#Deaf will solace

[roman-o-cheese]

A Will doodle because I love him sm :( <3 ☀️

[half-shadowgalra]

the BOI!!!

I saw a post talking about their headcannon for Nico di Angelo being black and I kinda LOVE IT! ngl

I love him so much

I also drew Solangelo

POC Solangelo!!

I love them so much, they are too cute

Will has vitiligo(like how I always draw him)

and I tried to draw Nico with this one specific hair style I saw a YouTuber have once, where it was box braids that then came down to form a larger braid

it was just SO pretty and I just had to draw the beautiful boi with them

anyway, yeah

Black Nico!

I’ll try and find the post I referenced and link it here :)

anyway tootles!

[theoverthinkingpumpkin]

😋; I kinda want to make a comic about little Will, Lee, And Michael…

[italianhomosexuality]

you don't have to know what to say or what to think on ao3

The first time it happens, it's an honest mistake.

(The times after that are also honest mistakes, but Nico feels like he should've known better.)

He's been working really, really hard to learn American Sign Language. After his three days in the infirmary, after working night after night, talking to Mr. D, struggling to learn how to open up to other people and how to finally be a 15-year-old teenager who tries his best to not let his lifelong trauma get to him too much, Nico di Angelo had become close friends with one Will Solace.

He'd never thought he'd be able to have a friendship with someone like Will. Someone who didn't take shit from anyone—he made sure to make that clear—, but was doting and cared for everyone else, sometimes a little too much. Someone who was as bright as the sun itself, who could light stars in the sky just by smiling, who could coax Nico's fears out of him and make him feel equal, not judged.

Someone who Nico could see himself loving.

Okay, and, woah, that might be a little too far, but was he wrong? He was finally allowing himself to feel hope after The Incident (mental trademark), letting himself have friends and a crush that didn't feel like ripping his insides apart and stir-frying them for dinner. So what if Nico's eyes lingered a little too long on the way Will's hair glowed against the infirmary's emergency lights?

(“Nico, when the siren rings and lights up, you stop everything and you go help!”, Kayla had yelled at him the first time it happened. He only felt death in the air after Will finally started running after the patient.

It was that bad.)

Who could blame him, then, for wanting to learn the language the boy he liked felt more comfortable with? Will had assured him that he did just fine with English, that his Cabin Nine hearing aids worked more than perfectly, but Nico had seen the way he got excited whenever he got to sign with someone. There were a few Deaf demigods around camp and Will knew every single one of them. Sometimes, he would sign while speaking, and it made Nico's Italian self happy because hand gestures! Then it made Nico's gay self happy because Will's hands, oh my gods, and then Nico wanted to learn how to make Will's face light up like that.

So, he learned. He got familiar with the computer in the Big House, watching YouTube videos on the matter, practicing in the mirror, going up to other campers who were signers and fighting social anxiety like his life depended on it. He had nailed most stuff by week three. The power of hyperfixations.

He did it all hiding from Will, of course. It was meant to be a surprise. He would walk up to Will, sign something, and Will would be like, “Nico, I didn't know you signed!”, so Nico would reply, “I learned just for you!”, and they'd hold hands and kiss and skip into the sunset.

A guy can dream, right?

“Hey, Nico!” Will yells out from the infirmary steps. “I'm done with my shift. Wasn't expectin' to see you here.”

Gods, his accent is so cute.

“I just thought I'd stop by, see how you were doing,” says Nico, preparing himself mentally for what comes next. “I have a surprise for you, actually.”

“Oh, you do?” Will gives his side-tooth smile, the one he does when he's excited for something he doesn't want to show excitement over.

Nico takes a deep breath.

“Food-you-want?” He signs, slowly but surely. “Me-hungry.”

Will blinks.

“Do that again.”

A warm feeling bubbles up in Nico's chest. Embarrassment, adoration, nervousness, teenage crush? He doesn't really know. He only knows that Will's cheeks look flushed and his voice is barely above a whisper, a tone Nico doesn't get to hear often, so of course he signs his sentence again. He'd do anything Will asks for.

“Do the last sign again.”

“Hum,” Nico starts, feeling a little off. He signs it again, anyway, placing his hand shaped like a C in front of his torso, following a line from the center of his collarbones down to the middle of his chest, then vice-versa. “It means 'hungry'... Right?”

Will takes a deep breath, face redder than Nico's ever seen.

“It means 'hungry' when you do the movement once,” he explains, carefully, doing the sign. The same handshape and movement Nico did, but just once, from the collarbone to the middle of his chest. “When you do the movement twice… It means something else.”

“What does it mean?”

They stare at each other. Nico's eyes are wide. Will's eyes are so blue. Nico would pay more attention to the blue if he weren't so preoccupied with—

“It means 'horny'. You signed, I'm horny.”

—With running away.

☀️🤟🏻⭐️

The second time it happens, Nico is still embarrassed by the first one.

Maybe it had been his fault to not pay a lot of attention when the online video he was watching went over the five parameters of ASL. But it wasn't entirely his fault the two signs were so similar, right? Will assured him afterwards—after he found Nico and after a few awkward laughs—that it was a very, very common mistake. The signs were really similar, after all. Nothing wrong with admitting that.

Still, Nico couldn't help but feel his face heat up every time he remembered that day. He'd told his crush he was horny. Unwillingly, sure, but it was sort of true! Nico was still accepting what being horny meant, but he knew that, even in the mildest sense of the word, he was horny for Will. Embarrassing, but honest.

So now, they were hanging out in the Hades' cabin, just the two of us and a bunch of DVDs they'd stolen from the Apollo cabin and Chiron's stash in the Big House. A mix of old rom-coms, sci-fi, noir, and historical dramas, limitless options, but they still argued over what to watch.

Nico suggested, finally, Back to the Future. Will adjourned his case.

As Will walks back from the DVD player, having put the disk in there, Nico takes a deep breath.

“You-eat-want-what?” he signs, going over each sign in his head like a mantra. He does not need a repeat of last time. Then, he raises his eyebrows, signing, “Pizza?”

Will goes as red as a tomato in the face.

“N-No, I'm good,” Will stutters, fanning himself like Hazel does when she's shocked. “Not hungry.” 

“You just came back from a 12-hour shift,” Nico deadpans.

“Let's just watch the movie.”

So Nico is taken back to nights at the Lotus Hotel, when they would have movie nights and play Back to the Future in a loop. Marty McFly might have been his first boy crush. Briefly, he imagined Will in a costume like that for Halloween. But, for now, they're doing just fine, thighs close enough to touch, Will's hand nearly making its way to Nico's scalp for some good head scratches, and life is good.

Sooner than Nico would've liked, it's curfew time. The DeLorean is long gone, and Will is rising up to his feet, stretching, his shirt riding up, and Nico sees the sliver of skin, with a little of hair on his navel, and, oh, gods, he shouldn't be seeing this, but Will is really handsome, and—

���Walk me out?” he says, sweet as ever, and Nico can't say no.

“I had a good time,” says Nico, leaning on the door panel. The moonlight makes Will's hearing aids glimmer.

“Me too,” Will replies, smiling. “The infirmary today was as excitin' as a mashed-potato san'which, good Lord.”

His accent got thicker the more tired he got, just like Nico's.

“Good-night,” Nico signs. “Sleep-good, you.”

Will's eyes linger on Nico's hands, then on his face. His expression is unreadable. It seems… fond? Happy? Nico doesn't know. He just knows he wants that big smile.

“By the way, Nico,” Will starts, voice a little serious, “this is how you sign 'pizza'.”

He goes through the motions. It's just fingerspelling, Nico notices. P-i-z-z-a.

Nico furrows his brows. “What did I sign?”

“You signed…” Will takes a deep breath. “You asked me if I wanted to eat, uh, the… The female genitalia.”

Nico slams the door so hard he doesn't know how Will keeps all of his teeth and nose intact.

☀️🤟🏻⭐️

The third time it happens, Nico is just plain tired.

He had been on a week-long trip for his father, working on some old business in Louisiana, fighting the occasional monster that came his way and shadow-traveling out of danger—no longer to an inch of his life because he didn't want to make Will worry about him. His clothes are a mess, his hair is greasy, there's soil built up under his fingernails, he hasn't had an actual meal in days, and he's exhausted to say the least.

