#Changing your ways doesn't earn forgiveness

[thetarotyapper]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ what qualities should you be seeking in a romantic partner ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

this pac is divided into two parts – the good qualities and the bad qualities. the good qualities will be talking about the characteristics you should be seeking in a romantic partner, and the bad qualities will be talking about the characteristics you should avoid/be aware of regarding a romantic interest.

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(how to pick a card? observe the given options and choose the one which you feel the most drawn to. scroll down to read your message!! remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates! (ps.- if you feel drawn to more than one card/image/pile, feel free to read the others too!! if the chosen pile doesn't relate to you, feel free to choose another. the choice is yours<3)

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pile I ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

my lovely pile 1, i feel like you’ve always been compromising yourself when it comes to love/relationships and i feel like the people you were interested in have always been intimidated by your success, one way or the other. i feel like people haven’t been honest with you and they’ve never really guided you - even as a friend. it’s like people want to see you lose your stance and fall down, you know? in this reading, i will talk about the good qualities and the bad qualities you should look out for. i hope you take care, and now let’s get to your reading<3

ᝰ.ᐟ good qualities

1. you should be seeking the qualities of someone who is gentle and patient with you. they shouldn’t be someone who gets angry at you for the silliest things. your person should be someone who values your emotions and understands where you’re coming from, instead of always making you guilty for being sensitive.

2. you should be seeking the qualities of someone who is honest and helps you see the truth. they shouldn’t be someone who blindly supports you, no. they should have your back and guide you mindfully. because i’m seeing here that you find it hard to accept things, so you should seek qualities of someone who helps you realise and accept things.

3. you should be seeking the qualities of someone who is faithful and transparent.

4. you should seek the qualities of someone who is as ambitious as you and who lets you be yourself. you shouldn’t compromise yourself for the sake of this relationship, and if your person truly loved you, they wouldn’t ask you to change.

5. you should be seeking the qualities of someone who matches your drive and your dedication.

6. you should be seeking the qualities of someone who helps you grow and helps you face challenges. they should be proud of your achievements and should not feel intimidated by your success.

ᝰ.ᐟ bad qualities

1. you should be aware if the person always tries to be “above” you. i’m seeing here that people might try to put you down just to look better and feel good about themselves- so please be aware if someone tries to do that. it can be revealed in the form of jokes, actions or whatever; but if you see this behaviour, please look out for yourself.

2. you should be aware if a person is being too bold or too “pushy”, as in like if they do not respect your boundaries. i am also getting a feeling here that you might be attracted to older partners, so this is something you should be mindful about because they might constantly try to dominate you and never let you have your say in a relationship.

3. you should be aware if the person is not ambitious. always make sure they have a plan, as some might just “go with the flow” but they do not have a set goal and sometimes the pressure to earn/carry the relationship might fall on you.

4. you should be aware if the person is too friendly with other people - because i’m seeing here that they might have commitment issues and they might have a lot of friends with benefits.

5. you should be aware if the person is not able to endure and forgive your mistakes. no one is perfect, so they should understand that and learn how to work with their feelings. they shouldn’t be someone who gets angry very easily, basically.

6. you should be aware if the person is not honest and transparent. they might be hiding something from you, or they are bad communicators.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pile II ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

my lovely pile 2, i’m seeing here that many of you might have an “i can fix them” mindset, and let me tell you this babe - it’s not good for you. i hope i don’t come off as rude, but like please know that being with someone who doesn’t value your feelings isn’t going to help you grow. protect your energy and your peace, and the right love will naturally flow to you. in this reading, i will talk about the good qualities and the bad qualities you should look out for. i hope you take care, and now let’s get to your reading<3

ᝰ.ᐟ good qualities

1. you should be seeking the qualities of someone who is willing to try out new things and is not afraid of change.

2. they should be able to navigate through their feelings and they should know how to breathe through any tension. they should handle difficult situations with ease and they shouldn’t blame you for everything - especially if something goes south.

3. you should be seeking the qualities of someone who knows how to balance things out in their life and someone who has an optimistic mindset. this person should be an inspiration to you and they should bring you out of dark times. you should seek the qualities of someone who will heal you, basically.

4. you should seek the qualities of someone who pays attention to your needs and someone who gets along with your family.

5. you should seek the qualities of someone who is very loyal to you and who does not doubt your relationship. there should be trust and certainty within the relationship, and this person should be confident about their feelings for you.

6. you should seek the qualities of someone who will nurture you and isn’t afraid to show you off.

ᝰ.ᐟ bad qualities

1. you should be aware if the person is not able to control the emotions. please avoid individuals who do not have good self control.

2. you should be aware if the person is too show-offy. like if the person only flexes their wealth and their succes, please avoid them. it shows that they are too full of themselves and that they only care about their stature.

3. you should be aware if a person is not able to make sacrifices. if they are not willing to give up something (that is especially unhealthy) for you, then please be mindful.

4. you should be aware if a person is being too defensive and doesn’t open up easily. i mean i get it, it’s not easy to open up to people - especially if you’re meeting them for the first time. but if their attitude doesn’t change, please do not strain yourself and work on the relationship if they aren’t valuing your efforts.

5. you should be aware if the person is not honest about their feelings and always keeps you hanging.

6. you should be aware if there are a lot of misunderstandings in the beginning of your relationship as this could lead to stress and conflict. your person should know how to balance their emotions, and if they’re having a hard time doing so, please be aware.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ pile III ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

my lovely pile 3, i have a feeling that you’ve been with individuals who are very self-centred and egoistic. these individual might have only cared about their feelings and they have never had your back in situations where you needed them the most. i’m seeing here that you might have felt demotivated and felt like you were not seen in your relationships. in this reading, i will talk about the good qualities and the bad qualities you should look out for. i hope you take care, and now let’s get to your reading<3

ᝰ.ᐟ good qualities

1. you should be seeking the qualities of someone who remembers the smallest details about you. the person should look at something you like and go, “omg they (you) would have loved this!”

2. you should be seeking the qualities of someone who has your back and someone who will stand up for you, no matter what. they should be like a role model to you, and they should help you be realistic.

3. you should seek the qualities of someone who is going to inspire you and someone who is going to motivate you.

4. you should seek the qualities of someone who will let go of things you don’t like, and i’m seeing here that you’ll not ask them to let go of something that means a lot to them. maybe you’d ask them to let go of bad habits, and they should be able to do that. of course we can’t expect them to leave something entirely, but every small step counts.

5. you should seek the qualities of someone who is willing to take risks and is not afraid of change and is willing to let go of undesirable things.

6. you should seek the qualities of someone who is courageous and adventurous. another thing i’m seeing here is that you should seek the qualities of someone who is good at problem solving.

ᝰ.ᐟ bad qualities

1. you should be aware if a person is too prideful - especially if they try to make you look smaller than them. honestly, i’m seeing here that your person might be someone who is very talented and they are gaining reasonable recognition for their work, but if they are too full of themselves, and if they feel like they are better than everyone, then please be aware of this.

2. you should be aware if a person is taking on too many responsibilities and does not prioritise your feelings and your time, as well as your energy.

3. you should be aware if a person is too confident in themselves, especially if they come off as egoistic.

4. you should be aware if the person is being too kind, because there might be a malicious intention behind that kindness.

5. you should be aware if a person is going through a lot of mood swings. i’m also seen here that if the person is constantly looking happy and optimistic, it is fake. because i’m seeing here that since they know people will behave according to their emotions (especially since they have a lot of people admiring their work), they will take advantage of this - if that even makes sense. for example, if you are trying to pursue something with a member or a pretty well known band, that person might pretend to be all nice and happy because they know that they have an influence on people (their fans) and they might use this “happy facade” to gain something from the fans - maybe more recognition. but here’s the truth, their feelings and their emotions are completely different from what they portray. of course not everyone can be happy all the time and sometimes we need to pretend - but the feelings aren’t genuine from their side. ugh this was such a bad example, but i hope i made sense here!!

6. you should be aware if the person does not take care of their physical and their emotional health. you should be aware if they are neglecting self-care.

hiii loves, i hope this reading finds you in good health, and i hope you are doing well. i am not really satisfied with this reading as i feel like i could’ve done more, but i’m struggling to find time and i’m finding it so hard to manage my personal life as well as my professional life. i’m trying my best but i feel like it’s not enough. but i’m still pushing through, so that’s something 😅. i would be so glad if you could like my post and re-blog it, and please let me know which pile you picked - i would love to hear your thoughts and know if this reading resonated with you!! take care of yourself, and i will see you in my next reading. thank you for being here<3

ps - thank you so much to the lovely person who gave me the idea of doing this reading!! i truly appreciate you taking the time out of your day and letting me know which reading you preferred🥰❤️

(note - tarot & oracle cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, feelings and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!)

જ⁀➴ all credit for the pictures/dividers goes to their rightful owners and creators

[aita-rotomblr]

wibta for bitch slapping my ex girlfriend.

okay so I dated a girl named uh, let's call her. bitch. anyways, bitch was a hyuuge gold digger. shes said she changed her ways, and wants to get back with me, and it really seems like she has! she's a lot nicer, she doesn't ask for stuff, she's stopped being such a dick in general! but I have two amazing partners who treat me well. part of me feels bad, but if she approaches me again, should I listen to my gut and fight her? :3

-@saiidol

[luna-azzurra]

Ways I Show a Character Who Believes They’re the Villain in Everyone Else’s Story

╰ Behavioral Red Flags

They assume the worst intentions in themselves, even when they act out of love. They brought you coffee? Probably just guilt. They helped you move? Must be manipulating you so you "owe" them later. (They just care. But they can't believe that's true.)

They over-apologize for existing. You bump into them and somehow they’re the ones apologizing, looking like they've personally inconvenienced your entire bloodline.

They self-monitor everything. Every joke they make. Every word they say. Every look they give. Constant little glances at people's faces, desperate for signs that they’ve messed up again.

They let people treat them badly because they think they deserve it. Rudeness? Sure. Being overlooked? Of course. Public humiliation? Absolutely par for the course. Standing up for themselves feels wrong, like a thief demanding a refund.

They preemptively distance themselves when things get good. Got a close friendship brewing? Time to pull away before they find out I'm terrible. New romance? Better end it now before they hate me.

They assume jokes about "bad people" are secretly about them. "You know those selfish jerks who never change?" someone says. Their inner monologue: That’s me. They mean me.

They play up their flaws. Self-deprecating humor, but not cute self-roasting, deep, almost aggressive, like they’re trying to hand you the knife before you even think about stabbing.

They struggle to accept forgiveness. Apologizing feels natural. Being forgiven feels alien. Like wearing shoes on the wrong feet.

╰ Thought Patterns That Wreck Them

"Even when I try to do the right thing, I mess it up." Trying doesn't absolve them. Trying just delays the inevitable hurt they’ll cause someone else."People are nice to me because they don't know who I really am." Kindness isn't acceptance to them — it's a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode when the "truth" comes out.

"If someone is angry at me, they must be right." They don't even question it. Anger directed at them must be justified. They deserve it.

"If I succeed, it's by accident. If I fail, it's because I suck." Zero credit for wins. Full credit for losses. The math of their self-esteem is so rigged it should be illegal.

"If I ask for help, I'm manipulating people." Needing something feels like emotional blackmail in their mind. Better to suffer in silence than risk "forcing" someone to care.

╰ The Tiny Physical Tells

Laughing after their own serious statements, as if to soften the blow of speaking honestly.

Keeping their hands visible when talking (subconscious "I'm not a threat" behavior).

Flinching when someone raises their voice, even if it’s not directed at them.

Making themselves physically smaller—shoulders hunched, arms crossed, shrinking into themselves like they can disappear if they just try hard enough.

Dropping eye contact when complimented.

Holding their breath without realizing it when waiting for someone's reaction.

╰The Relationships They Gravitate Toward (And Why):

Fixer-Upper Friendships: They think they have to earn affection by being useful, by helping, by being "the strong one."

Unbalanced Dynamics: They let people use them because "at least I'm being helpful, even if they don't actually care about me."

Romantic Partners Who Validate Their Worst Fears: They often fall for people who treat them like they’re a burden—because it matches the script in their head.

Or... Relationships That Terrify Them: Because if someone genuinely loves them, they’re always waiting for the moment that person "wakes up" and sees the "monster" they believe themselves to be.

╰ How They Might Heal (If They’re Lucky)

(And if the author isn’t an emotional sadist. 👀)

A relationship where mistakes are allowed, not punished.

Someone calling them out, not for being bad, but for being unkind to themselves.

Tiny acts of trust that stick over time, slowly poisoning the idea that they’re inherently toxic.

Learning that being flawed and being villainous are not the same damn thing.

Being told, over and over, "You don't have to earn love by being perfect."

