#I have to have extra lives I can't do this game without them

[thehauntingofharrenhouse]

it's in the s2 art book!! p 74. westerosi nobility and the lowborn:

'the colors of the sigil didn't always dictate mccall's choices, however. in the case of house strong, for example, she took some artistic license, as the sigil design––three lines of pale blue, red, and green above an emblem of a black fist on a white field––didn't feel in keeping with the gloomy spirit of the family's ancestral home of harrenhal. instead, she designed costumes in a purple palette.

"Harrenhal is this decrepit place where Simon Strong is living," mccall says. "We wanted everything to feel like it had been great at one point, but it's all really broken down now, so for their remaining [guards], we did printed brigandines fitted with velvet and gold and then really knocked them back and broke them down so there's that faded grandeur."

purple also worked well for alys rivers, the enigmatic woman who resides at harrenhal and appears to have a certain level of infgluence over daemon's dark dreams. mccall was eager to design costumes for the character that would underscore her otherworldliness, so she wanted alys's costumes to have their own unique silhouette.'

so I do think they would make use of any extra fabric larys left lying around and would continue to mend their clothes as long as possible!! buuut it does seem like alys can just do what she wants and if she wanted to buy more purple fabric for shirts and less durable items nobody would care enough to stop her lol (all the tyroshi dye they use comes from snails, so it isn't more expensive than any other colors)

it's also worth considering what purple means in asoiaf/game of thrones production design (which never wavered and is valid to me lol). sansa wears a sort of faded purple to blend in with the lannisters' warm color palette without actually wearing their colors. from the game of thrones costume book:

"she also shifts into tones of mauve, a color that hovers between the red of the lannisters and the blue of the starks.

it's her way of giving voice to her feelings––as ned stark's daughter, she knows that she can't confide in anyone. although she publicly disavows her house, her allegiances are still suspect."

it also foreshadows the purple wedding and the strangler amethysts, purple serpents in her hair etc.

larys is subtle and manipulative, he doesn't like fighting and prefers to hang back and talk to the ladies when the other guys go hunting or whatever. his real motivations are unknown and harrenhal's allegiance is all over the place. he has obvious parallels to tyrion and reminds people of littlefinger. idk if it was anyone's attention to draw a parallel, but it's interesting that's where this color story ended up!!! and then of course there's aegon's manner of death.

House Strong’s official colors are red, blue, and green, but they mostly end up wearing purple heheh

purple being the color associated with royalty and both larys and simon wearing probably means they both want to reach for something greater. it's a great detail. plus, ser simon's luxurious purple robe while living in dilapidated harrenhal is an amazing character detail too. for larys and alys.....maybe they don't want to wear any color associated to house strong :/ will larys keep wearing the purple in essos? hopefully!!!

[side-order-of-thoughts]

i was on the final boss on the final stage on Eight's pallette and I DIED

WHY CAN'T YOU CONTINUE OR RETRY WITH THIS ONE DAMNED PALLETTE

[sky-scribbles]

I'm going to say something controversial. I think there's something Veilguard does better than any other Dragon Age game. Namely: incorporating the companions into the plot.

Look, I love Origins as much as everyone. But to be frank: you could cut every companion except Alistair, Morrigan and Loghain and the plot could still work. Once you've finished the mission where you recruit a companion, there aren't other main quests that involve them in any way.

Oghren and Wynne could have stayed home after their recruitment missions for all the difference it would make to the main plot. Sten, Leliana and Zevran could vanish and nothing would change, because once they're on your team, they don't interact with the main plot at all. (There's the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I suppose - but even then, you'd be going on that quest whether Leliana and Wynne were there or not, and it's very telling that they can both die here and next to nothing in the rest of the game is impacted.)

Again: I love Origins. This doesn't detract from any of these characters being great, or from the story being great. It just means there's a layer of separation between the two. They're involved in the story, but they're not driving it, and you seldom get to see them have strong feelings about it.

DA2 is a huge step up. Your companions' personal stories are integral parts of the main plot. You can't do the Deep Roads expedition without witnessing Karl's death and its impact on Anders. You can't enter Act 2 without seeing Varric's brother betray him, or watching your sibling either die or begin a new path in life. Act 2's climax happens because of choices Isabela and Aveline have made. Act 3's endgame is all about Anders making one enormous decision. Even Fenris and Merrill, who have the fewest ties to the plot, have strong reasons to be invested in the Mage/Templar conflict.

And then Inquisition just... backslides. There are multiple companions you don't need to recruit at all, or can send away with zero alteration to the main plot. Your companions don't like Corypheus because he's bad, but no one - except maybe Varric - has any strong personal feelings about him. They have no personal stake in defeating him, not like Alistair has a personal stake in opposing Loghain, or Anders in opposing Meredith.

We go to the Winter Palace, and Vivienne is not made a part of that story. We have a whole subplot about the Wardens, and Blackwall only gets a couple of extra lines, if you even bring him. Their personal arcs could have been somehow impacted by these missions, and they're just... not. Sera is packed with internalised self-hatred that manifests as trying to distance herself from elven culture, to the point of sometimes lashing out at other elves. And despite all the missions you do where elven history features... Sera's growth past that flaw happens entirely offscreen between the base game and Trespasser?????

IMO, this is one of the biggest reasons why Corypheus is such a bland villain. He doesn't make anyone grow, except by starting a plot for them to be part of. He doesn't challenge them emotionally. No one is invested in him. Because no one interacts with the darn plot.

Veilguard, though? Veilguard keeps your companions interacting with the story the whole way through. The Treviso/Minrathous choice affects both Lucanis and Neve heavily, and impacts who they become for the rest of the game. These cities are personal to you, even if you're not a Crow or Shadow Dragon, because your companions love them.

The Siege of Weisshaupt is beyond personal to Davrin and Lucanis, both of whom are entrusted with major parts of the quest: trying to kill the archdemon and Ghilan'nain. Lucanis is affected by his failure to kill Ghilan'nain for ages afterward. Davrin is haunted by survivor's guilt; he should have died when he struck down the archdemon. He's alive. How can he live with that?

Whenever killing the gods becomes a possibility, Rook hands the lyrium dagger to Lucanis. When the squad go to fight the gods' dragons with the Wardens, Taash is the one to flush the first dragon out. When you infiltrate the Venatori, Neve tricks your way in, and everything that happens is especially weighty to Bellara, whose people have been abducted. On Tearstone Island, because of how Lucanis and Spite have grown, they strikes true.

Did you not hate Elgar'nan before that mission? Because you probably will after you watch him capture Bellara or Neve, and see his fellow god kill Harding or Davrin.

You know what's a great piece of writing? There's no reason Emmrich shouldn't have been an option to deal with the wards on Tearstone Island; he's one of the ideal options to take out more wards with the Veil Jumpers in the final mission. But you can't select him to do it. Because Emmrich has far less personal investment in the Elgar'nan battle than the other two. This is Neve's city. This is the monster who tries to call himself Bellara's god. The game makes sure the characters who take control of the Blight at the end are the ones with the greatest stakes in doing so.

One of your companions, not you, wrests command of the Blight from Elgar'nan. The final mission depends on how well you've come to know each companion's skills. They're just... always involved.

And they're invested, too. The companions all have serious personal reasons to hate the antagonists by the end. Lucanis and Neve have either seen their city burn, or know it happened at the cost of their friend's (and potential partner's) hometown. Davrin has seen his order devastated. These are Bellara's and Davrin's supposed gods, and instead of helping the elves reclaim their history and culture, they're trying to enslave the world. Harding learns that the Evanuris maimed and destroyed her Titan ancestors.

Emmrich and Taash have perhaps the smallest emotional tie - and sadly I do think Emmrich especially gets underutilized in the plot. But heck, Taash is still hella motivated by the way the gods are abusing dragons. And Emmrich is tied thematically to the main conflict. He's facing the question of immortality, while nigh-immortal beings are right in front of him, proving how that gift can be abused. The final choice of his personal arc is whether he's willing to embrace his personal, mortal attachments, at the cost of consequences that terrify him... you know, the same question that Solas faces at the end.

And don't even get me started on how everyone is emotionally tied to Solas. Harding and Neve watched him kill Varric in front of them. Everyone not dead or captured has to watch him drag Rook into the Fade. Just about every companion faces some kind of huge regret or failure at some point, in constant foreshadowing for Solas's prison of regret: both the literal one he sticks Rook in, and the mental one of his own making.

Veilguard has its problems, but it absolutely shines at keeping its characters involved and invested in the main story. It gives them things to do, it gives them reasons to care. For all the flaws this game has, this part is good writing.

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: Your life together with them🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

Summary: various joint situations when you live with them.

A/N: I apologize for writing a little less often!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

Since the girl served in the army and got used to discipline, she will follow it while living with you. She always wakes up much earlier than you, about three hours, where you can sleep until 9-10 a.m., in some cases even before lunch if you get very tired. While you are sleeping, Hyun Ju will do a lot of things around the house (quietly so as not to wake you up), cook you a delicious breakfast and go to wake you up.

She will do it gently and carefully, stroking and kissing you wherever she wants. You sometimes grumble and tell her to lie down and sleep with you in a hug, but it doesn't affect her, so she continues to wake you up with kisses.

- Baby, it's time to get up, your favorite breakfast is already getting cold. And we have a lot to do. - she says gently, kissing your sweet lips.

After a couple of minutes, you still wake up and sleepily go to eat what your Hyunnie has prepared for you with love.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy has a lot of fun living with you. After all, you have new ideas almost every day. Again, recently you wanted to lose weight by the summer, you decided to run every morning. But it wasn't very good alone, so you forced your boyfriend to join you.

- So you want us to wake up at 7 a.m. on our weekend and run down the street when normal people will sleep? - he didn't understand at all why you need it, because you were beautiful.

- And you will run with me for the company! - Dae Ho only had to agree, he didn't want to offend you.

And he knew that soon you would get tired of it and you would throw away this idea, so he decided to be patient.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and the guy were complete opposites to each other. It was especially seen with household items. Su Bong was dirty. He constantly left his clothes all over the apartment: socks in the corners, clothes were lying on the backs of chairs. You were very unhappy with it, okay, unwashed dishes, but these are extremes.

- Can you stop scattering your clothes? Can't you put the clean ones in the closet, and throw the dirty ones in the laundry. I'm tired of cleaning up after you like a little child. - you mumbled when you removed his clothes from the chair again, while he was sitting on the phone.

- Yes, yes, good. - he said without much attention.

- If this happens again, all your things will fly to the trash!

- I got it, just don't be angry, my baby. - he put down the phone and started cleaning everything, then you rewarded him with a kiss.

But he won't be able to get used to it, so he'll still leave his things, but he's ready to clean up for your extra kisses.

Park Gyeong Seok

The three of you lived in a small apartment: you, your future husband and his daughter Na Yeon. Since the girl was undergoing treatment, she often stayed at home. But you and the man didn't want her to be alone, so you decided to take a housework and sit with Na Yeon.

You and the girl played a lot of her favorite games. She is very attached to you and even calls you mom.

When a man comes home from work, the girl asks him to join you and he, though tired, agrees, because he can't refuse his beloved girls.

Sometimes you and the girl like to mock him, so you can make up him with different makeup.

- Dad now a real princess! - said Na Yeon when she painted Gyeong Seok with children's cosmetics, you just laughed at this whole situation and at the face of a man who was both grumpy and smiling.

Nam Gyu

The guy loves cats very much, but since you both work a lot, you can't get a pet yet, but Gyu really wants to, so he started feeding street cats.

He thinks there's nothing wrong with that, but he was wrong. The cats are used to the fact that the guy began to feed them and they began to come to your house en masse, meowing and asking for food.

When you saw this, you were furious, you immediately called the guy and he had a shy face, he knew what was going on.

- Gyu, do you want to explain to me what's going on with cats here?

- Well... I fed them a little, it looks like they got used to it.. - you looked at him with an evil face, although you understood that he not on purpose.

- Now you will clean up after them, so that there is not a single shit from them! - you said and entered the house, he only agreed with you.

After this situation, the guy began to feed these pets less often, and you began to think that maybe you would give Nam Gyu a kitten.

🩵🩵🩵

[estellan0vella]

Shut Up, Mom! ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Toji & Sukuna (REQUESTED) Masterlist

You stand firm in the kitchen, arms crossed, after denying your child's request for more sweets. Gojo lounges casually nearby, a faint smile playing on his lips. Your little one, clearly frustrated, looks up at you and blurts out, "Shut up, Mom!"

The air grows tense instantly. Gojo's blue eyes narrow, the usually playful glint gone in a flash. He straightens, walking over to kneel beside your child, his expression serious yet calm. "Hey, we don't talk to Mom like that," he says, his voice low but firm. He gently cups your child's cheek, his touch a blend of sternness and care. "Mom loves you and makes rules to keep you from getting sick. Apologize to her."

Your child glances between you and Gojo, recognizing the gravity in his usually lighthearted father's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom," they mumble, looking down.

Gojo's smile returns, a bit softer now. He ruffles their hair. "Good. Now, how about we find something else fun to do together?" 

In the living room, you're putting away toys when your child whines for more TV time. When you deny the request, they stomp their foot and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Geto, who has been quietly reading on the couch, lowers his book, his usually calm demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority. He stands, approaching your child with a measured stride. "We don't speak to Mom like that," he says softly, yet his voice carries a weight that demands respect. He kneels to meet their eye level. "Why did you say that?"