After showering, eating, and bed-rotting any leftover worries away, he sleeps for fifteen hours straight. He wakes up still exhausted, though a little less, so he walks up to the infirmary since he has nothing better to do. Might as well get a check-up while he's there.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he says to the head of blond hair when he sees it.

“Good afternoon, di Angelo,” Will replies, looking ready to tackle any challenge, bloody or non-human, that comes his way in his combination of scrubs, cargo shorts, and Jesus sandals. “You look like you're near 'bout past goin'.”

Nico doesn't know what he's saying, but shrugs anyway. “I'm tired.” Then, he signs, “Me-tired. Coffee, me-need.”

Will smirks.

“All you had to do was ask, Death Boy,” he replies, amused, and Nico lights up.

“You have coffee?” He doesn't know why Will looks so smug about coffee, in a way he's never looked before, but he lets himself be led to the infirmary kitchen, watches Will drape over the Nespresso machine, churning out a nice cup of pure, slightly-processed espresso.

The smell is enough to make Nico's eyes open a little more.

“Also,” Will says, putting his doughnut down by the table, still smirking for reasons unknown, “the sign for 'coffee' goes like this.”

He demonstrates. Nico barely follows, focused on taking a sip from his coffee.

“You signed, I need to make-out. You've gotta pay more attention, di Angelo, or— oh, my gods, Nico, breathe! You're gonna burn your throat! Nico!”

☀️🤟🏻⭐️ 

Nico is tired of failing.

It's not like he's failed-failed. Will has been more than helpful, willing to show him the ropes and correct his signs, and they've actually spent more time with the other Deaf campers, practicing and practicing. Nico is still fighting the flush that decorates his cheeks whenever he signs with someone else, but he's getting there. Anything for that megawatt Will Solace smile.

So, on the Fourth of July, as they're watching the fireworks, Will takes his hearing aids off, saying the noise makes it hurt. Nico gets a little antsy, but shakes it off, and would rather focus on the way the red, white, and blue from the sky makes Will's freckles change colors, too.

And he looks so good tonight. He ditched his usual medic attire for something still Will, a white tank top, denim shorts, an American flag bandana to keep his curls out of his eyes and flip-flops. Nico dressed similarly, but in a black t-shirt and black shorts, black socks and black sneakers. No bandana; only Will can pull it off.

The tank-top is low cut enough that Nico can see his tattoo peeking out. Gods, he's so beautiful, he thinks to himself, lost in thought he almost misses the way Will is waving his hand in front of Nico's face.

“Hi,” Will signs. “Here, fun.”

Nico nods.

“Confess-me,” Will signs. It's a closed fist by his sternum, opening outwards, like he's pulling something out of his chest. Nico translates it to, I need to tell you something, then nods again. Will takes a deep breath. “Me-like-you. Me-like-like-you.”

Nico's breath is stolen. He doesn't know where it went. He doesn't know what's going on. Off in the distance, someone whoops loudly and a group of campers cheer, but he can only focus on the opaque thump of the fireworks and his own heartbeat increasing pace against his chest. Will is staring at him, blue eyes like the sky, like the bandana, like the prettiest gemstone one could conjure.

“Sign-you-learn. Why? Me. Special-you. Me-like-you, why? You.” When he points at Nico, the final 'you', he does a flourish, like he's honoring Nico. You learned sign for me. You're special. I like you because you're you.

Nico feels words bubbling up in his throat, but doesn't let himself say anything. Instead, he moves his hands like he's practiced so many times in front of the mirror before.

“Me-like-you. Long-how? Long. Favorite-person, you-mine. Date-you, I want.”

I've liked you for a long time. You're my favorite person. I'd like to date you.

With that, he finally gets a megawatt Will Solace smile.

[empress-poochiekins]

deaf will solace who was a little insecure about his hearing loss.

magnus chase who was brought with his friends to chb for a quest.

the healers who began to talk in the infirmary. about their mythologies. about star wars and about dr who. about their friends.

about hearthstone.

deaf will solace who met hearth. who signed to him.

hearth signed back.

they signed for a long time.

deaf will solace who is finally beginning to see the beauty of asl.

who is slowly beginning to feel a little less insecure.

☀️🩺💛

IMPORTANT NOTE: i am not hard of hearing, nor have i ever had the pleasure of meeting someone who is. i would love to write more on this, though, so please please please, let me know if i ever say anything inaccurate or harmful, as i promise this is not my intention.

[hyperfixation-fix]

Oo that got me thinking - I bet Nico is the first person outside his family that Will trusts to take his hearing aids off with. Hearing aids of any kind can be pretty intense and draining to use, but Will is an Anxious Boi and can't stomach the idea that he might miss an emergency or vital information or something. So he only ever takes them off at night, when his siblings are around to alert him.

Thing is, it's a damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don't situation for Will. Having his hearing aids on can sometimes give him panic attacks from the sheer sensory overload, but taking them off (except at night) will always give him a panic attack from the lack of control.

Until Nico. It takes time, and a lot of exposure therapy with Will teetering precariously on the edge of a panic attack, but eventually he trusts Nico enough to be his ears when he needs a break. And it's absolute bliss, being able to sink into silence in the warm daylight, feeling Nico's reassuring presence next to him, chatting lazily about nothing with small, sleepy, slurred signs. Being able to finally, finally relax.

‼️ I ‼️ LOVE ‼️ DEAF ‼️ WILL ‼️ SOLACE ‼️FIGHT ‼️ ME ‼️

[planetary-gus]

Some interactions I've had stuck in my head for a while

1

Will: I prefer guys who make small dick jokes about themselves over guys who make big dick jokes about themselves

Nico: Mine's a medium. It can talk to ghosts.

Will: …You're spending too much time with Leo

2

*Will and Nico eating popsicles*

Nico: *sucking on his popsicle like a normal person*

Will: *watching him and gets so flustered he starts glowing and accidentally melts his own popsicle all over his hand*

Leo: *from out of nowhere* DUDE YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE ONE WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!?

3

Will: *on his 3rd energy drink of the day running into the room* Nico found out I pulled an all nighter again this week– help–

Kayla: *doesn't even look up from what she's doing* You're on your own dude

Nico: *drops down from the ceiling* William. Andrew. Solace. *drags him by his shirt collar to his cabin* We are going to cuddle. You are going to nap. AND EVERYONE IS GOING TO LEAVE US ALONE AND LET YOU SLEEP.

4

Leo: *in the infirmary with Will getting their hormone blockers* If their trans. Give them T. Trans people like T.

Will: *has to listen to him do this every time they do this* While that is true, if you do that one more time I'm going to strangle you.

5

*Will and Nico bickering*

Will: THAT'S IT. I DON'T WANT TO LISTEN TO THIS ANYMORE.

Nico: Don't you dare.

Will: *takes his hearing aids off and continues cussing him out in sign language*

[mediumgayitalian]

The infirmary door creaks slightly as Nico pushes it open, wood swollen in the summer heat. He freezes, listening for the sound of angry curfew harpies, but luckily there don’t seem to be any around (they tend to camp around the Hermes cabin, understandably).

The infirmary is much darker than it usually is, letting the three or four people in it overnight rest. Some softer lights are on at the nurse’s station, making the blonde head under them glow. Nico pads forward, steps a practiced silence on the clay tiles. He can’t see if Will has his hearing aids on under his hair; he probably does, because Nico can’t imagine him on duty without them. Either way, he makes sure to approach the medic from in front, tapping the counter when he’s close enough. Will doesn’t startle, only glances up, flashing a smile — he heard.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greets.

Nico rolls his eyes, firmly holding back the smile that tries to force its way on his face. “Hey.”

“Nightmares?”

Surprisingly, no, although maybe that’s just because Nico couldn’t fall asleep at all. After the third hour of trying — which was, frankly, remarkable, he should get an award for staying in his bed the entire time like the Mature Person He Is — he gave up, figuring he might as well put all his annoyance to good use. And Will, for some reason, is endlessly amused by Nico’s complaining, so it’s his personal mission to make the stubborn boy crack. One day, gods help him, Nico will turn that usually sunny grin into a scowl, just so he can make an irritating Apollo-related comment about it.

(He’s hoping for the same eye twitch he gets when he attempts any ‘Underworld-y stuff’).

“Something like that.”

Will hums, but doesn’t press. After a minute he gestures to the spinny chair behind the nurse’s station. Nico takes the hint, ducking through the half-door and sitting on the old leather.