[a-bit-of-writing]

How they flirt with you {BG3 Male Companions}

Trying my hand at writing down my headcanons for the companions starting with the males! Next batch will focus on the females.

Astarion

Flirting is second nature to Astarion, but it's also a tool sharpened by centuries of necessity. Whether he's luring prey or disarming suspicion, his every word and gesture is curated for effect.

He doesn't ask if you're interested, he assumes you are.

His confidence is intoxicating, deliberate, overwhelming. He doesn't give you space to not want him.

“You’ve been watching me, haven’t you? Don’t bother denying it — I’d recognize that kind of hunger anywhere.”

But behind that ease is calculation. Every flirtatious word is a chess move. He wants to know what makes you squirm, fluster, melt. You are both a puzzle and plaything.

He rarely flirts directly. Instead, he laces his every comment with insinuation, elegance, and a touch of threat just enough to leave you off balance.

Elegant insults wrapped in compliments:

“You’re clever. Not clever enough to hide your tells, but clever. It’s adorable, really.”

Carnal metaphors twisted with menace:

“There’s something exquisite about restraint, isn’t there? The way anticipation lingers on the tongue. Almost… painful. But then — release is so much sweeter.”

Astarion touches to control the room. To control you. He’ll invade your personal space like a whisper at the nape of your neck — there, then gone, leaving heat and confusion behind.

He doesn’t hold hands. He trails fingers across knuckles.

He doesn’t kiss, he hovers close, lets you ache for it, and then smirks when you do.

“Careful. Lean in any closer, and I’ll have to assume you’re offering something.”

Flirting is his mask. He uses it to avoid intimacy, even while pretending to offer it.

When he flirts with strangers, it's a dance of masks. He’s dazzling, merciless, intoxicating.

When he flirts with someone he actually likes, it becomes more dangerous for him. The flirtation falters, just slightly — too honest, too slow to deflect.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not… I’m not some tragic thing you can fix. I’m far more interesting than that.”

And yet, the plea hides beneath the jest.

If someone earns his trust (which is rare), his flirtation starts to change. It's less about dominance and more about connection but he’ll never admit it outright.

He might say:

“I suppose I’ve grown used to your company. Annoyingly so. There, are you happy? That’s practically a declaration of love from me.”

But he’ll mean:

Don’t leave.

Gale

Gale doesn’t flirt so much as he courts – with words. Lots of them. He offers compliments as if he’s reciting from a sonnet he wrote in your honor, then revises it mid-sentence because technically, there’s a better metaphor.

He’s the kind to start a sentence with "Forgive the boldness, but…" and then say something bold anyway.

“Forgive the boldness, but when you smile like that, it puts the sunrise to shame. Not in hue, mind you, but in how it warms the world around it.”

He’s not afraid of sincerity. In fact, it’s his default setting.

He gives affection like he's offering a gift – open-palmed, hopeful, slightly nervous.

Gale’s compliments are poetic, precise, and occasionally too much. He speaks like he’s writing you into an epic poem, and sometimes he’s aware of how ridiculous he sounds but he leans into it anyway.

You’re not just beautiful – you’re “resplendent,” “arresting,” “a living stanza.”

“There’s a rhythm to you, you know. A cadence I can’t quite match, but I find myself wanting to try.”

He loves analogies. Everything is a metaphor. You’re the flame to his magic, the gravity to his orbit, the comma in his sentence.

Unlike Astarion, who touches to test, Gale touches to reassure. His hand lingers a second longer than necessary, as if memorizing the moment.

He brushes hair from your face not to seduce but because it’s in the way, and you deserve to be seen clearly.

“There. Much better. Your face deserves an unobstructed view of the stars.”

His gestures are protective without being possessive – hovering, not holding, unless you lean in first.

To Gale, being understood is the deepest intimacy. He flirts through discussion, especially if you match his curiosity.

He’s most drawn to someone who can challenge him, surprise him.

A battle of wits? That’s foreplay.

“I had a theory about you, but every time I think I’ve unraveled the mystery, you delight in proving me wrong. Please — don’t stop.”

Magic is seduction. If you show interest in the arcane, you’ve already claimed part of his heart.

What makes Gale’s flirtation touching is how often it trips over genuine feeling. The deeper he falls, the less polished it becomes.

He second-guesses, hesitates, smiles softly in the middle of his own sentence.

“I’ve lived through the ecstasy of magic and the terror of loss… and yet, you – you – somehow feel more dangerous than either.”

And when he truly lets go:

“It’s foolish, perhaps, how much I wish to be someone worthy of the way you look at me.”

Halsin

Halsin doesn’t flirt to impress or manipulate –  he flirts because he means it. Everything he says comes from a place of deep sincerity, laced with the calm assurance of someone who knows exactly who he is.

His gaze holds yours like a quiet forest – no pressure, just presence.

“You move through the world with such purpose. It’s… beautiful to witness.”

He speaks plainly, but with a natural poetry – his words aren’t practiced, they’re felt.

“When I look at you, I see strength. But it’s your kindness that draws me in.”

Halsin doesn’t pile on flattery – he notices things. Deep, subtle things. And when he speaks of them, it feels like sunlight warming you from within.

He’s observant, not performative. You might not even realize he’s flirting at first – it just sounds like honest admiration.

“You speak gently, even when the world demands fury. That’s a rare kind of courage.”

He isn’t embarrassed by affection. He says what he feels, and he doesn’t play coy.

“You make the world feel less heavy. I hope I do the same for you.”

Halsin’s touch is deliberate, comforting, and patient. He touches with permission, not presumption. But when he does touch — it’s undeniably intimate, as if saying, I’m here. I will not break you.

He places a hand over yours when you're tense. Holds your gaze, anchoring you.

“Breathe. You don’t need to carry this alone.”

And when desire simmers beneath the surface, it’s elemental – not rushed, not performative, but felt in his closeness, his stillness.

“If I touch you, it will be with all that I am. Say the word.”

Halsin doesn’t need grand declarations. He flirts by showing up – carrying your burdens, tending your wounds, sharing the quiet.

He listens with his whole self. Even your silences are welcome with him.

“You don’t need to fill the space with words. I’m content just being near you.”

He’s drawn to strength, but moved by vulnerability.

And if you let him in, he will never belittle it.

“You let me see you. That is no small gift. And I cherish it.”

Though gentle, Halsin is not shy about attraction. When he wants you, it is unmistakable and entirely honoring.

He’s open about it, but never pushy.

“You stir something in me I haven’t felt in years. Not just desire but hope.”

And if you respond to his touch or words, he’ll smile – slow, unguarded.

“Then let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

Wyll

Wyll leads with charm but it’s never hollow. He knows how to wink and tip his head just right, but every line carries an undercurrent of sincerity.

He wants to make you smile. That’s the whole goal of his flirting: to brighten, to uplift, to show you you’re worth every stolen glance.

“If I had a coin for every time you crossed my thoughts today, I’d have enough to buy you something nice. Though… I’d much rather earn your smile than your silence.”

There’s always a touch of theatricality. He is the Blade of Frontiers, after all. But he never uses the title to elevate himself above you—only to make you laugh.

“Would you believe the famed Blade of Frontiers was brought to his knees by a glance? Because I’m about ready to kneel.”

Unlike Astarion’s razor-sharp innuendo or Gale’s encyclopedic poetry, Wyll gives tender compliments. And if you compliment him back? He flusters, adorably so.

He notices the little things, and they move him.

“You tend to others before yourself. That’s not something I see often and it humbles me.”

If you flirt back, he might laugh – low and genuine – but you’ll catch the faintest blush.

“Careful now… keep that up and I might forget I’m supposed to be the charming one.”

Wyll touches sparingly but when he does, it’s full of reverence. A hand to steady you, fingers brushing yours when passing something, a palm pressed over your heart after battle.

He’ll ask before crossing a boundary.

“May I?” (Offered hand. An honest question.) “Only if you’d like me to stay close.”

Even his teasing has warmth:

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll start thinking I’m special.”

Wyll doesn’t just flirt with words – he flirts through action. Standing by your side. Letting you see the cracks in the armor.

He wants to be someone you trust. And that starts by offering you his truth.

“I made mistakes. I carry them with me but I’d carry yours too, if you let me.”

He brings you into his world, slowly and willingly. If he tells you a story from his past, it means he sees you as part of his future.

When Wyll desires you, it burns low and steady – never rushed, never careless. It’s controlled, because he wants to earn the right to want you.

He doesn’t take. He offers.

“I won’t ask for anything you’re not ready to give. But know this – if you choose me, I will never leave your side.”

And if you do choose him?

That smile – the real one, soft and reverent – comes to life.

“Then let me be the man who proves you were right to.”

Rolan

Rolan is not here to charm you. In fact, he would very much like to be left alone, thank you. But there’s a twitch in his mouth when you say something clever, a pause before he looks away. He’s fighting it and that’s exactly how you know it’s real.

Flirting often sounds like irritation at first. He’s too observant. Too annoyed. He notices you far more than he admits.

“You're always putting yourself in danger. Someone’s going to have to clean up your mess. …Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say it’d be me.”

He flirts like a man sharpening a blade – precise, deflective, and with his guard raised.

“You keep looking at me like I’ve said something sweet. I assure you – I haven’t.”

(He has.)

Rolan doesn’t give you praise straight. He’ll call you reckless when he means brave. Annoying when he means magnetic. And when you catch on? He’s flustered – genuinely.

He’s the king of “I didn’t mean it like that” after saying something surprisingly intimate.

“You’re… capable. For someone with such an irritating tendency to leap before they look.”

If you catch him staring, he’ll roll his eyes. But he won’t deny it.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t… I wasn’t admiring. I was assessing.”

(He was admiring.)

Rolan is awkward about physical affection unless it’s practical. Helping you up, catching your arm in battle, brushing past you on purpose. When he does reach out first, it’s a big deal even if he pretends it isn’t.

Touches are brief, careful, and loaded with tension.

“Hold still. You’ve got something on your – here. There. It’s gone.”

He touches like he's expecting to be rejected. When you don’t pull away, it floors him.

“...Huh. You didn’t flinch. That’s new.”

Rolan connects through arguments, side glances, shared snark. He bonds with people who can keep up, challenge him, call him out and not back down.

He flirts through tension. You’ll know you’ve gotten close when he actually stops snapping at you.

“You’re not as infuriating as usual today. …Don’t let it go to your head.”

And if you tease him back? His ears go pink. Every time.

The rare moments when Rolan lets down his guard are intensely vulnerable. He won’t wax poetic but when he says something kind, it matters. He won’t say it unless it’s true.

It slips out before he can stop it:

“You make things… bearable. More than bearable, actually.”

And when he finally stops fighting it:

“I’ve spent so long pushing people away, I forgot what it feels like to want someone to stay. …I want you to stay.”

Though my next batch will focus on the females, I’m open to any scenarios you will like me to explore, so feel free to drop in a request! 

[gay-dorito-dust]

how do you think vergil and dante try to make up after an argument with reader? especially if they were wrong in the first place :) ?

Dante

He will give up half of his pizza for your forgivness. He doesn't like fights, hell he doesn't like raising his voice either, so arguing with you was his least favouirte thing and he will do in order to get back into your good books.

He didn't even like it when his parents showed signs of irritation or annoyance, the two people whom he wanted a love like, he doesn't like the idea that one day you two could get into a full blown argument that will ultimately end in you two seperating. It was his worst fear and the moment he knows he's in the wrong and you leave the room, he immedilty hopes there was hope for him to make up for his stupidity, anything in hopes of having you stay with his dumbass.

So Dante was more then willing to do anything he could think of that he knew would make things okay, he wants things to be okay again, he can't loose you he just can't. He’ll do whatever you want him to do without question. So if you want him to clean then he’ll clean, you want him to be more careful on missions then he’ll be as careful as possible and come home unscathed for you, if you want him to share his sundae he’ll do it because he’s secretly scared that you’ll leave him and never look back.

Just talk to him because he needs clarity after all is said and done becuase his mind isn’t the best place and he’s frantic in ways of making it up to you, he’ll even be more affectionate with if you if that’s even possible and telling you he loves you and how sorry he was for being an idiot, a fool, so on so forth. Seriously this man needs a massive hug for his fear of people leaving him run deep it’s not funny. He’s pulling out all the stops for you and still doesn’t think it’s enough until you say it’s enough, this is a side of Dante you didn’t know existed until your first argument. It’s heartbreaking and sad to see him with the face of a frightened boy when he thinks you’re about to walk out the door.

Vergil

He's a stubborn mule that will not move, he will not appologise even if he was the one in the wrong, the man almsot has an hesitance to admit it in the first place. So forgivness from Vergil is going to take a while and it will be gruelling and exhausting at times, but soon enough Vergil will come to realise that life is too short to upkeep a mindset that will only hurt and damage the best thing he’s had in a long, long time.