Your child looks guilty, fidgeting under Geto's steady gaze. "I was mad."

Geto nods, his expression softening slightly. "I understand being mad, but words have power. Use them to express your feelings, not to hurt others. Apologize to Mom."

With a small nod, your child turns to you. "Sorry, Mom."

Geto smiles, patting their shoulder. "Good. Now, let's find a way to enjoy the rest of our day without TV."

You're in the study, helping your child with their homework when they throw down their pencil in frustration. "Shut up, Mom!" they snap when you suggest they redo a wrong answer.

Nanami, who had just walked in with a cup of tea for you, freezes. His jaw tightens, and he places the cup on the desk with deliberate calmness. He steps over, placing a hand on your child's shoulder. "We do not speak to Mom that way," he says, his tone firm but not loud. "She is here to help you."

Your child looks up at him, eyes wide. "But it's hard!"

Nanami nods, his expression softening but remaining serious. "I know it's hard, but being disrespectful doesn't make it easier. Apologize to Mom and let's try again together."

Your child sighs, looking down. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Nanami gives you a small, reassuring smile before turning back to your child. "Good. Now, let's tackle this problem together, step by step."

In the middle of a family game night, you deny your child an extra turn, trying to teach fairness. They scowl and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Choso, who has been arranging the next round of pieces, looks up sharply. His eyes, usually so gentle, darken with concern. He sets the pieces down and moves closer, crouching beside your child. "That's not how we talk to Mom," he says, his voice calm but with an edge of disappointment. "Mom is being fair."

Your child pouts, crossing their arms. "It's not fair!"

Choso sighs, placing a hand on their small shoulder. "Life isn't always fair, but respect is important. Apologize to Mom and let's continue our game with kindness."

Your child hesitates, then mumbles, "Sorry, Mom."

Choso smiles softly, nodding. "Thank you. Now, let's see if we can make the game more fun for everyone."

During a meal, you tell your child they can't have dessert until they finish their vegetables. They glare at you and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Sukuna, who has been eating quietly, pauses mid-bite. His eyes flash dangerously, and he slowly puts down his utensils. Rising from his seat, he moves with a predatory grace to stand beside your child. "What did you just say?" he asks, his voice low and menacing.

Your child shrinks back, suddenly aware of the gravity of their outburst. "I... I said shut up..."

Sukuna leans down, his presence overwhelming. "You will not speak to your mother that way," he growls. "She deserves your respect. Apologize. Now."

Trembling, your child looks up at you. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Sukuna straightens, his intense gaze still fixed on them. "Good. Now, eat your vegetables. Or I eat your toes"

"Ryo!"

You deny your child's request to stay up late, and they respond with a defiant, "Shut up, Mom!"

Toji, who has been leaning against the doorframe, straightens immediately. His expression hardens, and he walks over, his steps heavy with purpose. Kneeling down, he looks your child directly in the eye, his voice a low rumble. "We don't talk to Mom like that. Ever."

Your child squirms under his intense gaze. "But I want to stay up!"

Toji shakes his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That doesn't matter. Respect is non-negotiable. Apologize to Mom right now."

Your child glances at you, then back at Toji, clearly chastened. "Sorry, Mom."

Toji's expression softens slightly, and he ruffles their hair. "Good. Now let's get ready for bed. No arguments."

[lost-romantique]

Blitzø's Realization & Feelings

I like how Blitz is initially confused the moment Stolas arrives on scene and breaks into song...

He understands that Stolas just saved him from getting his head chopped off, but he still doesn't understand what he's doing at the trial.

After all, in Blitzø’s mind Stolas is over him, and moved on the moment he saw Stolas having the time of his life dancing with BTB.

In Blitzø’s memory reel Stolas has his top eyes open, and I think to Blitzø he reads it as Stolas seeing and relishing in that kiss, in that moment. Blitzø doesn't even consider the fact that it was a drunken kiss.

But the moment Stolas takes all the blame for himself, things take a turn...

It clicks for Blitzø, and he's just in pure and utter shock as he sees just how much Stolas genuinely and truly loves him.

It's at this moment where he says the words, "I don't want to live a life without you by my side."

Blitzø takes this time to finally let his emotions pour out like a fucking waterfall.

Whereas compared to Ghostfuckers he just subtly acknowledges it.

His expression drops from realization to pure panic at Stolas' actions. Blitzø doesn't want to die, but at the same time, he definitely doesn't want someone he cares about to take the fall for him.

"What are you doing!? I don't deserve this!"

"I realized too late!" Blitzø acknowledges that he realized both Stolas’ feelings and his own feelings too late in the game.

Blitzø in Apology Tour didn't understand his own feelings, let alone Stolas’ feelings. He tries to, but he can't.

"Don't give your life to clean my slate."

What I love about this line is that it reads as: Don't sacrifice yourself to absolve me of my crimes. Blitzø makes it clear he doesn't want this.

"You’re my heart."

Blitzø breaks down and says these words because to Blitzø this is what Stolas is, the key to his heart that he's kept locked up for years, and someone he wants to give his whole heart too.

Because Blitzø closed off his heart after the fire. His love is something that he believed could hurt someone, but with Stolas, he's worth that risk.

The moment Stolas is wrapped in chains, Blitzø moves on instinct, almost as if he's trying to get out of his own chains so he can run to Stolas.

Felt like it would be a disservice not to show the clip that destroyed me. 😀

Blitzø, the moment he's freed of his chains Blitzø says the words, "No- no!" in disbelief, shock, and desperation.

Blitzø is so desperate to stop Stolas from what he's doing, begging him to do anything to stop this from happening. And if that meant getting himself killed, he'd do it.

Because he doesn't want a repeat of this happening. It's one thing for people to leave Blitzø, he’s used to that, but it's another to have them die, especially in front of him.

He breaks down when he fears his worse fears have come true: that Stolas is dead and he can't do anything to stop it.

It's why Blitzø is so shocked and surprised the moment he sees Stolas alive, because his worse fears didn't happen.

The moment Blitzø gets the reassurance that he's is loved by Stolas he falls into that caretaking role almost instantly, since he knows Stolas is hurting right now.

He's taking steps being extra gentle, extra reassuring, extra soft, even going as far as to fluff the pillow on his couch.

It vaguely reminds me of how Blitzø is able to sorta gage what people's needs are. In this moment, Blitzø was about to shoot Creepzo, but instead he opts to beat Creepzo with the end of his gun once he realizes Fizz is on the verge of a panic attack.

What I love about this shot is that this is the most at peace Blitzø has ever looked in the entire show.