He likes the infirmary at night. Maybe it’s a strange place for him to find so much peace — ghosts often linger here, many of them pained, and it always smells of rubbing alcohol and eucalyptus — but he likes it anyway. It’s less visually sterile than a hospital, more akin to an apothecary, and the whole place always feels warm. Will’s off-tune humming echoes quietly as he works, mixing with the soft snores of the few patients and the repetitive grinding sound of whatever poultice he’s currently preparing. If Nico wasn’t so randomly wired, the sounds would lull him to sleep. They have before.

“Prepping for tomorrow,” Will explains when he catches Nico looking. Some of the softness on his face fades as he tightens his jaw. “I’m sure we’ll need it.”

Nico uncurls slightly from the armchair, peering curiously forward. He’s not sure what’s more intriguing — whatever healing magic Will is prepping, or the uncharacteristic bitterness in Will’s voice.

“…Need what?”

“Everything.”

“Oh, well, thank you, that clears things up nicely.”

Will snorts. His grip on the mortar loosens.

“C’mere, then, I’ll show you.”

When Nico is close enough, he sets down the pestle, revealing very fine, almost bleach-white powder.

“Shells,” he reveals, pointing to several still-whole ones. He smiles slightly. “It’s the kids’ job to gather ingredients, and this is probably their favourite. They’ll play with the naiads for hours to get enough, Gracie’s always tuckered right out after.”

Nico matches his small smile. Gracie, Will’s youngest sibling, is a cute kid, obsessed with mermaids. He imagines collecting seashells from the Greek version of mermaids is practically a dream come true.

“What’re the shells for?”

“They’re pure calcium carbonate, basically. Good for dyspepsia, which won’t help for capture the flag, but also good for caustic burns, which will.”

Nico nods. He has, for some reason, spent enough time around the apothecary to pick up more than a few medical terms – largely because Will talks like he swallowed a pre-med textbook, which isn’t that far off from reality.

“Why use shells, though?” He gestures to the powder Will is still crushing, even though Nico can’t imagine it getting any finer. “Why not just have Chiron order the stuff? It’d probably be easier.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t work as well.” Apparently finally satisfied with the crushed shells, Will tips the powder out into a much bigger bowl, then sets it aside. He carefully selects six of the whole shells and begins to crush them – Nico winces, because the first few cracks are much louder than he was expected in such a quiet room. “Whatever Chiron ordered would be crushed by machines, in a factory, probably made from chalk or limestone. It would still function as an antacid, sure, but –” Will pauses for a minute, facing Nico fully. His voice is softer, and he has to lean in to catch it. “Seashells held living beings. For years, they were homes. Maybe for an entire lifetime. And they were gifted, willingly, by spirits of the sea, and then crushed by human hands. At least three exchanges. There’s magic in that, and that makes them more powerful.”

As Will crushes the new shells, Nico steps up beside him, reaching into the larger bowl and digging into the powdered carbonate. The granules are finer than sand, fine as sugar – he buries his hands in them and concentrates, and in seconds he can feel the tiny remnants of spirits in them. Not souls – there is no human death lingering here – but thousands and thousands of fractured pieces of something that was once living. His arms tingle, goosebumps raising all over his flesh.

“Huh.”

Will grins. “Yep.”

Nico watches him out of the corner of his eye as he works. He is totally focused on his work, face slacking again as he sinks into the motions of it: twist, twist, scrape, check grain size; over and over, again and again. His arms must ache. It’s something like three in the morning, he’s been on duty since ten. Nico knows him too well to assume he’s been sitting idly for any of that time.

“Why don’t you ever play capture the flag?” he asks, surprising himself. He’s not usually one to break silences. Will tenses slightly beside him, and the rest of the words come tumbling out of his mouth, although he was unaware he’d been holding them in so tightly. “I mean, you’re always on shift. I know you’re in here a lot, but you like training, usually. Especially stuff where you get to run around. I would’ve guessed that –”

“I know that capture the flag is important,” Will interrupts. His hands have gone still. Nico snaps his mouth shut immediately. “Obviously. Everyone needs to keep their skills sharp.” His presses his lips together. A particularly loud snore from one of the patients makes them both look over, and it’s a long time before he speaks again.

“But I don’t like when we play war against each other,” he says. He turns to Nico and smiles humourlessly. “I know it’s dumb. But it just feels…I dunno. I’ve treated the injuries after the fact for years – too many of them aren’t accidents. Besides, I’m more help here, anyway. Chiron’s a field medic, anything more serious will need the infirmary.”

He abruptly turns back to crushing the shells, clearly ending the conversation. He has also begun humming again – aggressively and upbeat. The tension is gone from his shoulders, but his knuckles are white against the grip of the pestle.

He is not telling the full truth, Nico thinks. Will is a bad liar. All Apollo kids are, but Will especially – he squirms.

But Will is his friend. And Nico can take a hint – or maybe a silent begging to drop it.

“What time does your shift end?” Nico asks. “Six?”

Will slumps in relief, shooting him a genuine smile. “Yeah. Austin’s taking over for the morning while I sleep, then I’m back again at 2, just before the game starts.”

“I’ll stay up with you, then.”

“Absolutely not, doctor’s orders, Nico, you need to sleep –”

Nico places his hands over Will’s shaking ones, fleeting. His stomach erupts in a way he’s learned to ignore. The tremor in the medic’s hands finally stills, grip loosening.

“I’ll stay up with you.”

“Yeah,” Will says finally, starting the pestle up again. “I guess that’s fine.”

———

part two

[marvelousrants]

Laughes in I still haven't read the books, but this au is surviving solely on spoilers, so please continue enjoying this while I procrastinate reading the first book.

Part 1, part 2

I think in this au Apollo would try and keep the fact that he is Apollo slightly more on the down low, as he can't have people knowing that the great Apollo as not only been turned into a mortal but also lost his hearing and voice. I headcanon that he'd only tell Chiron and Dionysos that he is in fact Apollo at the start, because he is a little embrassed by the whole being a mortal thing.

I think Apollo has slightly more demigod traits in this au as slight compensation for being deaf and mute, meaning that he can eat Ambrosia but has a very low tolerance for it compared to other demigods.

Despite not being able to hear Apollo is still very good at playing instruments, but he is very sad he can't actually hear it himself.

I imagen the infirmary scene is just Apollo nodding or shaking his head at Will a lot because of the whole mute thing and I doubt every character automatically know sign lanuage (well expect the children of Hermes since he is the god of lanuage)

I imagen when Meg is done poking people in the eyes and kicking people in the crotch when she arrives at camp she'll go hunting for a notepad and pen, since at this point she is well aware Lester can't talk or at the very least doesn't know how to (since not all deaf people know how) and that it will be super helpful if he has a reliable way of communicating with people. Meg probably also basically drags Lester around camp most of the time as she at the start is the only person who knows he is deaf and her bringing him a notepad and pen could just be for the whole being mute thing.

Also Apollo might not be able to swear of the river styx since he can't talk.

[monurey]

I see your 'deaf!Will Solace' headcanon and raise you...

Will Solace with Tinnitus

(source: I have mild hearing loss, Tinnitus and also Hyperacusis)

Will gets overwhelmed easily at camp when it's the summer season and there's campers everywhere

Especially in the dining pavillion, he can barely be involved in any conversations

This causes him to just shut down, go completely silent and snappy when forced to speak

Will gets a good pair of noise cancelling headphones, a pair that can play music as well

He mainly listens to male artists because the lower tones of their voices is easier to hear

But he still doesn't understand a lot of the words anyway

Will borrows hoodies from Nico (who wears ones wayyyy too big for him) to wear to deal with the overwhelming feeling.

It helps to ground him and so that ever little thing touching his arms doesn't set him off

The Hephaestus kids help make special hearing aids for Will that play sound therapy "white noise"

These help a bit so that the Tinnitus doesn't affect him as much when doing his job or just hanging out with his siblings in Cabin 7 (or going on dates with Nico)

This doesn't help all the time though (especially since he still has a bit of hearing loss)

So Will still reverts back to using his headphones whenever he can

[sugarandspite05]

one of the best films ever made

#105

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

STRETCH (M)

★ PAIRING: cheerleader!Jaemin x cheer captain!Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 4k

★ GENRE(S): smut

☆ SUMMARY: Jaemin can't fit into his cheer uniform anymore because he's been working out too much. While you can't help but admire his muscles, you realize the entire team is admiring him too and that's not going to fly. You decide you need to take action and get Jaemin a new uniform

★ ☆ WARNINGS:  unprotected sex, creampie, semi-public sex, explicit sexual intercourse, MDNI

☆★ NOTES:  The concept of cheerleader Jaemin is just too hot to me so I had to spin the block on this one. Continuation of Team Spirit! that can be read as a stand alone!