Vergil doesn’t change his mind once it’s made up, it’s impossible to make him see otherwise as he thinks he is absolute in his ways, it’s borderline annoying and can get on your nerves to the point where a break is much more then needed. So the moment you walk out the door Vergil believes he’s won the argument, it’s some weird demon trait to never back down from anything even a silly argument is considered a victory.

Yet Vergil waits for you to come back and when you don’t after a certain time, he’s on his feet as his hand reaches for the Yamato, and just before he could slice open a portal in your living room you would return but not give him any closure on where you went. You were tired and didn’t feel the need to start another argument over where it was that you went, before retreating to your room and shutting the door without another word.

Vergil’s tune will have changed slightly as he realises that anything could’ve happened to you while you were out, that the argument was soon to be an omen if it was to be the last thing you ever did or said to one another. Vergil would be compelled to think like a human for once and actually consider that he was in the wrong and that he needed to make it up to you, in hopes that the fear that shot through him wouldn’t ever dare be repeated.

To earn back your forgiveness Vergil would plant notes here and there, notes that contained moments where he realised that through you there was more to life then gaining power, how he’s an foolish man for ever having started an argument with the love of his life. He knew that an apology through notes wouldn’t make up for much of how the argument had affected you both, so he’ll say everything he’s written down to your face along with so much more. His demon instincts have always told him that winning was everything, but his human side tells him that it wasn’t everything if he lost everything; if he lost you. So Vergil was now determined to say everything that he had kept under lock and key within himself, being more open and spending more time with you than he normally did after missions.

His actions have always spoke louder and he’s more than willing to prove that he’s sorry by prioritising you and emphasising just how much you had changed him and how he will forever be grateful of that, because much like his brother, Vergil feared being alone again.

[marisolls]

012825. moon carved, love written on skin

tsukishima kei x reader . . . cw / tsukki has a back tattoo. fluff. not proofread and i am sleepy. i dreamt about this lmao. notes / when will i stop writing for this 6ft stickbug pls. (gn again im gonna eep)

tsukishima kei, years after high school, now in his mid-twenties. no longer the snot-nosed looking teenager that he once was, more taller, and softer and tender and so much more forgiving of himself— allowing his vulnerabilities to slip through quite easily with you.

then there's the tattoo, one he doesn't tell you about until now.

you only find out when the two of you are lounging at home one night, moonlight filtering through the curtains, bathing his skin in a dim-lit glow, low music humming in the background. he's lying facedown on the bed, his shirt discarded, and his glasses abandoned on the bedside table. he almost fooled you, making it seem like he’s sleeping, with slow breaths and closed eyes.

you see it clearly, the moon cycle inked onto his back.

“love,” you murmur, your voice laced with curiosity, careful as to confirm if he’s actually out like a light or not, “when were you planning to tell me about this?”

he stiffens almost instinctively, your fingers trace the faint outlines of his shoulder blades, trying to ease him. he turns his head slightly, one eye peeling open, the corner of his mouth curves in faint amusement, as if he didn’t anticipate getting caught in the first place. “wasn’t planning to.”

your hands explore the tattoo—the phases of the moon, spanning the breadth of his back and etched in crisp black ink. each phase feels like a pulse of one’s heartbeat you’ve come to learn and memorize, mirroring the cycles of your lives together: waxing, waning, full, and new.

“why the moon?” you ask softly, running a fingertip along the crescent. you’d never have guessed that the man you’ve come to love had anything as sentimental as this. feels like another layer of intimacy you’ve set foot on, a secret unearthed by the only person he’s planned to reveal it, almost as if this occurrence was already predetermined by him.

he trusts you so much it hurts, in a good way.

he hums, burying his face into the pillow, muffling his voice. “it’s for you.”

“for me?”

“yeah. don’t make me explain it—it’s embarrassing,” he grumbles, his ears tinged red. even more so when you chuckle whilst letting your hand caress his back.

but you can’t stop smiling, “no, no, kei. you can’t drop something like that and not explain.”

he groans into the pillow, but you don’t miss the way his fingers twitch against the sheets, betraying his nerves. after a beat, he rolls over onto his side, propping his head up with one hand, the other resting on his stomach, he looks at you and—your smile curls into a smirk, raising one eyebrow playfully—and then he urges you to join him.

so you do. cuddling into him as he sigh in faux resignation and gently planting a kiss to your temple. the old habits from his teenage years die hard.

“it’s... stupid,” he starts, hesitating.

you interrupt, your voice gentle but insistent. “i want to know.”

he exhales, trying to steel himself, his gaze fixating somewhere over your shoulder. “it’s the phases of the moon. you know, waxing, waning... all that.”

“i can see it, thanks,” you tease lightly, earning yourself a flat look.

“let me finish,” he mutters, his cheeks slightly pink. he fiddles with the hem of the blanket before continuing, quieter now. “it’s... because you remind me of the moon. you’re constant—always there—even if i’m too blind or stupid to notice it sometimes. and even when things feel... off, like everything’s dark, i know you’re still there, just waiting to come back.”

your chest tightens, his words sinking into you, pulls you in like gravity.

“you’re always changing, too,” he adds, his voice steady but soft. “growing, shifting... but still you. and i—” he pauses, swallowing thickly before meeting your gaze again, his expression open and raw in a way the ache never buries itself, only stretched into a shelter inside you that is love. “i just wanted something permanent. something for me. to remind me of you, even when you’re not... here.”

you blink rapidly, trying to keep your emotions in check, but your voice wavers when you respond. “...that’s not stupid at all.”

he scoffs lightly, looking away again, but there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. “a little, still.”

“it’s perfect,” you counter, sliding closer to press your forehead against his. “and you’re lucky you explained it, or i might’ve cried.”

“you’re already crying,” he points out, brushing a thumb against your cheek, his voice teasing but tender.

“my bad.”

he laughs quietly, you stare at the moon with warmth.

his thumb lingers on your cheek, tracing gentle circles, “you’re ridiculous,” you say, though your voice carries no malice—just a kind of awe tinged in disbelief. “keeping this to yourself for so long…”

he shrugs one shoulder, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“you have an entire tattoo on your back—dedicated to me—and you thought it wasn’t worth mentioning?”

he opens his mouth to respond but falters, and for a second, you see the remnants of his old high school self, the boy who avoids vulnerability like it was a volleyball hurtling toward him. but he doesn’t retreat now, he lets you see him in full view.

“it’s not that i didn’t want to tell you,” he admits. “it’s just… i didn’t know how. or when. and i guess…” he trails off, his brows knitting together like he’s trying to piece together the right words. “i guess i wanted it to be... ours, you know? just ours. something no one else gets to know about.”

you cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

“kei,” you murmur, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

his eyes flutter open, half-lidded gaze as he blinks to your lips, “you’re being dramatic.”

“no, i’m being honest,” pressing a kiss to his forehead as you continue, “you’re incredible, and this—” your hand moves to trace the outline of his tattoo again, arms stretched to reach his back, fingers light and reverent. “this means the world to me.”

you hear the slight hitch of his breath. the way his arms tighten around you says more than words ever could. “i’m glad you like it,” he murmurs eventually, breathless.

“i love it. just like i love you.”

“good,” he says, his voice teasing but soft. “because i don’t plan on getting rid of it.”

“good,” you echo, settling back against him, your head resting on his chest. you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, it’s telling you what you already know, but always search for a reminder: you’re home with him.

the two of you stay like that for a while, until kei speaks again,

“i guess this means you’re stuck with me now,” he says, his tone light but tinged with something deeper. he chuckles to himself, “i love you, too.” and he’s glad these words are already carved to his skin. his own museum he’s carved just for you.

© SOLVISUN 2025. all rights reserved, do not repost/alter.

[mortaldreams]

breathing room (m ver.)

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: smut, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers

word count: 5.9k

warnings: sexually explicit content (MDNI), swearing, arguing, non-explicit descriptions/depictions of violence, tension of both the general and sexual sort, heeseung is a Talker

note: this is an extended (and explicit) version of my sfw story breathing room, which can still be found on my main blog stllmnstr. but this one has, you know, smut. enjoy!

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

In your mind, Lee Heeseung is nothing but a thorn in your side and an obstacle in your path as you struggle to fight your way way up the ranks in combat training. But even with your knife against his neck and flames in your eyes, he finds a way to catch you off guard.

or,

heeseung doesn't need a knockout. he just needs an in.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung is having a hard time breathing. 

Partly because he’s pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him. A little bit because of the year-old rib injury he had neither the time nor patience to let heal completely. 

And mostly because there’s a blade being held to his throat. 

Yours, to be exact. 

It’s a nice one, all things considered. Despite its lethality, it’s small, delicate almost. From this angle, he can just make out the detailing on the hilt. A series of vines wrap around each other intricately, forming kaleidoscopic patterns that extend all the way from the blade to where your fingers are wrapped around the hilt, knuckles white from the way your hand is straining. 

Jesus, he thinks. If it takes that much concentrated effort for you to not let the knife press any harder against his skin, draw any blood, then maybe he should start taking the threats you throw his way like extra change a little more seriously. 

Lazily, he lets his eyes trace a line from your fingers to your face. Skipping over the rather boring details of the plain black training shirt you wear, he directs his attention to the way your brow furrows in concentration instead. 

Under usual circumstances, a knife to the throat would encourage all of his senses to narrow in on the sensation of metal against his pulse point. Would spur his brain to work a bit faster through all the biological fight or flight mechanisms in a last ditch attempt at survival. 

But these are not usual circumstances. In fact, ever since the two of you were split into separate training cohorts a handful of months ago, this has become a rarity. And the only thing Heeseung wants to do is enjoy it a little more. 

Without his self-preservation instincts kicking in, his brain has plenty of room for other things. The forgiving surface of a training mat beneath him, slightly soft where he lets his body relax into it. The unusually warm air of the training room, courtesy of a busted air conditioner that no one has gotten around to fixing just yet. 

The way your hair falls around your face as you lean over him, chest still heaving from your recent bout of exertion. Your eyes are pure fire, embers and ashes and every stage in between as you sit atop his ribcage, knees on either side of his torso where you pin him to the mat. 

But even as the lead trainer adds another tally underneath your name for another sparring match won, your gaze doesn’t soften. Doesn’t brighten in the afterglow of victory. 

After all, victory only tastes sweet when it’s earned. Judging by the way your lips twist above him, Heeseung thinks the victory he just handed you on a silver platter must be horribly bitter. 

Slowly, he raises his hands in mock surrender. There’s a half smile that looks a little too much like a smirk tugging at his lips when he says, “I concede.”

“No fucking shit.” You flick a strand of hair out of your face. Your knife presses a little tighter against his throat. “Did you even try?”

Heeseung maintains eye contact. “I think I’m doing us both a favor by not answering that one.”

Narrowing your eyes, annoyance makes itself the most prominent of your visible emotions. “Interesting choice of words from someone with a knife to his throat.”

Heeseung all but rolls his eyes. “What are you gonna do? Kill me in front of everyone?” The way he wraps sarcasm up in every syllable is almost as infuriating as the way he just let you win without putting up any semblance of a fight. “You’ve got a mean streak, princess, but that’s a bit much, even for you.”

The pressure on your blade increases, and Heeseung fights a wince as he feels it break the barrier between his skin and blood. It’s a miniscule cut, surface level at most, but he hears the threat all the same. “It’s like you want to die,” you marvel. 

Heeseung’s eyes betray nothing, other than the fact that they can’t quite seem to stray from your own. Does he? No matter how deep inside himself he searches, the answer is always a resounding no. Despite the effort he put into this particular spar, or rather lack thereof, his survival instincts are still kicking. His pursuit of life is still alive and well. 

So no, he doesn’t want to die. Quite the opposite in fact. But if he were to explain in plain terms that he never feels quite as alive as he does in the moments when you’ve got a knife on his throat and hatred in your eyes, he has the distinct feeling you might well and truly make good on your frequent promise to send him to an early grave. 

And it’s not like he means to do it, not really. Heeseung might be a glutton for punishment these days, but there was a time when he tried to get your attention in all the regular ways. As he quickly found out, sweet words did nothing but make you roll your eyes, and his skills on a sparring mat were only as impressive as they could be used to hone your own. 

He was a tool in your eyes. A means to an end as you did your best to work your way up the ranks. 

You never looked at him, the person behind all the hand-to-hand combat training and advanced levels of weapon artistry. 

At least not until he started annoying the ever-living shit out of you. 

Back then, it had been easy. As new recruits, you were in the same training cohort, which meant you had the same daily schedules. As long as Heeseung had the chance to beat you to the last piece of toast in the dining hall at breakfast or tie the laces of your training boots together the night before an early morning, he was guaranteed at least one of your signature glares and a few choice words that would make his grandmother blush. 