He's just so grateful that he's alive and that Stolas is alive.

~~~~~~

Anyway, wanted to include this bit because I love how Sam Haft pointed out that Blitzø leaves Mastermind more self-actualized.

Whereas for Stolas, he leaves Mastermind more humbled as he gets a taste of how truly privileged he is.

[midnite-c6]

Hear me out. Pink Guard Reader (any shape guard; triangle/square/circle) who watches the contestants of this horrendous game fight for the money that glows above them and their own survival for it. Pink Guard Reader who notices two particular contestants, Nam-Gyu and Thanos. Both of them seemingly seem to stand out amongst all the players since everyone seems to be taking these games seriously besides those two, mainly. You keep a watchful eye upon them (and perhaps, sneakily help them in some situations...maybe, saving their lives at one point...?) and it doesn't take for one of them to notice and inform the other. And they now keep a particular eye on you, and perhaps, when they see you standing alone in a certain area with your pink guard uniform and mask..IDK, PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

guys tables turned!!! tthank thank..tjanks for sharing to the class hahahahahah PURRRRR. omg the way theyd absolutely look down on u bcuz like ure the one supposed to kill them and be evil so why r u being so nice? (they take advantage of this ofc) 🫶🏻

thanos & namgyu x pinkguard!reader warnings: 18+, DARK content, dubcon

つ⁠｡⁠☆ you were just so intrigued by them! i mean, they were literally treating the games like... games. no deaths, no consequences, just fun! they were insane. you liked insane, tho. you'd even save them in the game mingle. unfairly killing other players. you wanted them to live because.. you were bored, and they kept the games fun, anyways.

it was now dinner time, when the two guys would line up for their own share of food, thanos would notice it was you! the same guard that saved them since the button on your jacket was slightly broken,, "my bro, can i get extra?" he'd press his hands together, and you'd happily give him extra because, why not? nam-gyu was just behind him, asking the same, he'd even give a polite thank you.

both of them noticed how they were the only ones getting unfair advantages, so when everyone's too busy with their food or talking to their groups, they walk up to you, as you were standing guard next to the bathrooms. you couldn't speak, since you'd be scolded to talk without permission, but the two have got nothing to lose, and they'd make it their life's goal to bother you. "pst. triangleee facee. talk to us!" thanos would poke you, his other hand occupied by the extra milk you gave him earlier. "ah, this dude's boring."

thanos would even offer the small pills inside his cross necklace, you politely decline. simply shaking your head. "do you think there's a person inside there?" nam-gyu would press on your mask as he wonders, "you're right! what if this guy is just a robot..? shiit. technology is getting good." nam-gyu would stare at you intently, trying to find something underneath that mask. he'd take his hands to touch your chest and stomach, in search of any indications on your body, of course, the touch makes you jolt. you immediately point your gun at him. "woah, woah ..my bad." he says as he puts both of his hands up. "ah, fuck dude you angered him!" they'd both laugh, and you lower your firearm. "so it must be a human." thanos would get all up in your face. "hey, tell me, man, why'd you save us?" you can't answer. "why can't you speaaak??" he was getting frustrated, clearly. you'd only turn your face to the guard with a square on his mask, signaling him as your superior. "i think if he talks, that guy would get mad." "ohhh yeah no shit, dude." and before you could react, thanos quickly pulls you to the mens bathroom, guess you have no choice but to speak now..

"there! surely you could speak now!" he exclaims and after a few seconds of contemplating, you would speak, although the voice is distorted , "that's correct."

"take off your mask then." such a straight-forward request, but you'd do it with no protest, you're just the same as them, nothing to lose. once you've lifted your mask to rest ontop of your head, you'd happily breathe in the cold air. the two stares at you dumbfoundedly. "fuck dude, your pills are starting to make me go crazy." "me too bro!!" "is it just me or are you also seeing a chick?" player 124 would rub his eyes with his hands. "what the fuuuuuuuuck." you'd only snort at their comments. "hey! you've been shootin' people , huh?" the purple-haired one would scold, "is there something wrong with that?" nam-gyu chuckles, "bet she looked hot doing it, to be honest." thanos touches your face with his hand. "you're like.. a guardian angel to us." you're embarrassed honestly, it was such an awkward moment. they'd both look at each other at that moment, reaching to some kind of decision, "hell yea, do i wanna fuck my guardian angel."

nsfw below!!-> 💘

"mmph-. god. fucking a murderer feels crazy." thanos happily blurts out in groans, as he pushes heavily inside you, putting in all his weight , balls deep inside your pussy. you couldn't moan out, with nam-gyu's cock shoved down your throat, his pace was much more abusive and mean than thanos', bruising your poor throat. they didn't even bother to go inside a stall, instead deciding to be right in the middle of the mens bathroom, where your suit was pushed to the side. they'd keep the gun slinged to your body, and your mask still slightly lifted up from your face, the mask stays on, what a hot image. the one thrusting inside your cunt was ecstatic, like he was so pent up he'd thank the gods he could put it all out inside you. "awwh.. pretty pink guard.." he would tuck your hair behind your ears, your forehead dripping with sweat. "pretty pink pussy n' all. you're so evil.." nam-gyu would also thrust far too deep, making you gag, your hands would grip on player 124's legs, letting him know that he was going too rough! and for what! "you're tough, i'm sure you can take it." and he goes even faster! it was like they were punishing you for only doing your job, not even bothering to say thank you for saving them :(

...sadly, the rules are strict when it comes to being a guard. and you've been gone for way too long, atleast you went out with a bang! literally.

I MADE THIS SO SILLY 😭🙏🏻. guys sorry mah brain nawt working LOLs but they can do it day and night every position until i learn fluent korean fr. born to ride both forced to only write and read for them😿 maybe i make masterlist after this 🤨

[elvenferretots]

I don't think the idea of what retirement should be is talked about enough in dog sport spaces.

People "retire" dogs from sports all the time. The dog gets too old to safely play, acquires an injury that makes the sport unsafe or uncomfortable, or has a behavioral or temperament issue that makes the sport unenjoyable. I don't think anyone can argue that it's unethical to keep pushing a dog in a sport to their detriment.

But what I see from there, I can argue with. So many people get high drive working dogs and do... nothing with them when they retire. They often refer to them as a "couch ornament". They leave them home on sport weekends. They use the lack of finances or time to do an extra sport as the excuse to stop coaching and building new repertoires with the dog.

We spend so much time arguing these dogs NEED jobs, then do nothing with them for months to years at the end of their working life. Retirement (for humans as well as dogs-- but that's a whole new can of worms) should not mean doing nothing. Living beings aren't meant to stop learning and growing and doing. Puppies are less capable, but we don't do nothing with them until six months anymore. We meet them where they're at. It's so important for physical wellness and neural plasticity that we do the same with our retired dogs.

I have a dog whose health meant he would be retired in any serious competitive context. Biting a sleeve or suit is too high injury risk. He can't jump his full obedience height or to catch a disc. He will never get the AKC RACH or OTCH I had him slated for. But he still plays! He comes with to mondio club and is preparing to trial in obedience with no jumps. He trials in AKC preferred obedience and got his rally choice title, the highest level without jumps, last fall. We're going to compete for our UKC RACH this trial season, since they don't require jumps for rally and let you jump minimum height. He still competes in every disc dog competition my competitive dog does, and even surprised me by placing in the last two despite only catching rollers. We started shed hunt and a Nosework class even though I currently don't have the funds or time to compete in more sports.

The biggest difference I've noticed in him since competing with him and taking him to classes again? He's so so much more behaviorally sound. He's happier. He's fulfilled. And he's physically more sound on top of that, because he's using his body in healthy ways and is not so pent up that he's injuring himself with normal movement.

Retirement should mean a new phase in life, not life being over. Rest and stagnancy are not the same. Quite honestly, if my retired working dog isn't ready to learn a new activity or play a new game, it's time to have a serious talk with my vet about quality of life.

[kaivenom]

I think headcanons are good start for writing Yandere

Yandere!One piece Men x reader

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Trafalgar Law, Eustass Kid, Killer

A/N: This is my first time writing this so it's very general and i hope it's the right point.

Masterlist

Luffy

It's the type of Yandere that it's so funny and smiley that you dont get it at first, he is just to friendly and nice that you don't care about the dizzy feeling on your stomach.

But once you try to get out of the ship, he just convinces you to stay, that's his secret weapon.

Who says that Luffy doesn't know how to manipulate it's wrong, with his childness he can get whatever he wants and that happens to you.

He gets kisses, attetion, cuddles, sex and everything he wants when he says it and you can't say no to him.

Especially on those times you think about leaving, it's like he reads your mind and instantly asks you with a pouty face "you would never leave me, right my darling?"

And of course you cant, you are trapped on his mental games.

Zoro

Very bad at fights, even to the point that he sometimes scares you.

He compensates it with being extra protective, in some occasions too much but you say to yourself that you love that side of him.

If someone lays his eyes on you, especially the cook, he would deadly glare at them and when you aren't looking, he will break the shit out of them.

He tries not ot be that violent next ot you, and even tries to clean the blood.

You sometimes see the blood but you ignore it, the thing you cant ignore is how he yells when he is angry.

He doesn't have to be angry at you, sometimes he is even jelaous about how other people look at you and his mind tells him that you had something to do with that.

So he yells and breaks something but then he goes and apologies saying that he is a monster and that he doesnt deserve you (a little bit of mental games)

Sanji

Another psychological one but this men plays with your good heart.

He says "without you i have no reason to live", "if you leave me then i may die", "i can't stand living if you aren't there."

At first you thought it was cute and nice and all but then you started to not know where is the limit of the gentle words and a possible threat.

Cause most likely, he wont kill himself cause he would prevent you from leaving any way posible.

And you don't want to find the answer.

Other big aspect of him is that probably he would manipulate your foods like, putting aphrodisiacs or even putting sleeping pills if he thinks you can try something on the night.

Trafalgar Law

Living on a submarine makes its really difficult to leave so... first bad point.

He has a very good case of avoidant attachment which means he doesn't pay attention to you until you feel like crying and being really desperate and that's when he makes time to care about you, but even that saying some mean things like "you are dramatic", "you are overreacting", "it's not that much, you are an attention baby".

But then, when he gets needy it's a different story.

When he wants anything, since he can room you, he gets you to the bedroom and you have to give him what he wants... even when you arent on the mood.

This go forth and back leaves you on an emotion rollercoaster but when he is attentive or when he just relies on you that much, you just love that he goes to you.

Eustass Kidd

Unlike Zoro, he is jelaous, he shows it and he can beat someone brutally in front of you.

After that, you will have to reasure him that you won't leave him, it's the only way he can calm down and so do you.

You have to be careful on how you are with others cause he can misunderstand everything.

Since he is a lot bigger, he likes to toss you around and make you go to bed with him when he needs to, espeacially, when he is angry/needy/urgent he stomps really loud so you are prepared to not resist yourself to his grip, even if you are talking to someone.

I believe that he give you these gifts: a collar, bracelets and anklets. that are made of metal to inmovilize you and make you do whatever he wants.

Don't even try to take them out, he would get really whiney and grumpy, and wont let you alone in a long time, like a real pain in teh ass.

Killer

A little bit quieter than Eustass but still really possesive and paranoid.

He is more subtle about the jelaousy but of course, he landed one punch or two to one person in front of you, he isn't called Killer for nothing.

Otherwise he won't ever lay a hand on you, but he can get scary... with that helmet on and just standing there, with his big body blocking you from the world and completely silent.

He is not one of big words so he goes thru acts.

Wrapping your wrists to oblige you to sit on his lap, tossing you on his shoulder when he is upset on how you are behaving.

The no words treatment doesn't go only for bad things, he can also go behind you and hug you suddently, he can just slap your ass or lift you hide his face on the crock of your neck.

He is somehow very unpredictable cause he is very silent and his helmet doesn't help.

[zroronoas]

roommate!ace

bc i love ace and kept imagining what he'd be like as a roommate!

-

-ace loves candles, will always have one lit up and he'll even bring his favorite one everywhere he goes. if he's going from his bedroom to the living room, he will have that candle with him. super considerate though, he'll always have you come candle shopping with him and sniff each one to make sure you like the smell.

a disgusted expression is plastered onto your face as ace holds up the candle to your nose. once he sees your reaction to it, he immediately puts it back on the shelf.

"you don't like it?"

"ace, it smells like feet."

-ace absolutely loves building forts out of the pillows and couch cushions. he takes extra time and effort to make sure it's the most structured pillow fort that has ever been built. usually, he likes to sit in there while you two have movie nights and since he's using up all the couch cushions, you have no choice but to sit in there with him. you have to admit that it was cute, he would set up the inside with the softest blankets and all of the snacks you two loved.

"what are we watching today, ace?"

"wicked."

"again?"

-he's convinced that the apartment has ghosts and will literally force you to ghost hunt with him. you're terrified but it's an excuse to walk around the house in the dark while he holds your hand so you consider it a win.

"dude. did you hear that?"

you press yourself even closer into his side, frantically whipping your head side to side to find the source of the noise. you feel him tighten his grip on your hand, his way of comforting you.

"do we really have to do this? can't we just ignore them?"

"the noise came from your room, good luck sleeping in there tonight!"

"don't say that ace, i will literally move out."

"or you can just sleep in my bed tonight."

-he loves grocery shopping and doing all of the household chores with you. despite him having a messy room, he always makes sure that your shared spaces are clean. if he knows you've been busy, he'll even do your laundry for you. you appreciate the gesture but have had to ban him from touching your laundry because he always makes dirty jokes whenever he sees your underwear.

"oh, these are some scandalous panties you've got here!"

-loves to comes into your room and just plop down on your bed without saying anything. you grow accustomed to it, so usually you just continue what you're doing without sparing him a glance. after a while, he starts to snore and you have to deal with dragging him out of your bed so you can lay down.

-you and ace love to cook, especially if you're doing it together. he loves finding recipes on tiktok and is always sending them to you. neither of you enjoy cleaning up though, so it's always a fight. figuring out who's going to clean up the mess consists of bets and countless games of rock paper scissors. but ace always ends up cleaning up because he's a sweetheart and hates making you do literally anything.

-despite ace's antics and the occasional urge to kick his ass, living with him felt like marriage. you would never admit that to him, in fear of making it awkward between the two of you. you couldn't imagine constantly having to avoid each other during the duration of your two year lease.

-but it was so difficult. regardless of his intentions, ace was extremely flirty and touchy. the man was constantly teasing you and would attempt to cuddle you on the couch every single night.

"why won't you ever let me cuddle with you?" he whines. even though your foot was brought up against his chest, pushing with all your power, the man wouldn't let up. you didn't even know why you even bothered to try and stop him.

"roommates don't cuddle," you state. "and you stink."

"then let's stop being just roommates."