────୨ৎ────

Jaemin has been bulking up lately. He had always been really into fitness and a bit of a gym rat, but since joining the cheerleading squad, he hadn't had time for his regular workouts, Now with competition season over he was back at it and you couldn’t help but notice the results. His chest looked fuller, and his arms rippled with defined muscle, showing off all the dedication he’s been putting in.

But as much as you loved his body, it was definitely time for him to size up his uniform.

His chest was starting to press tightly against the front of his shirt, the stretchy spandex doing little to hide the swell of his muscles. The uniform shirt he wore was a crop top that showcased his abs. That was a sight that was already causing issues, stealing your attention at the wrong time. But this? This was far beyond what anyone should have to deal with. The fabric was strained to its limit, and each breath he took only made it worse.

You doubted that going up a size in spandex would make much of a difference, but something had to give—he was practically bursting out of his uniform. You couldn't take your eyes off him.

Standing on the opposite side of the gym, you watched him closely as he moved. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his toned arms flexed beneath a snug black spandex top. To be honest, it was quite a sight. You enjoyed observing the way his body moved in the uniform, but then reality hit when you noticed the rest of the team admiring his outfit as well.

The fun was over, that shirt had to go. You weren’t deaf to the whispers that drifted around the locker room when your teammates thought you weren't listening. You overheard them making comments about how good he looked. You had to forcibly push aside the twinge of jealousy that threatened to creep in, reminding yourself to stay composed and maintain a level head. You were captain, you couldn't just go on a jealous rampage.

You did eventually find a bit of solace in making those who had whispered about him run extra drills. It felt good to dish out some consequences for their gossip. Plus, the glare you shot their way throughout practice was enough to let them know you were aware of their little comments. After that, suddenly no one had anything to whisper about anymore.

Strange how that works.

You walked into the locker room after practice, a small bag in your hand. “I ordered you a new top,” you said casually, trying to avoid eye contact. Jaemin was always able to read you like a book and you were beyond embarrassed at the fact you couldn't focus during practice because of his boobs. He did not need to know what thoughts swirled around in your head.

Jaemin's head turns towards your direction, a curious expression on his face. "What's wrong with the one I have now?" he asked.

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "It's getting stretched out. It's time for a new one."

He looked unimpressed, clearly not buying your excuse but after a moment of silence, he shrugged and said, "Okay."

It wasn’t until Jaemin put on the new uniform top that you realized the mistake you had made. As he stood in front of you in the locker room, the shirt hung loosely around him, nearly swallowing his athletic frame. The baggy sleeves sagged at his arms, and the hem of the top drooped far below his waistline. You could see the dissatisfaction written all over his face as he scrunched up his nose in distaste.

"Uh, this… isn’t really the right fit, is it?" he asked, trying to tug at the fabric to adjust it.

"I swear it looked smaller online." You mentally kicked yourself for not double-checking the sizing.

Jaemin turned to face you fully, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "So, what? I’m just going to run around in a tent now?" His tone is playful.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "I’ll order you something else. I promise I’ll get the right size this time."

"I just don't see what's wrong with my old one," he said, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

You hesitated, trying to find the right words as you eyed him. "D-don't you think the other one is a little tight?" you ask.

Jaemin shrugged, clearly unfazed. “Feels the same to me.”

You took a breath, trying to be subtle. “In the chest area,” you emphasized, hoping to steer the conversation in the right direction, trying to give him as much of a hint as possible without sounding too blunt.

He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he glanced down at his torso. “Is that so?”

“It’s just that your old one hugs your body… a little too well, you know?”

Jaemin's eyes widened as he caught on. "Ohhhh...I see.” A smirk played on his lips. “Then I think it fits perfectly."

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. The way he looked at you—the confidence mixed with mischief—made your stomach flutter. You felt yourself blush, caught between wanting to call him out and being completely distracted by how effortlessly charming he was. "I'd agree if the entire team didn't think the same thing," you muttered, trying to deflect.

Jaemin's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Kinda like how the gym feels about you and your cute little spandex shorts during summer practice?" he asked, voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You felt your face heat up as he mentioned your shorts. You'd always thought they were just a comfortable choice, until the day he told you how much they showed off your ass and banned you from wearing them. "They're comfy," you said defensively, trying to brush it off.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow.

Okay, whatever," you huffed, eager to shift the topic. “But back to the point, this was supposed to be about finding you something that actually fits.”

"So what if it's a bit stretched out now? It's got character. Plus, it's like my lucky shirt now."

You shook your head, laughing. "Lucky shirt?" You echoed, incredulous.

He nodded, a fierce look on his face. "You can't keep your eyes off me when I wear it, so it must be lucky,” he says.

You groaned inwardly; he was going to be so insufferable in that shirt now. Why had you ever mentioned how it affected you? You could already tell he was going to exploit this newfound power over you.

Rolling your eyes with a shrug, you replied, “Whatever.”

You’d just have to come up with another plan to get rid of that shirt once and for all.

—

Ever since you discussed your thoughts on Jaemin's shirt, you could swear it had gotten tighter. You were convinced that the shirt held some sort of magical power of enchantment because you couldn’t focus. You were missing cues and forgetting routines left and right, all while Jaemin pranced around in his annoyingly snug shirt.

It was almost as if he was wearing a compression shirt that not only accentuated his chest but also highlighted his stupidly disgusting slutty waist that you definitely didn’t want to grip onto while he pounded you into the nearest surface. You were losing your grip on reality, and all of it was thanks to him and that evil shirt.

You found yourself watching Jaemin when you really shouldn’t. He was in the middle of his routine, and you had only seconds left before your cue to come in on the opposite side of the mat. You didn’t have time to think about your face buried in his chest, or how firm it would feel under your fingertips.

Your teammates began to notice your distraction, and whispers started to circulate about your sudden lack of focus. "Dude, you okay?" one of them asked, nudging you playfully. You forced a smile, trying to brush it off, but you knew you weren't fooling anyone.

Suddenly you hated cheerleading. If it weren't for cheer, Jaemin would never have become a cheerleader, he wouldn't be sporting that top, and these thoughts wouldn’t be plaguing you now.

You missed your cue because of course you do, and the irritation in Seungkwan's expression was immediate.

“Okay, how about we take a break? I feel like everyone isn’t checked in today,” he said, his gaze sweeping over you with a pointed intensity. You roll your eyes instantly regretting making him your second co-captain next to Nayeon.

As you step off the mat you go straight to your water bottle, you need to cool down. Your eyes naturally find Jaemin and you swore you saw a brief smirk flicker across his face, only to vanish just as quickly. Did he think this was a game? Did he find it funny?

You would show him funny.

When you showed up in the spandex shorts Jaemin had banned you from wearing to practice, there was no humorous twinkle behind his eye anymore when he'd caught sight of you. His face fell, eyes glued to your thighs.

“Oops,” you said playfully, walking past him with a bounce in your step. As you moved, you could feel his gaze lingering. "Let's have a good practice today, everyone!" you called out to the floor

Nayeon leads the stretches, and you follow along with the rest of the team on the floor. You don't bother pulling the hem of your shorts down when they roll up, knowing full well what it did to Jaemin. You  sit on the floor with your legs straight out Infront of you in a seated pike stretch. You reach out to touch your toes, tilting your head just enough to catch Jaemin’s reaction in the corner of your eye. Just as you expected his eyes haven't left your ass since you walked into the gym.

You pulled yourself back up straight, trying to play it cool as seungkwan announced for everyone to find a partner for stretches. Jaemin was at your side in a heartbeat.

“Next break, you’re changing out of those,” Jaemin says firmly, leaving no room for argument. He pulls you to stand in front of him, your back to his chest. His grip on your waist is strong. His hands travel and In one fluid motion, he grabs your thigh spreading your legs apart, then slides down the back of your thigh until he hooks under your knee. With a gentle lift, he raised your leg into a heel stretch, his fingers gliding sensually up your leg until they rested at your calf.

