#BUT IF HE'S AT THE POINT WHEN HE CAN DO THAT WHY BOTHER!

[makismei]

thinking about toji with a sensitive girl who runs away before she cums, saying it’s too much and she can’t take it! cw: hints of sadism & machoism, unintentional edging, squirting, he’s pretty sweet ^.^

“baby, c’mon, you’re making this harder for yourself.” he chides, dragging your twitchy hips back. your thighs stay shut and he sends you a pointed glare, “what’s this?”

“toji,” you sniffle, “s’ too much, i can’t do it.”

with your teary eyes and quivering legs, toji can’t help but be mean. you’re so cute. it might be the death of him.

“want to use your special little word?” he asks lowly, already knowing your answer.

you shrink in on yourself, “n-no…”

he hums, a sick grin tugging on his lips. “i’m gonna need something more convincing than that, baby.”

you pout. he’s teasing you. he likes to see you like this.

shyly, you open your thighs, revealing your soaked cunt to him. his eyes lock in on your needy hole, twitching and drooling all over the bedsheets. “please, toji, make me cum..”

“aw, how sweet. saying please too, how can i say no?” he mutters, thick hand caressing your thigh, trailing closer to where you need him.

“you’re not gonna run this time, right?” he pats your pussy, entertained by the way you tense and how you force your legs to stay open.

“m’ not!” he knows you’re lying. but it’s fine, he likes testing how far you can go.

he thumbs your clit, watching you intently. you’re staring down at his hand, anticipating his next move. slowly, he pushes two fingers inside, groaning to himself when you squeeze down on his digits, “what a slutty cunt,” he grouses, “see doll, she’s begging to cum, but you’re not letting her.”

toji prods around, still thumbing your clit and you think you’re going to cry.

“hold your legs back,” he doesn’t even bother looking at you, “your legs are trying to close on me.”

you know what’s gonna happen if you hold your legs back. but also, what happens if you don’t. you shake your head, defiant. “i don’t wanna…”

the man hums, amused. “you’re gonna be like that?” you nod, testing him.

“hmm, i think m’ done being nice to you.” your pupils morphing into hearts at his words, barely even realizing that he’s putting a hand on your thigh, pushing it down to make room for him. he locks your other leg underneath him.

his fingers know exactly where to poke, thumb still on your clit. he’s so precise, aiming for that one spot again and again.

naturally, because he’s already tried to make you cum a few times, it doesn’t take long for you to know you’re gonna cum.

“don’t.” he scolds, already knowing what you’re up to, “don’t hold it, cum.”

it’s overwhelming, you’re not sure if you’re holding it intentionally, but you like it when he forces you to cum anyway. “i c-can’t, toji, toji no!”

you’re trying to squirm away. away from the onslaught of pleasure. toji glares at you and then you hear it.

a soft buzz and you look down, mortified. he’s still fingering you, despite the fact you’re clenching down so hard he can barely move his fingers.

“wait.. wait toji, baby, please,” you beg, “i’ll cum, i’ll cum now. but plea—easeeee!”

“i’ve given you enough chances,” he frowns, pressing the little toy against your clit, he continues driving his digits into you. “c’mon baby, make me happy.”

you’re sobbing hysterically, unable to get away from the pleasure. toji laughs, “let go, i dunno why you’re doing this to yourself.”

writhing on the bed is useless because you can’t escape his hold—teetering on the edge of orgasm is making your mind go numb.

“n-no, m’ gonna cum, toji i can’t hold it! it’s gonna come ouuuttt!” he doesn’t let up, shaking the toy and watching your back arch up.

“hands.” he scolds and you immediately withdraw your clammy fingers from his own, “that’s good, now c’mon, you know what i want.”

it’s paralyzing, left leg shaking uncontrollably underneath him while you babble incoherently. he keeps a watchful eye, working you to it. he feels his cock drooling pre at the sight of you—the feeling of you falling apart on his fingers is making his mind hazy.

your vision whites. toji whistles lowly, watching you splash liquid all over his lower tummy, soaking his boxers. he tosses the vibrator aside, thick fingers gently working you through it.

you’re practically screeching, becoming so fidgety that toji has to use his free hand to scoop up your wrists, keeping you at his mercy.

“shh, baby, that’s good. that feels good, don’t it?” when your body relaxes, he pops his fingers out, shamelessly putting them in his mouth. he leans over you, pressing his weight onto you.

burly hands hold your face, grinning at your bleary eyes and tear soaked cheeks. “hey, gorgeous,” he hums sweetly, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. you’re panting, trying to catch your breath and he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but it’s in his nature to be a little mean.

pressing his tongue into your open mouth, you moan, unable to keep up and he breathes out a laugh, pulling away. he knocks his nose against yours, praising you quietly.

weak arms throw themselves over his neck, keeping him close to you. you can feel his bulge twitch, a familiar warmth beginning spread over your body.

“tojiii~” you tease, “i think your little friend wants some attention too.”

he’s amused, grinning wolfishly. “haven’t you had enough, lady?”

you pretend to ponder, “i can’t say for sure.”

“you started this,” he pulls away, manhandling your body so you’re on your knees, face smushed into the pillow, “i think you’re biting off more than you can chew, doll.”

[fungateshortcakes]

Tummy ache

Do I have kids? No. Do I want kids? Fuck no. Did I still write this because dad logan makes me feel a certain type of way? HELL YES

Pairing: Worst!Logan x single mom!Reader

Summary: It's late and your little daughter Laura won't stop crying and screaming, no matter what you do. You take her to your best friend Wade, who lives in the same apartment buildung. Will he and Logan be able to help you?

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warning/tags: english is not my first language, fluff, slight missunderstandings, Wade bc he needs a warning, implied sexual themes, friends to lovers, just cuteness, Laura doesn't exists as an adult like in the movie, rushed ending?, leave me alone I finished this at midnight

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Logan was snoring on the couch in Wades apartment when loud, frantic knocks sounded on the door. He grumbled in annoyance as he turned, pulling a pillow over his head.

He heard Wade skip to the door in a pair of white underpants with hearts on them and a loose, grey wolverine fangirl shirt. "Must be the horse dildo I ordered" he spoke happily as if it was the most normal thing to say. Once Wade opened the door, the piercing shrieks of a baby crying echoed through the apartment.

You held your one year and a half old daughter in your arms, her face red as she cried into your shoulder. Wade noted that your hair was a mess and you seemed awfully tired. Well- it was late and on any other day, you and your daughter would already be sleeping. But there was clearly something that bothered her. She had been crying and screeching and in discomfort for an hour without you finding what caused it or how to fix it.

You tried feeding her, but she wouldn't open her mouth for the spoon. You tried reading to her, but she would always push away the books. You changed her diapers in case her sensitive skin was irritated by the dampness, but she hadn't peed. You didn't know why she was so distressed and nothing seemed to distract her from whatever it was that made her cry.

You were desperate. And while your best friend Wade wasn't really...fond of kids, which you couldn't blame him for, you still went to him for help. You never truly wanted kids yourself. But when the condom broke and your ex left you upon finding out you were pregnant, you were stuck with your baby. And now you wouldn't trade her for the world. Except in times where she was screaming with no appearant reason. "Hey Wade, I'm so sorry to bother you guys this late at night, but Laura, she won't stop crying. I've tried everything and I don't know what to do" you croaked, rocking the small child in your arms, shushing her to no avail.

Wade brought you inside so you wouldn't stay outside in the hallway any longer. No need for some neighbors to peek their head out of their doors to see what was going on.

In situations like these, Wade could be oddly serious and actually tried to help. He knew you were insecure because of your baby. You didn't want to be a nuisance or burden to anyone because you knew that your daughter could be a lot. Kids were high maintanance and you didn't want to make people feel like they were obligated to make room and drop everything once you arrived with your child. You couldn't expect from anyone that they were okay with you bringing your kid over. But Wade wanted you to know that even though he didn't like kids, you were his best friend and Laura had been nothing but a sweetheart so far. You were always welcome in his apartment.

Wade kicked Logan from the couch "Get your fat ass off the couch, the Lady needs a place to sit" he loudly said over Lauras crying. Logan groaned. You sat on the sofa and tried to take up as little space as possible. "Im sorry Logan, didn't want to disturb your sleep." you apologized meekly. "I can..I can move to the chair here" you muttered, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair that replaced an armchair, which had recently been thrown out of the apartment due to mysterious stains and various rips and cuts in the fabric.

You had met Logan a few times since he lived with Wade and Althea. And you would be a liar if you said he didn't catch your eye. He was tall, broad and very handsome, pretty much right up you alley. But there was no way he was looking for a chaotic single mother that barely had her life together and struggled to raise an unplanned child because her ex left her. Yeah, no. You were miserable. Logan didn't need any of that.

Adding to that, he always seemed to avoid you when Laura was near. You just thought he didn't like kids, which was totally fair. Truthfully, Logan liked kids and had always wanted some of his own, but it just...never happened. With him being the worst wolverine and all.

Then why did he avoid you and your baby?

Simply said, he didn't want to scare her. Most kids looked at him like he was some sort of big, bad monster. Some ran away, some started crying, others hid from him behind their parents when he walked by. He wasn't good with children either because they never let him close enough before getting scared. He was afraid that Laura would react the same way like all children did. He didn't want you to back away once you realised that Laura didn't approve of him.

He couldn't bear only seeing you from afar.

As you were about to stand up from the couch, Logan stopped you. "No, its fine. Stay on the couch. I can move" he replied and you felt another pang as he moved away from you again.

Wade leaned over the couch, looking down at Laura who was still wailing uncontrollably. You sighed deeply, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. "Why won't you stop crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?" you nearly sobbed as well. You were so tired of this, so tired of this sound. You felt so helpless and stupid. "Maybe she wants some food? We have some left-over pizza, I can grind that stuff up into a slurry for her or something" Wade suggested.

You softly shook your head. "She doesn't want to eat, I tried. I also tried to read her a bedtime story, but she just push me away. I also changed her diapers but nothing helped" you rasped, ready to just fall asleep on the spot.

Wade reached down to get your crying daughter out of your arms. "How about you get some sleep while Wolvie and I take care of Laura? Maybe we'll find out what's rubbing her the wrong way." Wade said, cooing to your crying baby. You fell onto the couch, closing your eyes. "I can't just sleep when she is crying" you mumbled, clearly deadly tired.

"We'll take care of her. You go sleep" Logan drawled and his deep voice soothed you even more, made you even more sleepy. It was so easy to let your body betray your mind and you hated it. "Okay..." you whispered, too tired to argue. And before you could snuggle into the couch cushions, you felt two strong arms slip under your body and lifting you up as if you weighted nothing. You were so tired, you couldn't even gasp or protest as Logan brought you into Wades room, your senses enveloped with his scent.

He carefully lowered you down onto the matress, covering you up with a blanket. "Sleep tight, love. We'll take great care of your little one, so you don't have to worry about a thing" he drawled softly and only after closing the door behind him did he hope that you hadn't catched his slip-up, that he had called you love.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

In had been another two hours of constant crying and screaming. The kid must be exhausted from all the crying, but she still didn't stop. If you asked Logan, it became even worse.

"God, can you shut up for a minute? I am trying everything here!" Wade stressed, bouncing Laura in his arms and patting her back. "Don't tell your mom I said that" he whispered right after. Laura wailed and pushed herself away from Wade with her tiny hands, which were surprisingly really strong. She squirmed in his grasp, desperate to be set down.

"This is how you thank me? I've worked my ass off the past hour to get everything to your liking and now you push me away?" he grumbled, but set her down with a loud 'ouch!' after she started to scratch him.

Her tiny feet waddled against the livingroom floor as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She had a tummy ache, but she couldn't communicate that with anyone. There were a few words she knew and could say- cat, dog, mama. But she didn't have the words to say that something was hurting.

Logan sat on the couch and watched her as she stood a few feet away from him with her red face, screaming together the whole neighborhood. He sighed deeply, the sound making his ears ring. Then, out of nowhere, she waddled over to him.

"No, no, bub. Not a good idea. Get back to uncle Wade" he told her, scooting up the couch a bit more. He could have just stood up and walk away- why didn’t he? Laura stood between his legs now, demanding uppies from him as she cried. Logan shook his head, ready to call Wade from the kitchen, when Laura began screetching, stretching herself to Logan, standing on her small tip toes.

With a huff, he picked her up, his big and warm hands eveloping her small body. He leaned back against the couch with her on his lap. To his surpise, she quieted down. "You okay now, bub?" he asked her, jumping as she snuggled herself against his chest. Due to his mutation, Logan was always very warm. His whole body was like a heater and that warmth soothed Lauras tummy ache, unbeknownst to him.

The apartment was quiet now, only a few hiccups and sighs coming from Laura as she let her stomach ache be washed away by Logans cozy warm body. He didn't know what to do! One minute he was tortured by her screams and now she was napping on him. On him! Out of all people, she chose to rest on him.

"Is she dead!?" It was now Wades turn to yell as he came stumbling into the kitchen because it suddenly went all quiet. Logan didn't answer him nor did he move a muscle, too scared to wake your baby up.

"What the fuck" Wade blurted out upon seeing something he had never thought he would ever witness in his entire life. Logan shushed him, making Wade frown. He came closer, his face next to Lauras sleeping one "You little cheating slut" he sharply whispered, earning himself a shove from Logan. "Seriously, did you knock her out? Why is she sleeping all of a sudden?" Wade asked with crossed arms.

"I don't know. She wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Then she stopped crying and fell asleep" Logan explained, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he watched the slow rise and fall of Lauras breath, her tiny hand tightly holding onto his shirt.

"Wow" Wade said. "You're the baby whisperer" Logan shot him a glare.

Wade went on a rant about how everything would have been easier if Logan took Laura from the start before finally falling asleep draped over the chair, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Logan thought about bringing Laura to you so she could sleep with her mom. But as he tried to peel her off of him, she started fuzzing and whimpering until she was laying back on his chest.

He sighed deeply. Well, gotta make the best of the situation, huh? With a grunt, he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep with a broad hand securily holding Laura on top of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You woke up well rested. Weird. You haven't slept this good since Laura had been born.

Laura!

You jumped awake, stumbling over some stuff in Wades room before you reached the door. It was quiet as you opened it and you were met with the sight of Logan, the fucking Wolverine, sound asleep with your daughter cuddled up on him as if he was some kind of big teddy.

Your heart soared in your chest, your stomach did flips and summer saults. And your pussy throbbed. Couldn't help it, seeing him with your baby did something to your ovaries. It was...so cute. You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with them, trace patterns onto his pecks while Laura would squeak out an adorable smile-

"Mama" Laura squealed suddenly, flashing you a smile with her few teeth. "Hey there, baby" you cooed to her, kneeling down next to the couch to be eye-level with her. She smiled brightly, whatever it was that had bothered her yesterday completely forgotten. "You seem happy using uncle Logan as a pillow" you said to her, kissing her chubby cheek.

Logan started waking up, only registering Laura at first. "You slept well, bub?" he muttered with a deep sleep laced voice, gently rubbing Lauras small head with his large hand that easily fitted around the back of her head.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for asking" you giggled softly, amused by the way Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon noticing that you were there too, witnessing how he went soft for your daughter. An embarrassed blush krept onto his face and he cleared his throat, sitting up and avoiding your gaze. "Sorry, she...she only stopped crying when she sat on my lap"

You smiled softly at him. "Seems like she really likes you, then." and I like you too, you wanted to add, but didn't. "She is usually not that touchy with people she barely met" you said and hearing your reassurance- the fact that Laura seemed to like him- it warmed his heart. But he would never admit that.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered" Logan replied with the hint of a smile, his gaze soft as you lost yourself in his eyes, Lauras babbling fading into the background. For a moment, you let yourself think about what could have been. This baby, it could have been Logans and yours. She could have been born because two people truly loved each other. Did Logan love you? You doubted it. But when he looked at you like that, you allowed yourself to be fooled.

