#aaaaa i love him T-T

[merakiui]

Love how Scaramouche says he likes bitter things and then he plays himself by falling for the sweetest person ever such as myself haha *shoot*

LOL exactly!!! He’s just naturally drawn to sweet people. It’s a good balance from all of the struggles he’s endured throughout his life. Even if he claims that bitterness is his favorite flavor, he will cling to the sweetness that is his dear darling (aka you hehe >:D) and he won’t let go.

If you point this out, he’ll just look at you like

Scaramouche’s most recent betrayal: a truth that isn’t dyed in sweetness for once, so he’s really forced to stomach it. Wear him down enough and maybe then he’ll admit he likes you best when you’re sweet. Knowing him, he’ll most likely argue that point into the grave.

[shima-draws]

NO

NO

NO NO NO NO NONONONO NO NOOOOOO NO NO NO!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!

NO!!!!!

[unriding]

mr & mrs moze are havin a pajama party :3 hehehe some chibi ref practice tonight n i thought of u two !!! ♡

ying ………

[badboysupr]

“do i like him or is he just tall?  ” piper's thinking out loud to herself, but leo's subject to weigh in his own two cents, if he'd like. ( from @aglaophonosx )

@aglaophonosx || meme

He's only half-listening to her prattle on, futzing as he is with a jam in one of Festus's appendages while the dragon's settled there . . . mostly patient aside from the occasional flick of his tail (like a cat barely resisting smacking an infant getting too handsy with them). A quiet curse slides under his breath when he gets a closer look at a locked-up joint because seriously—? Leo swore he'd just fixed this exact issue a month or so ago, so what the Hades-loving crap?

(Expert mechanic, everyone. Expert mechanic.)

As he catches her latest question—but more like one of those I don't actually need an answer; I just need to complain sort of questions—his attention finally skirts sideways. He snorts and shakes his head. “So that is a thing, huh? Ladies just . . . loooove the tall guys,” Leo determines, rolling his eyes as a crooked grin perches there at the edge of his lips. A bitter grin, really. “See, what I'm getting from this is that I need to start wearing heels wherever I go. Pretty sure I could pull them off just as long as I don't break my legs first.” And by “pull them off,” maybe he should've meant literally taking them off.

His hand, slick with sweat, slips on his wrench slightly, and he readjusts his grip before diving back in. “Uhh . . . But, like, really, though—? Who are we talking about, again?” Like he needs to ask . . .

[tidaltow]

@howthesleeplesswander || cont.

So, here’s the thing.

It wasn’t so much that Kazuma was a strict, no excuses kind of instructor—which, yeah, sure, he definitely was, and no one at camp would ever argue that, but… The reason anyone ever felt any amount of disheartened under his keen eye usually had a little something to do with not wanting to disappoint the supremely cool, incredibly skilled and awesome katana guy who showed up whenever he wanted and disappeared like some crazy demigod vigilante. (Who also was considerably attractive, Percy supposed… if the reactions of some half-blood kids and even the dryads were anything to go by.)

Part of Percy knew Kazuma didn’t expect him to excel at this immediately. Then another part of him argued he should, that this technique should be well in hand by now (literally) if he hoped to have any chance against what was coming. Part of him figured he was annoyed at the prospect of letting Kazuma down—letting everyone down. Then another part of him shot back that there was more to this. It wasn’t just about—

He nearly jumped when Kazuma rejoined his side. In the prior few seconds, he’d fallen into somewhat of a trance, one that had him glaring off at the dining pavilion with thoughts of the winter before, of a particular young demigod responsible for the large crack across the floor. Because Percy had failed him (and still continued to).

A murmured “thanks,” and he took the water, downed a few gulps while Kazuma gave him his usual encouragement. He pinched his brows. “Yeah, I know. I mean… You’re right, I just—” He should’ve laughed. Maybe even said something like, What isn’t bothering me? But the energy wasn’t there today, and with some reluctance, Percy met the eyes boring into him. He weighed his options: what he should and shouldn’t talk about, what he could and couldn't trust Kazuma to know. Whatever ended up winning, a loud and practically surrendering sigh came first.