“Says who?” you challenged, trying to maintain your composure. “These are comfy, and they let me stretch to my full potential.” You tilt your head to look at the position he’s bent you into.

He’s so close that you can feel his breath against the back of your neck, the heat radiating from his body pressing against you. You could feel that he’s hard pressed up against you.

“Also, I don’t remember asking for your permission to wear whatever I want,” you add.

Jaemin stretches your leg a little further, not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to make you feel the burn.

“You’re going to take them off, or I'll do it for you.”

As you stretched, a whine escaped you, and your lips instinctively pouted. "Fuck you," you spat out.

His response came swiftly: "Watch your mouth." He spits back.

He slowly lowered your leg, and once you caught your breath, he met your gaze with a challenging look in his eye. Jaemin was the sweetest thing but he would always be quick to put you in your place when you step out of line. He gestured for you to drop into a split, and with a subtle dip of your head, you secretly rolled your eyes but reluctantly obeyed.

You ease into a split and Jaemin situates himself on his knees behind you, his body leaning against yours in a warm press of heat. He gently pushes you forward, his hand gliding down to rest on your lower back for support. You lean into a saddle split, hands splayed out in front of you as you stretch forward.

Jaemin adds pressure and you're forced to delve even further into the stretch. His body provides an added push against yours, testing your limits. You grit your teeth, drawing on your flexibility to hold the position, but you could feel the burn.

It's not easy to hold the position, even with how flexible you are. You're used to bouncing back up, shaking out your muscles, and moving on to the next stretch. But with Jaemin's guidance, you're forced to push your boundaries and remain still, letting your body adapt to the demands of the stretch.

"Jaemin let me up." You huff.

“Gonna take ’em off?” he quips, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Fine!” you relent.

Jaemin allows you to sit up and once you catch your breath he helps you stand. He looks you in your eyes as he tugs on the hem of your shorts, pulling them down just enough after they’ve rolled up, raising an eyebrow at you in a silent dare. "Keep them that way," he stated with an air of authority, making your cheeks burn in annoyance.

“Okay, guys, back to your positions! We're going to start routines soon!” Nayeon called out.

With Nayeon and Seungkwan in charge of leading stretches, it was now your turn to step up and guide the rest of practice. You burn holes into the back of Jaemin's head as he joins up with Shotaro as practice officially starts.

—

After everyone else had cleared out, you found yourself cornering Jaemin in the locker room.

“This isn’t fair,” you grumble, crossing your arms. “If I can’t wear my shorts, you aren’t allowed to wear that stupid crop top.”

Jaemin turned to you, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “Is that what this is about? Can’t keep your eyes off me, so you decided to pull this stunt? I thought you were more mature than that, baby." His smirk widened as he leaned against the locker, arms crossed over his chest. The way that obnoxious top clung to his newly bulked-up frame was maddening.

“Newsflash, Jaemin. I wear those because they’re comfy.” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you stepped closer to confront him. "You wear that shirt because you like, some kind of attention whore. How do you even breathe in that thing?” Your voice echoed slightly in the empty locker room, bouncing off the tiled walls.

His laugh was low and utterly infuriating, the casual way he dismissed your frustration only stoking the fire inside you. He pushed off the locker, closing the distance between you in two easy strides. Suddenly, his hands landed on your hips, warm and firm, pulling you close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“And what if I am?” Jaemin murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you firmly in place. “It got your attention, so what are you going to do about it? You gonna punish me for it?”

Your breath hitched. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. You were supposed to be mad at him. But the way he looked at you, all dark eyes and that cocky grin, made it hard to think straight.

“Maybe I will,” you shot back, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Your voice wavered just a fraction, betraying the confidence you were trying to project.

Jaemin’s smile deepened, and before you could react, he spun you around, his body pressing your back against the cold metal lockers. He pinned you there, solid and unyielding. One hand slid up your side while the other gripped your thigh, lifting it over his hip slightly so he could press himself closer.

“Go ahead,” he dared, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Punish me.”

The challenge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel how hard he was pressed against you, and it took everything in you not to squirm. Instead, you raised your chin defiantly.

“Don’t think I will?,” you warned, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

Jaemin’s lips curved into an amused smile, and he leaned in, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “You won't.”

His hand slid to your hips, fingers slipping past the waistline of your shorts to toy with you. You bit your lip to stifle a gasp, but it escaped anyway, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

“Let me hear you baby, I know.” he teased, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your clit. “I can tell, you know. Every time you look at me during practice. You get that naughty look in your eyes when you know you're supposed to be focusing. Bad girl.” He coos.

“Shut up,” you muttered, though your protest lacked any real conviction. His touch was too distracting, his words too close to the truth.

Jaemin chuckled, pulling his hands from your shorts. “Make me…or are you done pretending to be in charge.”

That did it. You shoved him back, pressing your palms against his chest. He stumbled slightly, his back hitting the row of lockers opposite you.

For a moment, you just stood there, breathing heavily, staring each other down. Then, without thinking, you closed the gap between you, grabbing the hem of his stupid uniform top and yanking it up.

Jaemin’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t stop you. You tugged the shirt over his head and tossed it aside. You let your gaze roam over his body, taking in the changes that had occurred. His shoulders were broader than before, his chest more defined. The faint trail of hair leading from his navel downward made your mouth go dry.

“Happy now?” he asked, his voice rough.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned in, catching his bottom lip between your teeth in a quick, punishing bite. He hissed, but his hands immediately found your hips again, pulling you flush against him.

“Not even close,” you whispered against his mouth before kissing him properly, hard and demanding. Jaemin responded instantly, his tongue sliding against yours, his hands roaming your body with a urgency that made your head spin.

Somehow, you ended up on the bench, his weight pressing you down into the hard wood. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he kissed his way lower, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just above your collarbone.

“Jaemin,” you gasped, your voice barely audible.

He lifted his head, meeting your eyes for a brief moment before capturing your mouth again. His hands slid under your shirt, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. The sensation made you moan into the kiss, and Jaemin grinned against your lips.

“Not so bossy now huh captain?” he murmured.

You glared at him and opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your tongue as his hand slipped lower, past the waistband of your shorts. His fingers brushed against the slick warmth between your legs, and you couldn’t stop the tremble that ran through your body.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Jaemin’s smile was downright predatory as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. “You’re so wet already,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “All because of me? or maybe it was because of that crop top you claim to hate so much? You like it, admit it.”

You wanted to deny it, to push him away and regain some shred of control. But instead, you tilted your hips, silently urging him on. His fingers dipped inside you, slow and deliberate, and your head fell back against the bench.

“Jaemin,” you moaned, his name becoming a broken chant on your lips. His thumb circled your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your core. You writhed beneath him, desperate for more, but he kept his pace agonizingly slow, drawing out every sensation until you thought you might explode.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice dark and commanding.

You shook your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction but Jaemin wasn’t having it. He withdrew his hand, leaving you aching and empty, and propped himself up on his forearm above your head to look down at you.

“Say it,” he demanded, his eyes burning into yours.

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with the need coursing through your veins. Finally, you gave in, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I want you. All of you. Now.”

Jaemin didn’t need to be told twice. Jaemin swiftly strips you down, his hands moving with practiced ease. The cold wood of the bench bites into your back as you make contact, sending a shiver down your spine. The locker room was cool and you can’t help the goose bumps that prickle your skin. He reached for the waistband of his pants, shoving them down just enough to free himself. Once he's between your legs you reach out, gripping him in your warm palm and stroking him over a few times. His mouth hangs open in pleasure. He watched, breathless as you brush his tip against your entrance. Once you dip the head in he's taking over again and pushing his hips forward to drive into you in one smooth motion. The gasp that escaped your lips was swallowed by his mouth.

He starts at a brutal pace, not in the mood for anymore games. His hips snap against your ruthlessly and you have to wrap your legs around his waist to stop yourself from sliding off the bench. Jaemin groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he moved.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Your body trembles as the pressure builds inside you. He slips a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. You arch your back in response. As your legs began to tremble, you felt Jaemin's smile pressed against your skin when he kissed your shoulder.

“That's right baby. Is this what you needed?” he murmured between choppy breaths, his voice low and sultry.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his unrelenting thrusts and cruel fingers. You didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Your mouth opens to respond; you know better than to remain silent, but nothing comes out. You nod your head lazily instead.