"I don't know how you manage to fuck each other just with your eyes, but get a room. There are children present" Wade suddenly said outraged, covering Mary Puppins eyes.

You picked up Laura from Logans lap, holding her against your hip to bring distance between you, Logan and Wades teasing. Logan cleared his throat, clearly disappointed.

"I am so, so thankful that you guys helped me. I don't know what you did or what was wrong with her, but she seems all better now. Is there anything I can do to show my gratitude? you asked, gently bouncing Laura in your arms.

Logan shook his head "No need, bub" he grumbled in his deep voice. He would have done this a thousand times if it meant he could hold your baby in his arms as if it was his. "Make that creamy ass mac and cheese and my life is yours. That stuff tastes and sounds better than any pussy" Wade chimes in, making you laugh. You promised to invite both of them over for dinner sometimes this week and they happily agreed. Laura squeaked out a cute "bye!" before you went back to your own apartment again.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Ever since that day, visits to either Wades or your apartment became more frequent and Laura couldn't be happier seeing Logan pretty much every day. She would stick to his leg from the minute she saw him and to the last second before he left. It was adorable and made you fall even deeper in love with someone you could never have.

Wade made it his mission to steal Laura away from you and Logan. Partly because he wanted you to spend more time alone, and to teach her some words since he was her 'uncle' after all.

Laura sat on his lap, staring down at Wades phone. He looked over her head. He had a picture open that showed you, Laura, Logan and Wade. "And who is that?" he pointed to you, earning a delighted squeal from Laura as she pointed to your smiling face on the picture as well "Mama!" she babbled. Wade cheered her on, applauding her. "That's right, and that is Dada. Dada" he pointed to Logan. Laura recognized him, smiling brightly and giggling, but she didn't say anything. "Can you say that? Dada?" Wade asked in the best baby voice he could muster. But still, Laura wouldn't say anything. "Come on, say Dada. Da-da" Wade tried one last time, but Laura unwrapped himself from his arms to go and play with some toys scrattered on the floor. He huffed in frustration. It was easier to teach kids swear words than this.

Two days later, the day for the dinner came and someone rang your doorbell. You left Laura to play on her playmat and went over to the door, opening it a slit before realising that it was Logan. You fixed your hair with flushed cheeks, you hadn't expected him to come this early, you had just started the dinner preperations. "Oh, hey Logan. What are you doing here? Dinner was planned in two hours" you said, gingerly letting him into your apartment which you hadn't had the time to tidy up yet. Logan wasn't the guy to judge, but you still felt insecure.

"I thought I'd help you with the cooking and all. Look after Laura so you can work in peace" he said, knowing that he was just here to spend more time with you and Laura alone to give him the feeling of having his own little domestic family that he will never actually experience.

You smiled at him "That's very nice of you, but Laura is actually being very umcomplicated today" speaking of which, you showed him that your kid was silently playing with her toys. Upon noticing you and Logan, she squealed and stood up slowly, trying to keep her balance, before she waddled up to him excitedly. "There's my little pumpkin" he drawled, bending down to pick her up swiftly.

"Dada!" she giggled, making you an Logan stop in your tracks. "Did you hear that?" he asked you, looking over at you with a shocked expression. You frowned. You had never taught her to say that. "Sweetheart, who is that?" You asked the little girl, tapping Logans arm, just to be sure you hadn't heard her incorrectly. "Dada" she squeaks again, playing with his coarse beard.

You both looked at each other in disbelieve and for a second, you feared Logan woulf shove Laura into your arms and leave. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know where she got that from" you tried to apologize, but the rejection from Logan never came.

He held her lovingly to his chest, giving her forhead a kiss. It made your heart pound faster. "No, it's okay" he reassured you, his large hand enveloping the back of Lauras head. "I...I could be her dad. If you want me to be" his question struck you like lightning, it was like a damn marriage proposal.

A marriage proposal you would never say no to. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer and worrying he had overstepped.

"Yes. Be the father she never had. And please be the love I always wanted" you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, your lips brushing against the other and it was nothing you had ever felt before. You had kissed your ex- but never did it feel like this. So right. His free hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss until Laura decided to pull at your shiny necklace.

You smiled at her, taking her into your arms. "Do you want to play with daddy while I make mac and cheese?" you asked your daughter and minutes later, Logan had brought her playmat and some toys into the kitchen to sit beside her on the ground to watch and entertain her. It was like nothing had changed. Little did you know, Logan had accepted the little girl as his daughter way before today, even if you guys had never confessed.

And as you stole glances down to Logan, who was already looking at you with these half lidded bedroom eyes, you knew that after dinner, Logan and you would be trying for Lauras sibling.

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I really hoped you liked this, I feel like I've rusted a bit. Still got a lot of smut ideas and fics open that I need to finish. Wish me luck☹ if you saw any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Leave me alone im tired

Btw, thanks to @buck-star for motivation me to finally finish this <33

[ghouljams]

Sin Summer (Price) Rating: E Words: 6.2k Tags: Price x f!reader, Under communicated Kink, Dom!Price, sub!Reader, Spanking, rope bondage, Captain kink, forced orgasms, edging, improvised gags, vibrators, pussy inspections, drooling, boot licking, floor licking, breath play, nipple play, slapping, unconventional interrogations, knife play, squirting, sub drop Summary: You finally meet the Captain, and get a taste of why you'd been kept secret so long. <part 6 ao3

Ghost is sound asleep when you wake up. Fuck you’re starving. You didn’t realize you’d fucked through dinner until you were drifting off to sleep, but now you’re positively famished. You don’t know how Ghost is sleeping through it, big guy like him probably eats the army out of house and home. Doesn’t matter, you suppose, you need a snack. You know there’s a kitchen sort of thing in the rec room, Johnny pointed it out when he and Ghost were showing you around. You doubt anyone will notice food missing, and they’ll just blame it on a recruit if they do.

You nod to yourself, plan settled, and begin the process of extricating yourself from Ghost’s arms. You nearly fall out of bed just trying to untangle your legs from his. You’re forced to offer a quiet “need to pee” when all your struggling wakes him. He grabs a pillow and slips back into slumber with a grumble of something; you give yourself a thumbs up for not eating shit trying to get up.

You check that the hall is clear before heading towards the rec room. Ghost told you no one was likely to bother you, or really be in this section of the barracks, but it still made you a little nervous thinking you could get caught. As much as you enjoyed Gaz’s lesson in knocking, you’re not sure you want a recruit trying something similar. Best to make sure the coast is clear. Satisfied with your surveillance, you make your way down the hall.

The tile sticks to your bare feet, making your footsteps echo through the empty hall. It’s also: super cold. You should have worn socks. You’re regretting your choice in sleepwear. Honestly Ghost is a fucking radiator, the man puts out heat like it’s his fucking job, so you’ve been forced into shorts and a tanktop to avoid overheating. Now, however, you realize the British special forces must be trying to ice out any night time guests. This place is cold as hell. You miss your giant radiator.

You stop in front of the little galley kitchen, arms wrapped around your torso to keep warm, and take stock of your options. You could try the cabinets, but there’s no guarantee you’ll find anything on your first try, and too much rummaging around might alert someone. Fridge it is. You crouch down and tug the door open, scanning the populated shelves until you land on a box of fruit cups. Perfect. You grab a random cup, close the fridge, and find yourself in the all too familiar position of being on your knees in front of a strange man.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on around my base sweetheart?” He asks, tipping his head. The heady scent of tobacco lingers around him, his body filling the entrance to the galley kitchen. He’s got a neatly trimmed beard, and an air of authority that you think you should probably find more intimidating than you do sexy. You peel open your fruit cup and try not to slurp the juice from it too loud. Daddy vibes. Oh shit this is mandarin orange, sweet.

“-Havin’ a pretty thing comin’ and goin’ as she pleases-” he’s still talking, “-this isn’t a hotel-”

“Or a brothel,” you finish for him, fishing out an orange slice from the little plastic cup and dropping it into your mouth. You suck the juice from your fingers with a pop. The man hums, his eyes narrowed on you.

“Need you to fill out a few things,” He tells you finally. Your eyes drop to his crotch. The way he stands… you bet it’s heavy. Yeah, you can think of a few things he could fill out too.

“Like what?” You ask, fishing for another orange slice.

“Visitor logs, NDAs, might even send you to medical for a work-up.” You can feel his eyes roaming over you, watching you lick sugar water off your fingers. You hum, considering his request.

“Or what?” You grin, “You’ll punish me?”

That earns you a long silence. The man’s jaw working through the glint in his eyes as you finish your snack on your knees. At least he’s kind enough to reach up and turn the overhead bulb on, momentarily blinding you when you tip your head back for another orange slice. Better looking with some light on him. He’s big like Ghost, and you’ve never been one to turn down dark hair. You wonder if the thick hair on his arms is any indication of what he’s got under his shirt. You take the last dredges of sugar water like a shot, and push back onto your heels to stand. 

The man’s hand catches your arm, and takes the little plastic cup from you, leaning to toss it into the trash. His face is impassable, unreadable, but his fingers are warm and firm. They hold you in place with no care for resistance.

“Ghost may tolerate brats,” He rumbles, his voice low and dark, it slips through you like a shiver and settles warmly between your legs, “but I don’t.”

Brat? Well, it's not exactly new but most men would probably call you charming or funny. They wouldn't spin you around and lean you bodily over the counter. Which actually-

"Hey!" You yelp, feeling his hand against the waistband of your sleep shorts. The calluses on his palm make you shudder as they brush over your skin. He hums, a deep throaty thing that seems too pleased to stay in his chest. Somehow it makes you clench, makes your hips twitch as he slips his hand lower.

"Girl like you," He reasons, "must know her colors." The unspoken understanding that shivers through you makes you drop your head. "So where am I sweetheart?" You can almost hear his smile. Can reason that he's taking in the change in your posture as proof of your deviance.

"Green," You breathe. His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, brush just under the elastic, teasing your skin with short touches before retreating. The push-pull of feeling leaves your mind racing to catch up, to make sense of the situation. You're in the kitchen still, aren't you? And there are people on base, people that might walk in on you, right?

"How long have you been here, love?" He asks, his voice low. He leans over you, lets you have a taste of his weight as he settles a big hand next to your head.

"Few days," You murmur, "Ghost and Johnny-"

"Got one of my sergeants too, eh?"

"Both of them," You sigh, feeling his hand grip your ass, "Sir." You add on, eager to see how he responds. A man that knows his colors, you reason, probably likes to keep his authority around pretty things like you.

"Garrick too?" He doesn't seem surprised. There's a quick movement from his hand, the callused skin scraping against your softer skin before he's ripping your shorts down. The hand beside your head pushes hard and fast against your shoulders to keep you down when you attempt to regain some of your modesty. The deep chuckle you earn is almost worth the way his finger traces over the sharpie drawing still sticking to your ass. "There she is." The man confirms.

He spends a long moment just tracing the shapes, waiting on you to start squirming. It's intolerable, standing with your ass out while this man holds you down. Even worse knowing that your pussy is starting to drip at the inspection.

"When'd 'e fuck ya?" The man asks.

"Um," You try to think, "This afternoon."

His hand comes down hard on your bare ass. Pain shoots through you, sharp and stinging. His hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your yelp almost as quickly as it leaves your mouth. You take a sharp breath, and feel a second spank land right on top of the first. Heat presses against your eyes, your skin burns, your pussy throbs.

"Though you knew your manners sweetheart," The man says, his patronizing tone edged with a predatory delight, "What happened to 'Sir'?" You can't speak around the hand holding your lips closed, his fingers slipped under your chin to hold your jaw shut, his thumb teasing against your nose. You wonder if he intends to cut off your air. His hand smooths over the sting on your ass, fleeting comfort before it raises again. "Maybe you'd prefer something else." He reasons, his hand coming down hard in punctuation. "Tried Sir-" spank "-could be Master-" spank "-but a pretty thing like you-" the last spank hits you hard and he yanks your head back with the hand over your mouth, “-always wanted one o’ you ta call me Captain.”

You whimper behind his hand, the title and the pain sending a wave of humiliated heat through you. Your pussy clenches, tingling with warmth at the lingering sting as his hand slides soft over your stinging cheek. There's something absolutely perverse in the silence, in the wetness that sticks to your lashes and threatens to fall over his fingers, in the way his fingers trace over the swell of your ass. He kneads and squeezes at the soft flesh, pulling it apart to get a better look at your holes. If you lean forwards a little more, push your hips up a little higher, for him, well, who could blame you? Especially when the movement draws such a deep relishing hum from him.

"There you go," it's shameful what the growl in his voice does to you, "know exactly what to do, don't you?" His fingers slip between your legs, sliding between your slick folds to drag back up and circle your ass. Up and down, up and down, each hole teased until your hips are shaking with the effort of keeping still. "Such a good girl presentin' your holes like the bitch in heat you are." He clicks his tongue, admonishing, and heat flushes through you. It drenches you, makes you clench just as his fingers are skimming over your cunt. That draws a low chuckle from him, and a twitch of pressure, not quite pressing into you, before he's trailing back up your ass."Too bad ya gotta take your punishment first."

As if the fresh sting of his hand didn't remind you. You choke on the sob you let out, and find yourself unable to draw in the next breath as his thumb pinches your nose. Your eyes go wide, and you flinch away from the next strike of his hand. Your brain mixing the pain and pleasure and fear into some sick concoction that numbs the tips of your fingers. Your ass hurts, the water on your lashes finally breaks free to tumble down your cheeks as your chest constricts and burns for air.

Your ears ring, your fingers scramble against his wrist, you dig your nails in and he strikes you twice for it. If he expected you to keep track of how many spanks you were given you sure as shit can’t now. You were too focused on the way the heat traveled between your legs, the way your vision was going fuzzy at the edges, and the way you (against all odds) were pushing back into him.

His hand leaves your mouth just as your head lolls forwards, slipping to cradle your forehead and stop you from banging it against the cabinet as he lowers it to the counter. It's not just your vision that's fuzzy as you suck in air, your head is too. Cottony, your thoughts stick to each other like flies caught in spider silk, you're too tangled in the soft fuzzy feeling to register the way he twists you at the waist, angling your hips to bring his hand down hard on your other cheek. You flinch, our already battered cheek burns with the tingling memory of his hand, as he works through whatever arbitrary number he's set. Somehow it hurts worse building up that ladder a second time.

The sharp sting of his hand, the rough drag of his calluses over your soft skin, the building heat that drowns out your other thoughts, you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing. His skin against yours cracks so loudly in the small kitchen, ricochets off the cabinets and rings in your ears. You wiggle your hips a little, rocking towards the counter, pushing your body further against it. Are you trying to escape, or trying to arch your back more? You're not sure. It's good, the pain bleeds into warmth that sweeps over your skin, but it still stings.

The man smooths his hand over your ass, working out some of the sting. Finished, you think. "Come on then," His voice is lower, more throaty, "let's see those manners."

"Thank you Captain." You mumble into your arms. Just saying it aloud makes you feel hot, but you like the noise it pulls from the man behind you. Something rumbling and pleased, that makes warmth throb over your cunt. Or maybe that's from the way his ringers rub against your slit. Thick and dexterous. You can feel them sliding between your folds, parting your slick heat to expose your hole to the cool kitchen air. One of his fingers pushes inside of you, sinks in to the base, before pulling out and pushing a second in beside it.

He leans over you, covers your back with the warmth of his broad chest. His fingers pump in and out of your hole as his beard scratches your neck. You wonder if he's trying to test his leverage or if it's just to make sure you know how outgunned you are. You squirm under him, try to, at least. Your hips make a valiant effort to wiggle even as he twists and thrusts his fingers. Like Ghost he has a knack for hitting exactly where he needs to, working you up with quick jabs against that spongy spot inside of you. Heat courses through you, tightening like a spring almost as quickly as it starts. You can't squirt in the kitchen, you can't, you can't, you can't.

