, want to keep her like this, unable to think about anything but you, unable to think about anything that isn’t your cock.  

“So fucking good for me, Yujin, so good, princess.”

“God, fuck—daddy!”

It’s the praise that pushes her over, unravels her, has her mouth frozen in the shape of your name, like the idea of you is the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. That, and her nails digging into your skin, adding to the tapestry she’s already engraved on your back.

And then the silence comes, and that’s the real killer.

Yujin’s always loud when she gets fucked, always desperate to tell you how good it feels, needy for you to know how good you are to her. But when she cums—when she loses herself on your cock—it’s like she relinquishes all ability to articulate, to make any sound other than a whine or a gasp.

You know what she wants to say—don’t stop, please, don’t stop—know what she wants to tell you—thank you, daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you—and it’s your responsibility to see her through it, to plunge your cock deep into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt, to have her rocking and creaming all over you, again and again and again.

And then she falls apart.

So beautifully, so perfectly.

But you’re not done yet.

Your thrusts come in thick and fast, making the whole stall shudder, making your vision swim. Yujin’s still reeling, snapped back into the land of the living by the force of your fucking.

She’s leaning forward, pressing her forehead to yours, able to form whole words again, whispering something that you can’t quite catch, something sweet and needy and demanding.

“I’m all yours, daddy.”

It’s a trigger she’s been waiting to pull—the moment she says it, you let go.

There’s no holding back anymore, you’ve been fighting it for what feels like hours, trying to keep your shit together, but it’s no use. You’re going to cum, the only question is, where.

You can’t shake the image of her covered with you, painted all over her face, her chin, her neck, her chest, her perfect, perfect tits. You want it, want to see it realised, want to parade her out on that stage looking like a fuck doll—your fuck doll.

But not now, not today.

So instead, you bury yourself inside her, so, so deep. Yujin’s nodding, teasing “deeper, deeper, please,” begging you with her whole body, watching you with those eyes, half-lidded and glazed over, licking at her lips, bracing for you to fill her.

It’s your turn to shake, your turn to let go of that knot in your gut that’s been twisting ever since she dragged you into the bathroom, pushed you into the toilet stall and told you she needed this.

You throb, tighten, the base of your spine tingles, and that’s all the warning you get before you’re cumming, rushing Yujin’s greedy cunt with your hot, sticky load.

“Daddy, daddy—daddy—yes!”

It’s an addiction now, she needs your cum like she needs oxygen, and you need to fill her as if you’ll die if you go another day without pounding her cunt.

“So good, so fucking good inside me—all yours, all yours—"

It’s a thousand blissful little moments stacked on top of each other, her clenching, you throbbing, her grinning, you grimacing, but it all comes together in this heated space that leaves you both boneless, breathless catastrophes.

Yujin’s the first to come down, slumping against you, drooling down your chest, staining your shirt with a sheen of her saliva. Her legs go slack around you, finally letting go of your waist, still shaking in the aftershocks of her orgasm. You can feel your cum leaking from the corners of her cunt, oozing down the inside of her thighs, sliding past her knee, down to her ankles.

A finger under your chin to tilt your head to her, to kiss you. One of those quiet, intimate kisses that will have you spending the night trying to decode its meaning. But, for now, there’s just the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“Thank you, daddy,” Yujin says, so sweetly, so sincerely, and it’s like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Always.”

And slowly, carefully, you’re pulling out of her, even though she’s still clenching, still trying to keep you in. Your cock exits her with an audible slosh, and you need to brace yourself against the stall door, lean into it hard as you take in the sight of Yujin, sprawled on the toilet seat, well fucked and utterly ruined in all the best ways.

She reads your mind, “You really made a fucking mess of me.”

“I only claim fifty percent of that responsibility.”

Yujin pouts, makes sure you’re watching her, and dips her fingers into her defiled cunt. “This is all you, daddy.”