the sentence makes you freeze and you forget about trying to keep him away from you. your foot slowly falls back onto the couch as you stare at him, wide-eyed.

a boyish grin appears on the mans face and he takes the chance to wrap his arms around you. you have no idea what to do, but you do know that you don't have the energy to push him away. you were sure that he could feel the beating of your heart and the warmth that was spreading throughout your face.

"we can be roommates and best friends!" he grins. "that means we can cuddle now, right?"

your fist collides with his arm before you push him off and run as fast as you can to your room. ace winces as he watches you make your way to your room, the smile on his face growing even wider.

he thinks you're the most adorable person on the planet, and couldn't wait for the day he could call you his partner and his roommate.

[kumkaniudaku]

Just For You

Summary: Terry and Patrice give each other lasting nicknames.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

"Terrence and Patrice, you're married. Any objections?" 

None from Terry. A few from Patrice, but what was new? She always had objections. Ms. Cole answered each of her star pupil's questions in extreme detail before sending the pair home as a fictional married couple exploring the semester's section on personal finance. 

It was Terry's idea for them to work together on the weekend at his house, citing weekday football practices as too much of a hindrance to after-school instructional time. His sophomore year came with another growth spurt to a towering 6'1", and he couldn't let the new length or extra muscle go to waste. The fight for starting receiver had only just begun. 

Patrice hated falling behind. The thought of letting days pass without tracking toward their project's completion ate away at her. She allowed Terry to have his way, but under one condition: they'd work all morning on Saturday to knock things out in one day.

He scrunched his face and ran a hand over his haircut. "Patrice, that's a lot. We can't stretch it to two days?" He thought again for a better solution when she started to open her mouth with a rebuttal. "What if we talked on the phone and finished up Sunday night! Then you only have to leave home once!" 

"Take it or leave it, Terrence. One day or a little bit every day after your practice." 

With Saturday morning SportsCenter's top five clips playing on the television while they sat beside each other, their feet and legs jutting out from beneath his mother's coffee table, it was clear he'd taken the offer with a few concessions. Highlights stayed on during homework. 

Patrice sat still and quiet while she watched Terry twirl a pencil between his fingers and squint at the instructions on their project syllabus. Late morning sunlight streaming through the living room window brought out the honey color in his eyes, her favorite part of the blue-green pieces of art she pretended not to sneak glances at when they spent time together. His brows furrowed to create little ripples at the center of his forehead. Three. She always counted them when he made his focused face. 

If anyone didn't know him, he'd look like an intimidating man at least five years his senior. But Patrice knew Terry was mostly a gentle giant. He spoke softly as if the sound of his own voice was scary, opened doors, laughed on occasion, and remained polite day to day. Compared to the other boys in his grade, Terry was a saint—a saint slowly creeping his way into Patrice's day-to-day thoughts. 

Terry's shoulder brushed against Patrice's as he shifted on the floor, making her shuffle further away to avoid the goosebumps populating her forearm. Terry glanced over, concern replacing the focus in his eyes. "You okay? Did I hit you?" 

"No, I just didn't wanna be so deep in your space." Partially true. The why was her secret to keep. 

Terry shrugged. "It's cool. You're not bothering me." She never was. If he were honest, Terry wished she would bother him more. Come over more, show up to more games, and stay on the phone a little later when he called under the guise of missing notes from class, knowing the only thing he missed was her voice. He scooched closer to her, leaving a sliver of space between them. "So, I think you're the breadwinner in this scenario. Sixty-thousand a year ain't half bad. You must be a professor or something. Talkin' them students' heads off, I'm sure." 

"Shut up," Patrice laughed as she elbowed his side. "You aren't far behind! Your $45k gets us to a combined $105k. That's more money than I've ever seen." 

Her compliment of his pretend income pulled a closed-mouth smile from Terry. "Yeah, well, how do we spend it? Says here we need to budget our combined monthly income between bills, discretionary spending, and savings." Quick mental math helped him tally their post-tax income. "That's $3,204 bi-weekly. Just under $7000 a month. I think we can handle that." 

"Let's start with housing and work from there?" 

"I'm following your lead." 

One hour of hard work and bickering netted the play couple one outcome they could agree on. Terry thought it'd be best for them to choose a modest three-bedroom dwelling with a low mortgage to fit their housing needs and free up funds for two cars. Though Patrice wanted a bigger backyard for her garden, she relented when her mate pointed out she'd get the better car and a summer vacation if they were wise with their monthly spending. One night out a week, $500 a month in "fun funds," and a strict savings schedule left them more than enough money in their reserve to consider children in their plan. 

Brain fog stemming from a quietly growling belly made Patrice stretch her arms high about her head and whine. "Can we take a break? I'm a little hungry." 

"I can make you something!" Hearing the extra eagerness in his own voice felt like a punch to the throat for Terry. Embarrassment had him scaling back to save face. "It's just a PB&J. You don't want me using the stove. Or you can wait 'til my mom gets home. She usually does crawfish on the weekends."

"Shoot, let's do both! I've never had crawfish before."

Not ever having crawfish was a cardinal sin in Terry's household. If his parents found out Patrice had been living a life without experiencing their family specialty, she'd be forced to camp out until every piece of corn, sausage, potato, and crustacean was consumed. Terry logged the reference in the back of his mind for later use as he made his way into the kitchen. 

While Terry focused on the even spreads of peanut butter and jelly on his mama's "good" bread, Patrice took her time mosying around the large living room to acquaint herself with her surroundings. 

Expensive trinkets and books she'd never read lined the cubby spaces on one side of their large wooden entertainment center. On the other, family photos told the Richmond family's story. At the top, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond posed in formal attire with big smiles to celebrate what Patrice assumed was their wedding day. Another shelf featured photos of twin girls with encased baby booties in the middle. She smiled at their big afro puffs and chocolate-covered faces while they enjoyed dessert at Disney World. Then, she spotted it. Perched on a stack of photo albums, a little boy decked in Spider-Man gear from head to toe stretched himself in the hero's signature squat. But those eyes were unmistakable. Little Terrence was clearly on a mission to save the world. Or his backyard, at the very least. 

In awe of how cute Terry looked as a kid playing make-believe, Patrice reached out to grab the frame for a closer look. That was him, alright. Terry still had the same toothy grin that crinkled his nose at the bridge and made his eyes close from the rise of his cheeks. Ears too big for his body stood out even more than they did ten years later. He may have been smaller in stature and much more upbeat than the brooding teenager in the other room, but after a year of friendship and a little secret pining, she could recognize him anywhere. 

Immersion disarmed Patrice's senses, giving Terry ample space and opportunity to sneak up on her. "That's funny?" His voice cut through the silence, making Patrice jump and turn to catch the sly smile on his face. "That was my fifth birthday. I can't remember why I didn't get a party, but I guess I still had fun that day." 

"It's cute," Patrice complimented. "I didn't know they made masks for little kids with adult-sized heads." 

Payback from her jab tasted perfectly sweet on her tongue, like her Nana's homemade apple pie. Patrice watched Terry roll his eyes and shake his head before pulling the glass photo frame from her hands and placing it back in its rightful spot. 

He pretended to laugh along before kissing his teeth. "Come get this sandwich before I change my mind, girl." 

Terry would never change his mind, no matter how hard he tried to pretend or fight back the smile revealing his top row of teeth. Patrice had a free license to pick with him, and, on occasion, he'd join in to further solidify their friendship. 

Lighthearted rounds of the dozens meandered into winding conversions dominated by Patrice's favorite secret chatterbox. He ran through team drama a mile a minute, only taking breaks to chew and ask her intentions for the remaining pretzels on her plate. She granted him permission to clean up her portion and his if it meant he'd keep talking. 

"So, you like orange?" His abrupt change in subject turned Patrice's passive listening into active confusion. He pointed at the scrunchie on her wrist to clarify. "The color, I mean. I noticed you wear it all the time. I was just wondering if it's your favorite." 

Patrice fiddled with the ponytail holder, looking for anything to keep her from making eye contact with Terry. Knowing she was being watched excited and terrified her with equal intensity. "Um, yeah. It is." 

"How come?" 

"I don't know, really. I think because of how the sky turns orange when the sun's going down in the summertime. That's always been pretty to me." Terry committed the information to memory with a quick head nod, letting awkward silence scream into Patrice's ear until she forced out a follow-up question. "What about you? What's your favorite color?" 

Terry thought for a moment. "Blue, mostly. But like Carolina blue. If you get too dark, it's like the Patriots, and I hate the Patriots." 

"Dang. Soooo, no tickets to see Tom Brady for our fun money, huh?" 

"Well, I ain't say all that!" 

Stomach-busting laughter derailed all thoughts of returning to the second half of their assignment. Instead, they chose to take a nose dive into each other's likes, dislikes, and anything in between. Terry had to know Patrice's birthday for…research purposes. 

She scribbled the date on his mother's wall calendar. "April 23rd, remember? Shakespeare's birthday!" 

Fitting. Terry stored the date away in the section of his brain reserved for important things like stats and Lil Wayne lyrics for good this time. 

"What's your favorite food?" 

"My maman's étoufée," Terry answered, whistling from the memory of last Thanksgiving. "I can't wait to go visit next month!" 

How Patrice wished to visit with him and experience even the smallest taste of the dish, brightening his smile more than she'd ever seen before. 

Back and forth they went while time morphed into more of an abstract concept than a rule governing the physical world. Terry's favorite film? Remember the Titans. An obvious answer for obvious reasons, but Patrice loved to hear his explanation anyway. Patrice's plans for her future career? A teacher, high school English more specifically. And, if she found the time, she'd get her PhD and teach other teachers how to teach one day. Her commitment to learning and school was admittedly odd to Terry, but still, he found her passion for it magnetic. 

In their own world, Patrice and Terry were free to be themselves in every imperfect way. Nothing was too nerdy or too weird to discuss. And, if it got close, they knew to keep each other's secrets. 

Gathering plates for cleanup, Terry rattled off his umpteenth question. "What's your middle name? Wait! Can I guess?" Patrice smiled and pushed for him to take his best shot. "You look like a Nicole." 

"No way! How'd you guess that?" 

"Every Black girl's middle name is Nicole. Or Marie. It was a 50/50 chance." 

"It was a 50/50 chance," Patrice mocked before kissing her teeth. "What's yours? Michael?" 

Terry smirked at her attempt to get him back. "Nope. It's James. Me and my dad have the same one." 

"I guess that's kinda cool." Curiosity turning the wheels in Patrice's head robbed her of seeing Terry trying to hide his smile and reddening ears from her view. "Do people ever call you TJ, or is it always Terrence or Terry?" 

Hardly anyone called him Terrence. His full first name was his mother's go-to when he was in trouble. In school, teachers faithfully called him what existed on the roll sheet. But, those closest to his heart knew him as Terry and nothing else. The divide between Terrence and Terry was his way of telling friends from foes. TJ, though, was new and interesting.

Thinking for a couple of seconds yielded no results. "Nah, I don't think so. You can have dibs if I give you one." 

Decisions decisions. Alternate names gifted by little boys never went well for Patrice. Four Eyes, Girl Urkel, and Stilts still haunted her well past elementary and middle school. The potential fallout from another botched nicknaming debacle wouldn't deter her from having something special between them.

"Fine," Patrice relented, grumbling enough to pull a laugh from Terry. "But nothing about my physical appearance. Or food-related. Or downright mean. Or Pat. I hate Pat." 

Her heavy southern twang exaggerated all of her demands, eliciting a laugh from Terry as he shook his head. "You know, usually, people don't get that much say in their nicknames. It's kinda the whole point." 

"Yeah, well, this ain't one of them time, so tread lightly." 

Terry lifted his hands in surrender, not wanting to squander his opportunity to deepen their connections. If rules existed around what he could and could not call her, so be it. "What about…P," he prosed after a few seconds. "Short and simple." 

"And unfortunately already taken by my mama. Try again." 

"Patty? Like LaBelle. Y'all both kinda mean but in a cool, old lady way." 

Patrice's annoyed eye roll sharply contrasted with Terry's impish grin. Payback was officially his again. 

"Terry, I swear! Be serious!" 

Relenting, he tossed out another option. "Okay, okay," he laughed. "For real this time. How does Treece sound? Just the second part of your name." Terry watched her mull over the idea, his smile growing when she offered no immediate rebuttal. He nudged her shoulder and smiled when she forced a sour expression. "Nah, you like it! Treece! Treecey! Big Treece!" 

Listening to Terry rattle off variations of her newly minted nickname, the sound from his lips sounding like her mother asking who wants a second helping of ice cream or Usher singing to her and her alone through her radio's speakers. 

"You know we sound like twins now, right? TJ and Treece?" 

"That's what we should name the kids." 

Missing context caused an invisible record to scratch, forcing Terry to quickly correct himself. Kids? They'd just reached good friend status. Patrice opened her mouth to question Terry, but he beat her to the punch with an explanation. 

He emphatically waved his hands in front of him, trying to sweep the misstep into the ether. "For the project! I meant kids for the project!" 

"Right!" The project. Duh. Patrice tried to recover cooly from what she was sure looked like utter panic with a dash of hopefulness on her face. "The kids from the project. Which –" 

"We should get back to. It's gettin' late. Unless you stayin' for crawfish tonight?" 

Dancing eyebrows and an irresistible grin slowly turned a firm no into a maybe before Patrice could stop her lips from moving. 

She sighed, giving in to the barely there push of peer pressure. "I'll call and ask my mom," she grumbled. "Is the phone in the living room, TJ?" 

"By the couch, Treece." 

Special names reserved for private use added another layer to a friendship blossoming by the day. Terry stood in the kitchen for a second longer to try out Patrice's new moniker alone, flexing different inflections and how it sounded next to his. Treece and Terry. Terry and Treece. Treece Ellis. Treece Richmond.

The last one earned a few repeats until Patrice's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

"No luck on crawfish, TJ! I've got to leave to babysit my brother tonight!" she hollered from the other room. “Come on so we can finish! We gotta get one of these kids on paper and budget for their Spider-Man birthday party!" 

Terry chuckled and shook his head. She'd never let him live that down. "Alright. I'm coming. You're a real demanding wife, you know that?" he shouted back with a smile.

Treece Richmond. He could get used to that one.

—————-

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[reidmarieprentiss]

Dare Ya

Summary: Spencer and Penelope are roommates, you get a dare during girls night that changes your relationship with Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, mild crime description, sneaking into beds

Word count: 3.6k

a/n: this is so silly & cute ,, i saw someone say they love penelope and spencer being best friends and i can't disagree hehe

main masterlist

After surviving a terrifying attack outside her apartment, Penelope Garcia can’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that now shadows her every step. Seeking solace, she reluctantly accepts Spencer Reid's offer to move in with him, hoping his quiet, protective presence will help her regain a sense of safety. 

—

Penelope was sprawled out on the couch, her colorful blanket draped over her as she scrolled through the latest memes on her tablet. Spencer walked in, holding two mugs of steaming tea, carefully balancing them as he made his way to the coffee table.

"Okay, Penelope, I’ve got your chamomile, extra honey, just the way you like it," Spencer announced with a proud smile, handing her the mug.

Penelope’s eyes lit up as she accepted the tea. "Spencer, you’re an absolute gem! What would I do without you?"