You shake your head, find yourself stuck between his fingers and the counter, nowhere to run and nothing to do but make it harder for him to hit the right spot. He pins your hips with his own, holds you in place and keeps you there with his weight alone. He picks up the pace, forces his way past the way your pussy clenches and wraps his hand over your mouth a second time when you wail on his fingers. You feel the sudden give in your pelvis, the sudden rush of warmth like a snap. Your core releases, orgasm squirting from you and slicking your thighs. It aches, like wringing a towel out. Slick gushes from you and you hear it drop onto the floor like a bell tolling.

The man's fingers pull from your cunt, and the hand around your mouth slides to grip the hair at the back of your head. You're pulled up off the counter, and just as quickly as your legs shake at the effort of keeping you up you're dropped onto the tile floor. You can feel the puddle under you, see the shine of it.

"Look at the mess you made," He clicks his tongue, "clean it up."

"You already spanked me," You whine, maybe you are a brat. The hand in your hair forces your face towards the floor. You know exactly what he wants from you.

"Got a week's worth of punishments pup, so hop to."

Your breath ekes through you, shuddering into your lungs as you tentatively stick your tongue out and drag it over the tile. It's cold from the night air, and the grout rolls against your tongue strangely, but you lick it. The man's hand doesn't leave your hair, doesn't give you a second to think about raising from the bent position. Your knees hurt, your neck hurts, but at least the floor doesn't taste too dirty. Perks of a military base you suppose. You pull your tongue through the puddle your squirt left, and find a leather boot shoved under your mouth as well.

The taste of it makes your stomach squeeze, clean polished leather mixing with the watery slick. You back off his boot to lick at the puddle, feeling the pressure on your head as he crouches down, watching you intently. You drag your tongue back to his boot, flick your eyes up to him. The shadow he casts over you seems to swallow you, darkness weighing down his gaze as it scrapes over you, the air pressure making your movements feel sluggish. You trace the laces on his boot with your tongue, feel the cold metal rivets, the canvas scratch, seeking out the barest hint of dirt. If you can't clean up after yourself, maybe you can clean up after his day.

He moves your head back to the tile, doesn't say anything when your eyes drift close, your tongue lapping at the spare drops of your orgasm still shining in the overhead light. Your head feels fuzzy, compressed, too heavy to lift yourself. You don't even make a sound when his grip on your hair tightens and he pulls you up to look at you. You hold your tongue out for him, let him check your work in the drool that drips off your tongue and onto your covered tits.

"How about you an' I take a little walk?" He asks, voice as smooth as smoke. He doesn't wait for an answer, just nods your head for you and drags you to your feet. His hand slips from your hair to hold the back of your neck, and you get the distinct feeling of being put on a leash.

The name plate next to the door he opens says "Cpt. John Price." You'd pay more attention to it, maybe even make a remark on it, if you didn't stumble over your own feet trying to follow his quick, dragging, pace. He tosses you into the room, and you have to catch yourself on the edge of his desk to keep from falling to your knees again. There's a wooden chair on either side of you, crisp slotted backs that wrap around to the arm rests, God you hate these chairs.

"Pick one," John tells you, you give him a look that you mean to be sassy but you're sure comes off as confused, "Five, four, three-" You look between the chairs as panic washes over you, sitting quickly as he hits "-one." You let out a breath, your ass fucking hurts. You'd give anything not to be sitting right now, the pain throbs through you with each shift of your hips. "Good girl," John hums, his hand is in your hair again, forcing you to lean back in the chair with a hard tug, forcing your head back to look at him. "Stay." He tells you, as if you could go anywhere else.

He walks around you, around his desk, to a closet door. You try not to move too much, but your eyes stay trained on him even as he leaves your periphery. You just want some... assurance, some knowledge of what's to come. You feel off balance, out of control, unsure what to expect. He comes back with rope, and you nearly lunge from the chair. One big hand presses to your chest and pushes you back into the chair.

"Now, now," He chastises, "I’m not gonna hurt you, just need to make sure you're not gonna run off back to my lieutenant," You try to get up again, feel the quick loop of rope around one of your arms to keep you down, "wouldn't want him takin' your punishment, would you?"

You very much would. You don't even know what your punishment is. You're not tugged so deep down that you can't put up a bit of a fight but that doesn't mean-

"Color?"

Right. You sag back into the chair, a gentleness in the way John ties your arms to the chair suddenly striking his every movement, careful to avoid nerves and pinch points- "Green," you reply without thinking.

"Told ya," He grumbles, tightening the rope and looping it around your back to catch the other arm, "not gonna hurt you,” He pauses, and shakes his head with a chuckle, “least not permanently."

That does enough to settle your stomach that you can tip your head back and close your eyes. You try to measure your breathing as he ties your other arm to the chair, finding your comfortable position and easing yourself back down into that soft headspace. You’re actually a little surprised that this guy has jute rope in his office, but you’re not exactly up to date on standard military equipment. You wonder if he has a gun. Probably.

Nothing permanent. That’s reassuring. 

It doesn’t stop the way your try to keep your legs squeezed together when you feel his hand on your knee. You open your eyes at the mirthful huff he lets out. It thrills you, sends a shiver down your spine, to see him grab your knees and wrench them apart. You keep them spread for him, flashing him a smile when he glances at you. He shakes his head and wraps a length of rope around your calf.

One knot is followed by another and another, circling a ladder down your shin and keeping your leg held against the leg of the chair. Your other leg is given the same treatment. It’s rather pretty when he’s done, neat and technical but pretty. You’re- 

Ok you may have been a little too into the way he was manhandling you to fully realize he was tying you to the chair. Like, you knew he was doing it but now that it’s done you’re realizing that you are fully tied to this chair. Trapped and not given any indication of what’s going to happen to you next.

The Captain tugs down the neckline of your tank top, fishing your tits out to rest over the stretched hem. It feels more naked than if he’d simply stripped your shirt off. Your nipples pebble in the chill of the room, and his thumb rubs over one. You try to ignore the way his rough hands groping your tits makes your pussy clench. It’s objectifying, his grip punishing as he squeezes your tit in one massive paw and moves to the other, rough calloused skin dragging against delicate flesh like he’s trying to check which he prefers. You tip your head to watch him pinch your nipple, rolling the bud between his fingers before pulling his hand back just enough to deliver a quick, harsh, slap to your breast. 

You bite your lip at the dull pain, the shiver of something lascivious making you arch into the sharp touch. He does it again with a hum. The shock of it loses some of it’s sting when you can see it coming, so you tip your head back and close your eyes. The chuckle he lets out is pure mirth, low and vibrating over your skin before you feel the sharp slap of his hand again. 

“Can see why my boys brought you back to base,” The Captain squeezes your breast hard, and your fingers curl tight around the armrest you’re tied to, “and why they worked so hard to keep you outta sight.” You open your eyes to look up at him and try to keep your breath from hitching when he hits your other breast. “Didn’t want me breakin’ their new toy.”

“Breaking?” It’s half a question, half a confirmation of what he’d said. Your mind swims with possibilities. If this didn’t count as breaking, what did? If hitting you wasn’t good enough, what was?

He grabs your face, squeezes your cheeks with rough fingers and shakes your head. “Manners sweet’eart.” He lets go only to slap you across the face, hard enough to shock you but- but you don’t think it’ll leave a mark. It’s practiced, controlled. He hits your cheek again, just barely lighter than the first time. Then he’s got your face in his hand again “You don’t want me havin’ to put you through basic, do you?”

Your head feels fuzzy, your eyes struggle to focus on his, you blink to try and clear them with little luck. 

“No Captain,” You mumble when he shakes you again.

“You be a good girl while I finish setting up, yeah?” He hums.

You blink up at the Captain and nod. He offers you a mirthful huff, and straightens to turn back to his closet. You hadn’t realized he’d had to bend over to put himself in your field of vision. But the more you thought about it the more you realized how wholly he’d encompassed it. You hadn’t been able to look anywhere but him, and he’d held you in place to make sure your attention stayed exactly where it needed to. 

He pockets something, you catch a glint of metal and it’s gone. More ropes follow. Deep black cording wrapped in tight bundles that fill his heavy palm. You’re not sure what else he could possibly tie down. Until you spot the wand in his other hand. 

You tug desperately at your bindings, trying to get free, or at least put up a good fight. Maybe if he hadn’t already tied your legs down you would, but in your current state the best you get is trying to arch your hips away from the head of the wand as he nestles it against your cunt. The Captain loops the rope around one thigh, then the other, tying the wand in place as you try to get away. He knots and double knots, braiding the ropes together into taut strands that you have no hope of squirming away from.

“No, no, please-” You beg “-don’t I’ll be good.” The Captain clicks his tongue, shakes his head.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” He pulls the rope tight and you feel your clit bump against the head of the wand even through your shorts, “it’s an interrogation.” Your eyes snap to him as he turns the vibrations on.

“Wha-” Your hips itch against the vibrations, your cunt already primed and wanting from everything else he’s done to you. Your eyes flutter, at the feeling of the wand tickling your clit. It’s almost dull. Dimmed is a good word for it. The feeling is dimmed, something you have to focus on to enjoy. The Captain watches your reaction, and clicks it up another level.

That you feel. The quick pulse of the vibrations rub your shorts against your clit in a way that’s almost pleasurable. It’s enough to make you want to grind your hips forward at least. Another click, another level higher, and your fingers flex tight on the arms of your chair prison. You’ll get rug burn on your clit if you stay on this level too long, but it’s good even through the uncomfortable rub of your shorts. 

A third click, but the vibrator doesn’t change. You glance at the Captain’s hands in time to watch him upend a bottle of lube over your shorts, drizzling the slick substance between your legs and over the head of the want. It soaks the cotton of your shorts immediately, sticking the fabric to your cunt. It eases the feeling of rub burn, but only so much as it forces you to contend with the wet stretch of cotton against your already wet cunt. It’s not pleasant.

“What?” The Captain asks, taking note of the way your nose scrunches, “not comfortable?” You nod. “You want me to make it better?” It’s patronizing, warning, the sort of devil’s bargain that makes you think agreeing would be worse than putting up with your current situation. But you’re nothing if not willing to play along, and also, you fucking hate being uncomfortable.

“Yes please,” You whine, he raises a brow and you tack on a sickly sweet, “Captain.”

“Alright,” He agrees, “How’d you meet Ghost?”

You give him a look of complete confusion. “Tinder?” You offer. What is happening? Wait, did he say interrogation? He slaps your breast hard, hard enough you jerk and let out half a yelp before you can bite your lip to keep quiet.

“How’d you meet Ghost?”

“Tinder, Captain.” You correct, trying to keep your breathing even, the sting of his palm still radiates over your skin, biting warm into your flesh and tingling.

“And he brought you home to meet Soap.”

It’s not a question, but it is wrong.

“I met Johnny in Glasgow.”

“You make it a habit of fucking special service members?”

“Only recently.” You joke. It’s the wrong answer because he slaps your face this time. Your head spins, and coupled with the vibrations against your clit the radiating pain makes your cunt clench. You wish he’d hit your tit again. At least that let you think clearly.

Although you suppose thinking clearly is relative at this point.

“Didn’t know he was army,” You mumble, trying to blink some of the stars from your vision, “thought he was just some slut, Captain.”

The Captain snorts, and you see the flick of a knife opening in his hand.

“He is.” He jokes, bending to settle the tip of the knife against the seam of your shorts. He presses the tip against the wet fabric and you hold your breath. It feels so dull and so pointed at the same time. Dangerously hidden behind the damp cotton and yet just a hair away from slicing right through. The Captain looks up to meet your gaze. “Who’re you workin’ for?”

There’s an evenness to his tone that leaves no room for argument, that tells you he already knows the answer without you telling him. You doubt a man like him leaves anything up to chance, the same way you doubt he wouldn’t have killed you on the spot if he thought there was any way you could be a threat to him and his men.

“I’m unemployed, Captain.” You tell him, an embarrassed wobble in your voice.

“Good girl.” The praise pulses through you, but it’s the knife you feel. The single press and slice of his blade cutting through the seam of your shorts and splitting them open, leaving your drenched skin exposed to the cool air of his office. You shiver, careful not to push against the intense vibrations from the wand when the flat edge of his knife is sliding over your cunt. 

“Now, I have to write these muppets up for hidin’ you away, so you’re going to sit here-” he taps the chair with his knife and you nod, as if you could go anywhere, “-and tell me exactly what you’ve been doing with them the last week.” He tips your head back with the tip of the knife, his eyes flashing and his smile all teeth, “In detail.”

-

There’s something about having to go through every sexual encounter you’ve had in the least week that works you up. Or maybe it’s the vibrator. It’s probably the vibrator. That doesn’t mean having a man behind a desk ask you in detail how Ghost ate you out, or Gaz fingered your ass doesn’t make your cheeks heat up. In fact going through the finer details and having to find a way to describe how it felt having your ass, your throat, your cunt, stretched around the (frankly impressive) cocks that made up the Captain’s task force would’ve made you wet even if you weren’t contending with the mind numbing rub of the wand against your clit.

And you do mean mind numbing. Every time you go to think of one of the mens’ next move, the Captain clicks the intensity up or down and your brain goes blank. You shudder and buck your hips against the head of the wand, trying to find a way to rub your needy clit against it harder, trying to find that perfect spot that’ll have you at the edge faster than fingers can get you. You writhe and shiver and try to hold your hips up only for the Captain to turn the intensity all the way down and leave you whining.

Goosebumps prickle over your heated skin. Your clit throbs, overworked and underserved at the same time. Your cunt pulses and tingles on the next edge. You’re getting closer to coming every time he cranks the vibrator back up. Closer to coming with each detail. Running your tongue up and down Johnny’s cock. Feeling Gaz press the vibrator into your cunt. Ghost licking into your mouth like he wants to taste what you had for lunch. Fingers pinching your clit, rubbing you, dipping into your cunt and searching out all of your soft spots. You’ve never had so much sex in your life, at least not good sex, and it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken you yet.

You babble about fucking Ghost for too long, your lips moving as you drool your praise for his cock, for the way he touches you, how gentle his is, how his calloused hands seem to care even when he pushes your head down his cock. The Captain keeps flicking the levels up and down, up and down, fucking you in a rhythm better suit for a cock.

Christ you feel so empty. Your cunt spasming and trying to clamp down on nothing but empty space. You’re actually starting to get close to tears. It hurts. The constant refrain of need hurts.

The Captain taps his pen against the paper and stands. You brace yourself as he moves closer. He kneels, and tugs a loop on either ankle. Your legs are suddenly, blissfully, freed.

Only to be caught by the Captain’s hands and pushed up towards your chest. You glance at where his cock strains against his fatigues. There’s a damp spot on one side that makes your heart swell with barely contained pride. The vibrator moves with your legs, changing position to press down onto your clit, right off center. You don’t care, not when he’s unzipping his pants and tugging a heavy cock free. No, the only thing you care about is how quickly that thing can get inside of you.

“Did good,” The Captain tells you, “good girls deserve a reward.”

You preen, doing your best to keep your legs up as he guides his cock to your sopping entrance. You don’t think you’ve ever been wetter for a man, the same way you don’t think it’s ever been so easy for one to press into you. The hand at the base of his cock grips tight, wiggling his tip inside you. It makes you mewl, feeling that horrible emptiness finally being filled. 

He has to bend his legs to push into you, meet you where he’s tied you, but once he does, he fills you in a single gut punching thrust. 