She drags out her digits, holding them up for you, your cum glistening on them like a prize. And then she’s slipping them between her lips, flicking out her tongue to catch a drop that dribbles down her wrist. She licks it all up, slow, savouring it, making sure you’re watching, making sure your eyes are glued to her as she devours the last traces of you from her hand.

That sound she makes, that little “Mmm” of satisfaction has you feeling heady, makes your cock twitch, eager to be back inside her, to fill her right back up so you can watch her do it all over again.

“Cumslut,” is the only word you have her for her, as she slides her fingers in deeper, tickling the back of her own throat like it's the most natural thing to do. Her cheeks hollow out, and after a long, dramatic suck, she pulls her fingers from her lips with a wet pop, all shiny and clean.

She corrects you. “Your cumslut.”

And then a switch is flipped, and she’s putting herself back together.

Yujin’s graceful, at odds with the confines of the cramped bathroom stall she’s just been fucked in. It amazes you every time, the way that she moves. All liquid and soft, as if she’s not really touching anything, as if she’s floating.

She licks droplets of cum off her lips, scoops the remainder up her legs, her thighs, and you’re just staring, gawking at her with something akin to awe, because she’s just so fucking beautiful, so utterly composed, so untouchable.

You help her, you try, help her tug down her shirt, pull up her panties, her shorts, help her slip back into the role of Yujin, the perfect idol, the star that can’t be tarnished by something as dirty as a quickie on top of a toilet seat.

She nods towards the stall door, and you let her past you, help hold her steady as you lead her to the bathroom mirror, give her a chance to assess the damage you've wrought on her. The smudged lipstick, the kiss bruises, the hair sticking to her neck—all evidence of you.

And yet, she smiles, looking back at you over her shoulder. Like she’s got it all under control, like you haven’t ruined her, not really. Not yet.

“Well, that’s something,” she says, her voice a little too breathless for the breeziness she’s aiming for.

But then she’s got her compact out, the tiny bag she's had hidden in her back pocket specifically for occasions like this. You stand back, giving her space to work her magic. Cheeks are patted for colour, lips glossed for plumpness, eyes relined with that dangerously smoky look that makes them pop.

“How do I look?” She turns, looking at you through the mirror, hand on her hip, posing.

“Like you’ve just been fucked in a toilet stall, honestly.”

That makes her laugh. “Good.”

She’s heading to the door, smoothing out her skirt, fixing her top, stopping along the way to give your forearm a quick squeeze.

There’s that look in her eyes again.

One you’ll be revisiting once the show’s over and the doors are closed.

“I’ll take off first,” she says, tying her pigtails back in place. “Wouldn’t want to make it too obvious.”

You catch her hand before she can get away, pulling her face close to you, wiping away a stray bit of cum still shining on her chin. “Good luck out there.”

And there’s that smile. That smile that’s going to make an audience of thousands fall in love with her. That’s going to make you fall in love with her, if you’re not careful. “Don’t need it,” she says, pressing her lips to yours, ruining her lip gloss all over again. “I got you, daddy.”

[ms-demeanor]

any thoughts on the new post that staff went scorched earth on which is now making the rounds abt tumblr live? it basically screenshots all the tos and claims if you've ever opened the app (or in some rbs, unsnoozed live) tumblr has gotten your data. on the one hand i feel like this is fearmongering, but on the other its true that MOST sites have your data as is so its pretty standard. you seem pretty knowledgeable abt data gathering so i was wondering abt your take

This is going to be pretty unkind but watching tumblr users interact with staff and live is a great primer on how conspiracy theories happen.