Spencer sat down beside her, taking a sip of his own tea before replying, "Probably starve, considering your idea of dinner is three packets of Pop Rocks and a diet soda."

Penelope gasped dramatically, clutching her heart. "I’ll have you know that’s gourmet snacking in some cultures!"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Well, in this apartment, it’s all about balanced meals and—"

"—and daily doses of nerdy lectures from my favorite genius!" Penelope finished his sentence, her grin widening.

"Exactly," Spencer agreed with a chuckle. "Besides, you’re the only person who appreciates my random facts at 2 AM."

Penelope nudged him playfully with her elbow. "Of course! And who else is going to let me blast show tunes at full volume while I reorganize your books by color?"

Spencer’s eyes widened in mock horror. "Wait, you wouldn’t dare…"

Penelope leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, sweetie, it’s already done."

He stared at her for a moment, then sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch. "You’re lucky you’re cute."

"And you’re lucky I love you," Penelope shot back, lifting her mug in a toast.

Spencer clinked his mug against hers. "Best roommates ever."

"Forever and always," Penelope agreed, smiling warmly at him.

—

“Reid, don’t forget I’m having the girls over tonight,” Penelope reminded him as she flitted around the kitchen, her excitement palpable.

“Girls' night, I know,” Spencer replied with a small smile, glancing over at the calendar on the wall where Penelope had circled the date in bright pink marker. “You wrote it on the calendar.”

Penelope paused, turning to face him with a hopeful look. “Are you going to join us this time? It’s going to be fun! We’re talking snacks, gossip, and maybe even some scandalous games…”

Spencer chuckled, already making his way toward his room with a book tucked under his arm. “I’ll pass, thank you,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. 

Penelope pouted playfully, but she couldn’t hide her grin. “One day, Dr. Reid, you’ll see the light and join us!”

“Maybe,” Spencer called back with a laugh, already imagining the lively scene that would soon fill the apartment. For now, though, he was content to let the girls enjoy their night.

Penelope Garcia loves hosting her infamous girls' nights with the BAU ladies, filling her and Reid's apartment with laughter, drinks, and the latest gossip. Spencer, ever the accommodating roommate, doesn’t mind the occasional takeover—he’s more than happy to retreat to his books. What he didn’t anticipate, though, is you always showing up in your cozy pajamas, looking irresistibly adorable and sending his heart into a tailspin. As the nights unfold with playful games and shared secrets, Spencer finds himself leaving his room more and more often, struggling to keep his cool amidst the lively chaos.

—

The apartment is buzzing with energy as you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope sit in a cozy circle on the living room floor, surrounded by empty wine bottles, snack wrappers, and the remnants of your laughter-filled evening. The air is thick with friendship, and after a few rounds of lighthearted gossip, the group decides to spice things up with a classic game of truth or dare.

Penelope leans forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Okay, truth or dare?” she asks, her voice full of playful challenge.

Feeling the warmth of the wine and the comfort of your friends, you giggle. “Dare, obviously,” you say confidently, knowing full well that Penelope won’t go easy on you.

The girls exchange conspiratorial glances, their eyes practically twinkling with mischief. Emily is the first to speak up, grinning as she leans closer. “We dare you to… climb into Spencer’s bed while he’s sleeping.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, your cheeks flushing at the thought. “Wait, what?!” you whisper, a mixture of shock and excitement bubbling up inside you. The mere idea of being that close to him, even in such a silly, innocent context, makes your heart race.

JJ nods enthusiastically, her smile widening. “Come on! You’ve been crushing on him forever. It’s the perfect opportunity to get a little closer,” she teases, nudging your shoulder playfully.

Penelope claps her hands together, her excitement barely contained. “Think of it as a harmless prank! He’ll never know, and it’ll be our little secret,” she adds with a wink.

You bite your lip, your mind racing. The thought of sneaking into Spencer’s room, tiptoeing over to his bed, and slipping under the covers while he sleeps soundly is both terrifying and thrilling. But the encouraging looks from your friends, coupled with the wine-induced confidence, push you to make a decision.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it,” you finally agree, your voice a little shaky but determined. The girls let out a collective squeal of delight, stifling their laughter as they quickly urge you toward Spencer’s bedroom.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you carefully open the door to his room, the soft creak of the hinges sounding far too loud in the quiet of the night. Spencer is fast asleep, his face peaceful in the dim light filtering through the curtains. His glasses are on the nightstand, and a book lies open beside him, his fingers still loosely resting on the pages.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you slowly approach the bed, your steps light and cautious. You glance back at the doorway, where the girls are peeking in, holding their breaths in anticipation. Gathering every ounce of courage, you carefully lift the blanket and slide into the bed beside Spencer, your movements as gentle as possible.

As you carefully slide under the covers beside Spencer, you’re acutely aware of every sound, every movement, your heart hammering in your chest. You had been fully prepared to stay for only a few seconds before making your escape, but the moment you settle in, something unexpected happens—Spencer, in his sleep, rolls over and instinctively drapes an arm around you.

You freeze, eyes wide in shock, as you feel his warmth envelop you. His face nuzzles into your shoulder, his breath soft and steady against your neck. Your initial reaction is to panic, to jump out of the bed before things get any more complicated, but the sensation of his embrace is so comforting, so natural, that you can’t bring yourself to move.

Instead, you find yourself relaxing into him, letting out a breath. Spencer’s grip tightens slightly as if seeking out your warmth in his sleep, and your heart melts at the sweet, innocent way he snuggles closer.

From the doorway, the girls are watching with wide eyes, trying desperately to suppress their giggles. Penelope claps a hand over her mouth, stifling a squeal of excitement, while Emily and JJ exchange looks of pure amusement, both of them barely containing their laughter.

You turn your head slightly, giving them a pleading look to stay quiet, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. There’s something about the way Spencer holds you, even in his unconscious state, that makes you feel safe, cherished, and you can’t bring yourself to disrupt the moment.

As the minutes tick by, the warmth of Spencer’s embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing begin to lull you into a state of calm. You know you should slip out, return to the girls, and let them finish their game, but instead, you find yourself growing drowsy, the fatigue of the night catching up with you.

Before you know it, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift off to sleep, nestled comfortably in Spencer’s arms.

Back in the living room, the girls exchange glances, their excitement bubbling over. Penelope, always the ringleader, whispers with a grin, "Looks like she’s spending the night there. Mission accomplished, ladies."

Emily chuckles softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "She’s really going for it, huh?"

JJ giggles, still trying to keep her voice low. "I think we just made Spencer’s dreams come true—literally!"

The girls continue to snicker and whisper amongst themselves, marveling at how perfectly the dare has played out. They decide to let you enjoy your impromptu cuddle session, knowing that this is one girls’ night that will go down in history.

—

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, gently stirring you awake. For a moment, you were wrapped in the cozy haze of sleep, feeling an unfamiliar warmth around you. As your eyes blinked open, reality came rushing back, and your heart dropped into your stomach—Spencer was still there, his arm draped across you, his face just inches from yours.

Panic set in as you realized exactly where you were and what had happened last night. Before you could gather your thoughts, Spencer stirred beside you, his brow furrowing in confusion as he slowly woke up. His eyes fluttered open, and the moment he saw you lying there, his expression shifted from sleepy contentment to utter shock.

“Wha—what’s going on?!” Spencer exclaimed, his voice a mix of confusion and panic as he scrambled back, pulling the blanket up as if it could somehow explain the situation.

You bolted upright, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Spencer, I—I can explain!” you stammered, trying desperately to find the right words. But the sight of his wide, bewildered eyes only made your heart race faster.

“Why were you…? How did you…?” Spencer was clearly struggling to make sense of it all, his mind racing as he tried to connect the dots.

You cringed, feeling mortified beyond belief. “It was just… it was a dare,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Penelope, Emily, and JJ—they dared me to sneak into your bed while you were sleeping. I swear, it was just a silly prank. I didn’t mean to—” You broke off, feeling the heat of humiliation crawl up your neck.

Spencer’s eyes widened even more, if that were possible. “A dare? You climbed into my bed because of a dare?” He sounded incredulous, his voice cracking slightly.

You nodded, biting your lip and wishing the ground would just swallow you whole. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I didn’t think—I didn’t realize you’d… snuggle up to me like that.” Your voice trailed off, the words sounding as ridiculous out loud as they did in your head.

Spencer’s face turned a shade of red you didn’t think was possible, his mind clearly reeling as he processed what you had just told him. “I—I didn’t know. I must have been dreaming or something. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know you were there!” He was stumbling over his words, just as flustered as you were.

The awkwardness in the room was suffocating, and you could feel your heart pounding in your ears. The last thing you wanted was for Spencer to think you were some kind of creep. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, but no coherent words formed. The embarrassment was too overwhelming.

“I should go,” you finally managed to squeak out, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you scrambled out of the bed, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste. You bolted for the door, your face burning with shame.

Spencer started to say something, but you didn’t stop to listen. You couldn’t—every fiber of your being was screaming at you to get out of there as fast as possible. You could hear the girls' giggles in the living room as you rushed past them, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t bear to face them, not after what had just happened.

The moment you were out of the apartment, you leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath, your heart still pounding. You had never been so embarrassed in your life. The whole thing had backfired spectacularly, and now you had no idea how you were ever going to face Spencer again.

Inside the apartment, Spencer was left sitting on the bed, staring at the door where you had just fled. His mind was still trying to process everything that had just happened, his cheeks still burning. He had never been so confused, or so flustered, in his entire life.

—

After the chaotic morning had settled down and the girls had finally left, the apartment grew quiet. Spencer was still in a bit of a daze from the unexpected events that had unfolded earlier. He moved around the kitchen mechanically, setting up breakfast while his thoughts churned. 

“So, boy wonder,” Penelope began, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table as Spencer placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her. “Care to share what’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

Spencer sighed, sitting down across from her with his own plate, though he wasn’t sure he had much of an appetite. “I’m just… confused, I guess,” he admitted, poking at his eggs with his fork. “About everything that happened this morning.”

Penelope nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, it was definitely one for the books,” she agreed. “But I think there’s more to it than just a silly dare, isn’t there?”

Spencer hesitated, his brow furrowing as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t know. It’s just—when I woke up and saw her there, I was… shocked, obviously. But then, after she explained, I just couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have her there, so close. And now, I feel like I completely scared her off.”

Penelope’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “Spencer, I think you’re missing the bigger picture here,” she said gently. “Do you like her?”

Spencer looked up at Penelope, a bit startled by the direct question. His cheeks flushed slightly as he considered it. “I mean, yeah, I do,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “She’s smart, funny, and… she makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. But I never thought she’d be interested in me like that.”

Penelope’s smile widened, her heart warming at the sight of her friend finally acknowledging his feelings. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Doctor,” she said with a playful wink. “The reason we dared her to climb into your bed wasn’t just for fun. It was because we’ve all noticed how she looks at you, how she gets all flustered when you’re around. She’s been crushing on you hard, Spencer. We thought a little nudge might help her break the ice.”

Spencer blinked, the revelation sinking in. “She… she likes me?” he asked, surprise and hope flickering in his eyes.

Penelope nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, she’s got it bad for you,” she confirmed. “But she’s also shy and probably feels like she’s not on your level. That’s why she freaked out this morning—she’s likely mortified because she thinks she messed everything up.”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, processing Penelope’s words. It was almost too much to take in at once, but the more he thought about it, the more everything made sense. The way you always seemed a little nervous around him, the way you’d light up when he shared random facts or when you’d bump into each other in the hallway. And now, the fact that you’d been daring enough to go along with something as bold as sneaking into his bed—it all pointed to one thing: you had feelings for him, just as he had for you.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” Spencer said softly, a small smile beginning to form on his lips. “But now that I know… what do I do?”

Penelope reached across the table, placing a hand on his arm. “You talk to her, Spencer. You let her know how you feel, that you’re not upset about what happened. She’s probably freaking out right now, thinking she ruined everything. But you can turn this around, make it something good.”

Spencer nodded, feeling a sense of determination growing within him. “You’re right,” he said, his voice gaining confidence. “I need to talk to her. I don’t want her to think I’m upset or that she did something wrong.”

Penelope beamed at him, giving his arm a supportive squeeze. “That’s the spirit! You’ve got this, Spencer. Just be your sweet, nerdy self, and everything will fall into place.”

—

Monday morning rolled around, and the usual bustle of the BAU was in full swing. The team was busy reviewing files, catching up on paperwork, and getting ready for whatever case might come their way. But Spencer Reid had something else on his mind—something far more nerve-wracking than profiling criminals.

With a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a small, carefully wrapped box from your favorite bakery in the other, Spencer made his way to your desk. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anticipation and anxiety as he approached. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over, but now that the moment was here, his nerves threatened to get the better of him.

You were focused on your work, completely unaware of the flurry of emotions heading your way. But when you sensed someone standing in front of your desk, you looked up, and your breath caught in your throat.

Spencer stood there, looking slightly nervous but determined, holding out the bouquet of flowers—a beautiful blend of your favorite blooms, carefully chosen with Penelope’s help. Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart skipping a beat.

“Hi,” Spencer said softly, his voice a little shaky but warm. “I, um… I got these for you.”

You stared at the flowers, then at Spencer, your mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. “Spencer… what’s all this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I wanted to apologize for how things went on Saturday. I know it was a little… unconventional, but after thinking about it, I realized I shouldn’t have let you leave feeling so embarrassed.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, both touched and confused. “You don’t have to apologize, Spencer. I was the one who—”

He gently cut you off, holding up the box from the bakery. “And I also got you this. I know it’s your favorite,” he added, offering the box with a small, hopeful smile.

You hesitated for a moment before accepting the box, your fingers brushing against his as you did. The gesture made your heart flutter. “Thank you,” you said softly, feeling a mixture of emotions welling up inside you.