He shakes his head at you disapprovingly. “You know that's not good enough princess. Use those fucking, words.” He punctuates each of his words with a toe curling thrust of his hips as he pumps into you.

“Yes! F–fuck, don't stop.” You cry.

“Mmm,” He moans before leaning down to kiss you again. The kiss is wet and full of tongue as he licks into your mouth. “Gonna fill you up.”

When you finally came, it was with a cry that echoed off the walls, your nails scratching down his back. Jaemin followed moments later, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you. You shiver as his hot seeds spill inside of you. When he pulls out his eyes watch as his cum drips out of you. You reach down in between your legs and collect his cum before pushing it back inside of you with a moan.

“Don’t want to waste a drop.” Your voice comes out in a whisper.

Jaemin eyes you hungrily before he closes his eyes to take a deep breath. He needed to calm himself before he had you pinned up against the lockers next.

Jaemin gets up before he decides to have you again, getting off the bench to rummage through his bag. He comes back to you with a towel and cleans you up. He gathers your clothes and helps you dress again before following suit.

“So,” he said after a while, his voice still rough, “how do you really feel about the crop top”

You turned to look at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?” You couldn’t wrap your head around how he effortlessly switched from driving you wild to being your sweet boyfriend in an instant.

He laughed, a warm, rich sound that seemed to fill the chilly locker room, and pulled you closer. “Dead serious.”

You sighed, unable to meet his gaze. “I… I like it.” You admit.

Jaemin's smile widened, but just as he was about to respond, you jumped in to clarify.

“BUT! That doesn’t mean I’m letting you wear it to practice. We’re going to order you the correct size, and as for that one,” you said, your gaze narrowing playfully at the shirt still lying on the floor, “that one is for my eyes only.”

“Deal.”

[theoverthinkingpumpkin]

😋; WILL WILL WILL!!!

close ups!!!

Im so happy with how he turned out!!!!!!!

[stickydrawingportraitlamp]

sebastian solace x reader? Anyone?

too bad :P

Sebastian Solace X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Found family

Warnings: None

Summary: After having been thrown into this hellhole, at an unreasonably young age, you find yourself trying to accomplish the task at hand; Find the Crystal. Whilst you are on your journey, you encounter a rather large angler man.

Author note: oh tod he's so dreamy guys. ALSO !! i made the reader into this sort of introvert where they're like "oh god people" kind? Not the "Oh no! People :(" kind of introvert. Reader is 14 by the way !!!!!

(spot the poppy playtime reference MEHEHRMRBR)

Screaming of an unknown enemy closes in quickly. Wanting to avoid certain death, you dive into a locker you made sure wasn't inhabited. It's screaming grows louder, tormenting your eardrums. You can't help but bring your hands to shield your ears from potential deafness and pain, a factor you wouldn't want in this place.

Hearing the screeching Angler pass it's way through, you burst out of the locker to cough out your lungs. The amount of dust your poor, overworking lungs hacked up was nowhere near healthy. Dust, grime and sweat had been imbedded into your diving suit, gross. You hope theres an open hole leading to underwater diving that would be able to wash away all the sweat and dirt off of your body.

Maybe, just maybe, if I'm able to get that crystal, and get out of this place... I can go home.

Home? Is that even a place anymore? Maybe it's the fact that the human mind finds so many things to cling onto when faced with impending death. One last hope to hold close. An unknown family, friends and maybe even a potential lover you could of had the chance to grow old with, and had many laughs in the house you grew up in. That... Sounds like paradise, but you are far away from that dream, the bile and sweat sticking to your swimsuit, a threat. Escaping this place is only a small plea, begging for anyone to hear your cries. To anyone, who could give you that boost to keep going.

'Door 46, am I almost halfway through?' You're surprised you even managed to get to 40, surely there's a surprise around the corner? A potential medkit would be fantastic. Your vitals read 35, that's nowhere near good. Batteries? Your lantern could use it. You only have enough to accompany your lone self through an empty, cold... Dark place.

The swirling thoughts in your head only manage to cease after encountering the door that finally indicates you are halfway through this hellhole. Door 50.

The dripping of a broken pipe drives you insane, every drop makes your fight or flight activate. The rapid pitter patter of your feet scurry to the next door, automatically sliding open once it knows there is a human presence.

The next room, however, is dimly lit. Two portable lights shining in the direction of a vent. How... Interesting? Is this where you need to crawl into? Your thoughts are quickly misguided as a gruff voice emits from the emit, earning a harsh flinch from you in response.

"Hey, stranger. Over here." This voice calls out to you, alluring your oh so close demise.

You have the thought to immediately scurry to the door, not wanting to take your chances. Fight or flight? Flight, surely. Your sweaty palms land on the door with a soft thud, realising that the only way out of this room requires a keycard. A code breacher is out of the question, seeing as you hold no such thing on you.

"Don't be so scared... I don't bite. Maybe." He utters that last part quietly, making a chill run up your spine. Will you really have to find out if this is something that will rip your spine out? But... It's the most friendly voice you've heard in hours, aside from the other angry prisoners from earlier that practically took everything you scavenged.

Investigating the vent, you crouch down to a level where it's most easy to be able to crawl in through. The size of the vent is no problem for you, since you are a 14 year old who could easily slot your way through tightly fit ventilation systems, or a blocked room.

Albeit, the diving gear on your back made it just a tad bit challenging to slide through, it was an easy feat. Your eyes dart from each side of the room, looking for the one who'd voiced out their friendliness. You definitely weren't expecting a 10ft terrifying Angler humanoid.

"Welcome, welcome! Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Sebastian, your only friend."

... With teeth. Sharp ones.

"Now, I'm betting that your supervisors gave you instructions to acquire a certain orange coloured crystal, no?" He words out with a certain amount of sarcasm dripping from his voice. Supervisors? You're only 14.

"However— Oh." He stops, suddenly. Normally, he wasn't one to take in the appearance of a fellow prisoner, seeming as it 'deemed unnecessary.' You, were younger. A lot younger than he expected.

"What the.. What the hell's Urbanshade doing sending kids down here...?" He was muttering to himself, his hand reaching up. Thinking that he was about to grab you, you recoil in fear. You find however, that your fear is misguided and that he'd only brought up one of his three hands to grab his chin in thought.

It had been a good 7 hours since you'd spoken last, other than the occasional screaming and crying. Your throat, croaks out at first which earns a cringe from yourself.

"I'm 14. I'm not a kid." Your throat feels like it was tortured from the amount of screeching you'd emitted running away from Anglers, and threats. That stupid Wall Dweller was one of those threats.

At your response, he chuckles amusingly. Sebastian finds your bravery endearing for someone your age. "Haha, alright. You're not a kid. What's someone your age doing here anyway?" He voices.

Observing the place, you talk as you walk around to analyse your surroundings, finding this small talk pointless.

"They threw me in here, I was trying to find my mum. Told me she'd be in here, just need to get a crystal first. Then they'd take me to her."

....

An uncomfortable silence passed by, before he frowned at you.

"are you that gullable? Thought 14 year olds were supposed to be semi intelligent." That earned a slap from you onto his tail. He hisses at the contact.

"Ow! Fuck, you little..." He hisses.

"You deserved that. She was here last, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Shut up, and give me your ware so I can get out of this shithole." You were obviously pissed, upset that the 10ft Angler guy offered no solace. (haha get it?)

"Alright, alright. That was a fault on my part, just.... Why did they throw you in here? You can't be here. You can't stay. Look, kid. I know they told you that your mother was here somewhere, and if she was then she's gone now. She probably made it back up to the surface." Though you narrow your eyes, you can sense a hint of comfort in those words. You can tell, he's genuinely worried about you.

Sebastian see's many people come and go, only to see that they inevitably meet their dark fate. He hopes, that this won't be the case with you.

"..Look. Urbanshade doesn't tell the truth, they lie to get what they want. I'm sorry to be the one that breaks it to you, but your mother was used as a false hope to get you down here. The more hands they have on the mission, the bigger the possibility to get the crystal. Take it from someone like me." he'd muttered that last part, he can understand your situation.

Urbanshade had lied to him too, told him that his Freedom would be granted. He just need to pay a price first. Be their puppet, be their experiment.

Sweat beaded down your face, this isn't what you wanted to hear. Had they really lied to you? Used you as a move like chess on a board? Sebastian can see your distress. How you came to the conclusion that he was indeed right, even if your mother was here... She would be nowhere to be found.

why were you even here?