Granted, he knows that one-sided hatred is not a very stable foundation to build anything solid on, but he thinks of it in the same way he thinks of sparring. 

He doesn’t need a knockout. He just needs an in. 

A little bit of breathing room. Something that will have his partner lowering their guard, weakening their defenses just enough for him to strike. Once. Twice. Again. Over and over until the match is won and victory rests on his square shoulders. 

Heeseung’s in this for the long haul, and he’s come to find that he doesn’t really care how many bruises he picks up along the way. 

Across the room, the lead trainer heaves a long sigh. 

“Alright, ___, that’s enough. You’ve earned your tally.” The most of anyone in today’s group. But you’re still glaring at him, and he knows it isn’t enough, not for you. “Heeseung, get it together. I expect better from you next time.”

You scoff. “Don’t hold your breath.” 

Expectations are only met when people are held to them, and you doubt Lee Heeseung has even become acquainted with the concept of a consequence. 

Releasing one final, sharp exhale, you pull your knife away from his throat, tucking it back into the sheath on your upper thigh in one fluid motion. Swinging your leg over his torso, you remove your body from his own, give your anger some space to breathe. Without looking back, you let your strides eat up the distance between you and the exit. 

Someone – you think it must be Jay, or maybe Jungwon – tries to catch your attention on the way out, asking about a maneuver you pulled in the middle of the match. A tricky bit of knife work you’ve been perfecting over the last few weeks. 

Something that looked stupid as Heeseung did nothing but stand there, as if your blade was nothing but decorative. Made you look stupid as he stood and watched with nothing but a mildly amused expression on his face. 

You hate him for it. Want to show him just how pretty your knife can be stained with the deep crimson he must bleed as surely as anyone else. 

Lips pulled in a taut line, you unsheath the blade at your thigh once again, this time sending it spinning with deadly accuracy towards the line of trees that skirt the outside of the training facility. 

You don’t miss. You never do. 

It still feels like defeat. 

…..

Heeseung notices when you’re not at dinner later that evening. Despite the fact that you no longer train together, the inter-cohort spars have shifted this week's schedule. You should be here, sitting next to Jay and Jungwon, probably, pointedly avoiding his gaze. 

But you’re not. And he can only think of one other place to find you. 

The training hall is dark when he arrives, but Heeseung is no fool. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he sees you soon enough. Silhouette dark against the empty expanse, he has half a mind to intervene before you shred yet another punching bag to irreparable pieces. Instead, he just watches for a moment longer. 

He doesn’t know what to do with the feelings that start to simmer, that always linger. Doesn’t know if it’s admiration or longing or something far worse. 

But he wants to. Wants to examine them until he knows them as intimately as the back of his own hand, until he can recite them by name and express them in ways that don’t make you want to press a knife against his neck. 

And he wants to keep watching, keep looking, keep noticing. 

Even from a distance, even in the dark, he can read the frustration in the set of your shoulders, sense the exhaustion in the way your legs move just behind the rest of your body. 

You need a break. 

He needs an in. 

Across the room from you, Heeseung clears his throat. 

Startled, you nearly fall on your ass mid-kick before you turn to the source. It’s dark, but you know it’s him. Who else would it be? 

Chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion, you finally catch your breath well enough to tell him, “If you’re not here for a rematch, then you have exactly ten seconds to get out of this building.”

A beat passes. 

Another. 

Heeseung exhales. “And if I am?”

Bathed in the dying glow of moonlight, you go still. “Then you better put in your best fucking effort.”

Heeseung is across the room before you can release another breath. It’s ridiculous how quickly he disarms you. And you’re caught off guard, yes, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Your knife in his hands, he throws it to the corner of the room. And then it’s just the two of you. 

Heeseung spares neither time nor effort knocking your legs out from under you, sending you careening towards the mat. Screwing your eyes shut, you brace for the impact of a training mat that never comes, the back of your head cradled in a hand that serves as a barrier between you and the ground below. 

It’s a complete reversal of your earlier roles as he lets his legs fall to either side of you, face inches from your own. There’s no knife on your neck, and he was gracious enough to break your fall. 

But suddenly, you find your breath a difficult thing to catch regardless. 

Above you, his eyes are dark. Your noses nearly touch. “This is what you wanted?” he breathes, and you feel his words as much as you hear them. They dance across your cheekbone, your lips. Have your bones feeling molten, all your hard edges malleable. “You want me to fight you like I mean it? To really fucking spar with you?”

You’ve rehearsed your answer too long to deviate, even as your mind screams with sudden uncertainties. “Yes.”

Heeseung doesn’t spare it a second thought. “Too bad.”

“Why? You have no problem f–”

“I was there, you know.” Unbidden, the hand that doesn’t hold your head falls to the bottom edge of your black training shirt. Heeseung pauses there for a moment, lets his fingers trace the seam. Something in the air shifts, tightens, waits. 

Despite the way he has you caged, your hands are unbound. You could stop this, if you wanted to. Stop him. 

You don’t. 

Slowly, his hand begins to track an upward journey, taking your hem with it. The air of the room is warm, choked with summer heat and the odd sensations that simmer just beneath your skin, but you suppress a shiver anyway as a sliver of skin is revealed. 

You know what he’s after, where his eyes fall to. It’s his fingers that hesitate. Dangle with uncertainty a hair's breadth from the scar that sits just above your hip bone. 

Heeseung inhales, eyes returning to your own for a moment. They’re searching for permission you won’t give and boundaries you won’t set. If he wants to walk this tightrope, he’ll have to navigate on his own. 

It’s a challenge he rises to. On his breath out, Heeseung lets his fingers find a home on the bare skin of your stomach, trace the jagged line that’s a shade paler than the surrounding area. 

It’s a scar you hardly think of, one you can’t believe he remembers. Gifted to you in your early days of training, when a fellow recruit thought the best way to better his ranking was to discard the strict sparring rules set by your superiors and draw blood as a last ditch attempt at victory.

You’d still won, even with a fresh stab wound on your lower abdomen. And he’d been shown the door, like all recruits that break protocol. 

“So what?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as biting as you intend it to. You curse the waver in your words. “I get one scar and suddenly I’m delicate?” 

Heeseung glances up, something sincere in his eyes when he matches your gaze. His hand is still on your skin. “We’re all delicate. And we all have the scars to prove it. I’ve just developed a particular… aversion to seeing evidence of it when it comes to you.”

You’re quick to school your features into neutrality. At least on the outside, you won’t give him the satisfaction of catching you off guard. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Apparently not,” Heeseung counters. “Since I’m not the one begging for a fight.” He holds your gaze when he adds, “And I have to say, princess, if you wanted me to put you on your back, there are much easier ways to ask.”

It’s as if you’ve been submerged in hot water, as if you’ve been burned, when you push him off of you with a speed that’s almost comical. And from the way heat rises in your cheeks, you just might have been. 

Your voice is dangerously low when you tell him, “You have three seconds.”

“Until what?” Heeseung knows better than to be hopeful. 

“Until I find my knife and put it to good use.”

He knows better, yes. But what are limits for, if not to be pushed? 

Heeseung looks up at you from where he still lies on the mat. Propping himself up on one hand, he lets his gaze trace you from head to toe. Lazily, like he has all the time in the world and none of his inhibitions. “Is that a promise?”

You do your best not to squirm underneath his wandering gaze. But evidence of your embarrassment still stains your flushed skin. And from the way his lips start to quirk upwards, you can tell that he’s enjoying this. 

You’re flustered, and he loves it. Loves that when you stutter a bit, start to trip over your words, it’s by his doing. 

Standing above him, your scowl is unconvincing. A stark contrast to the heat that still lingers in your cheeks and the way you can’t quite match his eye. “What is wrong with you?”

“Several things.” Below you, Heeseung bites back a smile. “Would you like an itemized list? Or would you prefer the details of my depravity in essay format? Or I could–”

“Stop it.” Your face is still flaming, but your voice has changed. It’s not shy or breathy or even biting. It’s just… frustrated. A little bit pathetic. Pleading in a way Heeseung wasn’t prepared for. 

“Just stop it.” On the training mat, Heeseung goes still. “God, you do this every time. I come here and I work my fucking ass off every day, and all you do is sit there and mock me for it.” The fire is draining from your eyes. The fight is draining from your shoulders. It’s wrong. It’s not what he meant. But it’s spiraling and he doesn’t know how to stop it. “Is this…” you trail off. Deciding your pride is already torn to shreds, you ask, “Am I some kind of joke to you?”

Heeseung is standing again before you can catch your breath. Crowding your space. Or at least, he tries to. The backwards step you take maintains a steady distance. 

“No.” Now he’s the one that’s scrambling, lost for words. “No,” he repeats. “Fuck, ___” he cards a hand through his hard, pushing it away from his face. “You have to know that’s not what I think of you.”

You scoff in exasperation, but your eyes are starting to shine. Reflect the unshed tears of frustration that have begun to gather in your lash line. Heeseung’s fingertips twitch with the urge to wipe them away. “How would I know that? You always do this.” Your words are coming out too fast, spilling from parted lips in the most painful river of honesty he’s ever gotten from you. 

“You don’t take me seriously. You won’t fight me. You won’t do anything but lay there with that stupid fucking smile.” You’re angry. Clearly. But you’re not getting in his face, not forcing your words down his throat by invading his space. 

No, instead, you’re closing in on yourself. Eyes trained on the ground, you won’t even look at him. Arms wrapping around your torso, it’s as if you want as many barriers between the two of you as possible. “All you do is tease me, because you know it makes me…” Shaking your head, your words die on your lips. 

Heeseung can’t let it go so easily. “Makes you what?”

Slowly, you drag your gaze back to his. There’s no sound here, in the expanse of a barren training room. Just the mingling of your breath with his. The quiet remnants of your anger. You won’t answer his question. You can’t.

Instead, you whisper “I hate you.”

Heeseung takes a step closer. This time, you don’t retreat. He shakes his head. “You don’t.”

Feet planted, you have to tilt your chin to look up at him now. “I do–”

“You don’t,” he interrupts. “You don’t hate me, and you have no idea what to do about it.”

A spark flickers through your eyes again/ This is the kind of sparring match you’ve become familiar with when it comes to him. “Typical,” you bite, voice low. “And so fucking presumptuous, to assume that you know me better than I do.”

Heeseung presses into your space further. You can feel the heat that radiates off of his skin, that threatens to consume you whole. “I tease you, yes,” he admits. “But you’ve never been a joke to me. I take you as seriously as death, princess.”

“Don’t call me that–”

“And don’t act like you’re any better.” Features slackening, your eyes widen as he doubles down. “You want to talk about taking people seriously? Fine.” There are flames in his eyes now, raging through his dark irises. “You never looked at me twice. Never thought of me as anything but a stepping stone to make yourself better. You want me to fight you? You want to use me to test out all your fancy little tricks and improve until you’re the only one at the top?”

He’s close. He’s so fucking close. 

“Fine. I’ll give you what you want.” Fingers sliding beneath your jaw, he cups your chin with a light, but demanding grip. Forcing your gaze upwards, you have nowhere to look but his eyes when he demands, “But look at me while I do it.”

In the span of seconds, you’re on your back again. Trapped beneath him as he pins your hands above your head, both of your wrists entrapped in the grasp of a single hand. Knees on either side of your torso, you’re effectively trapped. 

Frantically, without any of your usual finesse, you begin to thrash, desperately trying to free yourself. His only response is to close his knees tighter, restricting your movement further. 

Fuming, nearly immobile, you bring one knee up in a well-aimed jab. But Heeseung hasn’t been fighting all these months. Not really. 

He predicts your movement with a practiced ease and stops the blow in its tracks. Spare hand wrapping around the back of your thigh, he shakes his head at you. 

“Ah, ah,” he scolds, voice dangerously low. “I thought I told you to look at me.”

Beneath him, your chest heaves. “As if I’d ever listen to you.” But your eyes lock on his anyway. As if you can win this sparring match through sheer will alone. 

Heeseung doesn’t say anything. Hardly so much as blinks as his hand wraps around your thigh a little more firmly. And then, he’s adjusting it. 

Dragging it upwards with a scalding touch until he guides it to wrap around the base of his hips. Again, his touch is light. Something you could break free from if you really wanted to. All of his command lies in his eyes, his gaze that still burns into yours. 

The space just above your cheekbones is flaming again. But this time, for a different reason. 

You feel it more pointedly than you ever have, a sharp, pulsing tug that snakes down your spine and settles just beneath your navel. 

You’re warm there, too. Too warm.