You suck in a breath as your back arches into his hold. His hand finds the back of your knee again and presses you down, folding you in half. He grinds his cock into you, hitting something deep and aching that makes you see stars. He pulls out, and presses your legs together, forcing the vibrator back into position as he fucks into you hard and fast.

You’re sure the scream you let out must wake the whole barrack, but you don’t care. You can’t care. Not when he sends you hurtling over an edge he’s kept you at for hours. The only thing you care about is the shockwave of pleasure that hits you deep in your stomach and courses through you. You shake under his grasp, your thighs vibrating as your muscles spasm and release, your clit throbbing and your cunt clenching tight around the cock still fucking into you.

Fuck he’s still fucking you, still got you pinned between his cock and the vibrator.

You’re shoved back over the edge with a whine, your stomach clenching hard as you squirt on his cock, all of your muscles tightening and releasing so quickly you barely have time to register your first orgasm before your second is crashing into you. 

The Captain isn’t far behind you, his cock twitching and spilling its hot load into your cunt only to have it dragged out, white and frothy, by his cock. God. You wonder how long it’s been since this man had someone to unload in with how long it takes him to slow his thrusts. You squeeze around him just to hear him groan low in his chest.

Your pussy feels raw when he finally pulls you, the vibrator rubbing like sandpaper against your clit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” The Captain offers.

Something pathetic noses its way to the front of your mind as you stare at him. You can feel the pout that forms, just like you can feel the pleased smile he gives you.

“I want Ghost.” You pout.

“Course you do.”

divider by @/cafekitsune

[luvyeni]

🍃… ( reaction ) taking your ring off prank ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 라이즈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁  taking your engagement ring off as prankヾ

OT7!라이즈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ fluff ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ wc ・ ‎k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. hi, can you do the reactions of riize when reader prank them by not wearing their engagement ring …

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 this was cute i hope you like it <3 !!!

﹙ 𐙚 : shotaro ﹚ .ᐟ

he notices it , but he doesn’t say anything. “hey baby.” you gave him a kiss , sitting down next to him. “hi.” he says, eyes going immediately to your hand, noticing your ring wasn’t on your finger. he thought you probably lost it in the couch since it’s happened before. so he wastes no time, getting up and checking in between the cushions quietly. turning to your phone which you hidden confused, then turning back to him. “taro my love what are you doing.” his shiny eyes and warm smile making your heart flutter. “im trying to find your ring baby , i know you probably lost it in the cushions.” he was so cute , you couldn’t help but swoon. “oh don’t bother.” you fold immediately. “it was a joke.” you took the ring from your pocket. “ah why!” he whined, cheeks red. “don’t do that again.” he took the ring from your hand , putting it back on your finger.

“keep it on , it looks pretty there.”

﹙ 𐙚 : eunseok ﹚ .ᐟ

his ass don’t care, you already said yes. you’re gonna marry him regardless if you wear the ring or not; HOWEVER , he paid thousands of dollars for that ring , it’s not about to collect dust now. “i see the camera.” he said pointing , pissing you off. “I hate you.” you snatch your phone up. “why can you ever go along with something?” you pout , he can’t but think that you’re so cute. “baby that ring i bought for you , i don’t care if you wear it or not.” he shrugged , kissing your lips. “how can you say that?” he smirked.

“because you’re gonna marry me regardless , you already said yes, that’s all i need.”

﹙ 𐙚 : sungchan ﹚ .ᐟ

his ass won’t notice that it’s missing , so you have to take it off right in front of him. “what do you want to eat?” both of you sitting in the car. “i don’t know.” you fiddled with the ring , looking at the camera with a smirk, because you know he’s gonna look at you which gives you a perfect chance. “are you jo…” he stops seeing you take the ring off , sitting it in the cup holder. “what is it?” he just blinks at you. “sungchan.” you bite back a smile. “what are you doing?” he said, looking at your hand , then to you. he will pull the entire car over. “put it back on.” he said. “now.” you smile at him. “this is a joke isn’t it , you’re prancing me?” you point to the camera , he rolls his eyes , driving off again.

“im gonna super glue it to your finger, keep your ring on.”

﹙ 𐙚 : wonbin ﹚ .ᐟ

you can not trick him, he saw you set up the camera, he knows the ring is in your pocket. he scoffs as you go on with your day. “why are you making so much noise.” you try not to laugh at his sassy ass attitude. “you wanna take your ring off?” he said , reaching for his. “fine let’s take them off.” he said trying to slide it off his finger , but you stopped him. “don’t do that.” you slapped his hand. “then put yours on , now.” you took the ring out , sliding it back on your fingers. “see now get your hand away from your hand.” you want to slap that stupid smirk off his face.

“don’t take it off anymore.”

﹙ 𐙚 : seunghan ﹚ .ᐟ

he just thinks it needs to be cleaned or something, do it doesn’t real bother him. “baby where’s your ring?” he asks , you look at the camera without his knowledge. “im gonna take it to the cleaners today.” mind you he’s done this already. “you need it cleaned right , that’s why you took it off right?” he gets up from the couch. “it’s probably in the room then.” you stop him before he goes into the room. “hannie you’re so cute.” you pulled him back down on the couch. “what do you mean princess?” you point to the camera. “it’s a joke hannie , it’s in my pocket , i just wanted to see your reaction.” he smiles when you pull it out your pocket. “see.” taking it out your hand , sliding it back on your finger.

“just like the first time i proposed to you , beautiful.”

﹙ 𐙚 : sohee ﹚ .ᐟ

don’t do him like this; he’ll automatically think you want to end the engagement… of course you don’t , but in his mind he’s like; if you didn’t want to break up , why take it off? do you hate him? oh he’s going crazy. “baby.” you hear the quiver in his voice. “baby where’s your ring?” he pouted. “you’re not supposed to take it off.” he whined. “I didn’t notice.” his eyes widen at your words. “what do you mean!” he said. “you’re supposed to wear it 24/7, you have to show it off.” you laugh at his child-like behavior. “don’t laugh.” he said. “it’s just a prank baby , the ring is in my pocket.”

“then put it on and don’t take it off again.”

﹙ 𐙚 : anton ﹚ .ᐟ

6 million things go through his mind all at once; did he do something wrong? were you mad at him? how does he fix this without pissing you off even more? “baby?” he said softly, you forced down a laugh. “yeah ton?” this confused him even more, you called him by his nickname so you couldn’t be upset. “ton what is it?” you broke the boy out of his thoughts. “you aren’t mad at me right?” he said. “did you do something to make me mad?” he’s like please answer the question. “your ring.” he said. “you took it off, are you mad?” he didn’t even see the camera. “im sorry if you are.” you actually started to feel bad , you pouted. “im sorry ton it was a joke i didn't mean to upset you.” you pointed to the camera. he stared into the camera , before giving you shy smile, looking away. “don’t do that again.” he said, covering his face.

“please put it back on now.”

©️LUVYENI

[simpforsolas]

So I've seen a some discussion of people both criticizing and defending the DATV companions for being nice to each other. And I think the arguments from both sides are being a little bit misconstrued, which is honestly understandable. I think that often when something bothers us in fiction, it's hard to put into words exactly what it is. So as we try our best to express ourselves, it may not end up getting to the point of what the issue actually is (this is also why it can be tough for writers to properly address criticism - the readers providing the criticism might not be accurately diagnosing the root of the problem, so their attempts to fix it are shallow and don't actually address the issue).

Now I obviously don't speak for everyone, but I do think that a good amount of the people saying they want the DATV crew to be meaner don't actually mean they literally just want people to be rude and insulting each other for no reason. I think it boils down to three things that the new crew was missing:

Inability to really feel how the companion's backstories form their unique worldview

Lack of conflict between companions

Limited relationship dynamics between Rook and the companions

Inability to feel how companion's backstories form their worldview

In previous Dragon Age games, the characters frequently discussed and argued topics of philosophy, faith, politics, and beliefs. They came from all different backgrounds. You had Morrigan, a hedge mage raised to believe in self-preservation, teaming up with an Andrastian circle mage and former templar. Their beliefs and worldviews are, at their core, at odds with each other. The game doesn't necessarily try to make you believe one way or another, it simply drops you into the world and allows you to interact with these character, see their interactions with each other, and draw your own conclusions. In Dragon Age Inquistion, you have Cole, a spirit of compassion, teaming up with Vivienne, who believes the circle teachings that spirits are demons and want to possess people, and Sera, who represents the perspective of the common people that are afraid of all things magical or fade-related. You have Solas, a staunch individualist who believes in freedom for all, Cassandra, a faithful Andrastian who follows her own inner compass even when at odds with the institution of the Chantry, and Iron Bull, a Ben-Hassrath agent who believes in the Qun not because he's a philosopher and has decided that's what works best, but because that's how he was raised and so far, the Qun has worked for him. So in previous Dragon Age titles, you have people whose worldviews and beliefs are fundamentally at odds with each other, and whose actions and dialogues are a direct result of those beliefs. Veilguard really downplayed the importance of religion in Thedas, which isn't necessarily a problem in and of itself. In DA2, the only companion with strong religious beliefs is Sebastian. However, you had Anders who believed strongly in mage liberation, Fenris, who believed strongly in the dangers of magic, and Isabela, whose lack of belief and lack of respect for religion/beliefs led to one of the game's biggest conflicts. Discussion of religion and philosophy was always a huge part of the Dragon Age games, so when they almost entirely removed that element and didn't replace it with other types of belief that could lead to meaningful differences of opinion, we were just left with nothing of substance to really talk about. This isn't saying that the companions don't have things they believe in, but it's just not the same as characters from previous games. In general, their backgrounds don't form a unique worldview that results in differences of opinions and interesting conflict. Which brings my to my next point:

Lack of conflict between companions

There's a huge spectrum between "everyone is friends and always gets along" and "everyone hates each other and is happy when their ally is sold into slavery." In fact, fans often get really into fictional relationships that have quite a bit of conflict. Speaking for myself, I love relationships where two people may fight or disagree, but they truly care for one another and would willingly put themselves in harm's way to protect one another. So I think when a lot of people say the companions get along too well, they don't necessarily mean that they want them to all hate each other (maybe some do). They mean that they just want there to be interesting interpersonal conflicts. (I personally would love for a companion pair to argue a lot, but when it comes down to it, they actually really care about each other) Why do we want this? Well first, conflict just makes things more interesting. But I think that it also ties into point 1. In this game, the companions simply don't seem passionate enough about what they believe to argue for it, or, if they are, there's not anyone who challenges their beliefs and forces them to defend their position. I would say that Emmrich is very passionate about his love for spirits and necromancy, two things which are seen as weird and dangerous by most people in Thedas. However, there's almost no chance for him to passionately argue for his worldview because no one challenges it. There is that one scene with Taash finding his passion for working with the dead creepy, but as soon as the issue comes up, it's resolved. Compare that to Solas, where a big part of his characterization is love for spirits and frustration with fear and ignorance leading people to discriminate against what they don't understand. Having to face opposition to his beliefs, both in the world and within the inquisitor's inner circle (and sometimes the inquisitor themself), gives the writers the opportunities to emphasize core parts of his characterization.

On a final note for this section, it's just more interesting when different pairs of companions have unique relationships with each other. Solas and Cole's wholesome, mostly conflict-free friendship is made sweeter because you can compare it to Solas and Sera's relationship. It makes the relationships more meaningful when you can contrast it to how those same people click or don't click with other companions.

Limited relationship dynamics with Rook

The final issue I want to talk about is how all this ties into Rook. In previous games, you could learn a lot about a character's beliefs by seeing what they approved and didn't approve of. Anders approves of supporting mages, Fenris doesn't. Leliana approves of compassion for strangers, Morrigan doesn't because why should she help people who can't help themselves, and also it's a waste of time. Cole greatly approves of helping people, Solas slightly approves of you asking questions, Cassandra approves of expressing belief in the Maker, and so forth and so on. Then depending on the choices you make, your approval actually makes a difference in how these companions view you as their leader. But in Veilguard... well either the companions don't have strong feelings about things, or Rook isn't allowed to make decisions that oppose the beliefs they do have. Because of this, there's basically no conflict between Rook and the team. From my understanding, worst relationship you can get with the team is "distant boss whose employees don't invite them to their work parties," but that's not the same as Cassandra hating you so much she gets drunk or getting specific rival scenes like in DA2 where companions react entirely differently because Hawke consistently acted in opposition to their beliefs.

Final thoughts

So when people criticize the companions not getting along, I think it's less to do with the fact that people want them to hate each other, and more to do with the fact that we want companions who have a strong worldview shaped by their backstory, and for that worldview being challenged to lead to interesting conflict. Whether that challenge comes from other companions, the world, or Rook themself, I don't care - I just want interesting and meaningful conflict that is arises because the companions are strong characters who believe in something.

[respectthepetty]

Spare Me Your Mercy Thoughts

I have waited almost four years for this show since MDL made a placeholder for Euthanasia in early-2021, and now that it is here, I'm going to gush about all the ways I love it!

Just like a few of Dr. Sammon's other shows airing around the holidays (Manner of Death, Dead Friend Forever, and Petrichor), I'm thankful I got the first episode of Spare Me Your Mercy on Thanksgiving and the last will come on Christmas because this is the exact show I need for the holiday season since it began the entire series with Tew, the cop, having to perform euthanasia on an animal.

I grew up and still live in a rural area where cattle far outnumber the actual folks, so I fully understand euthanasia is a good death as the word implies, so I will not be struggling through the premise of this show, and I have faith the show won't either because when Tew fired the gun, the scene was peaceful.

And the show is making some pointed remarks about how things operate outside of bigger cities since Kan specifically mentioned he has about 2,500 patients. When the other officer asked the nurses if Kan had a long queue, they didn't even respond. Kan also clarified that his specialty is palliative care, so he has to monitor a wide range of long-term illnesses, so even though Tew might actually be from this place, he is now the outsider and out of his depth before he even started.

Sidenote: I cannot be mad at a nurse, even if one of them turns out bad because the way they all protect Kan from the police is the teamwork I love to see.

The red light to notify the office the doctor is seeing a patient coming on right after Kan responded to the nurse that it wasn't a murder case yet was perfection.

I already knew Kan was going to be my favorite character, but Tor is doing amazing showing the layers Kan has, as expected. Kan tells Tor he can cry and shows him kindness, but when pushed, Kan makes small digs about how people should spend the last moments of someone's life cherishing them when rudely questioned by Tew regarding the unexpected deaths knowing Tew did not get to see his mother before she died. He also made a subtle display of knowing where things were located in the house because he is in control.

The way he slid his LINE information into the conversation AFTER indirectly telling Tew he was being emotional due to his grief is why I'm excited to see another version of Manner of Death's Tan. Kan probably does like Tew but he stays focused and calculated.

He is terrifying without there being any concrete detail to pinpoint on why he is scary. Som, while describing people being possessed by evil murderous spirits, was terrified of Kan, and the transition from Som telling his story to Kan appearing at the exact moment Som was going to state what human form the evil spirits take was brilliant.

But what's even more terrifying is the treatment of the terminally ill. They are viewed as a burden, locked away, and isolated.

And Tew witnessed it. He got a glimpse of what Kan sees daily, so the show is already building up a case in defense of Kan's actions. If he is performing euthanasia, Tew could understand. He heard the goat's bell. He knew it was still alive, but he decided to end its suffering, cleanly and swiftly, which is what euthanasia is. He saw that man left behind by his family and even moved to go get him. And he was bothered when the man's daughter stated her reasoning for leaving him out there alone.

He also stopped Kan from continuing to question Som. Therefore, the true conflict has been set. Tew, whose job is to discover the truth, doesn't need it if it causes pain, but Kan's entire job is making pain manageable.

And I always want to trust a woman, but as suspicious as the director is being about everything, babygirl would be the perfect person to attempt euthanasia since the dead would end up on her table where she could claim the death was the result of the illness.