Sebastian knows you can't be sent back up, Urbanshade will track your location and come to the conclusion that you're heading back. They would blow you to smithereens because of the bomb device around your neck. You're obviously too young to continue this harsh journey to ensure your families existence. A 14 year old shouldn't have to die in an agonizing way, especially when they're so young and have a life ahead of them. shit.

He really has no choice, does he?

"Agghh.... Fine!! Fine fine. You, are gonna stay here with me. Capish?" He inquires, your head shakes fervently. Your mouth gapes open like a fish out of water, wanting to reject this idea. He stops you before even a single word can come from your mouth.

"Don't worry about the crystal. Urbanshade will send more prisoners to do their dirty work. I'll get you food, and that damn collar off of your neck. Other than that, stay here. You'll be safe with me, and I will try and find out as much of your mother as I can. I trade these supplies for the data you come across. I should surely have one of your mother." Every single thing he says has you shaking your head. But, deep down... You know he'll be the closest thing that leads you to your mother.

"Oh. What's your name kid?"

...

"[Name]."

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

ALRIFHT so im done !!!! if this actually goes viral i will actually turn this into a full blown story on Ao3. pls comment and let me know if you want more of the family trope with Sebastian cause we just don't see enough.

Part 2 is out now!

[simp4konig]

Okay okay I have to ask, what’s your fav head canons of Nikto then? I love hearing other people’s ideas and head canons of cod characters ^^ 💕

Ngl, i get inspired by other people's headcanons, and i make headcanons off THEIR headcanons 🥲👍… I'm unoriginal 😔💔

SOOOO, im “” Tagging”” (by that i mean putting // after the @ so the original creators dont get the notifcation for this LMAO=) blogs whose own works inspired me to create my own headcanons 🥰❤️

General Nikto Headcanons ❤️

Word Count: 1,584.

Tag List: ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @rustic-guitar-notes ♡ @best-soup ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @nightlyvoids ♡ @skeletalgoats ♡ @aethelwyneleigh27 ☆ @arrozyfrijoles23 ♡ @dobaddo ☆ @the-second-sage ☆ @wil-xyz ☆ @revnatheshadow ☆ @feelya

Allusions to NSFW beneath the cut! Readers are warned.

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Blunt and straight to the point. Sees no rhyme nor reason in beating around the bush and sugarcoating his words. As a result, he can be viewed as insensitive and lacking in empathy.

Impatient, and has a short fuse, so blows up often. Only you are able to be the calm after his storm, subduing him with soft reassurances and whispered words.

To say that he is possessive would be an understatement — he is extremely territorial.

After his torture, he is wary of the few things that he posesses and can actually call his own (you). His biggest phobia is losing you, and his irrational fear is someone stealing you away. Any prick unlucky enough to not catch on to you two dating will be lucky enough to survive the beating that he is given.

On that note, he is simultaneously self-assured, and insecure.

His mask is a part of him, and personal. It will take him months for him to shed said part of him.

Constantly fears that you will leave him once he reveals his face to you, so puts it off for as long as he possibly can. The day that he takes off his mask, only for you to be so casual about it and passing it off as your day-to-day, is the day that became cemented in his hard, stony heart.

Has conflicting views towards marriage. On the one hand, is an official document declaring your relationship really so necessary? Isn't an expensive wedding superfluous, and too sensational? To him, all of that is redundant — he's yours, and you're his…

…On the other hand, a glistening ring on your finger invokes a primal desire to make you more his than you are already. It would be a declaration of a love which even death wouldn't do part. Maybe he should pay more attention to the rings on display at the jewellery stores you pass by when shopping occasionally together.

An introverted man, who finds solace in solitude; excluding you, his partner, he has no companions, and rarely associates with anyone else. The voices in his head are bothersome enough, so why does he need additional voices bothering him? With that said, you would think that your presence would be a bother — especially with your mindless chatter when Nikto doesn't grunt at the idle small talk at times, wholly unresponsive for the majority of the time — but the moment you give any indication of leaving, he seizes your wrist, his cold, icy eyes silently pleading for you to stay. And you do. You always do.

Bringing me onto my next point: he is a good listener. Your ramblings are all that to you; ramblings. To Nikto, however, it's his chance to unpick all the information about you, down to the littlest of details. You wrongly assume that your words fall on deaf ears, but he listens, and he memorises every opinion you have, every statement you make, and even the small anecdotes that you share, which becoming engraved in his brain. He goes over every sentence religiously, as if it was the Bible.

He has an exceptionally good memory, tending to remember things that you had forgotten. Mention something that you craved in passing? He would surprise you with it the next time you bring it up. Alluded to someone who insulted you and ruined your day? Well, it would be no surprise that that person would never ruin your day ever again.

He is like a cat in the sense that he is an unwanted stray. However, when you came to want him, it dawned on you that he was no cat, but a panther. A predator — savage, vicious.

He would kill for you, no questions asked (He has already done it, but you don't know about that. After all, you hadn't asked him that question yet, only in jest. Truth be told, he has made so many death threats that you have become desensitised to them, dismissing them as nothing more than that: threats).

He would have died for you (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE @//charliemwrites’s DEPICTIONNOF NIKTO IN THIS SCENE??????? HAD ME ON MY KNEES 🛐💍🧎🏼‍♀️ PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE VI NEED HIM SOVBAD); however, when you were hyperventilating as you sobbed and were close to reaching hysterics, that's when he realised that he should value his life more.

Incredibly stealthy. You've seen his execution animations… 🤒 Uses that stealth to sneak up on you whenever your guard is down to smack your ass. 🤭

Insomnia troubles him at night, the relief of sleep rarely coming to him; therefore, he tends to be nocturnal, buying groceries and going about the usual errands you would have otherwise done during the day. When you wake up, that empty fridge is magically stocked with your favourite food, your bear snoozing sometimes — most of the time he stares at you like a creep. 💀 /aff

When he does sleep, it tends to be during the day, and it's almost as if he is a bear entering hibernation

He sleeps like a plank — on his back, his arms by his sides, and his legs straight. You'll curl onto his side, your head on his chest, his legs between your core, and a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

Snores. REALLY loud. 😬 ONLY when you are in his arms 🙄 — when he sleeps alone, he is eerily silent.

Subsequently finding him laying in bed, still and silent, you were sobbing, thinking that he died in his sleep. Finally, after minutes of shaking him awake, he opened one eye, and grumbled groggily: “Дорогая, shut up. I am not dead. Not when I have you to live for. Now, come.”

Once he is asleep, good luck getting him to wake up again; unless you somehow manage to disentangle yourself from his arms — only then, when his myshka is missing, does he begrudgingly get up from bed, stand outside the bathroom door, and whisk you back to bed, willfully ignoring your complaints.

Proud of being your protector. Always has his hand[s] on you in some way or other, protectively keeping you by his side.

Has 20/20 vision, and perfect hearing.

Don't mistake his opening of pickle jars and water bottles for you as chivalry — he is taking advantage of it to show off his muscles for you. Doesn't want you to ask if you want to cup a squeeze of his bicep — when he sees you staring, he will forcibly take your hand and put it on his arm, positively smirking beneath that mask of his.

Has a staring problem and is unashamed of it. From his point of view, there is no problem in staring at you all day and every day.

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Eye contact with him is intense. Whenever you avert your gaze, he instantly grabs your chin to angle it so it's facing him. Eye contact during sex is a given.

Despite not wanting to be a father, he has an insatiable breeding kink (does not care whether you are a female, a male, an infertile female, or other — he is delusional in that sense).

Although he isn't against children per se — mainly indifferent to them, if I'm honest — wouldn't want to pass on the generational trauma onto his brood. He would prefer his bloodline ending with him.

His dirty talk is so filthy that you get wet from just his voice and innuendo. (Thank you @//xoxunhinged for your headcanon 😫💦)

His animalistic instincts are so prominent that you've become convinced that he purrs whenever you stroke that sensitive spot on his scalp, and growls in between grunts as he thrusts into you.

Is rough, leaving dark hickeys and bruises, but he would never, ever hurt you. He's rougher than most, but has sufficient self-restraint to be realise ahead of time if he is making you uncomfortable.

You are his deity, and he worships you — if he was to ever hurt you, he would enter a state of loathing. Since you were a merciful God, he would take the liberty of punishing himself — retribution suited to his crime.