The clothed expanse of your inner thigh, just above your knee, rests against the outside of his hip. But it’s not enough. Does nothing to soothe the building ache, nothing to ease your mounting desperation for friction, for something.  

It’s too much. It’s almost involuntary, the way you start to squirm again,. But this time, it’s not freedom you seek. 

Overwhelmed with sensations you have no idea what to do with, you screw your eyes shut. 

Your body feels like one big muscle, drawn taut, fraught with tension. And it’s so warm, so unbearably hot. 

Shrouded in darkness of your own making, it’s almost worse. You can feel everything. Every desperate pulse that throbs in time with your heartbeat. Every shallow breath that scatters across your overly warm skin. 

The gentle, light pair of lips that ghost over the space between your brows. That brush against the side of your tightly shut eyelid. That comes to rest along the shell of your ear, inspiring a fresh round of shivers down the length of your spine. 

He feels it too. You can tell by the way his breath shudders against you. 

His lips part against your earlobe, touch as light as a butterfly’s wing. “Please,” he begs, and you think you might actually die. If this is what defeat feels like, you’ll hand him his rightful victory. “Look at me.”

You’re still sparring. You’re sure of it. Giving into his demands would feel like defeat. But so does hiding, lying immobile and shying away from sensation as if you’re afraid. 

You are. Afraid, that is. But you’ll die before you let him see that. 

So you obey his command. Eyelids fluttering open slowly, you’re met with the sight of him. Hair falling over his forehead, his nose nearly touches yours. There’s heat in his cheeks and his gaze and his skin. 

Something in him sings with desperation, too. 

Still, there’s a hint of something else. Something softer. Something that almost sounds like fondness when he matches your eye and whispers, “There she is.”

You feel molten, pliant beneath his touch. Again, your hips shift of their own volition as you swallow down the whimper that threatens to escape. 

Heeseung is so intricately attuned to it. Every miniscule movement. Every shallow breath. He notices, feels it too. 

And he’s always held a certain love for this. For the chase. For the build up. 

But his patience can only stretch so far, and he won’t leave you hanging for long. 

You expect it to be bruising, desperate, angry. Everything that’s it’s always been between the two of you when he finally brings his lips to yours. 

It’s not. 

Heeseung’s lips drip with desperation, but they’re slow where they begin to move against your own. Slow and deep and searching, like he’s looking for something he never thought he’d find. 

Late summer heat washes over your skin, and this time, you can’t hide the whimper that drips from your tongue. That he swallows with a renewed vigor. 

It’s as if a light has been ignited. The hand, the one that still cradles your thigh, doubles down in its grip. Drags your leg up further. 

Until he’s just as trapped within it as you are beneath his body. The action brings him closer to you, touching in places that send a fresh wave of shudders radiating from the cradle of your hips. 

“God,” he pants, the syllable sliding past your open lips. “Fuck, ___.” 

He moves his hips again, this time in a more deliberate way. A repeated motion that has you seeing stars. That quells the rising ache in your core just as much as it expands it. 

“You feel that?” he breathes. “Feel what you do to me?”

You shudder beneath him, body slack to sensation. A live wire under his touch. “Please.”

But patience, restraint, are old friends of Heeseung’s. He wants to hear you say it. “Please, what? Use your words, princess.”

You’ll give it to him, whatever he wants. But words are difficult to come by. You can’t form them with your tongue, can’t push them past your lips. You can’t think. “I don’t… It hurts–”

Heeseung might have patience, but the sound of you begging erases what’s left of his self-control in one fell swoop. He’ll finish the words you can’t quite work out. “Yeah? Need me to make it better? Need me to make you feel good?”

But he does want at least one thing from you. With his hand on your jaw, he forces your gaze to his again. “I’ll do it. I’ll give you whatever you want.” It’s a promise. One that bleeds with sincerity. One that’s just as evident in his eyes as it is in his words. “Just need you to tell me.”

In the scant inches that separate your lips, you whisper, “I want it.”

Heeseung is hanging on by a thread. “Want what?”

You unwind it just as quickly. With starlight dancing over your features, half shadowed by his body over yours, you tell him, “Want you.”

And you can feel it, the way his facade of composure starts to slip. The way desperation starts to become his only driving force. 

Even still, you’ve always been something he chooses to treat with care, and this will be no different. 

Slowly, he releases his grip on your hands above your head. 

With movements that soothe as much as they ache, and gestures that feel a little too much like love, he pushes a stray strand of hair away from your heated forehead. 

And then, once again, his hand falls to the hem of your shirt. There’s less hesitation, even if his fingers still shake slightly, as he begins to drag it upwards. Inch by agonizing inch, the expanse of your stomach is laid bare to night air and the wandering intensity of his gaze. 

Your ribcage follows. It’s not cold, but you shudder all the same. 

He stops, fingers suddenly immobile as they trace the top of your ribs. Uncharted territory. A final barrier between the two of you. 

But you’re getting better at this, too. With a firm grip, you bring one hand to grasp his wrist. Looking him right in the eye, you tell him in a heated whisper, “Touch me.”

It’s all he needs. 

Hesitation sizzles against the open air everywhere it bleeds from his fervent touch. 

His hands are on your skin, and his mouth is back on yours. It burns in a way that’s distinct from hatred. There’s no bitter aftertaste, no sharp sting, even as his teeth catch on your bottom lip. 

There’s little grace here, even as he takes his time with you. 

Here on the training mat, it’s a far cry from romance, even if your head swims with dangerous thoughts all the same. 

His breath, his body, his touch are all tangled in yours. As his hips find a home in the space against yours, it feels less like sparring and more like a dance. Careful choreography that your bodies already know. 

Again, he moves against you. The sounds that crawl from your throat and drip through his open lips are obscene. Would be hopelessly embarrassing in any other context, but his touch soothes your anxieties as much as it stokes them. 

Lying beneath him, skin bare to his gaze and his touch and his intentions, you suddenly feel like a novice. An easy opponent. The nervous holder of the lower hand.

But Heeseung never wanted to best you, and this is no exception. Gentle fingers dance across the band of your training trousers. Plain. Utilitarian. Designed for function. 

Your sudden insecurities aside, he doesn’t want to best you. He doesn’t want to win. 

He tells you as much. “Relax,” he coos against your feverish temple. “Just gonna make you feel good.” It’s an iteration of an already established claim. A promise he’s already made. 

But here, trapped beneath his body, consumed by a touch that soothes as much as it burns, you decide that would feel like losing, too. 

“You, too,” you insist, finding the fragmented remnants of your voice. It’s a whisper that lands on his collarbone. He shudders with the insinuation. “I want you to feel good, too.”

Pulling back slightly, he pauses his ministrations. Looks you right in the eye and asks, “Are you sure?”

He might have spurred this, might have brought you here, but you’re burning with it now, too. The desire to see him come undone. Fall apart by your doing. 

You bring one hand to his temple, and he relaxes into your touch like he’s familiar with it. His head cradled in your palm, you say for the third time, “I want to make you feel good.”

He shudders, and for a moment, everything is still. The room around you holds its breath, his gaze locked on yours. 

And then, without breaking eye contact, he rolls his hips again. Slowly. Surely. 

Watches as you struggle to keep your eyes open against the sudden onslaught of sensations. Marvels at the small, desperate sounds he’s dying to swallow. 

It’s still, until it’s not. Until his fingers find their mobility again and the rest of you is laid just as bare as your torso. Until long moments later, your hands are the one to make him follow suit. 

Sweat sticks to your skin, makes every movement, every motion, feel all the more sordid. 

But when he guides your other leg around him and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You feel so good,” something between the two of you feels sacred, too. 

There’s little finesse to the way he finally guides himself inside of you. Little grace to be found in the way your bodies connect, breath and body and soul combining and colliding into one. 

There’s too much sensation, too many months and weeks and hidden dreams for it to be perfect. Too much care and pleasure and feelings for it to be anything but. 

And Heeseung…

Heeseung is seeing fucking stars. 

He’s always found you beautiful, but this is new. This is different. This is just for him. 

Every desperate sound he drags from your throat, every involuntary movement of your hips as you beg for relief only he can give you. It all belongs to him. 

His own pleasure is lost somewhere behind clouded eyes as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open under the intensity of his touch. He chases something bigger, something far more dangerous than the pathways of his own baser desires. 

He needs it. Burns with the urge to watch you drowning in pleasure for him. Because of him. 

The only thing you’ve ever shown interest in him for is his prowess on a training mat, and he’s desperate to show you that he’s worth more than that. That he can serve you what you need on a silver platter and predict what you want without you having to say a word. 

He’s a quick study. He watches, observes the way your skin flushes with every filthy, adoring, sweet nothing he whispers against your ear. With every inch of pleasure he forces you to swallow. 

You’re shaking beneath him, practically vibrating with the intensity of it all, and Heeseung wants nothing more than for it all to last just a little longer. Stretch into a slighter bigger pocket of infinity that only the two of you are privy to. 

But even slivers of forever have their inevitable ends, and Heeseung senses this one in the way your whimper drags out, in the way the last remaining bits of tension drain from your shoulders while you clench around him. 

He’s no better. In the moments that follow, he crowds himself impossibly further into the heat of your body while he follows suit. Makes good on your wish that he finds his pleasure, too. 

And when it’s done, and the only thing left in the afterglow is exhaustion, he hears you whisper, “Heeseung?” 

It takes him a moment to find his voice. He’s never heard you say his name like that before. All hesitation, no trace of venom. His throat feels scraped raw when he hums against your collarbone, “Mm?”

Your hands are in his hair, a gentle repeated motion that soothes. That has hope surging in his chest. 

“I don’t…” you sigh, fighting against the urge to swallow your less combative words, even now. “I don’t hate you,” you finally admit. Like it’s still a secret. Like he can’t read the truth in the way you wrap strands of his hair around your fingers, in the way you let him rest against your skin. 

But it’s not easy for you to admit, even if it’s obvious, evident in everything that’s passed between the two of you. It still takes no small amount of bravery for you to whisper it to him in the dead of night in an abandoned training room. 

Bathed in the fading remnants of deep seated pleasure and the dying glow of distant moonlight, it almost makes him want to smile. 

“I know,” he whispers. Leaning a little further into your touch, he repeats, “I know.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: this was for YOU heeseung girlies ♡♡♡ it's been a hot minute since I wrote anything with actual smut, so I hope this reads alright! let me know what you thought, and as always, I hope you enjoyed ♡

[ddejavvu]

Omg could we get another part of animagus cat reader and Sirius? Maybe they’re napping together and the boys try to take cat reader as a joke/because they’re curious while she’s sleeping and she suddenly transforms back as they pick her up LOL. Sirius is grumpy to be woken up/have their special time now exposed hehe

part 1

--

Sirius's bedcurtains are drawn, a clear sign that James and Remus should grant him some privacy.

Unfortunately, James Potter has never been one to take hints, and Remus strictly stays out of their shenanigans. It's only when James gasps with the entire capacity of his lungs that Remus peers curiously over at the bed in the corner, intrigue piqued when he finds a newly familiar form curled up on Sirius's chest.

"That cat!" James hisses, and he's particularly lucky that Sirius is laying on his side with your chin nuzzled over his ear, or the boy would have heard him. Instead, it's you that wakes, eyes blinking open wide as you stare at the men staring back down at you.

"Hi, darling," Remus hums softly, reaching out a tentative, scarred hand to hover it near your nose. You don't need any time for inspection before butting your head up against the heel of his palm, and he grants you a warm chuckle and scratches behind your ears. When you're not transformed, the feeling of someone toying with your hair is entirely unwelcome. But now you lean into Remus's touch, slumping relaxed once more over Sirius's ear.

"Stop hogging her," James urges, sticking his own hand less ceremoniously beneath your nose, "I want a turn."

Remus concedes with an exasperated grimace, but lets James take over anyways. He's lucky that you're you and he doesn't even know it, because if he'd tried petting any other cat by jamming his fingers into their neck, he'd be walking away with several scratch marks on his arms. But you forgive him as he tries petting you too similarly to how he pets Sirius in the man's own animagus form, all riling strokes and heavy-handed pats. You let out a soft mewl of protest when he tries picking you up, and Remus mutters something about you being the most patient cat in the world.

"Just leave her alone, James," Remus warns his friend, "Her patience is gonna wear out."

He listens for only a second, then decides he knows best.

"S'alright, Moony," He promises his friend, over-confident and too eager for affection he hasn't earned yet, "She's layin' all over Sirius, clearly wants a cuddle. You snooze, you lose, now it's my turn."

James's hand slides to your underbelly, an area you're not fond of being handled at in this form. Annoyance surges through you, prickling at your fur and making you long for the smooth expanse of your human skin again, an urge that you give into without much thought when James tries prying you off of Sirius's face.