Because euthanasia is a good death.

And this ain't it.

He understands that.

But someone doesn't.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtyOne

Throwback bits that didn't make the cut - I just needed to do something cute and fluffy I guess, so this is set when Eddie still had a tail

“Hey, no come on, it’s fine.” Eddie frowns, pouting a little, but he stops trying to rub the cream off.

“Why?”

“We’ve been over this, I’m worried about your skin. I know you’re not going brown or anything, but what if you like, can’t? And you’re just being damaged by the sun.”

“Sun not hurt,” Eddie tells him firmly.

“No, I know, but just...just let me do this, okay? Take your shades off, let me get your face.”

Eddie does as he’s asked, leaving his glasses on the lounger next to Steve, Steve rubbing a little more cream on his hands before carefully getting Eddie’s cheeks and nose. Eddie’s big brown eyes watch Steve’s face closely. They’re too big for his face, really, something a little unnatural in the way they catch the sunlight. Steve traces his sharp cheekbones, shifting Eddie’s thick thatch of hair to smear some over his forehead. Eddie pulls a face, exposing the sharp points of his teeth, but says nothing.

He doesn’t bother with Eddie’s tail, he figures the skin there is thick and kind of rubbery. He also figures Eddie isn’t going to tolerate it.

“Touch bad,” Eddie says, rubbing at the lotion on his arms again.

“No it isn’t. I’ve done all the kids and Birdie, now it’s your turn.” Eddie huffs out out his nose, but turns, sitting on his tail between Steve's knees as Steve applies the lotion all over his pale back, “okay, you want your hair up or not?”

Eddie thinks for second before saying, “up.”

He more often than not says no, but they are all out in the garden today and it’s kind of breezy, so maybe he wants it out of his face. Steve uses one of Robin’s scrunchies to gather it all up into a haphazard bun on top of his head. “Okay, you’re free to go.”

“Stee?”

“Yeah buddy?”

Eddie frowns, “Stee,” and takes the bottle from Steve, unclicking it and moving to squeeze some out onto his hand.

“Oh no,” Steve takes it back, “I’m fine, I’m pretty tanned, see?”

“The kids. Birdidie. Eddidie. Stee. The sun hot ow,” Eddie gestures at the sky, frowning, like ‘it’s the fucking sun’.

“I...okay,” Steve realizes pretty quickly he can’t actually argue Eddie’s point. It would be more than a little hypocritical of him, “sure.” Steve holds his arms out, allowing Eddie to apply the cream. Eddie lifts Steve's legs by the ankle, one at a time, creaming Steve's calves and shins before making sure to get the tops of his bare feet.

He has to hold in his smile when Eddie is ever so careful with Steve’s cheeks and nose, applying the lotion with a single fingertip, careful of his claws, Eddie's frown of concentration, his slightly parted lips, the focus in his big eyes. “Well, thank you.”

Eddie heads off to his tent, bringing out notebooks and pencils before he lies out on the grass, away from where the kids are playing.

“It’s called a Frisbee,” Steve holds it out so Eddie can take it, tapping the colorful plastic with his claws. He’d been watching the thing with fascination, but hadn’t been brave enough to come closer.

“Is-bee,” Eddie mangles the word pretty badly, but he really struggles with any words staring with an ‘f’ sound, so Steve just lets it go.

“Yeah, you want to throw it to me?” Steve mimes flicking his wrist for the throw, back off a dozen big paces.

The throw is low and kind of slanted, but not too bad at all, and Steve manages to catch it by diving for it. He throws it back gently, managing to get it close enough that Eddie can catch it; Eddie might be able to move fast considering his tail, but not that fast. Plus he needs his hands to move which feels like an unreasonable disadvantage if you’re playing catch.

Eddie grins big when he’s successful, and when Steve celebrates with a cheer and both arms flung into the air, Eddie mimics him, “more try?”

“Go for it buddy.”

Eddie’s ass is right in the air, chest and chin pressed into the grass. Steve can’t see what he’s following, but it’s probably a grasshopper or a cricket or something. Steve can’t see the bug, but he can tell it’s movements by Eddie’s focus. Eddie uses his tail to slide himself forward through the grass, lying flat before he drags his tail forward again, ass back in the air, doing the worm across the lawn.

Eddie shuffles his cupped hands forward carefully, clearly trying to capture whatever it is.

He lifts his hands carefully, sitting up again on the curve of his tail; Steve watches as Eddie opens his cupped hands, peering inside. His confusion when there’s nothing there is palpable, and Eddie looks around, finding his target some distance forward in the grass.

He goes back to his stalking.

Steve watches a little longer before heading over, hanging back far enough to see what it is, “it’s a grasshopper.”

“Grasshopper,” Eddie repeats, “little guy.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “yeah, just a little guy. Maybe we should leave him alone now, huh?”

“Eddidie not hurt grasshopper.”

“No I know, but to him, you’re probably really big and scary, right? And you haven’t eaten yet, you need to come and have some lunch.”

“Pears?” Eddie follows, loosing interest in the bug pretty fast.

“And a beer, if you want.”

The weight is very pink; one of the smaller free weights from a set his mom bought when she was going through a video fitness phase. Steve tosses it into the pool, Eddie racing to retrieve it. It feels like he’s back in seconds, his tail a black streak under the water, “you’re so goddamn fast.”

Steve throws it again, feet dangling into the water from the edge of the pool. Eddie retrieves it; he seems content to keep going, and Steve would be worried about all the energy he’s burning, but he’s been steadily putting on weight since he got here so he’s not that worried. Steve figures the exercise has to be good for Eddie’s muscles, or whatever. It’s probably a good sign that Eddie has so much energy.

The weight breaks the water with a splash, Eddie retrieving it and putting it next to Steve’s thigh. He floats in the water, waiting patiently for Steve to throw it again. “More?”

Eddie shrugs, they have been doing this for a while, but Eddie seems to enjoy pretty much any form of engagement.

“Stee in?” He asks, tapping the surface of the water.

Steve figures it’s a little chilly, but not that cold, “sure, I guess. Let me go and get changed and grab a towel and stuff.”

Steve’s never been in the water with Eddie before. Eddie might not be the fastest on land, but in water he’s a streak of lightning. He swims rings around Steve, popping up with his wet hair flat to his head. They play a half hearted game that’s half tag half keep away in the pool, but Steve doesn’t stand a chance. He takes an opportunity to splash Eddie one time when he pops up, making Eddie laugh uproariously.

Unfortunately Steve is totally outgunned, he quickly regrets introducing Eddie to a new game when he's immediately sent sprawling under the water when Eddie hits him with a tail made wave Steve could never hope to compete with. When Steve emerges, Robin is nearly crying with laughter.

“Stee read?” Eddie asks quietly

“Uhm, I mean I can, but it’s just sports stats-”

Eddie climbs up onto the lounger, Steve grunting and trying to compensate when Eddie accidentally digs his bony bits in. He settles half on Steve’s chest, tail trailing down to rest between Steve’s legs and off the end of the chair.

“Cute,” Robin says from next to them, sipping her drink.

Eddie ignores her, twisting to tap the page, “words that wait.”

“I...I guess they do hang around, yeah,” and Steve proceeds to read scores and match stats from his magazine until Robin interrupts them again.

“Is he asleep?”

Steve stops, looking down. Eddie’s half on his side, back to Robin, but his face is restful, eyes closed, and he doesn’t react when Steve abruptly stops reading.

“Yeah, I think he is.”

“He must feel really safe with you Steve.”

“Yeah...I guess he does.”

[cosmowgyral]

If it's not a bother, can you list some sweet things Jude has done to Kate even before they were lovers and when they were lovers?

Yeah sure! I've jotted down the ones I recall.

The first instance happens when Jude and MC were locked in his office at night by the syndicate members after a brawl. MC basically had a scratch on her cheek and Jude was concerned over that, moving his thumb over it. He said that it might leave a scar. This may not seem sweet enough but we get to see his gentle smile during this conversation. 🥺❤️

The second is when they wake up the next morning and him fixing her bedhair. 😭😭❤️❤️ (The reason why I never miss his good morning wish)

Next is when Jude got beaten up and was lying on the ground smoking and taking a break when MC came. Seeing her, he went ahead and put his head on her lap. (the mid-route CG)

Then in Chapter 19 premium story, MC was crying and he kisses everywhere on her face along with her tears. He said that crying doesn't suit her and and a smiling face is more cute. (save my poor heart)

He also gifted her a pocket watch like his, with a robin engraved at the back.

Now this might not be directly being sweet to her but when Jude left the MC at a town to keep her away from the British military who might be after Jude and her as they ran away from their base, he asked Ellis and then someone else to watch over her from a distance so that she remained unharmed. He even requested Ellis (over a letter, and yes, REQUESTED) to look after her if anything happens to him.

Post dating, in the MLE, it seems like Jude always felt her up to a certain point before missions, and said that he would only do the rest after the mission is over. This is so that she keeps her promise of not dying before him and that way he can 'reward' her.

In the epilogue, he introduces MC to his sister (her grave) as his woman. And while this again might not be Jude being directly sweet to her, this scene was sweet and heartwarming enough to be mentioned.

Jude also touches and kisses her hair strands randomly and I personally LOVE that.

[nightunite]

slides u twenty dollars can we consider jealous johnny if he sees reader is only that avoidant with him and no one else… i don’t want to rush ahead in case you have something else planned but like, johnny hearing that there are rumors one of the baron’s newest maids is pregnant and the timing just lines up a little too well 😵‍💫😵‍💫

-noona bc tumblr refuses to let me send asks from sideblogs

Hiiiiiiiii Noona 💖

Thank you for the twenty, I'm gonna spend in on blind boxes, it's not an addiction, I can stop anytime I want. Spoilers concerning reader's pregnancy under the read more:

Gonna answer only the first part of this and save the second half because I don't wanna give away too much just yet. I will say that at the point this piece of the story takes place, our dear reader is indeed aware she's pregnant and has informed Konig, who insists on her having someone with her when she goes out into town. Anything could happen, and he fears the idea of her falling and harming herself or the baby, or having to do so much heavy lifting. They're just on friendly-ish terms though for now, as this isn't by the time reader has started showing, so no rumors have started flying yet. Also, curious how one section of this will be interpreted. Johnny exhaled as he stepped out of the shop, breath a thick fog in front of him as the winter chill set to work stinging his cheeks. Snow had fallen last night and stayed, keeping the roads slick. The thick woolen cap he wore snug around his head crushed down his signature hairstyle, but he'd rather have flat hair than a raw scalp. He rubbed his gloved hands along his wrists to fend off the shivers, the door behind him shutting with a clatter and the ring of bells as he moved along the walkway towards his next stop a few streets over. Four stores in, and he had yet to find what he was looking for. He wasn't entirely sure what that was, mind you, only that whatever it was remained elusive. It let him move about town all the same to get out of his house which had felt odd these past few weeks. Too loud, too quiet, achingly lonely yet also too many people nearby setting his nerves on edge. Impossible to get anything done, his irritation grew erratic like his thoughts. All he wanted was a moment of peace, a chance for his ever-restless thoughts to let him breathe lest he take it out on his staff.

Try as he might to deny it to himself, he knew why this happened. She wasn't there anymore. Packed up and left in the wee hours of the morn, when the fog was thick and the duchy silent as a graveyard. Didn't bother to inform him, merely the head maid whom had given him a look that said he was a fool. Shortly thereafter, word had gotten back to him that she had taken up a position in the Baron's home. He'd had to take a swift walk to handle that knotted up wad of string wrapped tightly in his gut.

If he were an honest man, he would say she hadn't truly been there even longer. It made his throat close up, the way she seemingly wasted away in his halls, sunken in on herself like a sunflower wilting in the frost. Like a cold snap at the start of winter, suddenly she had no time for him. Always quick to pull away from him, to find some task to do that kept her preoccupied from the start of the day until well past it. Hesitation whenever he asked her what was wrong, a momentary pause before she would tell him nothing was the matter, addressing him as 'my lord', as though the name she had permission to use would not escape her mouth.

Eyes always downcast, fixed on the floorboards or over his shoulder when she would bring herself to pretend to look him in the eye. Truth be told, he preferred it in some ways, the relief of not having that direct connection. At least then he didn't feel the weight of his inadequacy of caring for her, like a verdict cast down upon him. This way he could pretend that he was the man he was supposed to be. He stopped attempting to touch her in any way when he caught how she tensed, braced herself for contact. The kissing followed shortly thereafter, her strained smiles and broken laughter making him feel worse, like he never should have even tried. Anything further wasn't even on the table, and the thought of even broaching the subject made his insides churn. And so, he stopped. Filled his time with the other maids, though that never lasted long either. They weren't right; laughter too loud or high pitched, smile too far to one side, hair the wrong thickness between his fingers. It left him feeling further unease, as though he kept going down the wrong hallways in a maze that he had no chance of escaping. Like a picture set at the wrong angle, or shoes that are a size too small. It pinches him, makes something inside him pace like a beast in a cage, keeps him up at night. He knows what felt right, what kept him sated and content in his days. Eyes that gazed at him like he was her salvation, her sun, always turning towards him with a smile that made his own lips turn up. Soft hands even after hard work, rubbing over the calluses of his palms and stroking over any scars, pressing gentle kisses to them. Laughs and squeals that made his heart race like a schoolboy, cheeks flooded red with the desire to keep her that way, keep all of her attention on him. Even now as he turns the corner, he feels a small smile coming up from those memories, only to freeze awkwardly on his face.

Across the street there she walked, a small box wrapped in her free palm. He hadn't anticipated her being out, assuming she had remained indoors lest the chill finally do her in. He felt his breath leave his lungs at the sight while his blood raced at a fever pitch, heart beginning to hammer. She looked beautiful, the way she had before whatever had occurred at the duchy. Cheeks fuller than he had seen since this past fall, eyes bright and a small smile on her face, she looked radiant to him. Some piece of him, deep in his soul perhaps, relaxed in relief at the sight of her hale and hearty. Another part of him, a part of who he is as a man, feels the stirrings of bitterness at the fact she seems to flourish again once out of his reach. But he couldn't help the way he wanted to grit his teeth and snarl at who stood at her side. Baron Konig, the man who had poached her from him. Still draped in his silly shroud, he was covered head to toe, a thick peacoat covering him and sturdy boots making contact with the ground, clicks following. Even with the coat in the way, Johnny's eyes narrowed at the way her hand was tucked into the crook of his arm. Why does that bastard have the right to touch her? He must have said something under that hood, for she looked up at the Baron and let out a chuckle, breath pluming out for a moment before she responded with something that he nodded in return to. In his free arm he held several packages, looking for all the world as though they weighed nothing. To a man of that size, they probably didn't.

Johnny felt the acidic tendrils of jealousy lance through him, searing him from the inside out while he fought the need to bare his teeth and tear into the man. He couldn't help it, truly he couldn't. That should have been him with her, guiding her down the street while she looks up at him and laughs at whatever he tells her. Actually no, he thought, she shouldn't be out here at all. She should have been back in the duchy with him, playfully seated on his desk, fire roaring and keeping them both toasty while he pretended to work. He would reach out and cup her face, stroking the apple of her cheek, while she would lean in and reward him with a kiss for his hard work that day. A game they had played before, the two of them wrapped up against the bitter outside world, a secret shared between their hearts.

Why does she not look at him that way? What did he do to harm her? What must he do to have her return to him? Just look at him again, please. Even just a passing glance, something to show that she still recalls who he is, who he can be to her.

Words of adoration and touches that feel like absolution dissipate from his eyes, Johnny swallowing a small noise behind his teeth when he sees how she leans into the Baron so she can stretch slightly higher and say something in his ear. Never before has Johnny wished to be lesser in society so as to step forward and take her hand and pull her home, show everyone who she is meant for. Unable to bear the sight any longer he hunches his head into the collar of his coat and swiftly turns around. His attempts at finding peace have only led him to further turmoil.