“We can… talk for a minute, if that’s okay. Can we—?” Percy capped Riptide, stowed the sword-turned-pen back in his pocket at the same time as he pivoted toward the nearest bench. He paused only to glance back. “Only if you don’t have someone else, uh… lined up to train anytime soon? I don’t want to interrupt…”

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[webbluvrsugar]

okok, how would rafe treat virgin!reader during her first time?

-🕯️

a/n: aaaaa thank you so much for going all the way to resend your ask! I just loved this and I wanted to do it properly T-T

okay okay, I need to brainstorm about this cause HEAR ME OUT!!!

season one rafe: definitely doesn’t have as much care for you as he should, you probably met him at a party and started fooling around before you finally mention you’re a virgin — he’s startled, but doesn’t mind have virgin pussy for the night. If you really managed to catch his attention, I think he’ll prep you just to see ‘how tight you really are’ because he’s not that sure if you’re bullshitting him or not. Will definitely fuck you on a couch or a bathroom, will be a bit careless and it’ll probably hurt.

season two rafe: you met him through a friend of a friend, it’s more likely that he’ll play with you around a bit, be a bit mean and way more frat-boy likely before he finally decides to kiss you, I think he’d do it everywhere so it’s really up to you, when you confess you’re a virgin, he gets way more excited because now he’ll have something to brag about to his friends, he’ll prep you but he’ll also be rough with you even his movements are a tad bit more calculated.

season three rafe: this time, i think you guys met at a random party but he actually took interest in you, didn’t fuck you there, — he tried not to — somehow got your number and went on a few dates with you, started dating you and after just a few months he’s already started suggesting having sex and when you told him you’re a virgin, he’s way more careful this time, will take his sweet time with you and make it something special.

season four rafe: similar to season three but he’ll be a bit more bold, he’ll eat you out with more confidence and be a little more vocal, he’ll coax you and teach you, and when the pain stopped and you got used to the feeling, you’ll try a few different positions.

a/n: hope you liked it!

[4unnyr0se]

Morning sex with Kenma and Suna?👀

❥ morning breath | kenma kozume & rintaro suna

warnings: timeskip! kenma and suna, fem! reader, unprotected sex, the pullout method, hickeys, mentions of cunnilingus, suna might be ooc im sorry u guys

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 787

a/n: im literally so sorry it took me so long to do this aaaaa :( sorry it's so short

Kenma Kozume

Kenma can usually only have sex in the morning or at night, nothing in between. Sure, he can ask you for a blowjob after he just won a game after his stream ends, but there’s never any penetrative sex. He has things to do, even though he really doesn’t want to do them. So when he wakes up every morning with your plump ass pressed against his boxers, unknowingly grinding against him in your sleep, how can he say no? You’re practically begging for it anyway, sweet thing. 

“Babe,” Kenma gently shakes you awake.

“Hm?” you roll over, barely opening your eyes. “What is it, Kenma?” you lean forward to peck his chapped lips.

“Y’were grinding on me just now, in your sleep,” he whispered, placing his hands on your hips. “You got me all hard, can’t you feel it?” you were now straddling his lap, struggling to stay awake as his erection rubbed against your clothed pussy. “Fucking take care of it, please? I need you,” he was so cute when he whined, especially with his messy hair framing his face so perfectly. How could you ever refuse your cute little boyfriend when his cock was so painfully hard against your thigh?

His boxers were slid down to his ankles, your soaked panties pushed aside. Red and lacy, just like how Kenma liked it. Slowly, you slid down onto his length, your pussy taking him so nicely. Kenma wasn’t that long, but he was girthy and always filled you up so well. Your hips began to roll in tandem with his slowly, Kenma’s hands guiding your hips up and down on his cock.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he lazily praised, his eyes not even bothering to open; he already knew how pretty you looked when you were fucking him. He groaned as your tight walls fluttered and clenched around him, trying desperately to pull him impossibly deeper inside of your pussy. You arched your back, your hands palming your breasts from under your (his) t-shirt as you writhed above him, feeling his cock twitch. 

“Are y’gonna cum, baby?” you sighed, scratching your nails down his slim abdomen. Your question was quickly answered. Kenma whimpered, a familiar warm sensation filling your belly as his release covered your insides. 