Nobody on this fucking website knows how to read a ToS, nobody on this website knows how anything fucking works (sorry, this is not a dig at you but how would tumblr "get" your data from you clicking or unclicking live; the only data that tumblr has on you is the data that you have put on tumblr what data do people think that clicking the "new" button is scooping up that is anything beyond interactions or posts or IP addresses which are the things that tumblr already has information about like you do not introduce new information into the tumblr ecosystem by clicking a button you haven't installed anything you haven't changed permissions on your browser if everyone is so goddamned scared about live stealing their data i strongly recommend they stop using anything but public internet through an anonymizer and making sure location data is shut off on all of their devices and anyone who is flipping their shit about the type of data that live is collecting but who is using chrome on any device needs to chill the fuck out about live and flip the fuck out about google)

this is like that post about twitter's content policy that circulated the other day or that post about deviantart's content policy that circulated ten fucking years ago nobody knows how to read legal documents and nobody knows how to read technical documentation and this comes together into unholy matrimony on the no reading comprehension at all moral panic website

live never violated the GDPR it was just rolled out in the US first but the entire userbase decided that because it hadn't been rolled out simultaneously in the EU and the US that it was SO UNSPEAKABLY PRIVACY VIOLATEY THAT THE EU HAD BANNED IT FOR ITS CRIMES with, like, nothing whatsoever backing that up because, again, even at its most intrusive Live collects about as much data as Twitter or Yelp, both of which are *capable* of meeting GDPR standards with that level of data collection (even if musk sometimes makes decisions that violate GDPR).

Live is significantly less intrusive than any facebook product, than Amazon, and than any Google product. If you use youtube logged in, don't worry about live, the horse is out of the barn and tumblr is the least of your worries *regardless* of live. If you regularly use Google as a search engine please god learn how to evaluate and compare risks across platforms because Live is like a coughing baby compared to about a dozen things that most highly online people interact with every single day.

If you don't want to use live don't use live. Clicking the button doesn't magically transfer your secret FBI file to tumblr and even agreeing to the ToS doesn't share anything that tumblr doesn't already have if you don't continue to interact - if you don't interact with live after agreeing to the ToS it's not collecting any data except your non-interaction.

For everyone who is losing it over Live just turn off your goddamned location on your fucking cellphone and turn off your location on your goddamned computers and that's it, you're good, you're fine, relax. If your response to "turn off your location" is "but I need it for _____" then don't worry about Live, whatever "_____" is was already collecting and selling your data.

Do you use an activity tracker? Congrats, you have much, much bigger privacy issues to worry about than tumblr live.

Okay but also I yelled about that post and the very many ways in which it was incorrect in January.

And I happened to take an archive of the page at that time because I'm a paranoid motherfucker.

And if you want my guess as to why staff went "scorched earth" on that post it's probably because if you scroll down to the bottom of the page on the archive, OP calls on everyone looking at the post to send a kind fuck you to the CEO then tagged his tumblr.

If you look at the other posts that went scorched earth in relation to tumblr staff they were also posts that very pointedly directed a lot of ire at a single staff member.

I don't think that any individual tumblr staff members are above criticism and I don't think that staff as a whole is above criticism but part of learning to read a ToS is understanding that someone can be shitty and vague and use TERF talking points and skirt the line and be technically okay under the ToS while someone can have a legitimate gripe about another user being horrible and manage to violate the ToS by accidentally spinning up a harassment campaign or suicide baiting someone.

Shitty people like nazis and terfs thrive on being edge cases. They are very good at finding a boundary and standing juuuuuuuuust on this side of it and going "la la la I'm not violating the ToS, you can't stop me!" and that blows and it leads to a lot of people encountering a lot of shitty stuff on a lot of websites but personally I'm pretty glad that there's a lot of gray area because when you cut out gray area that's when you see things like It's Going Down getting banned as extremist content alongside white supremacists. Please continue to report nazis and terfs, and when possible go deep into their pages to report because a pattern of behavior is more likely to get recognized as hate speech than a single post that gets reported a hundred times. Please block as many people who it's harmful for you to interact with as possible because it's clear that staff is not going to do the kind of work protecting users that users would like staff to do.