As he heads back to his carriage, his thoughts circle over and over, ruminating and digging furrows into his sanity.

He doesn't deserve this, none of this. Not with a woman like that, not with her. When he returns to the house, he has letters to write.

[onlinedolly]

Pllsss hear me out- dad leon with a alt kid, they're socially awkward and don't have any friends- but it's okay, leon can be your friend, he's all you need after all! And his kiddo smokes weed, not being too bothered by it, it helps with your anxiety-

But he can't help but get hard when you smile up at him with hazey red eyes and a big toothy grin! Stuttering and mumbling over your words because your brain is just too fogged up, Your just too cute!

So when you were smoking the next time he saw you, you were watching a movie and he asks to join you, sitting behind you on the bed, only starting with a hand rubbing on your back as you both watch the movie- but every hit you take leon gets more and more touchy until eventually he pounding into you, holding your face into your bed until your both crying, you from overstimulation, and leon crying that he's sorry, he'll make it up to you, he always does! (*￣∇￣*)

ohhhhh anonnie i’m wet LOL!!!!

cw warning: drug use, incest, dd:dne, rough sex, noncon, loser perverted leon, rough leon

“feelin good, hm?” leon would ask as he climbs into your bed, stroking your hair as some movie, he doesn’t really care that much about, plays in the background. leon had always been a lax dad, you were a decent enough kid and you didn’t have many friends, meaning you didn’t go out much (which he was thrilled by), so you found yourself hanging out with your father more then anything.

yes, he was a cop and yes you smoked weed but he wasn’t going to tell, he’d promised when he first found out. if that’s the worst thing you’re doing, how could he really be that mad? besides, it made you so kind to your sweet father.

you nod your head as he runs his fingers through your hair, sinking next to you on the bed. you’re fixated on the movie but all he can do is look at you, he watches as you smoke in your joint, leaning into his touch as he keeps running his fingers through your hair. as you get more hazy and high he moves his hand to rub small circles on your back, moving around a bit as he feels his cock start to stiffen.

why was his cock getting hard? why was he thinking these thoughts? your father thought to himself, he’d noticed you before in your little dresses and pretty makeup, but he always pushed it to the back of his mind. but now? now he couldn’t resist, how would he? not when you were sprawled out on the bed for him, leaning against his touch as he runs circles in your back.

so your dad tests the water first, moving his hang to grip your waist pulling you closer to him, when he notices you don’t shift away from him moves his hang up and down on your hip, that getting your attention.

“what are you doing?” you asked, soft, hazy, n sweet.

“just trust me baby,” leon speaks back just as kindly as he moves his hand to hover over the front of your panties. this was it. the point of no return. how would you react? he thought. would you push him away, call him a pervert? god he kind of was a pervert, a terrible man. a disgusting man who can’t help himself as he ghosts his fingers over clothed cunt. you late out a hazy gasp, but not moving much as he sneaks his fingers into your panties.

“this okay, baby?” he speaks low, running a finger up your cunt teasingly. you shudder and look at him with glossy eyes.

“daddy i…dunno.” you speak earnestly, you talked like you didn’t want it but from how wet he could feel you getting he kept on, spreading your puffy cunt with two fingers.

you sink down into his touch, grabbing his wrist with a limp hold, “daddy this….” you gasp a bit as he rubs past your clit, “…this ain’t right.”

“i know babygirl, im so sorry.” leon speaks as he places a kiss to the top of your head, rubbing soft circles into your fat clit. he felt terrible about it, touching you like this, he was your fucking father and now he’s nothing more then just a perverted man touching his daughter. “daddy’s so sorry.”

the circling around you clit speeds up as he watches you let out soft moans underneath him, twitching. he replaced his fingers with his thumb on your clit we he tries to insert a singular finger in you. you gasp at the pain and he practically moans at how tight it is. once inside he gives you a second to adjust before thrusting his finger in and out of you listening to how your whines turn into deep moans.

“d-daddy—“ your broken voice calls out as he picks up the pace, “we should stop.” you plead, but leon sees right through your facade as you wiggle around in his touch moaning softly.

“i know baby, i know. daddy’s so sorry, daddy’ll getcha whatever you want after, okay? just—“ he picks up the pace, rubbing your clit hard as he fucks you with his fingers, “let daddy do this okay?”

you’re about to cum, you can feel the coil of heat inside you and it’s about to snap. when you do cum, it’s hard and you’re bucking against your fathers fingers. the sight alone could make leon cream himself, but he’s not done. no, not yet.

he gives you time to adjust from your orgasm before he’s pushing you into the bed, face in the pillow and ass propped up as you’re on all fours. he’s fumbling around anxiously now, anxious to feel your tight cunt suck in his cock, as he unbuckles his belt and hurriedly pulls down his jeans. you’re in nothing but a pretty nightgown and black lacy panties making you the easiest of access.

once leon has his cock out he strokes it, letting out a deep guttural groan at the sight of you. and then he’s pulling down your panties and you panic, sobering up the tiniest bit as you try to raise up, to no avail since leon has you pinned to the bed.

“daddy this really isn’t okay—“ he slaps your ass, sending your body forward and you whine out loudly.

“sorry daddy hit you baby, daddy’s so so sorry,” he leans his head back in ecstasy before hes lining himself up with you, pushing himself into your tight cunt. “just let daddy do this, please baby.” and god you feel like heaven. tighter then he thought and so wet and hot. it’s almost impossible to work himself into you as you cry and whimper and clench around him. but oh, does leon love a challenge. so he thrusts harder as he finally gets himself fully inside of you.

“daddy!” you yelp, sobbing into the pillow as your clit pulses at the delicious feeling of him ripping you open. and then he starts, a brutal pace, a downright mean pace. especially for fucking his daughter who he knew was a pretty little virgin. but he couldn’t help it, you felt so good when you clenched in pain around his cock as he thrust into you with such force it made your head bang against the head board.

he had your hair a ball in his fist as he pushed your face into the pillow, muffling your screams and soft moans as he tears you from the inside out. your cunt is dripping all over his cock, the bed, as you let out little pleads asking him to stop but he just can’t.

he brings his free hand to your nipples under your shirt, squeezing them harshly as he collapses his body on top of yours, biting roughly into your shoulder, “jesus fuck baby, feel so so good. daddy’s so sorry he can’t stop, your just—“ thrust “so fucking—” thrust “—tight” thrust. you’re a mess at this point, sobbing and drooling into the pillow as he continues his brutal pace.

once leon finally comes, it’s a lot, hot and it fills you so full you think your going to pass out. his hips stutter as he jerks against your body, cumming and growling loudly in your ear. you’re a mess of tears and snot as he pulls out of you, his soft demeanor returning as he places a kiss to the back of your head. “daddy’s so sorry baby, getcha whatever you want to make it right, please forgive me?” he’s tearful now, stroking the back of your head as you lay there limp and out of it. leon was a perverted terrible man.

[burningcheese-merchant]

@cuppajj

You're 👀👀👀👀👀 you're what 👀👀👀👀👀

Instructions unclear, I have now created terribly drawn angst (I used that one drawing in this post as a reference for Spice in his container, I'm sorry it looks so botched, lvl 0 artist here lol)

And some written angst too, because I only really sort of know how to draw with words, not a pencil (under a cut so nobody has to bother with it if they don't want to)

"Father?"

Nothing.

"Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

Pepper Jack already knew what answer Burning Spice would give: none at all. Had eavesdropping on Celestial Cheese and the cheesebird in charge of "Energy Management" (this is what they meant by that?) not told him so ahead of time, then the sight that awaited him while he tiptoed through the halls and fluttered down the stairways would have instead. A man he'd always known to be larger than life, now a shell of his former self. Reduced to nothing but someone else's battery. Trapped behind glass, never meant to exist in the world again.

He knew all of that already. He knew in his heart that there was no point in talking to him. But he would try anyway. He had to.

"You look..." He paused. "You look thin. Thinner than... than the other you. You look weak."

The room itself felt warm and stuffy from the heat and electricity constantly pulsing through all of the machinery, and yet the glass felt startlingly cold when he placed his hand on it.

"I hate seeing you like this, Father," he said. "It isn't who you are. It's not who you're supposed to be. It... hurts. A lot."

The glass vibrated faintly; just enough for him to notice the pushback against his fingertips.

"Do they... really never let you out? Are you stuck inside of this container all the time? They never let you out to eat? Or move? Or even breathe?"

He leaned in a bit more, trying to get a closer look at Burning Spice's face. His eyes were closed, eyebrows slightly furrowed. His mouth was set in a small frown. Pepper Jack's gaze flickered downward - there was no rhythmic rise and fall of the man's chest like there should have been. The Light of Destruction - still embedded in his chest, to Pepper Jack's surprise; why wouldn't Celestial Cheese just take it while he can't fight back? - still gleamed, even submerged in that strange water and with the glass trying to hide its shine.

"I don't want you in there. I want to let you out..." His fingers curled into a fist. "I'm strong... Stronger than I look. One good knock and it'll rain glass all over the floor. It's nothing to me. But..."

He knocked on the glass once. Just the edges of his knuckles pressing against it, not even hard enough to make it rattle. Just for the sake of hearing the sound.

"But what would it do? What would happen to you? I know they're... draining you, but I don't understand how. I don't know how this container works. What if breaking it while you're still inside only hurts you more? What if it kills you?"

The thought of the glass shattering, granting Burning Spice his freedom back, only for him to slump and crumple to the floor completely lifeless made Pepper Jack's chest ache.

"I... I can't. I can't do it, Father. I'm scared of hurting you. Everyone else has hurt you enough already, haven't they? I won't make it worse if I don't have to."

He paused again. "Father... I..."

It was silent for a little while before Pepper Jack broke it with a soft sigh.

"... I know you're not really my father," he murmured, eyes downcast. "My father is... at home. Somewhere far away from here. You..." He stopped again, unsure of what to say next. "You... You're the version of him that's still a Beast. You're the one who hasn't changed."

He placed his other hand flat against the glass, feeling the faint vibrations latch onto his skin and crawl up his fingers and wrist. "Gold- Celestial Cheese told me you're a monster. That you've hurt and killed thousands. That she defeated you soundly and saved the world from your reign of terror..." He tilted his head. "Well... I guess that technically happened. But... Celestial Cheese... She scares me. She looks like my mother, but she isn't her. My mother would never act the way she does. She..." A lump rose in his throat that he quickly swallowed. "She wouldn't do any of this. She's not a conqueror, she's not a Beast. She wouldn't trap people in jars and lock the jars in a basement, taking away all of their strength until they're nothing but husks. She wouldn't even do that to her worst enemies. I don't even think she'd do it to you."

The Golden Cheese of this world wasn't always like this, was she? She was a hero like his mother - like his Golden Cheese - once. Even if only once...

"I hate to admit this, but... another reason I don't let you out is because of who you are. You're still a Beast, just like her... If I let you out, won't you just go back to hurting people again? What proof do I have that you wouldn't? If you did, would I even be able to stop you?"

Memories of his many spars with his own Burning Spice flooded his mind. Even holding back, the man was so powerful. Pepper Jack always improved, he walked away from every challenge his father gave him a better fighter than before - but he's never walked away the victor. Not yet. And he doubted that a battle against this Burning Spice would be any different.

"Whatever happens after that would be all my fault... I can't allow it. I can't let you be a monster again. I'm sorry."

Somewhere in the back of his mind and the bottom of his heart, Pepper Jack hoped Burning Spice would turn to him and say that it was alright. That he understood his decision. That he respected him. That he was proud of him.

Like his real father would.

His eyes started to blur.

"I..." Both of his hands balled into tight fists now, trembling with raw emotion. "But I still want to. I want to let you out. I know I shouldn't, but I- I don't want to see you like this. She's hurting you. You might deserve it, but- but I don't want it to happen. I want you to be free."

His lip began to quiver. "She scares me. She really does. When she smiles, her eyes don't. She's... I know she's lying. She's lying to somebody, somewhere, all the time. She treats me well, she dotes on me, she tries to act like my mother. But she's not. All she does is wear my mother's face like a mask. I don't understand who she really is, I just- I know it isn't good. She's greedy, but the wrong kind. The kind that leaves everything and everyone hollow, then scratches and howls at the empty space because even that isn't enough. It's scary.

"I just... F-Father, I-" He didn't mean to say that. He knows that's not his father, he really does. He really does... "I don't know what to do. I don't know where I am. This isn't the Golden Cheese Kingdom, not really. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be around Celestial Cheese. I don't even want to be around the cheesebirds, they- they sound like robots sometimes. Like all they know how to do is bend to Celestial Cheese's will. My mother doesn't expect that from our cheesebirds, she's kind and generous and- and she doesn't make them help her hurt other people! My- m-my mother-"

The memory of his mother - of his Golden Cheese, the only Golden Cheese that should ever have existed - made the warm tears that been threatening to spill over for ages finally do so. "I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. Everything is all wrong here. There's something wrong with everyone, every single person I meet. I try to pretend, I try to act like I'm happy and grateful, I-I let Celestial Cheese hug me and take me places and pinch my cheeks even though I hate when she touches me! But I- I don't know if I can keep it up! I don't even know if she actually believes me!"

Never before had he ached for his mentor's guidance more than he did now. Smoked Cheese always told him he was clever and sought to make him more so. No blade could ever be sharper than one's wit, he said. He taught Pepper Jack to lie. He taught him to be crafty. To do what he had to, when he had to. He had to now, more than ever before - and he was cracking. The mask he wore in this place was ill-fitting. Every day, he felt it slip off further. His only solace was that Smoked Cheese wasn't there to tell him how disappointed he was in his failure.

"You're all I have," Pepper Jack cried. "There's nobody here for me. I'm all alone. I don't even know how I got here! I came here because- 'cause there's nowhere else for me to go! I don't have anyone to talk to! You- Y-You're in here, you're in this container, you can't lie to me or hurt me or- or do anything else! You'll sit there and listen and you won't interrupt me or talk down to me like she does!"

For a moment - just one moment - he thought he saw Burning Spice stir, just a little. It only made him cry harder.

"Please, Father!" he cried, raking his fingers over the glass - right above his chest. Right above the Light of Destruction. "Please, you have to wake up! I need help! I-I need your help! I don't know what to do, I hate it here, you're all I have, please!"

Nothing. Just like when he first called to him. Just like when he'd bothered saying anything else.

He crossed his arms and laid his head against them. "I just want to go home... I don't belong here. Please... You have to wake up. You're all I have in this horrible place. Please, Father, I need you. I-I want to hear your voice again. I want to hear you laugh at something. You're all I have anymore."

Through his tears and down through the glass, into the strange water, right at that godforsaken Soul Jam, Pepper Jack's lips curled into a small, bitter smile.

"You're all I have now... And you can't even hear me, can you?"

His only answer was the steady thrum of all the machinery.

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

I mean... Can he? Can Burning Spice hear him in there? 🤔

Lol imagine he can and he's just like "wtf is this kid on about I don't even know you Jesus fucking Christ"

[sapphic-agent]

What bothers me the most about Izuku's character is that it seems like he can't feel anything, like because he can't be angry with what happens to him, you know why he can't have negative feelings towards Bakugou? This admiration he has for the bomb boy is not normal and healthy, it reminds me of Stockholm Syndrome. Bakugou stans say that Izuku is boring, but when talking about this thing about him not being angry with Bakugou, they keep saying that we don't understand Izuku's character. What's your opinion? Am I exaggerating?

I don't think you're exaggerating. In fact, I think it's deliberate on Horikoshi's part.