“Mm, thank you, baby,” Kenma lazily kissed your cheek as you fell right next to him, curling up in his arms. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you off later, I promise.”

Rintaro Suna

Suna fucking loves morning sex because he can cuddle you and get off without doing a lot of work. He’s extra sensitive in the morning and almost always has morning wood, so it became a sort of morning ritual to have cuddle sex when you both wake up.

“That’s it, baby, fuck up against me. Feels amazing,” Suna yawned in your ear, his hands groping your breasts as you ground your soaked cunt against his exposed cock. He hissed as you reached behind you, aligning it with your entrance. “M’gonna fuck you now, okay? Don’ feel like fingering you today, babe. I got practice this afternoon.”

“That’s okay,” you yawned, gasping softly as he pushed himself inside you. Suna was always much more gentle with you during the mornings, and you enjoyed every second of it. He groaned as he bottomed out, his hands squeezing harder on your sensitive breasts. “Always so fucking tight for me. That’s okay, I’ll loosen you up,” he bit down on your ear shell, lazily snapping his hips against your ass.

“Rin!” you yelped, lifting your leg to give him better access. He smirked against the back of your neck, not slowing down his pace. This was as slow as he wanted to go, which was somehow still achingly fast. Not as fast as when he would fuck you at night, but still. “S’fucking hard, s-slow down!”

“Don’t wanna, it’s your fault for getting me all worked up in my dreams,” he slapped your ass, kneading the stinging flesh between his calloused fingers. “Y’were sucking on my cock, but I guess you can do that after breakfast, right?” he bit down on the base of your neck, sucking a hickey in an unusual place that would be sure to raise some eyebrows. 

You clenched around him, feeling his cock twitch. “J-just don’t cum inside, okay? S-still messy from last night.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” Suna muffled his cry of pleasure in your shoulder as he pulled out, pumping his cock to cum all over your ass. The middle blocker left an open-mouth kiss on your cheek, handing you a tissue box. “Clean yourself up. I don’t want to be touching my own cum when you’re sitting on my face.”

[madschiavelique]

okay so once miguel accidentally flashed his happy trail to his gf, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, constantly staring at his abdomen when she thought miguel didn’t see her (he did 😁). they just recently started dating, she was shy and inexperienced but she is just a human after all 😔 she lasted a week before she came to him looking embarrassed, desperate and defeated “miggy can you teach me how to suck your dick please 🥺👉🏻👈🏻”

long story short we need some good old dick appreciation 😉

AAAAA THIS IS SO SWEET i love it hehehe

summary : you ask miguel to teach you how to suck his dick (not proofread)

contents warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, blow job (miguel receiving), lots of praise, miguel is so sweet and patient in this word count : 2,9k

All it had taken was a casual glance, and your mind was infatuated with the idea. You were spending some time in Miguel's quarters when it happened, when your eyes were blessed by the sight before you.

He'd just got out of the shower, and as he hurriedly pulled on his T-shirt on the way out, his untied jogging bottoms had dropped slightly until your eyes drifted to his stomach and you saw it: his happy trail.

You'd only seen it for a brief moment, Miguel's T-shirt covering it all too shortly after that blessed vision, and his hands properly re-tying the elastic of his jogging bottoms.

But it was enough to occupy your thoughts for days. As he was often dressed in his spider suit, you had very little opportunity to think about seeing it again, other than in its civilian clothes. But that didn't stop you from occasionally glancing down at his belly, and sometimes even lower. The moments when you realised what your eyes were looking for were often followed by a flush in your cheeks and the back of your neck.

It's just that... you didn't necessarily have a great deal of experience in this field, and you were immensely curious. You also wondered if Miguel was holding back. You'd already talked about it, and you wanted to take it slow, because after all you and Miguel hadn't been dating for very long.

But you were getting impatient by the day, so you tried to visit him a little more in his private appartment. Miguel seemed to find this suspicious, but how could you explain to him that your thoughts had been riveted on a single subject for days, and that was his happy trail and what was below it ?