However I just can't get angry on behalf of a blogger who got nuked for saying "Hey everyone who hates this feature that we all hate please go tell the CEO to fuck himself at this URL specifically" - that is an extremely clear violation of the ToS because it is absolutely targeted harassment.

So now tumblr-the-userbase is going off on its merry conspiracy way skipping through fields and lacking reading comprehension and saying "users are getting banned for reporting the crimes of tumblr live and its gdpr violations" and ignoring the fact that the post was nuked because the last line was saying "hey everyone, let's all individually tell the CEO to fuck off in messages sent directly to him that are certainly not going to include any threats, exaggerations, gore, etc. etc. etc."

If I were to make a post that had 50k notes and the last line was "and while you're at it, please send tumblr-user-ms-demeanor a personalized message telling them why they're a terrible person so they know what we think of them" it would absolutely be reasonable to say that was harassing that user. And that post did it with the CEO. Who is not above criticism (and I have my criticisms! I don't think he really gets tumblr and that's a problem!), but jesus fucking christ don't tag the goddamned CEO or any other staff member in a call to action asking users to send them messages saying "fuck off" this is literally the stupidest thing I've ever seen a tumblr conspiracy theory coalesce around.

Anyway thank you for giving me a place to vent i've been getting more and more pissed about this for three days. Everyone feel free to kindly tell tumblr user ms demeanor to fuck off.

[4-the-l0ve-0f-art]

“The Captain’s beloved…wait, what?!”

Capitano x Gender Neutral Reader one shot

Work count: 2.2k

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship

Rating: General Audiences

Trigger Warnings: none

Summary: The fatui discover that their Captain does, in fact, have a life outside of work and gossip between the ranks ensues. (Cue silly fatui shenanigans)

Ao3 Link

Capitano, the Fatui’s first lord and harbinger, contrary to popular belief, was respected and admired by his platoons rather than feared. There was a widespread misunderstanding both in and outside the organization that the Captain was a harsh and dangerous leader due to his mysterious nature. However, the people who worked under him knew better as they had grown to admire him the more they interacted with him.

He held himself with pride and treated his soldiers the same way he wanted to be treated: with respect and dignity. And in return, they learned the depths of this man’s strategic genius and strength. His strength was unmatched in combat and led his people well with good decision making and training. They could only hope to be as good as him in his various fields of expertise.

He was strict, and quick to discipline unruly fatuus, yes, but that did not stop others under his command from admiring him. And to emphasize this even more, it was clear that his fellow harbingers and even the Tsarista respected him, whether their goals and morals aligned with his or not. However, this made the people around him curious about aspects related to him outside of his work and title. He was a revered public figure and people were naturally curious about his personal life.

This is where you came in. You, his one and only beloved, the only person who held his whole heart in your hands. Not many people knew of this, but the Captain was a gentle man at his core, and you had somehow managed to uncover all of his being and see him fully as himself, without his title, without his strength. You knew this man inside and out, just as he had come to know you. It was a mutual love, one which even he did not know he was capable of feeling, and that made him all the more enamored with you.

This, however, people did not know. So you can imagine the surprise on their faces when you, an ordinary civilian, came to the Zapalyarny Palace and asked for directions to the Captain’s office. The clerk at the desk looked at you blankly, as if she were staring at an anomaly. This prompted you to try and explain yourself.

“..I’m here to drop off his lunch. So, if you don’t mind..?” You asked.

No response. The blank stare continued.

You already knew that you looked out of place in this grand palace with no Fatui uniform or mask on. But you were determined to make sure your beloved got his lunch, which you had specifically decided to make for him that day as a special treat for how hard he had been working while preparing for a business trip to Natlan.

“Excuse me..?” You said a little louder this time. That seemed to snap her back to reality.

“You cannot enter this place, only authorized personnel are allowed inside. If you’d like to meet our lord, please book your appointment accordingly.” She replied on autopilot, as if she’d rehearsed the same sentence multiple times.