Spencer shifted slightly, looking down at the flowers before meeting your eyes again. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what Penelope said, about how sometimes we all need a little push to see what’s right in front of us.” His gaze was earnest, his voice steady as he continued. “And I’ve realized that I don’t want to miss out on what could be something really great.”

Your breath caught as his words sank in, your heart beating faster as hope began to bloom within you.

“So,” Spencer continued, a small but sincere smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime. Maybe we can start over, without the dares, and just… see where things go?”

You felt your cheeks warm as you looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity there. The embarrassment from the weekend melted away, replaced by a growing sense of excitement. You glanced at the flowers and the pastry, your favorite treats carefully chosen just for you, and felt a smile spread across your face.

“I’d love that, Spencer,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

Spencer’s smile widened, relief and happiness evident on his face. “Really?”

“Really,” you assured him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. “And thank you for the flowers—and the pastry. You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Spencer said softly. “You’re worth it.”

Your smile grew even brighter, and you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at his words. “Well, in that case, I guess I’m going to have to say yes.”

Spencer’s face lit up with joy and relief, and he let out a breath he was holding. “Great,” he said, his voice full of quiet excitement. “How about dinner tonight?”

“That sounds perfect,” you replied, feeling like the luckiest person in the world.

As Spencer walked away to return to his desk, a spring in his step, you couldn’t help but glance down at the flowers and the pastry. The weekend’s awkwardness seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the sweet possibility of something new and delicious.

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[u6is]

wish you were here right now

summary: at a lively yacht party celebrating his team's league win, Kylian ignores the chaos around him, staying on his phone with you—and the conversation quickly takes a steamy turn.

—kylian mbappé x reader: smut (PWP)

"The team are having this yacht trip to celebrate our win." Kylian said, his voice crackling over the phone line, "Would you like to join me?"

But you couldn’t. You had already promised your mom that you’d go on the family trip that had been planned beforehand.

"I'm sorry," you replied, trying to mask the disappointment, "I wish I could be there with you."

The line was silent for a moment before Kylian spoke up, his voice a mix of understanding and a hint of sadness, "It's alright, babe. I get it. You can't miss out on family time. I'll just have to party extra hard for the both of us." He laughed, attempting to lighten the mood.

You knew his teammates—or as he calls them, his "friends"—were probably lining up a night full of partying with female escorts in tow. Still, you trusted your boyfriend wholeheartedly. “Have fun, okay? Congrats again on the win. I’ll see you in a few days,” you said softly over the phone.

The family trip was nice. The sunsets were beautiful, and your mom’s cooking was always a delight.

But Kylian’s texts kept coming in. He sent pictures of the vast ocean and the lavish yacht. He talked about the fancy dinners and the wild parties, he said it wasn’t the same without you.

“Fireworks are set for tonight,” Kylian texted, attaching a shirtless photo of himself, clearly meant to tease you.

You couldn’t help but smile, imagining his playful grin and the way his eyes would light up when he knew he’d won you over.

You quickly typed back, “Sounds exciting.” But as you stared at the photo, you couldn't shake the feeling that Kylian was teasing you on purpose, his abs almost taunting you from the distance between you two.

The thought of him surrounded by those gorgeous women didn’t sit well with you, but you had promised yourself not to be that girlfriend.

“Send me a selfie?” Kylian texted, interrupting your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and stepped outside the balcony of your private hotel room, the cool sea breeze kissing your skin. You quickly snapped a selfie, standing in the sunlight. Your sundress, the one that hugged your body perfectly, flowed gently with the breeze, accentuating your curves. With a playful grin, you tilted your head just enough to catch the light, sending the photo with a casual, natural air, teasing him without even trying.

Kylian’s reply was quick, and you could almost hear the smirk in his words:

"Tu es la plus belle femme que j’aie jamais vue." (You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.)

"That dress is doing more than just looking good on you." His tone was cocky, playful, and definitely hinted at more than just teasing.

You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. It was all fun and games until his next message popped up: "I would take that dress off you in the blink of an eye."

As the night went on, the party was in full swing, with his teammates living it up and the escorts they brought along.

Achraf, one of Kylian's best friends and teammates, noticed Kylian hadn’t put his phone down all night. Standing up from the couch with a girl by his side, he walked over to where Kylian was still smiling at his screen.

Achraf gently grabbed Kylian’s phone, and Kylian looked up with a raised eyebrow. "What's up, Hakimi?"

"You’ve been on that thing all night," Achraf said, laughing. "You’re missing all the fun."

"I’m having fun," Kylian replied, still smiling.

"Yeah, fun with your phone," Achraf teased, tossing the phone back to Kylian. "I’ll grab you a drink, but seriously, put the phone down. You’re no fun to the girls."

Kylian just smirked, getting up and following Achraf. As they walked, he quickly typed out a message to you: "I’ll talk to you later, babe."

Kylian wasn’t really a big drinker, but tonight he’d indulge for the celebration. Still, his mind kept drifting back to you in that sundress. He’d saved the photo and found himself glancing at it over and over. There was something about the way you looked in that dress that had his thoughts spinning, intoxicated, not by the alcohol in his hand, but by the image of you.

A few minutes later, with the alcohol starting to take its effect, Kylian found himself reaching for his phone once more. His fingers typed out a message before he could stop himself.

"Can’t stop thinking about you in that dress," he texted, his words slow and a bit more daring than usual.

He stared at the screen for a moment, then added, "Maybe I should come see you sooner than planned."

"You haven’t seen me in my bikinis yet," you replied, adding a pleading face emoji, hoping to make it seem like an innocent tease.

As you hit send, a rush of excitement coursed through you. There was something thrilling about flirting with him like this, especially knowing that despite the many people on the yacht, including all the stunning women around, his attention was completely fixed on you.

Kylian’s reply was teasing and direct: "You’re driving me wild just thinking about it. Don't make me wait."

With a nervous giggle, you stepped into the bathroom, the cool marble floor beneath your feet. You untied the strings of your sundress, letting it drop to the floor. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your heart racing. The bikini was new, a surprise you had packed for when you’d finally get some time alone on the beach. The neon blue of the top contrasted with your tanned skin, and the bottoms hugged your hips perfectly.

You took a deep breath and held your phone up, angling it just right to capture the reflection in the mirror. The camera clicked, and you studied the image for a moment. You looked amazing. You bit your lip, feeling a mix of excitement and naughtiness.

Achraf was talking to him when Kylian’s phone buzzed with a notification. He smirked as he looked at the screen, feeling a surge of heat rush through him. The picture you sent him had definitely stirred something inside, an arousing thrill coursing through him.

Achraf glanced at Kylian, who was smirking with his head down, absorbed in his phone. "You're no fun, Kyks," his teammate remarked, but Kylian didn't hear him, lost in his own thoughts.

He glanced at the picture again, his eyes lingering on your reflection in the mirror. The neon blue bikini was a bold choice and it had definitely paid off. The way the bottoms hugged your hips, it was a sight that made his heart race.

You watched the screen, your heart pounding in your chest, as you waited for Kylian's response. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a thrill of excitement that made your skin tingle. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity.

Then, his message appeared. "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now." It was raw, unfiltered, and incredibly arousing. The words sent a jolt through your body, and you felt your cheeks flush. You couldn't believe he'd said something so explicit, but the desire in his message was undeniable.

You took a step closer to the mirror, the cool air of the cabin brushing against your skin. Your eyes traced the curves captured by the bikini, and you felt your body respond to his words, a warm ache building between your legs.

Kylian's gaze was glued to his phone, his heart racing as he stared at the picture. His shorts began to tent as an erection grew, the fabric straining against his hardened cock. He shifted uncomfortably, the pressure increasing with each passing moment.

Amidst the laughter and chatter of his teammates, he couldn't ignore the ache in his pants. It was like a silent symphony playing only for him, a sweet torture that grew with every glance at your bikini-clad reflection.

Kylian excused himself, "I'll catch up with you later, mec," he says, struggling to keep his voice steady, thick with longing, and retreated to the cabin he had booked for privacy. The door clicked shut behind him, muffling the outside world.

He looked down at the bulge, a silent testament to his desire, and groaned. The shorts felt like a prison around his throbbing cock.

His phone chimed once more, a message from you lighting up the screen. "Your turn," you texted. "I want to see you."

Kylian didn’t waste a second. He sat on the edge of the plush bed in his cabin, the soft white sheets a stark contrast to his tanned skin. He looked down at the bulge in his shorts, his pulse quickening. With a devilish smirk, he unbuttoned his shorts, letting them fall to his knees, his cock springing free.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. It was thick and hard, standing proudly against his abs. The tip was flushed a darker shade of pink, begging for attention. Kylian’s hand wrapped around it, stroking it gently. He took a deep breath, feeling the headiness of his desire for you.

With a grin, he held the phone in one hand and began to stroke himself with the other. The camera captured every inch of him, the way his hand moved up and down his shaft, the way his abs tightened with each stroke. He knew you'd love watching him, the same way he craved seeing you in your bikini.

The room grew hazy with his building arousal, the scent of saltwater and cologne filling his nostrils. The sound of the waves outside was a gentle serenade to his own escalating rhythm, the stroke of his hand against his skin echoing in the quiet cabin.

He sent the video, his heart pounding as he awaited your response.

It took you a moment to process the video. Kylian, your sweet, loving boyfriend, was masturbating for you. The sight of him, so raw and vulnerable, made your core throb with desire. You watched him stroke his cock and you realized you had never wanted him more.

Your hands shake as you place your phone on the counter, pressing the record button. Your eyes remained glued to the screen as you reached behind and untied the strings of your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts bounced freely, the cool air of the room teasing your already hardened nipples.

You stepped closer to the phone, your heart racing as you slid your hand down the front of your bikini bottoms. You felt the wetness of your desire, and a soft moan slipped from your lips as your fingers grazed your clit.

As his phone chimed once more, Kylian watched the video you had sent in response. His eyes locked onto your every move. The sound of your breathing grew heavier, the sight of your hand disappearing beneath the fabric of your bikini driving him wild. He stroked his cock faster, his thumb swiping over the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip.

He couldn't help himself—his need to hear your voice was too strong. With one hand still wrapped around his shaft, he called you with the other. He facetimed you amidst the noise of the party, his teammates cheering and music blasting in the background. The line connected, and your face appeared on his screen, illuminated softly by the warm glow of your bathroom. "I'm so fucking hard for you right now," he growled into the phone.

Your breath hitched when you heard the raw desire in Kylian's voice. The sound of the waves outside the cabin grew distant as you focused on the sensation of your fingers playing with your clit, tracing delicate circles as you watched him stroke himself in the camera. "Oh, baby," you moaned, "me too."

"Take those bottoms off," Kylian ordered, his voice thick with lust. "I want to see all of you."

Your hands trembled as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your bikini bottoms. You pulled them down slowly, your pussy exposed to the cool air. Your phone was propped up on the sink, the camera clearly capturing you as you stood right in front of it. Kylian's eyes were glued to the screen, his breaths coming in quick, shallow pants.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he murmured, his hand moving faster on his cock.

The sound of his voice, the sight of him stroking himself, it all sent you spiraling into a frenzy. You stepped closer to the sink, spreading your legs apart for the camera, giving Kylian the full view of your aroused pussy.

"Oh, baby," Kylian murmured, his voice thick with lust, "you're so fucking wet for me." His hand moved faster, the slick sound of his hand against his cock echoing in your ear.

From your perspective, everything is cloaked in darkness, as if he's in a private space, alone with his desire. The only sounds are his groans and the strokes of his hand on his cock. You feel entirely exposed for him, and it gives you the confidence you need.

You could feel yourself getting wetter just hearing him. You slid two fingers inside yourself, the sensation making your toes curl. "Kylian," you gasped, your voice a needy whisper, "I want you so bad."

"Fuck, me too, baby," he groaned, the sound of his hand moving up and down his cock a sweet symphony to your ears. "I wish I could be there to taste you."

Eventually, you notice it, Kylian’s eyes were hooded with desire as he watched you touch yourself. He took a deep, shaky breath, then spoke in a commanding tone that sent shivers down your spine. "Add another finger inside of you, baby."

Your body responding to his voice. The feel of your three fingers sliding in and out of your wetness was heavenly. "Just like that," Kylian instructed, his breathing becoming more ragged. "Imagine it's my cock, pumping deep inside of you, making you moan like you do when we're together."

You closed your eyes, the image of Kylian fucking you playing in your mind like a steamy home-made video. The sounds you made were pure, raw desire, echoing like a melody of forbidden passion.

"Turn around for me baby," Kylian's voice was a command, yet it held an undertone of longing, the kind that made your knees weak and your pussy clench with anticipation. You obeyed, feeling a thrill at the thought of him watching you so intimately despite the miles between you. You turned around, the soft curve of your ass on full display.

Your free hand reached out to the wall for balance as you began to finger yourself, the other hand buried deep inside your pussy. The sensation was exquisite, a delicious mix of pleasure and vulnerability that had you gasping for air.

You arched your back. The sensation was surprisingly erotic, and you couldn’t help but tip your hips back, pushing your ass towards the camera.

"That's it," Kylian's voice was strained, his need for you palpable through the phone. "Now, touch your clit. Slowly."

You shifted your other hand from the wall to your clit. You took a shaky breath, your heart racing at his command. Your fingertips grazing the swollen bud of your clit. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, feeling your arousal spike.

He watched as your other delicate fingers move in and out, his gaze intense as he tried to mimic your motions with his own hands, imagining it was his cock instead

Kylian watched, his breath hitching as he stroked his cock in time with your movements. "Fuck, baby, your ass looks so good," he murmured, his eyes never leaving the screen. "I can't wait to fuck you again."

Your ass and legs began to tremble, the tension in your body building with every stroke. You could feel your orgasm approaching, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to crash over you. "Kylian," you gasped, your voice trembling as much as your body, "I'm going to cum."

His groans grew louder, his strokes faster, "Do it, baby. Cum for me."

With trembling legs, you began to slap your pussy, trying to hold back the impending orgasm. Your other hand clamped over your mouth, desperately trying to muffle the sounds escaping you, your body trembling with unrestrained pleasure.

The stinging sensation mixed with the pleasure of your fingering was overwhelming. Each slap echoed through the quiet room, a rhythmic punctuation to Kylian's strokes and your gasps.