There's a lot of noises at once. A pained yelp from Sirius, when you form suddenly weighs a lot heavier on him than it was when you'd laid down. A 'woah!' from James as your fur gives way to soft skin beneath his hands which he quickly retracts. A soft gasp from Remus who hadn't been expecting the rather unpleasant sound of transforming between bodies.

Two sets of eyes regard you with incredulity, and one blinks slowly beneath you, laden with drowsiness.

"It's you," James breathes, an air of amazement in his voice that shouldn't be there; after all, he's an animagus as well. Surely he should have noticed shifty behavior or a change in mannerisms from you. All of a sudden your preference for Sirius's softer, fluffy sweaters makes sense.

"Yes, it's me." You huff exasperatedly, perched precariously on Sirius's once-sleeping form. He's not pushing you off but you're sure it's not comfortable, so you slide yourself in front of him instead, easing back against him and letting him spoon you.

"Cat's out of the bag," Sirius rasps sleepily beside your ear, and you don't have to look at him to know he's grinning at his rather pitiful joke, "Did he try to pick you up?"

"Right around the stomach," You gripe, glaring at James while Sirius wraps his arm around the very portion of your body you'd just forbidden James from touching, "Like a toddler."

"For the record," Remus calls, "I was nice to you."

"I was nice too!" James gawps, "I just wanted a cuddle."

"Get your own girlfriend," Sirius drawls lazily, his face buried against the back of your head, and maybe it's a biting statement considering one Lily Evans is still firmly opposed to the presence of James in her life. Sirius knows, and amends it, "Or crawl into Moony's bed. I don't care, "Jus' keep your hands off m'girl."

[aventurineswife]

wait wait wait what if creator!reader was literally just pure vanilla cookie from crk. identical colors, imagery, demeanor, i feel like sagau and sahsrau would love them.

Oh.

Oh my god.

PURE VANILLA COOKIE?! 😍

If Creator!Reader was literally like Pure Vanilla Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom—with that soft gold-and-cream aesthetic, gentle wisdom, warm aura, and "calm in the storm" energy?

SAHSRAU and SAGAU would lose their minds in the most devotional, heart-wrenched way possible.

SAGAU

You—glowing softly, voice warm like spring rain, robes billowing in honey-tinted wind—arrive not with a grand divine boom, but with a gentle hush.

You hold out a hand to the wounded Adepti, to exhausted knights, to the weeping Archons and say something like,

“You’ve done well. Let me take it from here.”

AND THEY JUST. MELT.

Zhongli kneels immediately. You remind him of peace before war. His godhood feels small in the presence of your grace.

Venti can’t stop smiling. He sits near you, humming soft melodies like a child resting beneath a tree.

Ei doesn't speak at first. She's frozen. You are the gentleness she never allowed herself, and she feels both comforted and painfully unworthy.

Xiao flinches when you touch him—and then doesn’t move again, terrified of scaring off the only warmth that’s ever reached him.

You’re like… divinity that forgives. The patience of eternity. A god who listens.

And they would follow you into any storm just to earn another soft smile.

SAHSRAU

Now here it gets even more dramatic.

Because in a world full of chaos, weaponized people, corrupted systems and alien horrors—you show up like a walking balm.

Your cloak glows faintly. You speak calmly. And when things glitch, you stabilize reality just by existing.

You place your hand on Kafka’s shoulder mid-fight and whisper,

“There’s a gentler path, if you’d like to walk it.”

AND SHE JUST STARES AT YOU LIKE SHE’S NEVER BEEN TOUCHED BY A GOOD DREAM BEFORE.

Dan Heng is struck speechless. You’re everything he’s been trying to control inside himself—softness, acceptance, inner stillness.

March 7th clings to your side like a flower to sunlight. She looks up to you like a warm younger sibling.

Silver Wolf is confused. You don’t fight? You heal? You’re… sweet?

She starts following you around anyway. “For study purposes.”

(She’s being healed just by your presence.)

Blade HATES how calm you make him feel. He hates how when you look at him, he feels seen and not judged. And he keeps coming back anyway.

Even Herta, who studies everything like it’s data, stares at you in awe. Because you are the perfect variable:

You don't force peace. You invite it.

You’re the kind of Creator who doesn't need to command loyalty.

You just exist like a soft light in the dark—gentle, unshakable, golden.

You help people not by changing them, but by being a place where they can rest.

And in both worlds, that is so much more powerful than any divine lightning bolt or glitch-blade.

[adeepdeepslumber]

"stay with me, i don't want you to leave." - nagi seishiro

:x a relationship that was doomed from the start.

k. - cigarettes after sex

nagi seishiro never tried. he never tried at anything at all. be it studies, social aspects or even just living productively. all he did was play games, and laze around like there was nothing in the world better to do. despite not trying, he still did well for everything. soccer; he never bothered to make an effort, but managed to be the top scorer and carried his team to win the tournament in his hometown. studies; he never studied, slept in all of his classes. literally ALL. but somehow, he always managed to get the second highest grades in the school, the first being his best friend, reo. nagi never tried, but excelled at everything, that was why he'd expected everything to come his way, without putting an ounce of effort.

which is why he's so confused right now.

you, bold and daring, never one to shy away from confronting someone, stood at him, glaring. nagi thought you were a try hard. he hated try hards. why put in effort in things? he saw no point.

so why was he trying so hard to convince you to stay?

his hand gripped your wrist, holding you back from walking away from him. his white locks fell down his face, almost obstructing his view of you. nagi wanted to keep you in his sight, never to let you leave it. he doesn't know why he's trying so hard. holding onto your wrist like a string that if pulled away, lead the rest of the woven tapestry to fall apart. his orb of eyes stared at you, usually never had a spark, only with you.

a small frown formed on nagi's face, one that never bore any emotion.

"please, stay."

nagi said those words determinedly, without an ounce of boredom, which he would usually mindlessly speak out to have you by his side. this one was full of determination, no random muttering of "hassles" or any sighs, just pure hope and desire for you to stay.

you, on the other hand, stared at him with dismay. you tried to wrench your hand away from his, but no avail, his grip was tight. the face you loved, you still do, but you have to leave.

nagi and you were in a relationship for 3 years, and it was bliss at the start. but within those three years, you'd realized that nagi never tried. how foolish of you, to assume he would change since he'd told you he would. it's common sense that nagi never tried at anything, but you'd never thought it would go to this extent. most of the dates you went with him, wasn't even with him. you'd wait at the entrance of a restaurant, all dolled up, and seat at your specially reserved seat for two. you'd wait and wait, but nagi would never arrive.

frustrated and humiliated, you would sit in your seat looking your best for someone who didn't bother. munching slowly on the food, you would have eaten with him, black tears from ruining your mascara would slowly slide down your cheek. that's not all, unfortunately. when you arrived back home, nagi would be lying down on your shared bed with him, sleeping or playing video games. he'd completely forgotten about the date that you were so excited about. you wanted to convey your frustration to him, at least let him understand how betrayed you felt after that. but nagi always brushed it off, saying mere things such as "oh, i slept in." or "it was kind of a hassle anyway, we can do the date another time." never fully embracing your true emotions.

nagi would notice that you were angry at him, then coax you to forgive him by suddenly caring and being affectionate with you, just completely invalidating the anger you had every right to have. he always expected to get what he wanted without actually having to earn it, and you became a victim of it.

at home, he never cleaned anything, leaving all the work to you. when you came home after an exhausting day at work, you were faced with a messy home and a lazing boyfriend. but somehow, you always forgave nagi, since you couldn't resist his beautiful face staring back at you while he murmured insincere "sorries".

slowly, the feeling in the pit of your soul grew, and eventually you couldn't handle it anymore. you told him you wanted to talk, and you broke the words to him.

"i don't think we can do this anymore."

nagi's eyes finally lifted off his video game, and to you. a tinge of confusion was clear in his eyes, and you could tell he thought you were joking. his face, still void of proper emotion, started make it's way to turn back to his game, but nagi stopped it.

the silence engulfed the room you two once shared loving memories with, now filled with tension and disbelief. the silence made it's answer, and nagi finally looked at you, with pure emotion in his eyes alone.

"are you joking with me?"

his voice, monotoned, but was different from his usual, it had the feel of disbelief and sarcasm, as he didn't believe you were serious.

nagi didn't know what he wanted you to do in that moment, maybe a smile come over your face as you hug him, muttering that it was all a joke. but your face remained serious and stoned, giving no sign of a joke being played out.

your brows were furrowed, and lips were pursed, occasionally twitching to hold back the sadness you wanted to let out. nagi's eyes widened slowly, as he realized, you really weren't joking anymore. he straightened up, his hand making way to yours.

and that's how you found yourself in this situation.

nagi's hand grabbed onto yours, determined to not let you leave without a proper explanation. his usually dazed eyes stared at you attentively, bringing back a light into his eyes.

the face you love stared back at you, and you resist the urge to cup his face and give in to him, tell him that everything is fine, it was all a joke.

but you can't.

you don't want to be trapped in this endless cycle of empty promises and apologies, gaslighting and forgiveness though your heart tells you not to. this has to end.

"nagi, i told you already. i don't think this can work out anymore."

you grab his hand, and pull it away from you. it physically hurts you to say those words, but if you didn't, who will?

nagi lets your words sink in, a pain in his heart as you say it twice. what did he do wrong?

actually, nagi would be lying if he said he had no clue what he did wrong. he knew. he knew that coaxing you with affection would let you forgive him, he knew that he depended on you, but made it seem like you depended on him. he knew about those dates, but always brushed it off, he knew if he'd left the house messy and untidy, you'd feel obliged to clean up after him. he knew that if he gave you just enough love and affection, you'd stay.

nagi knew.

all those little actions that made you feel you had to stay with him and care for him wasn't just because of his laziness. he knew it'll make you stay. he knew he didn't need to try hard, or even try.

so why is he on his knees, begging you to stay?

nagi's knees hit the soft fabric of the rug in the bedroom, holding onto your leg. his face stared at you, what used to be a void of emotion, was now a collage of an uncountable amount of emotions altogether. all of which begged, just begged you to stay.

"stay with me, i don't want you to leave."

nagi's hand was on your thigh, and you face looked down at his. nagi's lips pursed, as if to hold back any emotion from coming out.

"please, stay. i'll change. i promise. i don't know what i did wrong, but i'll change. for you."

still, he played dumb. he'd lied, thinking that it could coax you to stay with him. you weren't dumb though, you'd used to push it off, but not anymore.

"no, nagi. i said it thrice, and i'll say it again. this won't work out."

your voice stood stable, however an audible but faint underlying feel of pity and regret could be heard. nagi's eyes widened like never before, and his mouth parted slowly. it stung to hear it four times, but he was persistent.

slowly, he stood up, holding your face in his hands, towering over you. he clutched your free hand tightly, a seal of his emotions.

"i promise, i'll really change."

this promise wasn't fully hollow, but there was barely any inch of sincerity. continuously, he spouts empty promises, but your mind has set already.

it hurt your heart so much to even tell him that the relationship that was once so full of love had come to this. it hurt you to see him beg on his knees, just for you to stay with him. but you couldn't take it any more.

you pushed him away roughly, his towering shadow over your face stumbled away. it pained you to see him this distressed. but you had to do it.

"nagi. this isn't going to work out."

you pushed your way through his body covering the door, as you made you way out of the bedroom to the entrance of the shared apartment now void of the love you two used to share. you knew nagi did love you, but you hated how he made it seem like he didn't, you hated how he always managed to get you to forgive him just by giving the right amount of love and attention. and you were done with it.

until he blocked the exit you were planning to make with his body once again.

"i'm sorry, i really am. please, give me a chance to change. you know i can't live without you."

then why did he always make it seem like he could live without you? like you were just an object to him.

you couldn't resist the urge, and you cupped his face one last time.

"nagi, i know that. but i gave you many chances to change already. if you can't live without me, then you should have acted like it. not just give me love and affection just so i forgive you, so that i can once again just clean up after you and take care of you."

somehow, you'd managed an apologetic smile, laced with spite, that he should have tried more. if he can try this hard to get you to stay, he should have tried harder to actually love you.

you push him away and open your apartment door.

"nagi, this is it. i'm done. goodbye."

with that, you turned to face him one last time. the face you love loved, stared at you with regret and despair. you managed a weak nod back to him, your face tinted with sadness, as tears slowly flowed down your cheeks, before you turned away and walked out.

nagi found himself back on his knees, staring at the entrance of the apartment where you had just been. his hands grabbed at his face, letting out a low groan.

he should have tried harder.

maybe then this wouldn't have happened.

he'd relied too much on you, and now you were gone.

he'd taken for granted your presence, the lack of warmth next to him already bothering him.

nagi never cried before. the last time he did was due to a big yawn he let out during class. no tears he shed bore any emotion.

so, for the first time in his life, a string of pearly tears full of regret welled up and slid down his cheek.

he begged for you to stay once again.

male manipulator nagi

K.- cigarettes after sex

a/n: i think im going to make a part two of this!!