“I’m sorry, I know you have your duties, but I’m here just to drop off his lunch. You can check with him yourself if you’d like..”

“He’s busy at the moment, please leave your package here and we will deliver it to him.” She replied. It seemed like you were being studied like a suspicious person who was attempting to sneak in.

Fair enough.. you thought. I was hoping I would get to spend a few minutes with him and see how he was holding up at work but that can wait till he’s home. And she’s not wrong, I did drop by without notice, so it makes sense for them to be suspicious.

Fatui soldiers passing by had also been glancing at the ongoing conversation at the front desk, eyeing the lunch box wrapped in patterned cloth in your hands with raised eyebrows. You decided to leave the food there, getting one last word in before leaving.

“If you could, please make sure it reaches him soon. It’s his favorite meal and I would prefer it didn’t go cold before he ate it.”

And then everyone watched as your ordinary self left, unaware of the number of eyes on you.

…

A pyroslinger skirmisher stationed near the entrance asked dumbfoundedly, “Did..did they just say that was the Captain’s favorite meal? Our lord harbinger?”

A cryogunner skirmisher who had also watched the whole thing go down as he clocked in asked another question right after, in the same state of confusion as the previous fatuus. “..Has anyone seen them around before? They don’t look like someone who would be seen standing next to Lord Capitano.”

And as the just as confused clerk left the scene towards his office with your goods in hand, excited chatter filled the halls.

Chaos would be the right word for it. You had left chaos in your wake with a simple visit to his workplace.

…

That night, as you and Capitano settled in to relax in your shared home after a long day of work, you asked him how his lunch was.

“It was delicious, my love.” He replied, gently caressing your face with his hands while looking down at you through his mask. “It felt like a treat to have your home cooked meal at work. You didn’t have to, but thank you. It made my day.”

You smiled and took his hands in yours as you nuzzled into his touch. “I’m glad you liked it. I was going to give it to you myself but I couldn’t enter the place.”

“You should visit more often. I’ll let the security personnel know to let you enter so you can come and go as you like.” He paused, clearing his throat. “..Seeing you in the middle of a long day would bring me relief.”

You felt slightly flushed at his straightforward choice of words. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being so..open with me. But I like it, of course. I would like that as long as I’m not disturbing you at work.”

Capitano chuckled. It was like the angels decided to bless you today, really. “I will always make time for you, my love. Just as you do for me.”

You beamed. “Okay, okay, let’s get some sleep now, Mr. Loverman. We still have work tomorrow in case you’re forgetting.”

A kiss on the forehead and the rustling of sheets was all you heard before you were whisked away to dreamland.

…

Unbeknownst to you and Capitano, however, word about you spread like wildfire across the next few days between the excited fatui soldiers. Some from even the different departments under the other harbingers might’ve heard. The person who looked like a civilian, dropping lunch packed in pretty cloth for their Lord did not go unnoticed.

This was the only time someone unrelated to work had been seen asking for their Captain and questions about your relation to him were on the tip of everyone’s tongue during break times.

Two fatuus gossiped as they watched the Captain spar in training with his fellow soldiers, admiration evident in their eyes.

“Someone dropped off lunch for him? I thought he would be too busy having meals with high rankers from across Teyvat.”

And after a short pause the other replied, “Dude, hold on, does he even eat? I thought he was superhuman or something.”

“I know you’re dumb, but I didn’t know you were that dumb, my guy.”

“Hey! Just saying… anyway, are we even sure the people weren’t hallucinating when they saw the person drop lunch off for him?”

“I heard it was his favorite meal, freshly cooked, apparently. Who knows, man? Maybe it was a fan or something. Our lord does have a pretty big following, y’know.” The fatuus stated proudly.

Their lively chatter continued until they were called back into training.

…

A few days later, as soon as you found the time, you decided to visit Capitano at work with yet another home cooked meal. You wanted to make most of your time with him before he traveled to Natlan and having meals together would be a good way to wind down a little.