You slid a finger again, feeling your cum ooze. The sight was so erotic, so raw, that you couldn't help but look at the camera behind you, a tired smile playing on your lips. You knew Kylian was watching, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh, and the thought made you hotter.

"Putain bébé, t'es tellement sexy," (Fuck baby, you're so sexy)

Kylian's voice was a hoarse whisper, the sound of his hand still working his cock in the background.

His hand move faster, his strokes becoming more erratic. The tension in his body was palpable, his muscles tightening with every second that passed. And then, with a loud groan, he came.

Kylian's cum shot out in thick ropes, splattering against his abs and stomach. The sight was mesmerizing, a beautiful mess of white and your desire. He painted himself with his release, his hand moving in slow, lazy circles, smearing it across his skin.

"Oh, fuck," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours, "That was incredible."

You watched him through the phone screen, panting and flushed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. You couldn't believe what had just happened—how you'd both given into the moment, separated by miles of ocean yet feeling closer than ever.

He took a picture, capturing his cum-covered abs and his still-hard cock. He sent it to you without a word, and you stared at the image, a strange mix of satisfaction and longing filling you. The stark white of his cum against his tanned skin was a powerful visual, a testament to the intensity of his desire for you.

With your own arousal still pulsing through you, you pulled your bikini bottoms back up, feeling the sticky wetness of your cum against your skin. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of naughtiness as you adjusted the panties. They felt like a secret, a deliciously dirty little part of you that Kylian had unlocked from afar.

"I want to fuck you, baby," Kylian's voice was a low rumble, the sound of his need resonating through your body. You could feel your pussy clench at the words, the desire for him to fill you up so intense it was almost painful.

"I want that too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "So much."

The line went quiet again, the only sound the distant laughter from outside the cabin and the steady beat of your own heart. You felt a sense of longing, a deep ache that no amount of self-pleasure could ever truly fill.

"I miss you," Kylian finally said, his voice softer now, the passionate haze of his orgasm giving way to a tender vulnerability.

You grabbed your sundress from the floor and slipped it on, your legs still trembling from what had just happened.

You felt your own heart swell at his words, the distance between you suddenly feeling like a tangible void that needed to be filled. "Me too," you murmured, leaning against the sink, the coolness of the marble a stark contrast to the heat of your skin.

Kylian took a deep, shaky breath, then stood up from the bed. He reached for a towel, wiping the last remnants of his pleasure from his stomach and cock. His erection began to subside, the need momentarily sated by the intense orgasm he'd just had. He pulled his shorts back on, his cock still half-hard, the fabric clinging to his skin like a second layer.

As he buttoned them up, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness that it wasn't your hand touching him.

"I'll be home soon," Kylian promised, his voice still thick with lust. "And when I do, I'm going to fuck you like it's the last time we'll ever be together."

The words hung in the air, heavy with desire and promise. You felt a shiver run down your spine, a thrill that was both terrifying and incredibly exciting. "I'll be waiting," you murmured, your voice a mere whisper of a promise.

Exhaustion enveloped your body as you whispered that you’d call him by morning, and with shared "I love yous," the call ended.

Kylian remained in a euphoric haze, as he stepped out of his cabin, he tried to mask the storm within. But his mind raced with the memory of your sounds, your body.

He found Achraf and walked over to him.

"There you are, the best player in the world," his teammate joked, his voice thick with drunken cheer as he raised his cup in a toast.

That night, Kylian felt like a God, basking in the praise of his teammates. Yet, his thoughts were consumed by the longing to return to you, to worship you—his Goddess.

note: ngl, that leaked convo from when he was still at Monaco..man’s a freak 😭 this fic gives off “I’m doing it, are you?” meme LMAOOO bye 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

[squiddyfics]

get gone

namgyu x f!reader

description: namgyu’s long hours spent at the club, wasting his life away, have gotten to you. you finally decide to leave him, but it doesn’t hurt to say goodbye first.

18+ minors dni

warnings: nsfw, angst, drugs mentioned, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation

a/n: happy valentine's day hehe

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

He broke his promise.

Namgyu's shift at the club always ends at two in the morning, but he's never home when he's supposed to be. Whenever he does finally return, his eyes are bloodshot and his mood is sour.

You couldn't stand by and watch him ruin his life, destroying his physical and mental health each weekend as he delves into a world of illicit substances and people who don't give a fuck about whether he lives or dies.

That's why you made him swear to stop staying at the club past his shift. You respect that he has a job to do, but beyond that, there's no reason for him to stay out and slowly kill himself.

Last week, he actually stuck to his word, which was a pleasant surprise. It made you hopeful that he was finally turning things around, for once prioritizing his life with you over cheap thrills.

But now it's three a.m., and he's nowhere to be seen. You run your hands over your face, attempting to stay awake. You won't be set at ease until you see him walk through the door. Each night he doesn't come home on time is a night you spend worrying that he's finally succumbed to the consequences of his actions, leaving you alone in the world.

He never texts you back on these nights, either. You open your phone and click on your text thread with him, fruitlessly hoping that things might be different tonight. Of course not; your messages remain unanswered.

You can't keep doing this anymore, can't keep caring about a man who doesn't care about himself. Up until now, you've stuck by his side, scared that if you left him he'd spiral even further. Enough is enough, though. You have a life to live, and without spending so much of your time stressing about Namgyu's well-being, you'd be much freer.

These are your last thoughts before you pass out on the couch, unable to force yourself to stay awake any longer.

The sound of keys in the door wakes you back up. When you open your eyes, it's lighter in the apartment; the sun is beginning to rise. You check the time on your phone.

6:09.

Namgyu opens the door and looks surprised to see you in the living room. You meet his eyes with a glare.

"Thanks for finally gracing me with your presence," you snap.

"Chill," he says, and the word sends a surge of anger coursing through you. "I just spent a few extra hours networking."

"Networking?" you scoff. "Is that what you call getting fucked up and partying with junkies?"

"I made hella tips," he says. "This group of super-rich dudes said they'd keep giving me money as long as I could convince the bottle-service girl to sit with them."

"Oh, okay, so now you're pimping out your coworkers. That makes me feel so much better."

He throws his keys down on the table much harder than necessary. "Are you seriously mad that I'm making money? Would you rather we get fucking evicted?"

"I'm mad that you broke my trust!" you shout back. "You were supposed to leave at two, Namgyu. You promised."

He kicks off his shoes and storms toward you. "You think I want to be out for twelve hours straight? I'm doing this for us. I would've thought you'd be grateful, but I guess that's expecting too much of you."

"Oh, fuck you." You laugh, but there's no humor behind it. "Don't try to spin this as if doing lines in the club bathroom is somehow for my sake."

"I'm playing the game," he says. "This is the world I work in; this is what you signed up for when you started dating me."

"Well, I'm done now. I'm done."

He pulls the sleeves of his slightly oversized dress shirt over his hands. Normally you'd find this cute, but right now it's just pissing you off.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm telling you I can't do this anymore," you say. "This isn't how I want to live."

"You don't mean that." He shakes his head. "You haven't slept. Let's go to bed and talk about this in the morning."

"Motherfucker, it is the morning," you spit, gesturing to the sunrise outside your window. "And I mean every word of what I'm saying to you right now. I can't stay with you; not when this is the path you're choosing for yourself."

Suddenly Namgyu's apathetic expression morphs into one of concern, and he's on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands. "No, baby. You don't need to leave. This was the last time, I swear."

"You swore the same thing the other week, but that didn't seem to mean much to you."

"It's different this time," he says, rubbing his thumbs over your hands as if that will fix anything. "I understand now. I know you don't really want to go, so let's just talk this through, yeah?"

"You didn't even have the decency to send me a text." Your voice is smaller now. "I can't spend my nights wondering if you'll make it home in one piece. It's killing me."

"I'll change."

"It's too late," you say. "I've made up my mind."

Still kneeling in front of you, Namgyu hugs your waist, pressing his cheek against your stomach. "You can't leave me. You can't."

God, he's so fucking pathetic.

“Get off of me,” you say, but he only squeezes you tighter.

“You’re not leaving. You’re not leaving.” He says it like a prayer.

“Get the fuck up,” you tell him. “This is just sad.”

He does get up, but instead of walking away, he leans over you, pressing a desperate kiss to your lips. Despite how angry you are, you kiss him back.

He puts his hands on your waist and pulls you up so you're standing too. Your own hands find his face, fingers tracing over the features you've come to know so well, the features you'll be saying goodbye to.

As he guides you to the bedroom, still kissing you, you break apart just enough to say, "This doesn't change anything."

Namgyu throws you down on the bed and climbs on top of you, his lips and hands laying claim to every part of your body. He’s always been physically affectionate, but he’s touching you even more now, with the ravenous passion of someone who knows this could be the last time.

He kisses your neck in just the right spot, and grips your breasts with just the right amount of pressure, perfectly riding the line between pain and pleasure. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he makes you feel, but you can't help the moan that escapes your lips.

"How could you give this up?" he mutters against your skin. "No one knows your body like I do. It'll never be this good with anyone else."

You know it's true, but you don't want to think about that right now. Instead, you decide to show him what he'll be missing out on, everything he lost due to the consequences of his own reckless actions. You reach down and wrap your hand around the bulge in his pants, squeezing lightly.

He reacts to your touch instantly, rocking into you as curses fall from his lips. He grasps at the hem of your shirt, urging it off of you. "I need you."

One by one, each piece of clothing separating you and Namgyu from one another is tossed aside, until there's no barrier between you. He grinds against you, sliding his shaft along your wet slit. His cock twitches at the moan he elicits from you.

Given his obvious desperation, you expect him to fuck you without hesitation. You're surprised when he lowers his face between your legs, kissing your inner thighs.

You tangle your fingers in his hair as he licks up your slit, taunting you. You attempt to push his head to the right spot, but he's taking his sweet time. By the time his lips encircle your clit, you're already bucking and moaning like a madwoman.

"Fuck, Namgyu," you breathe.

Your reaction spurs him on, and he pushes two fingers inside you, fucking you with his hand while he continues to suck on your clit. There's no warning; you're climaxing in record time, falling apart beneath him as your high racks your body in violent waves.

Namgyu doesn't give you even a second to recover. You're still panting, your walls still clenching as he pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean before raising himself back up and slamming into you.

You cry out, but he silences you with a kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, all your senses in overdrive as he fucks you mercilessly.

"Oh god, Namgyu, hold on, I'm—" but you're cut short as another orgasm rips through your body.

You grip his hips, attempting to still him, to ease the pressure on your sensitive core, but he's relentless. He pounds into you at a shocking pace, and the overstimulation causes tears to well up in your eyes.

"Who else is gonna do this for you?" he asks through gritted teeth. "Who else is gonna fuck you until you can't think straight?"

You shake your head, unable to respond; the pleasure is overwhelming.

"Fucking answer me."

Between moans, you manage to gasp out, "No one."

Your words send him over the edge, and he finishes deep inside you with a guttural growl.

A moment later, he’s collapsing on the bed beside you. He drapes an arm and leg over you in one final weary effort to keep you by his side.

After taking a minute to catch your breath, you slip out from under his grasp and stand up. You clean yourself up quickly, then start getting dressed.

“What are you doing?” Namgyu asks, pulling on his boxers.

“I told you, I’m leaving.”

You grab a suitcase and open up the drawers of your wardrobe, stuffing clothes inside. Namgyu shoots up and rushes to your side frantically. Each time you move to grab a handful of clothes, he takes a pile of them back out of your suitcase, shoving them haphazardly back into the drawer.

“Stop it!” you shout, but he continues to unpack your suitcase, trapping you in an endless cycle. “You’re acting like a child. Let me leave or I’m calling the fucking police.”

He ceases for a moment to laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

He steps back then, finally seeming to understand the gravity of the situation. He sits down on the bed, watching as you gather up your belongings.

You grab a smaller bag and take it to the bathroom, throwing your toiletries inside. Once you’ve gotten all the necessities together, you take what’s left of your life and head down the hallway.

You hear his quick footsteps on the floor behind you, but you don’t turn around.

“Wait,” he says, his voice cracking. “Wait, please. Don’t leave me. I love you.”

You swallow hard, but you still don’t look at him. Seeing his face will only make it harder to go, and you know this is what you need to do. Without another word, you open the door and shut it behind you.

Maybe one day Namgyu will pull himself together, and maybe then a life with him will be possible. Until then, you can’t keep putting yourself through the torture of loving him.

[raymurata]

Just scroll (or go ahead and block my #dav critical tag) if you don't wanna read me whining abt Bellara's Archive choice again, but I'm not done with the salt.

What bugs me isn't that the choice to destroy the archive exists, it's that the game frames it, through its UI (which is the closest thing we have to a nonbiased narrator in this medium), as equally weighted against the opposite choice.

If they had worded it like this:

"Free the archive (the knowledge will be lost)" x "Keep the archive (the knowledge will be kept)"

With no extra commentary, then that would be better. If you got to be openly racist against the Dalish or openly in favor of the Dalish, period. Just like in previous games.

Bellara says "(the archive would help us) get back what made us who we were," and "With it, we could be that again."

Which is funny because... People don't study history to return to the past. It's fine if Bellara is idealistic and saying whatever unrealistic, grandiose dreams she and Cyrian had, but the Dalish would never (could never) become like the ancient elves again. For starters there is a Veil now. So what it would in fact do is help them understand where they come from, what they've been through, and trace the changes in their culture.

Of course our modern historians and scientists have tried to reclaim lost technology, too. They've figured out how the Romans made their extra sturdy concrete, and scientists in Brazil have long been trying to replicate the extra fertile Terra Preta from indigenous peoples that lived in the Amazon basin, and several South American historians would love to know how exactly the Inca used the quipu as a writing system aside from counting tool, etc... And that's super cool!!! And maybe (but that's a big maybe) the Archive could give the Dalish a technological edge to carve a corner of the world for themselves without the constant struggle with Tevinter trying to enslave them or Andrastians trying to subjugate them.

But I personally don't think anyone's reading Aztec accounts of human sacrifices to replicate the same practices in modern cults, or that there is an army out there utilizing Roman decimation as a method of discipline. We're using different horrific methods of control now, lol.

But let's say a modern general does decide that the best way to punish a battalion for one man's insurgence is to force every group of ten soldiers to violently murder the 10th man.... Do you really think that the fault would lie with the historian who unearthed that information and put it on Wikipedia? Or the insane general that decided to do this? Would modern morality and laws allow for that punishment to be executed? Do you think that the existence of that article online is inherently dangerous and controversial, and that it should be taken down? Do you think this general would have been a good and non-violent general if he hadn't ever read about Decimation? Or is it clear to you that violence and ingenuity are both inherent to mortals as a whole and can't be so easily blamed on the spread of knowledge?