I began to realize Izuku's character was regressing the minute I first came across this scene:

This is the only scene I can justify hating Izuku's character because it was such an out of pocket line coming from him. And it kind of stuck in my head for weeks because it felt so OOC. Like, Izuku of all characters pushing for Todoroki to forgive Endeavor? It made no sense to me.

But do you see how it pans to Bakugou?

To me, this is Horikoshi indirectly attempting to absolve Bakugou. Izuku's line here is trying to communicate that that's how he feels about Bakugou.

Similarly to All Might saying Izuku doesn't hold what Bakugou did against him, this is another piece of plot manipulation from Horikoshi. Bakugou's redemption is pushed through the words of others, not through his actions. Especially when it comes to how he treated Izuku.

If Izuku, at any point, was still upset or noticeably traumatized by Bakugou's actions, Bakugou couldn't have been reasonably redeemed. Because there would be no feasible reason to even have him around Izuku and the only reason Bakugou's even relevant is due to Horikoshi sticking him onto Izuku in every arc

[lightlycareless]

I was reading your scorned ex husband stories and they made me so sad(especially the second one) then I started thinking about the twin au and like what if the twins parent trap them in a different divorced au? Lol. Naoya is still a dick obviously for splitting up twins(seriously who would do that??) but maybe not completely irredeemable for Y/N to forgive him 🥺 Hehe this is just something silly I thought up and wanted to share

Hellooooooo

Heheh this got me watching the movie again, right in the nostalgia. It had been so long since I last saw it that I actually didn't remember most of it, but I do think however: how the hell did they think that was a good idea 🤣 gee, talk about parent of the year.

Anyways, some liberties were taken to make the story work, though the premise is essentially the same.

Also, these are the works anon is referring to :) Ex-husband 1 & Ex-husband 2. Now onto the warnings:

Warnings: none major. Naoya is an a_hole, as always. Naomi and Naori are adorable, but poor kids seriously :'(.

Happy reading!!

If Naoya does this, you effectively hate him from that point forward.

It is non-negotiable, you never want to see him ever again, especially after the cruel words he used to justify the separation of his children:

“I only ever cared about Naori anyways.”

You made it your life-long purpose to keep Naomi from someone as despicable as her father—though it hurt you to do so, for it also meant you’d be away from your beloved son; just 2 years into his life… you barely got to make any memories with him before he was stripped away from your arms.

But such was the divorce agreement: the two would keep one child, and out of their lives.

Naoya remains in Kyoto with his son at the Zen’in estate, while you move back to Tokyo, close to your family but distant enough to have your own apartment. Just the two of you, the little home you always wanted.

In an unexpected turn of events, Naomi and Naori would go on completely unaware of each other until enrolling in the same elementary school.

It was almost undetectable at the beginning since Naomi now had your last name—but once teachers and students alike began to realize their physical similarities, it became impossible to ignore.

“No… we don’t look alike.” Naori would quietly complain. Out of the two, he was the least enthusiastic about this advancement, doing his best to avoid the limelight due to his reserved nature.

However, that wouldn’t mean anything to Naomi: ever the bubble one, she was nothing but to have a new best friend that looked just like her!

“We’re almost like twins!” she gasped—same hair color, eyes, height… how could they not? “I’ve always wanted a baby brother too.”

“Well, I don’t! And I could be older too, you know? Besides, why would I want a sister that’s weak and ugly…?”

Intended to hurt her, Naomi only laughed at his words, for it would take much more than that to bring her down—one could even say that the two were reflections of their respective parents in that matter: the only contrast between the two, as a matter of fact.

“That’s not true!” she happily refuted, taking hold of his hand and heading to the playground. “Now, come on! I want to go on the swings, and I need someone to push me!”

Though Naori was greatly unwilling at first, he’d soon warm up to her, mainly because she was part of the few, if not the only, kid that didn’t bother him because of his shyness; always rushing to the rescue whenever bullies began to swarm him, as well as reassure him there was nothing wrong with being the way he was.

And if that wasn’t enough, the food Naomi began to share with him (courtesy of you, after much insistence from her part) effectively validated their friendship.

“When will you ever bring him over?” you tease, it’s the happiest you’d ever seen your daughter! And for that, you couldn’t help but feel glad and obligated to repay the favor.

“I don’t know, mama. Nori-kun tells me his papa can be quite strict.”

You chuckle.

“Well, I’m sure I can convince him next time the parents have a meeting at school.”

“His papa doesn’t go to school.” Naomi frowns, her words making you sad for the poor child. “Says he’s too busy.”

“Oh, that’s awful. Well, what about the mama?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

Your heart longs to comfort him.

If they only knew…

And as time went on and their friendship flourished even more, so did their interests for one another; beyond those of their favorite colors and toys, and more into… personal grounds.

Matters that had always quietly hurt Naori one way or the other since he could remember; more so since you had been nothing but sweet and kind to a figuratively unknown kid, which highlighted the fact he never had that one thing he always wished for.

What he might never have, since his father has long given up on it, considering the way he coldly changes the subject, or completely ignores it. Naori simply… doesn’t talk about it.

Until now.

“Why don’t you have a dad?” He dares to ask; it’s no secret that the one to pick him up at school is one of his father’s many subordinates, always changing, not enough to be interesting to the other parents outside of how rich (or a jerk) he must be to have employees pick up his child.

Compared to you, always spoken of fondly for the following reasons:

If it was Valentine’s Day, you’d send Naomi with a big box of candies so she could share with all the class.

Halloween was the same, even hosting small gatherings if the children wished to celebrate in a safe environment.

If it was a classmate’s birthday, you always made sure to send them a personal gift or attend their birthday party. Your gifts might’ve put some parents to shame from time to time, but it didn’t matter, you kind of grew to be some kind of celebrity thus a few always tried to be on your good side—or Naomi’s, so to speak.

Naomi’s birthday… well, some fought to be on the guest list.

In other words,you were an amazing for both kids and parents alike, enough to inspire Naori to daydream about what it would be to have a loving mother like you—to always be at the door once it was time to leave, patiently waiting for the moment your daughter would come into view and subsequently pick her up into a tight, warm hug, followed by a kiss and wide smile as you urged Naomi to tell you all about her day.

Or more importantly, wonder if you were open to adopting him.

“Oh… that—I… don’t know!” Naomi responds truthfully. “Mama never talks about him.”

“Have you asked her?”

“Once or twice, but all she says is that I should focus on my studies!

…

But I can see how sad she gets whenever I mention him.” She continues. “Mama isn’t very good at hiding “adult talk” and neither is my auntie, so I always get to hear how lonely she is when they talk about him! … and how she should try dating other people, or whatever that means, so she wouldn’t feel like that anymore.”

“I think is when you marry someone.” Naori tries to explain, Naomi scowls out of disgust.

She doesn’t like the idea of sharing her mama with someone else, grows somewhat jealous too.

Well, maybe if it was Uncle Nanami, he’s always been nice to her and her mama. Not Geto because she plans on marrying him herself.

And she supposes her papa too… but how could someone you love make you sad?

“I don’t want her marrying anyone.” Naomi shakes her head. “She’s happy with me!”

“But don’t you wonder about your dad?” he asks. “What did he look like? How did he meet your mom?”

Or how they fell in love?

Naturally. Because just as Naori, and even after you tried your hardest to distract her from it… she too longed to have a father. Someone to play with her after finishing all her homework, put her over his shoulders and let her see the world from his height, or protect her from the monsters that lived inside the closet…

There must be an answer to both of their mysteries—people don’t simply disappear.

And such, is how they assigned themselves a new mission; a task of the upmost importance, requiring all their attention and care if they wish to uncover why they only have one parent—and who was such peculiar character.

Anything that could hint such solution is a chance they’d take, however…

To Naomi, this endeavor proved quite fruitless, for any indication of your past relationship was effectively ripped from the evidence. Quite literally: thousands and thousands of pictures cut in half, neatly removing the person that accompanied her mother—whom she assumed to be her father. And that’s without mentioning your consistent disapproval of the matter. Naomi was right where she began.

This lack of advancement both frustrated her and placed more pressure onto Naori’s efforts, which shockingly, turned to be quite more than what they bargained for. Getting results neither could’ve imagined, not even in their wildest dreams…

“Naomi-chan… I’m not sure if you’re ready to see this.” Naori would caution as he placed down a large wooden box before her, filled with his findings.

“Why? Why not, Naori-kun?” she frets, surely it couldn’t be anything too outrageous.

…Could it?

Yes, it could. And it was.

Because beyond the astonishing realization that all the pictures Naori brought were in virtually perfect shape…

The fact they both recognize the people in the photo, Naomi’s mother, wearing that same bright eyed, wide smile look on her face whenever particularly excited. Happy—alongside Naori’s father, with his usual dyed hair, ear piercings, and striking eyes…

Holding two newborn babies—named Naomi and Naori such as the inscription in the back stated, alongside their birth time and date (Naomi is older, at last is known) …

Is what truly shocked them.

…

…

…

You. Naoya.

Naomi and Naori.

Mama and papa.

A family, for all intents and purposes.

What everyone around them proclaimed: siblings.

Naomi and Naori were siblings. Twins.

“Does that mean we—”

Naori nods. If it hadn’t been obvious enough by now.

Nonetheless, as thrilling as this discovery was, for it essentially made their respective dreams come true… another question arose. One that undoubtedly could not proceed unanswered.

“Why aren’t our parents together?”

Or most importantly:

“How can we get them back together?”

“But what if they don’t want to?” Naori frets.

“I told you already! Mama looks very happy wit him, and auntie says she’s very lonely too… besides, if they get back together that means we’ll finally be a happy family! And isn’t that what you wanted?”

Naori presses his lips together, nodding.

“I want a happy family too. I’ve always wanted a papa to play with!” Naomi continues.

“And a mom to hug…” Naori adds. “What do we do?”

First…

Get them together, face to face. In other words, talk. It’s how adults always preached problems got solved.

Since you had given Naomi the impression you’re not interested in anything pertaining to Naori’s dad, she had to get creative. Force you into a position where you wouldn’t be able to ignore her as you’ve done before—and one where Naoya would inevitably have to go to school too.

It had to be a convincing excuse, and since the two were children in need of dire solutions, their innocent minds led them to the most extreme resolution yet.

“I need you to punch me.” Naomi says, determined.

“Why?!” he gasps.

“Because I need to get hurt for mama to come, and if you’re the one in trouble they’ll have to call your papa, and then, the two will be here, just as we planned!”

“Can’t we do something less dangerous…?” Naori doesn’t like the idea of getting in trouble with his strict dad, as if he weren’t insufferable enough…

“No, Naori. It must be this!”

“But I don’t want to punch you…”

“Come on, we have to do it to have a family!!” she insists. “Or do you not want mama to make you food every day? To hug you too??”

He swallows.

“I do.”

“Then do it!”

And… he does. After taking a deep breath, clenching his fist and hitting Naomi in what she could only describe the weakest punch she could’ve ever anticipated. Surely, not enough to make this case convincing.

“Naori! You have to hit harder than that!”

“I—I tried!” he cries.

“No, you didn’t!” she cries back. “You didn’t even try!”

“Ye—yes I did!” Naori frowns. “It’s not my fault I’m not as strong as you!”

“Yeah, right! You’re a boy, you’re supposed to hit harder!” Naomi adds, smirking soon after an idea crosses her mind. “… Then I guess you don’t really want a mama.”

“I do want a mom…”

“No, it’s fine. I should’ve known not to trust you with something so important anyways—” she says, words that brush each and every one of Naori’s insecurities. “You’re just as weak as everyone else says…”

With a frown on his face, and a sour tightness in his chest, little Naori quickly clenched his fist and prepared himself to prove her wrong once and for all. Show that he wanted this just as much as she did—if not more.

Naomi was trying her best to get a rise out of Naori, everything necessary to motivate a genuine hit out of him and get their plan in motion—she never meant any of those words, intended to apologize after all was said and done, though she doubted it would matter once they got what they sought after.

But it was almost comical how it happened, how he miscalculated his steps, how far his hand had to travel to hit Naomi, and how he ended up doing far more than necessary: but convincingly so, in the end. Tripping over her and sending the two tumbling down, loudly hitting the ground in such a motion that had them scraping their skin, and of course, tears following suit.

“Maaaaaaa, I want my mamaaaaa.” Naomi intuitively cried, tightly holding onto the teacher as the two were sent to the infirmary.

Naori didn’t cry much for his father, he rarely did considering his prominent absence, but just one look at his teary face and trembling lip, and it was obvious whom he sought for comfort—the same one the school somehow convinced to come along and deal with this unfortunate incident.

As well as the supposed altercation that made way for all this to happen in the first place.

“No, what do you mean a fight??” You’re the first to arrive, demanding a believable explanation from the teacher. “That’s not—that doesn’t sound like my daughter!”

“I know, I thought the same… but that’s what the kids are saying.” She explains. “That Naomi-chan was inciting Naori-kun to punch her, and that she was even saying awful things to get him to do that. I don’t know what they were doing, if they were playing a game or… I don’t know; all of it is so weird—I’m sorry.”

You sigh.

“It’s fine. There’s no need to stress when it’s already happened.” You explain. “Is the parent of the child here already?”

“Should be soon, but I don’t know if he’s actually coming, Naori’s dad isn’t quite… present.”

You frown at the name.

“Naori? Wasn’t he Naomi’s best friend?”

She nods.

“It just makes everything even more unbelievable… really, what’s gotten to them?”

You hope to figure such when speaking to the poor child your daughter allegedly antagonized, after apologizing for such behavior of course. Which you’d have to deal with after returning home—Naomi… seriously, what could’ve possibly gone through her mind to incite such act? Was she being bullied? Did Naori suddenly decide he no longer wanted to be friends with her?

And why did his name appear to be so… familiar?

You’d figure it out soon enough when entering the infirmary, quickly scanning across the room for your daughter—only to freeze upon locking into Naoya’s; a much smaller, softer version of them, that is.

“Mamaaaaa!!” Naomi quickly cries when seeing you walk past the door, rushing to your side and hugging you tightly, the adrenaline of the whole succession still vivid in her mind. “Mama, it—it hurts a lot!”

Comforting her ought to be your utmost priority, but at the sight of your estranged child, the baby you were forcibly stripped away from… you couldn’t think of anything else but pinching yourself to see if this was a dream—if he was truly there, before you: flesh and bone. After so many years of distance…!

And naturally, hug him. Keep him so, so close to you and never let go; to make up for all the time you’ve spent apart and the things you never got to do because of his undeserving, cruel father…

Who stomped past the door soon after, equally freezing when seeing his estranged child, and ex-wife after 5 years of imposed silence. Startled, as if he hadn’t been the deciding factor behind it all.

Or perhaps, the reason why Naori enrolled in this school in the first place.

“Y/N.”

“Naoya.”

Looks like there’s much to catch up to.

Obviously, part 2 is needed. Essentially where Naoya will disclose more of what the hell was going on in his mind when pulling that stunt, as well as some angst. I have to. hahaha

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little thing I wrote; I do love it when we indulge into domestic au... but not at the expense of the kids 😭😭😭 think of the children!!! lol.

Well, 0nce again, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! Now take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[ikkyfics]

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader

Summary: you decide to teach your boyfriend to drive

Warnings: fluffy, cute scenes, sweet couple, light humor, needy character because he deserves all the love in the world

Materlist

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“Alright, now all you need to do is ease your foot off the clutch. Slowly,” you said, your neck craned at an awkward angle as you tried to peek at the car’s pedals. Your voice carried a sweet patience that only you seemed capable of offering Dave, even after he’d almost stalled the car at least five times that day.

Dave took a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He nodded with determination and began lifting his foot off the clutch.

“Not so fa—”

Your sentence was cut off by the car’s abrupt jolt, and the engine stalled. The silence that followed was broken by Dave’s frustrated groan as he let his forehead fall against the steering wheel with a soft thud.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice heavy with discouragement. “I’m a total loser.”