[mrs-monaghan]

Not to go into detail and make this long but I remember how a while ago, I was in your blog and I came across you saying;

But, it is of my personal opinion that if they broke up it would destroy JK. Jimin would be heartbroken and devastated too but it would hit JK harder.

And now that we found out Jungkook was the one to sign up for the buddy system and wrote Jimins name for who he wanted to be his partner.

https://x.com/thekmlogic/status/1881424425972814167?s=46&t=DiZ6pHHxW3ahpd70quaKnA

And it really does prove your point to a whole other level. Not that I needed another reason to believe it but because this type of love doesn’t exist for “just friends” and I’ll never know why or how people don’t see it.

We seen how deeply not having Jimin there effected Jungkook. The man was crying on live..

They went on vacations for AYS together, even back to Juju Island again, without V. Who knows about Busan after the last Juju trip.

They could last 18 months away from friends, family, ARMY, but never each other.

That’s why they’re still out and about together even on vacation.

https://x.com/stopkookminpls/status/1882055760152347025?s=46&t=DiZ6pHHxW3ahpd70quaKnA

Vmin. JiHope. Namkook. JinKook.

(My baby, Yoongi isn’t an option.)

So many close friends in BTS who could have went together. Nobody but Jikook went together. Is that not a sign something is different compared to the others?

Anybody could have went with Namjoon seeing how bad he’s struggling to be happy but no.. At the end of the day, this is just more proof on how real their relationship is.

Oh yeah! 1300% So many reasons to believe in Jikook but enlisting together... that was... that was definitely something. From what I've heard, K-taekookers stopped existing after get out of your imagination happened. Then we lost more vermin after GCF. Matter of fact many of them became jkkrs. (Unfortunately that's also when so many more were created thanks to tkk-lives, but whatever) Then more were lost after Rosebowl. And some more left after the talk during ITS 1. and of course we lost a good number after the Taennie walk in Paris. A few more left after AYS dropped but not enough stopped shipping tkk when Jikook enlisted together. But if you ask me, this is what should have had them all leaving fr fr. This... enlisting together was no small fit. Not only has it never been done before, but they really didn't have to. You know? Like u said, RM too should have enlisted with a member if it doesn't carry as much weight as we jkkrs think it does. Know it does.

It was a huge risk they took but they did it anyway because to them it was necessary.

JIKOOK👏🏽IS👏🏽MOTHERFUCKIN👏🏽REAL!!!👏🏽

So, anon is talking about this post. And while there are deeper reasons connected with their enlistment, we already know how bored JK can be without Jimin. We've seen it

(Thanks @chicknbunny13 😘)

Sidebar: boyfriend V is right there on his phone doing nothing and yet, JK is bored out of his mind. Hmm 🤔✍🏽✍🏽✍🏽✍🏽

We've seen it with every single time he came live only when Jimin left the country, talking about how he got bored and missed us.

JK is a lying liar who lies 😂 but we forgive him. If I had a Jimin I would do the same 🤣

So back to your tweet, anon. My friends and I did suspect that that's what the numbers on their helmets meant

But there was no way to be sure. All we knew to be fact was that it had to have been JK's idea.

What i love about being a Joker is that, we are never wrong. We have earned the right to be cocky. You know what I mean?

It's what happens when you actually stan the real couple. Couples, have patterns. That's why the vermin are always changing their stories... nothing about being a tkkr is consistent. Their theories change overnight depending on what they discover or decide to make up that day.

Meanwhile, Jikook are predictable because they are the true couple. And that's why when we make guesses we are rarely ever wrong.

Thanks for the tweets anon. Support Jikook for clear skin

Damn, they're fine as hell!

[laswells-ashtray]

Okay time for the weakly murder, I feel like I missed last week's 🤔

Tattoo artist!Rudy who gets an odd appointment, a reverse tramp stamp. But that's not what's odd, it's the fact the client just showed up. Covered in dirt and dust, cowboy hat perched on his head. Tethering a horse outside. A large gold belt buckle brushing the sweat soaked and mud smeared skin of his abdomen.

The horse, he could forgive. It's a very... He, is a very pretty horse. Quite pleasant.

The dusty clothes, and dirt and sweat staining him, also a forgivable offense. Many come straight from work, even a few cartel members had blood on their clothes.

It wasn't even the fact the rude cowboy strutted through the small shop and sat down. Legs spread open like a whore, shirt tugged up as if asking for more then just a simple tattoo.

It is the belt buckle, that has rubbed the skin raw. The tanned skin showing inflammation and a few scratches. But Rudy is nothing if not adaptable, and petty.

He prepares everything as if the Vaquero was another client, because he was. Never mind the fact it was Colonel Alejandro Vargas.

But one thing the cocky Vaquero didn't expect, Rudy doesn't give a fuck who you are. He will manhandle you to his expectations.

Perching on the little swivel chair, nothing out of sorts just yet. Until he turned to face the Vaquero, and reached out. Grabbing the chair and yanking it, and the man perched on top, towards him. Earning a shocked yelp.

"Legs and shirt up." Rudy would snap out, not even waiting as the taller man gaped, blinking owlishly. Any control over the situation he had, was long gone. Another shocked shout as Rudy yanked the mans legs over his thighs, partially dragging him down the chair. Fitting damn near perfect between his legs.

Not even a chance to make a snarky quip before his shirt is shoved up to his tits, and the cold stinging of alcohol is smeared across Ale's lower abdomen. A pained hiss and another surprised shout, as Rudy yanked the belt off the man with a swift movement and tossed it on the ground. Not caring that the buckle he likely scuffed could easily pay for a few months of rent.

"Color." Rudy snapped, preparing the tattoo gun, and a few vials of ink. Making sure to rub some more alcohol over the angry skin.

Ale could only stammer out an answer as he jumped again from the sting and roughness that was definitely doing something for the man.

"Verde..." Ale would try and breath out, the air knocked out of his lungs as he watched Rudy slide a pair of glasses on his face. Mouth gaping, before he slowly shook his head. And changed his mind. "Azul... I want Azul... Miel..."

A scoff and a quirk of a brow, "'Honey' costs extra." But Rudy would move dutifully, efficiently, as he prepped the needle. Not even asking for placement before he got to work. The buzzing of the gun filling the shop with sharp inhales from Ale as he tipped his head back. Trying to will away the obvious tent in his pants. Stuck with the image of the blue ink matching Rudy's glasses.

Half an hour would pass before Ale would earn a slap on his leg, snapping him out of whatever thoughts he was having to try and stay calm. It clearly didn't work, not the way Rudy leaned against the bulge. As if it was nothing more than an arm rest.

"Take your shirt off." Rudy would demand as he turned away, cleaning the tattoo gun. And leaving Ale's skin throbbing in more ways than one.

A confused sound, but Ale quickly complied, peeling off his vest and shirt. Exposing himself, glancing down to see how the tattoo looked before his face paled. He hadn't said what he wanted. And reading cursive upside down was a bitch for the Colonel. And the color blue, would definitely do some damage to the man in the future.

"What does it sa-...." A click had Ale's head snap up and his face go white as a sheet. Staring at the needle in Rudy's hand, and the twin bars in his other hand. "O-oi... H-hermano... What's that for... I only scheduled a ta-"

"Miel, costs. Extra." The artist would scoff turning to sit on Alejandro's lap this time. Rubbing an alcohol soaked cloth across the mans tits. "They'll heal in a few weeks if you're really worried about it..."

A groan would escape Ale as he breathed hard through his nose, the younger males ass feeling fucking sinful on his lap. A quick shake of the head as he leaned back, watching as the needle got closer. And before it could pierce skin, he'd catch Rudy's hand. The dirty look the artist would give him, almost enough to make the Colonel cum in his pants like a teenager.

"Dinner after?" Ale would purr out, swallowing hard as he felt Rudy shift on his lap.

"If you cry."

Jesus, Lia. I am scared

Fuck sake, Alejandro isn't the only one that's hard.

Rudy is a professional; he wipes down Alejandro's abdomen with an alcohol wipe and drags his nail across the man's skin as he does. He's testing the man's ability to sit still; he doesn't work with jumpy clients. Of course, he has to shave the area he's working with, and typically he might offer the client the chance to do so themself, but he isn't taking any chances with a man who sauntered in like he'd be anything other than a notch on a bedpost.

He smears ink on the man's pants, over his bulge and over his a smack when he hears his breath hitch.

He realises approximately three letters into the tattoo that he's going to stick needles through this man's tits and charge him for it, a visual harassment fee for the way eyes have been drifting over his figure. He's going to watch tears bead in this grown man's eyes, and offer him a heavy-handed pat on the cheek should he complain about it.

He has a no bitching policy, it's somewhere between his "no cops in shop" rule and his "I'll take a bottle of cherry brandy for a lobe piercing" agreement by the door.

Distantly, he knows, he's going to have sex with this man. He's going to hold him by his hair and choke him on his cock until he sees tears in those eyes and that confidence is shattered as he tries to regain his voice. And this vaquero is going to like it.

[actual-changeling]

i think it's hard to understand the level of betrayal crowley must have felt, which leads to a lot of assumptions around him easily forgiving aziraphale or not being angry; so let's put ourselves into his position.

imagine: your partner, your best friend, the one person in the world that you love more than anyone else, asks you to change how you look, how you talk, who you are—so you can follow them back to an abusive household that threw you out and told you to never come back.

and they tell you that happy and excited and it's not even a question, it's a "by the way, we're doing that, isn't that great?"

you try to tell them no, it's not, i don't want to go back there, i like who i am now. they hurt me and scarred me for life, and they will do it again.

the person you loves, the person you thought loves you, looks at you and says "but you're bad. don't you want to be good? they can make you good."

come with me, you say. that house doesn't want us, we can have our own, we can build our own home. just the two of us, we don't need them, we're fine the way we are.

"i can change them" they say, as if you didn't try. as if you didn't try to change them first. as if that wasn't the reason they threw you to the wolves.

fuck it, you say. you confess your love anyway because they must know, right? they need to know. "don't leave me" you beg, plead, pray.

"oh," they respond, smiling. "nothing lasts forever."

you try to walk away, they stop you, they make it worse, make it clear they don't understand you like you thought. do they love you or the version of you they created in their head? you can't tell anymore.

"we could have been us," you say. we could have been happy.

you kiss them because you have to, because you will be damned twice over if you lose them without kissing them, because your patience snaps and you think you might die if you don't kiss them right now.

it doesn't change anything. "i forgive you"—for being me? for loving you? for refusing to tear myself apart? for kissing you? it's not like it matters. they're gone. you watch them leave.

would you immediately forgive them if they showed up on your doorstep? or would you be heartbroken and angry? you miss them, you still love them, but FUCK YOU. fuck you for demanding that of me. fuck you for everything you said. FUCK YOU FOR LEAVING.

six thousand years. six thousand years.

it would already be hard to forgive a person you have loved for two years or ten, and it gets worse the longer you know them. six thousand fucking years and aziraphale did that. we know why he did. we know how their story will end, but crowley doesn't.

all crowley has is aziraphale's speech and his face disappearing behind elevator doors. all crowley has is you're the bad guys and come with me and nothing lasts forever and i need you and i forgive you.

love alone does not and cannot fix that. aziraphale took six thousand years of trust and set them on fire with a smile on his face, and i understand the urge to try and find an explanation where he doesn't do that. where everything is secretly fine.

but there isn't.

aziraphale needs to rebuild that trust, he needs to earn it again. and mot importantly, he needs to understand why his words and actions broke it in the first place. but even then—even if crowley is the kindest possible version of himself and aziraphale does everything right—even then crowley would have every single right to say i don't forgive you. i love you and i understand you, we can be together, but i cannot forgive you for that and we both have to live with that now.

they will get their happy ending, i do truly believe that, but it might not be the fairy tale happily ever after you imagine and that's okay. it still counts. it's still good.

let crowley be angry and let them find their way back to each other, even if that path does not include forgiveness.

[raayllum]

The thing (or one of the things) about Ezran in early S7 is that while he's not being unreasonable, he is being hypocritical and unproductive ("You forgave Zubeia"). 7x01 is his breaking point after seasons of trying to keep everyone else together and weathering each conflict in as most an unaffected manner as possible, and he quite simply couldn't do it anymore.

Zubeia sent an assassin to kill your father? You long for your mother so deeply, you don't know your dad is dead yet, you do everything you can to get Zym back home because you love him (you can literally see through his eyes) and because it's the best chance for peace. Forgive her for killing your father and trying to kill you because she was grieving and Zym's dad for killing your mother because he's dead and they miss him. Put all your anger in a box at the one person who actually did kill him, because Zubeia saw her baby and changed her mind, and your found family sister (who is also missing) defected and spared your life that night, and he didn't.