One time you two were play wrestling and he almost dislocated your hip on accident. He didn't touch you again for at least two weeks, until he finally considered himself worthy of your touch.

Is dominant in bed, for two major reasons: because he prefers exerting the control which was forced upon him, relishing in having you submit to him; manhandling you to showcase his strength

A third reason is because if you were to ever top him, he'd cum embarrassingly quickly.

Probably gets off to being stronger than you. Deliberately puts you in positions which render you powerless, only able to take what he gives you.

Whenever you enter his room, he always sits in the darkness. Insists: “I do not need lights. Lights are wasted when I can see in the dark.”

Which is true... but it is also a pretence to hide the concerningly detailed shrine taking up an entire wall, dedicated to you. You'll come to find all of your lost trivial belongings when you mistakenly flick on the light switch.

His loyalty and devotion is unparalleled to any other's. He is utterly and unashamedly down bad for you, and he is willing to do anything and everything to keep it that way.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to do much, because you, too, love him. A lot.

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A/N I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEED HIMI NEED HIM I NEED HIM I NEEDH IM I NEED—

Yeaah i thought comparing him to a panther would be cool 🐈‍⬛

“Guard dog” and just anything to do with a “dog” is an overused trope to me at this point 😐. Dont get me wrong!!!! , it doesnt mean that i dont LIKE the trope!!!! , but my own interpretation of Nikto is a little different, abd i think it suits him better,, Esp bc panthers technically 🤓☝️ do *not* exist, which links to how the definition of his name in Russian is “Nobody” :)

An unconventional animal for a very unconventionally attractive man😽,,

Anyways, it is time for a cigarette 🚬🤏😪. I will return in approximately 56 business days (trust me guys 😋✌️).

[soleilapproves]

Nanami is in love with his best friend who saves him from a creepy woman. Honestly, I’m not sure what the plot is. I just wrote this because I was procrastinating my chem assignment.

Notes: reader referred to as wife

main masterlist

Nanami Kento didn’t know when he fell in love with you. Maybe it was when you giggled and pulled him out of the house to jump around in the rain with you. Or was it when you fell asleep on his shoulder after a long workday?

He didn’t know that you found so much solace in him. 

His breathing was shallow as he watched you prance around your shared kitchen, singing a generic pop song about… love, was it? Or heartache. He didn’t know or care; all he knew was that you were wearing his shirt like it belonged to you- like he didn’t spend his hard-earned money to buy something for work, and you just plucked it out of the laundry room like it had your name on it.

He half expected you to be all bashful once you turned around and saw him, but no, you just pointed the whisk you used to mix your pancake batter at him and began lip-syncing the song's lyrics to him. He scoffed as he walked around the kitchen island and held on to your waist. Your singing slowed down as his grip tightened on you.

“What? You were hogging up the space in front of the coffee machine. Don’t stop on my account,” Nanami nonchalantly said as he dragged you away from the coffee station. Bewildered, you went back to singing again, facing away from him as you looked for cinnamon in the spice cabinet. 

Nanami bit the inside of his cheek as he noticed your ears looked redder than usual.

It all felt oddly domestic. Your work shoes were strewn by the door, he was comfortable with his hair being disheveled, your unapologetically tone-deaf singing, and of course, the fact that you were making breakfast for him unprompted. 

‘I could live like this forever,’ the blond thought. Of course, minus the whole best-friends-who-live-together-and-aren’t-in-a-romantic-relationship situation.

But was confessing to you a good idea? What if you both broke up and never wanted to see each other again? What would happen to your living arrangement then? He can’t handle not seeing you for a day. It would be horrible for his sanity. 

But then again, you both have been friends for so long that it only felt natural to be with each other all the time.

He ignored his heart, screaming at him to confess to you. The man was clearly too far gone; if he spent another day in your presence, he would surely go mad. In love and in vain.

He ignored his thoughts when he saw you accidentally pick up his cup and place your lips exactly where his were a few seconds ago. You scrunched your nose, and it took everything in him not to kiss it. “Dear God, this is bitter. I’m sorry, Ken, but I will never enjoy your tastes in food.” 

Ken

He could hear you say that all day, all night, and in his dreams. Fuck, weren’t you a magnetic being?

He ignored his heart while brushing his teeth later that night. He put his hand on his chest and rubbed it when he saw your toothpaste next to his. Yours was pink, and his was blue. A silly little cliche among most couples. He looked at the shower shelf in the bathroom- you used the same body wash as him because you said men’s shower gels smelled better. He simply complied and brought you a few bottles because it gave him the illusion that you had slept in his bed. 

The two of you were polar opposites. He preferred a quiet night in, while you’d take advantage of your weekends and go out with friends. You hated cooking while he cooked elaborate recipes for fun. You were very outdoorsy while he preferred to use his treadmill.

There were so many differences, but you both complemented one another so well. So much that it confused mutual friends. People often asked why you both weren't a couple instead of if you were one.

He would also ignore his heart when it thrilled him to see men walk away from you as soon as he was in your space, hands naturally sitting on your waist while you whined about being single. ‘I’m right here!’ he wanted to scream. ‘Look at me!’

But his heart reached its wits end when you pretended to be his wife to protect him from an uncomfortably touchy woman.

Nanami is a simple man; he gets excited when he hears about food. Especially when it has to do with trying new dishes. So it was only natural that he dragged you to a global food festival in the city. It was pleasantly warm in the outdoor space for a cold winter night, thanks to all the cooking going on in the stands. You were a little overstimulated by all the smells, but the excitement on Nanami’s face was well worth the temporary discomfort. By now, you both had traveled to France, Turkey, and India via flavors alone.

The bar at the food stand you both were eating was getting increasingly crowded by the second, so it was only natural that there would be some unintentional physical contact with strangers. Nanami wrapped his arm around you to prevent the old man beside you from rubbing all his nauseating cologne over you. You ignored the way your body fit right next to his. And dare you say- like a puzzle piece with the silhouette of your breasts pressing up right beneath his pecs. 

You both decided to share a bowl of spicy noodle soup, but you couldn’t handle the prickly taste of peppers on your tongue. “I’m gonna grab something sweet. You want anything?” 

Nanami missed your warmth as you climbed out of the booth’s eating bench. “I’m alright, I’ll wait for you.” 

You also needed a few minutes away from him so your body could catch a break. The rush of adrenaline you’d get when he’d touch you was unlike any other.

He didn’t touch his noodle soup in your absence. It felt tasteless to him without you pressed up next to him. 

He continued his wallowing while staring at the bowl of soup until he felt someone slide in next to him. Excited, he turned around only to be met with a stranger. “Oh my, I really want to try the spicy noodle soup, but I’m scared it’ll be too painful.” 

“I’m sure the owner can give you a sample, and this seat is taken, so I’m gonna have to ask you to move to another place.” 

The insistent woman placed her manicured hand on his bicep, and Nananmi’s posture stiffened. “Oh, come on, I’ll just take a sip from you- I mean, your bowl, and I’ll be out of your hair.” 

This was turning into sexual harassment, and he was about to pull out his sanitizer spray to put her in her place until he heard a familiar voice. “Hey, lady! Leave him alone.” He let out a breath of relief when you arrived, ice cream in hand. 

“I can do whatever I want; it’s a free country,” she sulked.

“So can he, and he asked you to leave him alone,” you argued back. 

“Who even are you?”

“His wife.” Nanami’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. By now, the people at the booth had turned towards the three of you to observe the spectacle. Before the creep could counter your answer or ask you for proof, the booth’s owner spoke up. “Hey, you buyin’ or not? I have customers waitin’ who actually wanna eat!” 

The lady quickly tucked her tail between her legs and briskly walked out of the area. Never to be seen again. “Fucking hell, some people really need to learn about consent. You okay?” Nanami wanted to reply to you, but no words came out of his mouth. 

You had basically declared to the world that you were his wife. Well, not the world, but all eight people in the booth (excluding you two) believed that you were his wife! It probably meant nothing to them, but to him it was like you had hung the stars in the sky. 

“Ken?” 

Ugh, you said it again. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” His eyes simply couldn’t look away from your spice-swollen lips. If you’re his pretend wife, then it’s okay for him to kiss you, right? 

He mentally slapped himself at that thought. If he was going to kiss you then it was going to be the real deal.

—

Honestly, I like it when reader protects the character. Like yes, come here, my 6’4 baby girl, I’ll beat that person up for you.