Your eyes immediately filled with guilt on his behalf. He hated letting you down, and even more than that, he hated appearing clumsy or incompetent—especially in front of you. Dave had this habit of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, as though every small failure was proof he wasn’t good enough.

You chuckled softly, reaching out to poke his ribs. “Hey, you’re not a loser.”

“Yes, I am,” he shot back, still leaning against the steering wheel.

“Alright, maybe you are. A little.”

Dave lifted his head, shooting you a wounded look that was pure drama, yet somehow irresistible. “Thanks? Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

Feigning innocence, you twirled a strand of your hair between your fingers and spoke in the sweetest voice you could muster. “But you’re my loser, Dave.”

He let out a low laugh, the sound warming the air between you. There was something endlessly endearing about the way he seemed to struggle to stay frustrated in your presence. Dave was like that—a storm of insecurities and neediness that you loved soothing with smiles and gentle touches.

Still holding the steering wheel, he sighed. “I don’t know how you have patience with me. I don’t even know why you bothered trying to teach me. You know I’m a lost cause.”

“You’re not a lost cause,” you replied, your hand sliding to his arm and giving it a firm squeeze to drive your point home. “You just need to relax. Stop overthinking.”

Dave turned his face to look at you, and his blue eyes were so full of quiet devotion that your heart skipped a beat. “It’s kinda hard not to overthink when the girl I love is watching me mess everything up,” he admitted, his voice low and hesitant.

The confession stole the breath from your lungs for a moment. Dave had this special talent for dropping these heartfelt lines that seemed pulled straight from the depths of his soul, and his vulnerability was always so genuine it was impossible not to feel a deep warmth spreading through your chest.

“You’re not messing anything up,” you assured him, leaning in closer. “And even if you were, it’d still be adorable.”

The flush that crept up his cheeks was immediate. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it just as quickly, seeming to lose his words. Dave always got a little flustered when you were that direct, and it was one of the things that made him all the more endearing.

After a few more attempts to start the car without jolts—which you met with encouraging words and light laughter—he stalled the engine again and threw his hands up in theatrical defeat.

“This is impossible!” he exclaimed.

“Impossible? I can do this with one hand tied behind my back,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Of course you can. You’re like a driving prodigy. Remind me again how you started so young?”

You smiled, recalling the story you’d told him before. “My dad used to let me sit on his lap and hold the steering wheel when I was a kid. Obviously, it was just to entertain me. I wasn’t actually controlling anything. He always said that instead of blood, we’ve got gasoline running through our veins.”

Dave raised his eyebrows, a sly grin creeping onto his face as he shot you a long look. “So… maybe that’s what I need. You sit on my lap, and I’ll figure out how it’s done.”

You arched a brow, feigning disbelief. “Are you suggesting I sit on your lap while you drive? What do you think we are, Dave? Megan Fox and Shia LaBeouf in Transformers?”

He shrugged, his grin widening. “No, but I think it’d make for a great learning moment. Plus…” He trailed off, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m kinda partial to the idea of you right here with me.”

It was impossible to resist that look. Dave’s eyes were practically weapons of emotional destruction, brimming with a shy intensity that made your stomach flip.

You rolled your eyes dramatically but couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across your face. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible or genius?” he countered, already shifting to make room.

Sighing, you relented and climbed onto his lap, carefully adjusting yourself to avoid pressing him too firmly against the seat. Dave immediately placed his hands on your waist, the touch light and hesitant, as if he were still processing the fact that you were this close.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“Don’t get any ideas,” you teased, though it was hard to keep the casual tone when the warmth of his hands seemed to radiate straight to your skin.

“Not a chance,” he murmured, but the grin curving his lips was full of mischief.

When you placed your hands on the steering wheel, ready to show him how it was done, he leaned forward to press a light kiss to the curve of your neck. The gesture was so unexpected that you almost lost your composure, your heart pounding as his lips left a trail of fire on your skin.

“Dave,” you chided, though your voice sounded more like a sigh.

“I’m learning,” he replied innocently, while another, slower kiss landed just below the first.

It was hard to focus. In fact, it was impossible. You could barely remember what you were supposed to be teaching because all you could feel were his fingers firm on your waist and his warm lips on your skin. One of his thumbs dipped under the hem of your shirt, tracing lazy circles on the soft skin of your stomach. Unable to help yourself, you relaxed against his chest, sighing at the path of kisses he trailed along the side of your neck.

“If you keep this up, I’m going to crash the car,” you whispered, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

“We’re parked. It’s fine,” he replied with that boyish tone that always melted your heart.

You closed your eyes as his nose brushed against the sensitive curve of your neck, inhaling deeply, as if he wanted to be intoxicated by your scent.

“You’re impossible,” you murmured, with no real intention of scolding him.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” he answered, his smile pressing into your skin.

Turning your head to face him, you tried to summon a seriousness that was slipping through your fingers. The way he was looking at you didn’t help—his eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and restrained longing, as if you were something too precious to touch yet impossible to resist.

“If you’re trying to distract me to avoid another attempt, I have to say you’re succeeding,” you remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Dave shrugged, his fingers still sliding absentmindedly along your waist, occasionally daring to dip down to your hips. “Not my fault I’d rather do this than… you know, wreck the gear shift again.”

You rolled your eyes, but the laugh that escaped you was as involuntary as it was inevitable. “Okay, I admit, driving with you is already one of the most chaotic experiences of my life. But if I survive this, I can survive anything.”

He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as if he were seriously pondering that. “So, you’re saying I’m like the final boss of patience challenges?”

“Something like that,” you replied, leaning closer, your fingers gently brushing a few of his dark curls away from his face. “But I’d also say you come with your rewards.”

Dave smiled, the kind of smile that lit up his entire face—a delightful combination of surprise and joy, as though he still wasn’t used to the fact that you loved him.

“Rewards, huh?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse, his vibrant blue eyes fixed on your lips.

You nodded slowly, letting the tension in the air between you build. Your gaze flicked to his mouth, and before hesitation could creep in, you closed the distance, kissing him with all the intensity the moment demanded.

His taste was familiar yet always felt new, an addictive mix you could never seem to get enough of. Dave’s hands tightened slightly on your waist, pulling you closer, as though he needed to feel every part of you to believe this was real. You shifted, fumbling a bit with your legs before finally settling more comfortably in his lap. Your fingers quickly tangled in his hair, drawing a soft sigh from his lips.

Dave loved you, every part of you, but your mouth might easily be one of his favorites. Not just because he could lose himself in it, but because your voice was one of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard. It was like a siren’s song, pulling him closer until he was completely wrecked. And those little noises of pleasure that bubbled from your lips—he adored hearing them, even more so because he was the one causing them.

His hands tightened around you as he left gentle love bites on your lips, only to kiss them sweetly after. He slid deeper into the kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs as though trying to leave an imprint on your soul.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, but the goofy smile on his swollen lips made your heart stumble all over again.

“Okay,” he began, his voice low and slightly shaky. “If that’s the reward, I promise to be even clumsier.”

You laughed, giving his shoulder a playful smack. “Don’t even think about it.”

He laughed with you, though the sound soon faded as his gaze caught something else on your face. His smile softened, and he tilted his head as if trying to solve an invisible puzzle.

“What?” you asked, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his attentive stare.

“I just… sometimes I wonder how you can look at me like that,” he confessed, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m…” He paused, searching for the right words. “Like I’m important. Special.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. Dave had this habit of underestimating his own worth, of believing he was just another ordinary figure in a world that barely seemed to notice him. But he wasn’t ordinary to you. He never could be.

“Maybe because you are,” you replied, without a hint of hesitation.

His face turned a shade of red that always made you want to squeeze him as if he were the most adorable thing in the universe. He looked away for a moment, clearly trying to hide the grin threatening to grow wider.

You decided not to give him the chance to argue or get embarrassed. Cupping his face in your hands, you forced him to look at you. “You’re special, Dave. To me, you are. You always have been.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to absorb your words, to tuck them away somewhere deep inside himself. When he opened them again, there was something different in his gaze—a mix of gratitude and vulnerability that made your heart feel like it might burst.

“I really don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, his voice so low it seemed meant only for you.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you replied, your thumb stroking his cheek. “Just be you. That’s enough.”

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade. There was no car, no driving lesson, just the two of you, so close it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

But, of course, Dave was Dave, and the silence didn’t last long.

“Alright,” he started, his voice carrying an obvious attempt at humor to ease the intensity of the moment. “So, I guess we can call it a day for the lesson. You know, I’ve learned a lot already. Especially about rewards.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ve still got a lot to learn, Mr. ‘I-can’t-release-the-clutch.’”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine, but only if you promise to keep being the prettiest teacher in the world.”

“Dave…”

“What? It’s a legitimate compliment.”

You laughed again, unable to help yourself. He was a disaster behind the wheel, but when it came to melting your heart, Dave was an absolute pro.

And there, sitting in his lap, with the sweetest blue eyes in the world shining back at you, you knew you wouldn’t trade those moments — no matter how chaotic they were — for anything.

[youchangedmedestiel]

Dean and Cas work a case together. They go to the crime scene as FBI agents as usual, but this time Dean recognizes the vics. They are two hunters he met on separate occasions, Bart and Marcus.

So, there's definitely something supernatural going on around here.

What's weird though is that they both have been murdered and have been found naked in the same room. Dean is confused while Cas is focused, studying the crime scene.

"I think they were copulating when they got attacked by something." Cas establishes the facts, based on what he sees in front of him and what the sheriff told them earlier.

"What? No, not possible." Dean looks at him frowning, looking down at the bodies.

"Why not?" Cas frowns back.

"Because!" That's all Dean gives him. He seems unsettled.

"Do you know a supernatural being that undress its victims before killing them?" Cas pushes him, suspecting something that might be bothering him.

"I don't know every monster out there. Maybe that's a kind that only kill naturists and since there was none around here. Then - then it did the job itself." Dean poorly explains which earns him a squinted look from the angel.

"Dean." By saying his name, Cas tries to bring him back to reality or at least something more logical that might have happened. But soon after, he tries to investigate where Dean's reluctance comes from. "Does it bother you?" He simply says.

"What?" Dean asks, pretending not to know.

"Are you bothered by those two men having sex?" Cas asks innocently.

"WHAT?!" Dean seems shocked by the accusation, but then adds quietly, "not bothered."

"What then?" Cas wonders, tilting his head.

"I don't know. Surprised maybe. I mean they didn't seem - you know." Dean struggles and Cas doesn't help at all. He just looks at him and doesn't say anything, leaving Dean all alone to try to get out of this conversation he hasn't seen coming. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. "Can we just focus on the case, please?" He says, sighing.

"Of course, Dean." Cas replies, because the hunter doesn't seem at ease with this talk. Hopefully he will at some point.

[voidspiraling]

Omg Till is so cute whattttttt. Excuse my brain rotting I just needed to get this out of my system.

LOOK AT THEM SO CUTE

ALL OF THEM SO CUTE!!!!

Ahem.

Now time for some serious analysis 🧐 (I don’t rlly get anywhere tho so less of an analysis and more just me asking a bunch of questions hoping for an answer from the void)

One thing I noticed aside from how cute Till is his eye bags.

This baby Till doesn’t have eye bags yet, so we can conclude that Till was starting to become sleep deprived after the age of 3 and before the age of 8. (I’m just making a guess based on the pics of their age Till could be 12 in that picture I truly couldn’t tell you)

Now what does this mean when a child is continuously sleep deprived by a stupid alien?

Impacts Behaviors: Harder to pay attention, prone to mood swings, and increased impulsivity (Yep that’s Till)

Impacts Mental Health: Increases the risk and severity of depression and anxiety (What do you know that’s also Till!)

Impacts Brain Development: Negatively affects the memory and intelligence parts of the brain (Do you guys remember that brain scan that showed a brain suffering from trauma?)

As you can see from an early age Till was already put through the wringer before he even got a bruise. I say this because sleep deprivation is extremely torturous regardless of whether it’s forced or self inflicted. Mentally and physically not getting enough sleep fucks up every aspect of your life. The lack of sleep could be bc Till was staying up late, it was noted by other Anakt kids that Till kept them up at night bc he was practicing his music. It could also be bc Urak forced him to stay awake.

Like when he made Till watch videos of a younger Luka. Overall my heart broke once again at the way they treat a literal baby. Another thing I want to point out is their necks.

I’m leaving out Ivan cuz he doesn’t wear the collar anyways. But Mizi and Sua both wear the standard (I’m assuming standard bc they’re the most common) collars both lit up green. They’re living in a little bubble and while they look cute, knowing how their story goes makes them look uncanny. Anyways this is the collar most of the kids wear.

But Till is wearing a different collar and also is wearing a green patch. It always made me curious why he has different collars compared to the rest. Like I get it’s bc of the fact that he rebels a lot so he has a lot more restraints. But this collar is thinner and more metallic than the other ones. You’d think that if they were trying to punish him more they’d give him a bigger collar or a more restrictive one. They forced him into one that restrains his arm to his torso and one over his mouth. But this is just a thin collar that he wears on stage and it doesn’t seem to have any function other than to be a small collar. It also doesn’t show a mood indicator like the other ones do. I guess bc Urak doesn’t care what Till is feeling so he didn’t bother getting that feature. But it also makes it ambiguous what Till is feeling. In the picture while Mizi and Sua look happy, and Ivan looks focused, Till looks shocked and perplexed about writing in the air. (And adorable but when doesn’t he look adorable?) Anyways I can’t for the life of me figure out why his loser alien would get a custom collar that is so simple. From what I’ve gathered abt that freak he grew up in the slums but due to his greedy nature and inability to have compassion was able make it big by doing illegal shit. So maybe it was cost effective to just make simple collars instead of getting the standard one? What a cheap bastard.

Another thing that confuses me is the green patch on his neck.

Just what is this? My first thought went to nicotine patches and insulin patches. But those aren’t suppose to go on the neck, usually on the arm. Then as I did my daily watch of Round 6 I noticed that Till has been injected with unknown substances through his neck.

My guess is that the green patches are injecting him with some type of drug. And because the skin around the neck is so fragile the drugs can seep through easier. (It’s completely unsafe but in line with how the loser alien acts)

There are two possible explanations.

One is that Till has become addicted to the drugs they pump him with. And in order to keep him normal and keep him from showing withdrawal signs they use the green patches like a nicotine patch. Drugs have been used by artists as a way to further their craft. Some have even become reliant on it in order to make art. There’s a sense of enlightenment as well, some use it as a way to gain a new perspective on life. I personally can’t understand using drugs for that purpose, but some of the greatest works of art have been created through the use of substances like these. So it’s possible that Urak in his attempt to create a weapon that could topple Luka tries to make Till produce songs using that method. Such as injecting a bunch of drugs and leaving him in a room to write songs.

Two is that they use the green patch as a way to sedate Till, or as a way to enhance his performance. As evident by just looking at Till you can tell he’s running on fumes when he’s on stage. So maybe as a way to push past his limit they drug him so that he can keep performing even when his body is at its limit. The patches are only seen in Round 2 but that could explain why Till got a nosebleed when he was performing in Round 7. His body was finally catching up to him.

Alternatively they could just be there to cover up the wounds from injections while also looking cool lol.

As you can tell I am very confused ;-; but also very curious abt these experiments. They seemed to be focused on the throat and mouth which makes me think they’re trying to modify how these kids sing. Like are they trying to make it so that they can sing outside of their vocal range? Are they trying to make it so that they can sing without having to breath? Or maybe the drugs can affect their literal genes. I know human editing is a procedure in Alien stage universe but what does that actually mean? Can you edit their appearance? Their personality? Their memory? Their thoughts?

My attempts at analysis have only left me with more questions.

Thanks for reading byeeeeee