Deny the ugly truths as long as you can by focusing on peace ("I ignored something that was true. I denied something that is undeniable"). Why should you have to acknowledge anger? Can't you just get past that? And then you can't, with the picture. (Then you can't, later, with yourself.)

Rayla comes back and Callum is fighting with her? Forgive and welcome her back unconditionally and try to counsel Callum through his big feelings. Rinse and repeat when Soren and then Zym goes missing. Advocate for and refuse to give up on Rex Igneous until he sends you sprawling into a wall.

Take on the responsibility of negotiating with the dragons. With Finnegrin (you offer up your hand, and so do your friends, your family). Talk your brother out of a more violent solution, and Rayla sides with you. She does again about hiding with the pearl and you save each other's lives. You look after home while she and Callum leave to save the world, and tell Soren the hard truth and deal with Viren till you don't. You try to spare Karim and his forces. You believe in peace. You believe in breaking the cycle.

"I am a king, and as a king, I choose love over strength."

"King of what? King of ashes?"

Ezran looks at what two years of trying to do the right peaceful thing has earned him — a destroyed kingdom while he was away — and he desperately, angrily, grasps at any semblance of control. This can't be all it was for. He feels like he's failed as a king, and is therefore a bad king. He needs to punish Sol Regem for it, but he can't. It needs to be Runaan's 'fault' because Runaan made him a king, even though keeping Runaan chained up in the Banther Lodge basement doesn't do anything but keep another family (Rayla's family) apart and make him feel in control. His pendulum swings so hard and strong, the target of his anger constantly changing to the most recent wound stacked upon themselves. After 7x02, he's not visibly angry at Runaan again until the finale; he's angrier at Callum than he is at Rayla because he thought he had control over his brother ("Callum. High Mage. We need you at this council meeting") even if that shouldn't be the goal or the focus at all anyway.

Callum doesn't betray him just because of Rayla, but because Ezran is perpetuating the cycle in a way that is antithetical to everything all three of them have striven to break, which is exactly what Callum points out to him. (If Rayla had surrendered or Callum had stayed, they just all likely would've been arrested, as it's unlikely Rayla and Runaan would've made it in the boat with Callum's magic, either. Would that have made Ezran, or anyone, feel better, hunting down his brother and friends, bringing them back in chains? No, and only Aanya is brave enough to say it out loud after Ez proves he values his bond with his brother / Callum's life over destroying Runaan's and Rayla's by proxy.)

"Because pain and loss feel so terrible inside, you want to hate. You want to hurt someone else."

What would killing or imprisoning Runaan (again) really have done?

"Hasn't he already been punished enough? Viren trapped him in a cursed coin for years. It's time to set him free." / "How much suffering is enough to pay for the mistakes we've made? No amount of suffering, yours or mine, will ever bring him back."

("As a father, I have a selfish wish, and that is for you and Ezran to be... free.")

"A life for a life. Is that justice?"

We also see that his scene with Runaan is one of the very last in the season. It's been months, if not nine, before Ezran was ready to have that conversation, ready to do with Runaan what he willingly did with Aaravos ("A king must look into the face and hear the words of those he judges"). A few days or a week by Callum's estimate wouldn't have been enough.

Ezran set Terry free to see if they could really trust him. He refused to do the same with Runaan even when it was causing clear pain and fracturing within his own family unit, nor did Runaan come to Katolis to face justice; it was just happenstance. But in Runaan being freed, he was then able to choose to come back to face Ezran's verdict. And then Ezran makes his own conscious choice.

"I'm going to forgive you. I don't know how, but I have to try."

He told everyone else that they had to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss in their hearts while also holding love. It was hard before. It was hard now. But he has to try.

(Nor does Harrow being in the bird erase the two years of mourning hell that Ezran went through, remove the crown from his brow, make things with Runaan any easier tbh, or mean he's 100% getting his father back.)

[cumplanecrash]

So not to pathologize the blorbos, but Shen Jiu totally has OCD, yeah?

(I so wanna reblog and come back for style reasons but I also want the whole thought in one place.)

Okay so qijiu reconciliation is on my mind, right? And the thing is, Yue Qingyuan thinks that he made one specific mistake (did not come back for Shen Jiu at the Qiu Estate) that, if he can just make up for it somehow, he can be forgiven and he and Shen Qingqiu can become close again.

But honestly, we know he had a good excuse for not coming back: he was locked in a cave by some of the most powerful cultivators he could be held hostage by at the time, with no hope of overpowering his Shizun, especially with his life being drained by Xuan Su. And you'd have to be a completely petty, heartless bastard not to forgive him knowing that.

The kind of petty, heartless bastard that would take advantage of the Sect Leader's guilty conscience for his own benefit.

And Shen Jiu does not ask for this.

If anything, he's irritated by Yue Qingyuan's favoritism. He also never speaks in his own defense when his crimes, true or false, are brought up. Because Shen Jiu has decided that he's an irredeemable monster, unworthy of defence and too tainted to be allowed to touch the flawless sect leader, and the sooner everyone else sees that, the better off they'll be. (This is a type of OCD.)

You see, once upon a time, he had written off his dear Qi-ge as dead (or dying, or in need of rescue) and mourned him in his heart, because he believed that only death or dismemberment would keep Qi-ge from at least trying to keep such an important promise. But then, when his best-of-a-lot-of-bad-options shifu took him to the Immortal Alliance Conference to raid the inevitable dead bodies and, not so secretly, make some of their own, he saw that same Qi-ge there, and there was no sign of permanent injury visible. He didn't even make any excuses, just apologized for not coming. And Shen Jiu — accepts that "No matter how [Shen Jiu] changed, he was a rat", that "Some people were rotten from birth. Shen Jiu thought of himself in exactly this way — someone vile and poisonous from the start. Because, at that instant, he came to a crystal-clear realization:

That he'd rather have met a Yue Qi who died in some unknown corner, his remains unsightly and forgotten, then a Yue Qingyuan who was elegant and powerful, his prospects and future boundless."

It's a hell of a thing on a young person to wish someone dead, truly and with your whole heart. To do it to a loved one can be especially hard. But the thing is: brains aren't literal. Especially when they're trying to understand emotional pain.

To go all Pop Psychologist on the character who definitely does not have access to therapy for a brief moment, he doesn't want Qi-ge dead anymore than I want to commit a random shootout on the way home from work after a long day. It's dram;, it's poetry, in a sense. I think what that quote literally means is that having Qi-ge betray him to the point of not even attempting to come back for him when he actually did well for himself, hurts just as bad as if he had died. But that's where the OCD comes in, he takes the literal meaning of his thought and condemns himself as the worst kind of human being, or rather "rat", imaginable.

And if he's the worst, what's the difference if he does whatever it takes to fulfill his every whim, as long as he doesn't get caught?

Shen Jiu performs the role of Scum Villain because he's convinced himself that he must be one, for having a dramatic thought in a moment of weakness, and that he can never earn forgiveness for that thought, that it's a thorough and unforgivable betrayal of the young man who dreamed of it being his turn to save Qi-ge, and that's exactly what makes us want to see him grow and change.

Where it often falls flat, is that we think that Shen Jiu needs to forgive Yue Qingyuan, when who he really needs to forgive is Shen Jiu.

[kurosstuff]

Hopefully thos is a good casual talk(not totally idk HELP ?)

HELP- Im still watching so forgive me if I didn't write her wrll I don't remember much from the first time I watched- tell me if I need to change anything from how I write "soft" carmilla(which tbh I don't think would be all that soft given who she is bur she tries)

Warning(s): fluff no angst(maybe a tiny bit? Idk), soft Carmilla, MAYBE ooc carmilla, carmilla is just head over heels for you, CLIFF HANGER ENDING, kinda rushed idk

Carmilla x human! Reader: late night talks

It's not every day or night you get alone time with your beloved girlfriend...or mate? Whatever the proper term would be. Carmilla was always busy doing God's knows what. From being with her sisters and planning whatever they do in that meeting room, going out personally to ensure her plans are working herself. Never allowing herself a break not even the Queen vampire herself is free from paper work.

Just comes with the responsibilities she has on herself

Makes nights like these so worth it- how she wore her sleep wear finally relaxing in bed with you awake this time- a hand gently scratching your scalp- her retractable claws shortened to ensure your comfort and safety- how she pulled you snug into her chest- "my darling?" She spoke softly- making you grin nuzzling into her making her hum softly

Oh how lucky you are- the only one in the universe itself to hear her speak speak in such a soft way- "my mate?" She purred out softly kissing the top of your head smiling softly once you looked up at her "now what's on your mind? So much I had to repeat myself to gain your attention?" She purred softly the usual playful glint in her eyes when she looked at you.

But you knew. Everyone knows how she loaths repeating herself. No matter what it is- but when it's you? She doesn't seem to mind that much...but even she has limits with you.

"You~" you replied, quickly leaning up to kiss your lover softly, making her hum content almost smug at your words "oh of course~ my darling Carmilla adores to be thought about no?" You teased softly moving to sit up stretching

A soft growl followed by a grumble escaped the vampire behind you- followed by rustling "you know your the only one I want to think of me in such a way. Like how you plauge my thoughts and dreams~" Carmilla purred out, moving to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you close, practically dragging you on her lap- you'd call her clingy if you didn't get hissed at before from the 'lies'

"Oh~? I plauge you my dear? Such a horror no?"

"Indeed it is~" smirking softly kissing your lips softly her cold fangs brushing against you in a soft motion "but I wouldn't want it any other way my lovely little human~" she hummed out softly leaning to look out the window- the full moon shining as she huffed

You knew exactly what that meant. That distaste on her face. How irritated she became so fast- so quickly. You prayed you had longer to be with her. In her arms

"I must leave soon"

"Must you?" You cut her off knowing anyone else? Wouldn't have survived much less gotten a half of a glare. "Must you leave? You can stay longer~? With me.. in our bed~ our room? Cuddling more?" Turning in her hold to face her fully as she hummed thinking it over

"..not too much longer. My sisters think I spoil you too much, " making you fake gasp- earning a soft laugh,"but I believe you're not spoiled enough~" staring at you softly in that loving look- how you truly help her unbeating heart as she holds your beating one

"What do you think of marriage?"

The room fell silent as she stared at you- mouth slightly open before she hummed. Automatically, you felt guilty. Knowing from what she spoke before- she doesn't enjoy the idea of it. How she would have to share her status? Share control? Both things she hated the most.

Hated giving control to anyone. Even her own sisters. To the point it would lead to arguments. Rare fights between them all- but as you understood, they did to- so their would always be a condition. Agreements. How Carmilla would have more control then the others even just slightly. It's something no one could blame her for it.

"Oh god i.. carmilla, I'm so sorry for suggesting g the idea i-" you quickly rushed to fix your slip up- something you never wanted her to know. The one selfish(you deemed) thought.. dream to have. To have her as your wife- more then just a girlfriend as you spilled over your apology- Carmilla watched you closely in thought

"Marriage?" She hummed softly, rubbing your waist in an attempt to calm you - which as always did. "I have thought of it," she hummed softly, "marrying you. Making you mine for eternity." Leaning agaisnt the bedframe making you look at her once again flushed- earning a smirk from her "being your wife~ now that. Isn't a bad thought~" she hummed in thought tapping your waist in deep thought of what that could mean

Of what she's saying.

"My gods.. Y/N.. how inlove with you must I be to allow this thought?" She spoke softly speaking parts of her mind allowed. You stayed quiet listening to her as she gathered whatever she had planned "marriage is on equal standings with each other. Of course we are now but. Their was always that control I had fully. I'm a queen- your my human lover." She hummed softly tilting her head furrowing her eyebrows

Had you heard anyone else say that- you'd be upset. Mad. But not her Not at your Carmilla. You understood why she said that- why she saw you as an equal being but not. Your still a human- not even you can make her see humans as more then a pest- but you've always been seen differently in her eyes

"...I think I'd like it" Blinking, you looked back at Carmilla, who almost seemed bashful.. an odd contrast from what you usually see. The usual calculating face. Of someone who planned what she would do. Planned to say before hand

But now- you hear the rare thoughts allowed before she herself thought it through "I would love to marry you one day. Maybe not soon. But one day. When you and I are both fully ready." Holding you closer, not minding the fact you are now too flustered by her words to reply - she already knew the answer - so she smirked, kissing you deeply trying to show her deep love to you in a physical way "so I'll ask you~ my darling human~ my mate~" she purred against your lips leaning back- to hold your hands kissing the finger where a ring would sit

"Will you marry me one day?"