You entered the palace yet again, determined to meet him this time. It should be fine, right? He did say he would inform them..

And as you had hoped so, he did, in fact, inform them. As soon as the same clerk from before saw you, it seemed like her eyes were bulging out of her sockets. All you had to do was reach the desk and she confirmed your name and led you to the training grounds, where he was currently working. It seemed like some sort of training session was in the works, with all kinds of combat taking place between the soldiers in the distance.

Before you could ask her if you were even allowed to enter this place, she bowed and hurried back in the direction of the front desk. The strange behavior didn’t go unnoticed by you but now you had to find your way to Capitano across the opposite side of the field. Since you were here at last, why not just see things through?

The middle of the field was the most densely occupied with various people fighting in different groups, while what you recognised as skirmishers were practicing their aim at dummy targets on the right side. The soldiers were hard at work even in the harsh everlasting winter of Snezhnaya. The left side of the field, however, seemed less crowded compared to the rest as people seemed to be setting up their gear or resting. Your Captain, opposite to you across the field, was busy conversing with a group of soldiers who seemed to be listening to him attentively.

You decided your best option was to take the left side. It would be easier to walk through the calm atmosphere over there.

As you made your way through the crowd, people started to notice you. They were pretty intimidating with their weapons and muscled bodies at display so you decided to be extra careful to not bump into anyone and quickly made your way across, and as you got closer, Capitano’s voice became clear.

“The heat in Natlan will be unbearable. You will be stationed in the wild all day, so make sure you have the appropriate supplies to get you through the day. It is of the utmost importance that...what, what is it? Why are you all staring at me like that?”

The group’s attention shifted from him to you, as you stood behind him and tapped his shoulder.

“Capitano, do you have a moment..?” You asked as he turned around, his armor clinking from the movement.

“Oh, my love!” He exclaimed in a soft voice. “What brings you here? Hold on, let's get you back inside. You’ll catch a cold here.”

The group (and everyone nearby) watched in complete awe as his demeanor from before completely switched from authoritative to somewhat… joyfull? Was Lord Capitano being affectionate?

“I brought you lunch, but I can leave it in your office if you’re busy right now.” You said hurriedly, not wanting to keep him busy.

“No, that won’t do, my love.” He took the package from you and placed his hand on your back. “Eat with me inside.”

He then turned back to the group, who jolted straight up at his sudden change. “Finish the supply preparations once you’re done training. All of you are dismissed.”

“Y-yes, my lord!” They replied in unison and bowed. And yet again, they watched in awe as he guided you back inside the palace, ever so gently, one hand on your back and the other carrying a box wrapped up in a floral patterned cloth. A stark contrast to his all black and blue outfit.

…

As soon as both of you were out of sight, chaos erupted yet again, more loudly this time, with multiple voices talking over the other.

“”My love?” Did he just call them “my love?” Did I hear that right?!”

“What was that? What did we just witness?”

“That was so romantic, holy shit! Was that the same person we take orders from everyday? What the hell?!”

“DID THE LORD HARBINGER JUST… GET VISITED BY THEIR SPOUSE?”

“I thought that ring on his finger was for fashion…”

And that is how they found out that their beloved Captain, who seemed to have no soul outside of his work, was a married man with a loving spouse.

This proceeded to be the hottest gossip in the Fatui for the rest of the month, until they discover more about you from another future visit.

…

BONUS:

Sitting in the privacy of his office, you enjoyed your meal together.

“..You seem to work with very strange people, Capitano.” You said to him.

“Do I? How so?” He asked before you fed him a bite.

“Hm.. actually, nevermind. It would be even stranger if they weren’t strange, considering they work with you.” You chuckled.

You enjoyed your time together and went back home, leaving your beloved in confusion from your conversation, and the sight of you fondly feeding him for him to think about for the rest of the day.