Because it's not clear to DAV. The game (not Bellara, not Varric) words it very unambiguously as a dichotomy: The only safe way to deal with this Archive is to destroy it. Keeping it is inherently dangerous because the knowledge could fall in "the wrong hands."

What Bellara says is "Cyrian is gone because of what that thing knew," and "what about the bad side, the other things we did?" and "We stole the dwarves' dreams."

Again, she gets to say whatever she wants because she's a character and she's an anxious, idealistic mess. Love her for it. I like that she feels guilt here too because she has been established (through her way of dealing with Cyrian's first death) as someone who takes the blame for mistakes she didn't even commit (She certainly isn't responsible for Solas' actions). She's someone who drives herself sick cooking up the most horrific scenarios in her mind, and she's so compassionate she can't stand the thought of being the one perpetrating violence against innocents. Her misplaced guilt and dread are the emotions that lead her to consider destroying the Archive.

But no matter how guilty a young german may feel about the holocaust, destroying knowledge about gas chambers is not what will prevent other genocides from happening around the world. Individual guilt is barely productive.

Furthermore, Corinne Bursche says that DAV gives you a choice between "destroying" or "sharing" elven knowledge, which is not how the game worded it. But the point still stands even if the Veil Jumpers, for some condescending plot reason, completely lost control of this knowledge, or were so flippant as to put everything on Thedas' wikipedia without curing it at all.

Let's accept, too, that the Archive contains knowledge of how to build something equivalent to nuclear weapons, which one could argue is in fact truly dangerous, but... Well. Do you think it's fair that the countries that have nuclear arsenals are some of the most vocal about the dangers of other countries ever developing their own?

Because that's what it feels like, to me, when the game calls elven knowledge dangerous without ever allowing you to question -- what about Tevinter rituals and magic? Tevinter's millennium of slavery, still in practice at present day? Should we destroy all their libraries too to keep the world safe from dangerous magics? Why do we only get to tell the Dalish, the nomad nations severely subjugated in present Thedas (If you ever played the previous games and have the context, at least, since this game that happens in Tevinter somehow manages to completely gloss over racism against elves as if it never existed) to destroy a one-of-a-kind, ancient trove of knowledge? And have it be framed as good and safe? As "moving forward"?

If you choose to free the archive, Rook says "The elves deserve the chance to chart their own course" to which Bellara answers "Right. Define ourselves by who we are, not who we were," but once again that writing just makes me question Bioware -- Do they not understand the point of history at all? Do they think indigenous peoples are monoliths stuck in the past if they choose to study the history they lost to colonialism? What purpose do they think that keeping that history and culture extinct serves? Who do they think it benefits?

If you step outside of what the game is telling you as fact and think for yourself, with the context of the other DA games in mind, do you still agree that it's inherently dangerous to keep the Archive? Do you still think these are equally morally weighted choices?

Or would you agree that DAV has to subtly convince you, out of character, that keeping this knowledge is inherently dangerous to make this dichotomy make sense?

Again. This wouldn't bug me if they just owned up to the fact your protagonist can, once again, genocide elves/their culture, just like in previous games. And scapegoat present elves too for the sins of their thousand-years-old tyrants, now suddenly returned (it would make so much sense for characters in the narrative to scapegoat the elves, and for us as heroes to fight against that. But no, they don't even go there except through Bellara's guilt.). It's just bizarre to have an elven historian guiltily agreeing with destroying the Archive and then telling us "The Evanuris broke us and kept us broken" without anyone, either Rook or her, ever mentioning a thousand years of Tevinter slavery and several centuries of Andrastian persecution and subjugation.

No. The Evanuris are the be-all and end-all of evil and everything bad that ever happened in Thedas, ever, can be traced back to them.

[scarfacemarston]

Cullen Rutherford Fluff Alphabet

Note: I sometimes say “you” because it’s shorter than typing inquisitor constantly. This is also Gender Neutral. Please think about reblogging or at least leaving a like! This sort of thing takes time to create. Feel free to request more Cullen!

A - Affection (how do they show affection to their s/o)

Cullen is new to love. Outside of his crush on Amell/Surana, he did not have any romantic feelings towards anyone. Love was terrifying but exhilarating at the same time. It was something entirely new and engaging and something that he would put his all into. He is very physically affectionate and primarily shows his love through embraces, kisses, and cuddling. However, he also allows the Inquisitor to vent or cry as much as they need to. He will also insist on shouldering whatever burdens they are struggling with, whether that's completing extra paperwork, scaring off those who want to bother them, or leaving behind little treats to cheer them up; he can do it all.

B - Best Friend (what are they like as a best friend?)

Cullen doesn't really consider himself to have many friends until Inquisition. In fact, the last time he had friends was Kinloch Hold before it went to hell. (However, this was only with his fellow templars.) Inquisition is when he meets Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and the rest of the crew. It took time for him to see them more than colleagues, but they found a devoted, loyal, encouraging friend in the former templar who continued on even when he was at his worst. As time passed, he began displaying a more relaxed side to him and joined in game nights and his time with people like Dorian. 

C - Cuddling (do they like to cuddle? And how would they do it?)

Oh, he loves to cuddle.  His family was very physically affectionate, but that quit once he joined the Templars. He didn't know how touch starved he was until he brushed hands with the Inquisitor and even more so when he held them for the first time. He hadn't allowed anyone near him since the fall of Kinloch Hold. Now, he can't sleep properly without holding the Inquisitor. Even if he can't sleep, his mind and body feel at peace in a way they never could before. 

D - Domestic (do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning)

His childhood dream was to be a templar. He never thought of any sort of domesticity. Templars rarely settled down. He never viewed himself as settling down during Inquisition, either, until he fell in love with the Inquisitor and only then did he dare to dream. After seeing what Mia has, he couldn't help but want the same. He wants a spouse, kids (or to be a busy uncle), and, of course, as many malbari as he can manage.

Cullen is not an amazing cook, but he's functional. Can he make basics like stew? Sure. Could he grill something? Sure. It's straightforward. Porridge isn't difficult either, but he's more likely to live off of rations. During Inquisition Inquisition, Cassandra made sure he ate at least twice a day. He is very tidy, but he has been known to be a disorganized type of organized, too.

E - Ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

We've actually seen this in the game! He tries to maintain an air of professionalism and keep it with a bit of distance. He will still try to maintain his professionalism if you break his heart, but the hurt might bleed out. He tries to use logic and put some distance between the two of you.  However, it also depends on the circumstances. He can be very gentle about it and very apologetic. 

F - Fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Again, Cullen didn't have any ideas of romantic commitment until they met the Inquisitor. We know he's incredibly devoted to the templars and the Inquisition, so he has no issue with commitment. However, once he fell in love, he fell in love hard. I don't think it took that long for him to start fantasizing about marriage, even if he was so sure it would never happen. Cullen would wait for the right moment, but it doesn't necessarily need to be planned, just that it feels right like we see in the game. 

G - Gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

We've seen that Cullen can be incredibly tender and gentle. He especially appreciates having the ability and the safety to do so, emotionally and physically. He isn't ashamed of showing his gentle side - he cares for you more than anyone or anything else - but that doesn't mean he won't glare someone like Jim down if he tries to interrupt. The more comfortable he gets with you, the more likely you will see him become even more gentle. He is far more soft-spoken and sometimes even delicate in the way he touches you. 

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

His hugs are bone-crushing but one of the safest feelings in the world. Some of his hugs can be quite gentle and tender like he's afraid he'll hurt you, but usually, they are more solid, as if he wants to cement you there.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Cullen feels it quickly, but that doesn't mean he'll say it. When he falls, he falls hard. He doesn't mean to, it's only happened once before and went horribly wrong. He'll try to deny it to himself, also going through self-doubt, thinking he isn't good or deserving enough to have that happiness, but he will sometimes pine for the Inquisitor. Once the Inquisitor is in a relationship with him, he is anxious about when to reveal his feelings, but he will do so in a quiet moment, like cuddling together in bed. However, he'd much prefer his partner be the one to say it first. 

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

As alluded to before, he has a lot of self-doubt and self-loathing as he questions whether he deserves love after everything he has done. Early in the relationship, it would hurt, but he would tell himself that you are making the right decision…but that doesn't mean he'll give up entirely. As he becomes more secure in the relationship, he is more likely to get jealous despite that security because he knows what the two of you have built. He is more likely to step in verbally or give some light PDA.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you?)

He kisses many ways, but they tend to be either tender or passionate. There's not quite an in-between. Expect a lot of stolen kisses, especially if the two of you have or are busy. He loves kissing on the hand, wrist, neck, and behind the ear, anywhere he can.

L: Little Ones (How are they with kids?)

Cullen feels very awkward around children. He's never disliked them, and he was a good brother to his siblings. Some of the younger templars looked up to him during training. However, after becoming a templar, he sort of "lost" his ability to relate to children. He's kind but stiff around them. Sometimes, he could briefly imagine having a child or two of his own, but that was always a fleeting thought. It wasn't until meeting the Inquisitor and reconnecting with Mia that he truly wondered about having a child. He wants it, whether through birth or adoption, but he would never force the Inquisitor into anything. 

M: Mornings (How are mornings spent with them?)

Cullen gets up early. He usually has his armour polished and on, training completed, and reports from the night before reviewed by 7:00 am. He often forgets to eat breakfast or munches on rations or jerky. Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and now the Inquisitor all make sure he eats breakfast.

You're a "bad" influence in that he wants to sleep in or stay in bed and cuddle longer. His new time to complete his routine is a whopping…..8:00 am. Since leaving the Inquisition together, he sleeps a bit later but still prefers to wake up early. 

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

That man does not sleep. He just doesn't. It's like it's a foreign concept to him. However, it is not all workaholic tendencies. Sometimes, it's to avoid the nightmares he's had for well over a decade. Other times, the lyrium keeps him awake. Even when you pursue a romance with him, he struggles to stay in bed only because he can't shut his mind off, but a nice massage, cuddles, and or sex tends to quiet those thoughts. Otherwise, he's content watching over the Inquisitor.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Cullen is extremely private about himself. He reveals things incredibly slowly, but sometimes, his most personal moments come out at the most inopportune times when he doesn't have a choice but to reveal them, as seen with his lyrium addiction or his nightmares. These moments are incredibly frustrating to him, and he detests them when they happen. That's why, despite his discomfort, he is telling himself that he must be far more open and communicative so he has power over what to share, what not to share, and when to do so.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Believe it or not, Cullen can be irritable and angry. Most of it is the lrium, but he holds everything inside of him until eventually, it comes out whether he wants it to not. Usually, it's a whole series of events that cause him to eventually snap, but it is possible for something triggering to cause him to explode or shut down.

However, he is incredibly patient in most situations, but he is not perfect. He will not tolerate many things, as seen with some of the more annoying chantry members in DAI. 

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget? )

Cullen sometimes struggles with his memory due in part to the lyrium but more so because he has so much on his mind. However, he will make you a priority above all else. Unfortunately, he punishes himself if he forgets or gets something wrong. Overall, he commits everything he can to memory, and as his lyrium cravings subside, he is more clearly able to remember things. He wants to know everything you're willing to share, whether it's your birthday, favorite color, favorite food, best battle tactics, or favorite ways to turn you on.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

It's a difficult memory for him, but the relief he felt when the Inquisitor revealed they still cared for him despite his lyrium addiction and his trauma. It's not the most romantic memory, but it is a meaningful one. More positively, he loves how he surprised you with that first kiss on the battlements… until Jim interrupted. The morning after he and the Inquisitor slept together was also dear to him. 

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

We know and have seen how protective Cullen is. He is ready to give up his life at a moment's notice if needed, especially if it's for the Inquisitor. He was willing to leave the Inquisition because he felt he was a liability to it and the inquisitor. He is incredibly selfless and self-sacrificing. He's also not afraid to voice his opinion in defense of his partner. As for him, he doesn't really expect anything in return. However, he already thinks you protect him by looking out for his well-being, whether it's the lyrium, his anxiety, eating, sleeping, etc. He also greatly appreciates it if you speak up in defense of him for whatever reason, but he never expects it.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, and gifts?)

After much worrying, he would fret about it and might turn to someone like Josephine for help or even Varric, Dorian, or Leliana. However, he is capable of giving gifts on his own, planning outings, as seen with the lake and giving his lucky coin to the Inquisitor. He definitely tries, but he's always worried he'll fuck it up somehow.

U: Ugly (What would be a bad habit of theirs?)

He does have a temper and when hurt, he can lash out. We've seen this when he threw his lyrium kit against the wall, nearly hitting the Inquisitor. However, he works very hard to keep control of it. His anxiety and self-doubt can also be a problem, but again, he tries to hide these feelings as best as he can.

As for an actual habit, his pacing and constant movement can be anxiety-inducing to some. His office has a pacing track on it. 

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he's handsome. He sees the way people look at him and treat him. He's not stupid. We know he styles his hair, but I think PART of that is due to some insecurity about his curls. Other than that, he focuses on the upkeep of his armor, but that is habit and perfectionism. Besides his hair, he doesn't spend much time on his appearance.

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He would convince himself that he would. He never expected you to return his feelings, but he knows he would be crushed if you ever left him. He would respect your decision but doubt that he'd ever feel whole again as he'd be unlikely to trust himself with another partner.

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Cullen secretly has a sweet tooth, but he doesn't want anyone to know that. Still, he wouldn't mind being given sticky buns or a pastry. (He's lying. He will devour them.)

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

We know he mumbles, tosses and turns, and has nightmares and insomnia. The poor guy has it all. However, he also sweats and overheats easily. This all improves as the lyrium addiction subsides. However, one thing that does not change is that he overheats easily…………………………….but still wants to cuddle. Once he has his arms around the Inquisitor, good luck getting up.