You were trying to convince him to wear civilian clothes more often, using arguments along the lines of "when we're together you don't need to wear the suit, you wear it mainly for work, so when you're with me you don't need to wear it."

And then, you thought maybe giving him a blow job would relax him? He seemed so tense quite often, and you wanted him to feel good, you wanted to make him feel good.

And as the days went by, the questions multiplied. Is it big ? Of course it is, but how big ? Could your hand grab him properly or would you struggle with the width ? How did he taste in your mouth? What sounds would he make when you'd lick him ? How do you even... give a blow job ?

It was when your curiosity became unbearable and your own questions too much for you that one afternoon, while you were sitting in Miguel's apartment and he hadn't yet returned, you asked Lyla:

"Lyla, send me a good article on How To Give A Blow Job, please."

The orange pixel cloud had almost immediately taken off its heart-shaped tinted glasses.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, eyes wide while her programmed eyelids fluttered as she watched you, "a good article on what?"

"You heard me very right, your system is 100% perfect: I want you to give me a good article on-"

"Yeah yeah i get it i'm just, um, surprised." she admitted, a virtual screen forming in the form of a tablet in her hands as she paused, hesitating and turning to you, "would you perhaps be interested in... different material?"

You raised an eyebrow, taking your computer and resting it on your thighs.

"What material ?"

"Well you know, the material," she replied with a little shrug.

"Huh?" you said, frowning as Lyla raised her eyebrows completely, as if taken aback by your answer.

"Let me just send you a link," she replied, sighing.

Within seconds, you received a link and opened it. It took you to a video that launched instantly. You gasped, immediately pausing and closing your computer. But your eyes had caught it well: two naked people, a woman lying between a man's legs as she took him in her mouth.

You hesitated between finding a way to fry Lyla's motherboard or congratulating her, but in the end you did neither. Any learning ways still brings knowledge somehow, right ?

You took a deep breath, then hesitantly reopened your computer. The page was still open, the video stopped on a scene that could not have been more erotic. Perhaps learning the basics wouldn't be too much?

So you started the video, turning the sound down to almost minimum, and watched. You tried to pay attention to the woman's gestures, how her hands acted, how she angled her head, how she...

"Cariño?"

The speed with which you closed the page and your computer surprised even you as you faced Miguel. Shit, he'd got home earlier than you thought, and you just hoped he hadn't heard too much…

"Oh babe you're home!" you say jovially, trying to act as if nothing had happened, hoping he hadn't noticed. "How was your day?"

He was standing up straight, one of his eyebrows raised. He took a step.

"Were you watching what I think you were watching?"

Shit, he'd definitely noticed. How could you want to escape from a spider on a situation like this with tenfold senses? You bit the inside of your lip nervously, feeling your cheeks heat up. Who knows, though, as long as he hadn't said exactly what he thought you'd seen, you might have a chance of getting out of this... however slim the chances?

"And," you asked as he took another step in your direction, your hands moving your laptop to the side as you turned to face him, cross-legged, "what do you think I was watching?"

He let out a little laugh from his nose, his tongue running over his canine teeth as he moved a little closer to you again.

"Don't play this little game with me." he said simply, your lips pressing into a thin line, "I think you and I both exactly know what was on that screen of yours just a few seconds ago."

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing with the gesture as he approached again, only a metre from the bed.

"Well yes, i was watching... what you think it is." he nodded as he crossed his arms over his vast torso.

"Porn," he affirmed, the word falling easily from his lips.

"Yes," you said with an embarrassed chuckle, "that's the name for it..." you nodded, his eyes watching you, no doubt trying to find out the reason behind this. "But I had my own reasons to do so, of course," you said to clear your throat.

"Which were?" his responses to your sentences were so quick that they seemed to stick to your every word.

You inhaled, straightening up, suddenly determined. The vision of his happy-trail came back into your mind, your eyes inevitably landing on where it must have been under the suit.

"Miguel," your eyes returned to his, "I want you to teach me how to suck your dick, please."

There was silence for a few seconds before Miguel smiled, the smile turning into a small laugh, his amused eyes looking into yours confused.

"So that's what the looks were about?"

You froze, your cheeks heating even more. All those looks you'd been giving him, all directed at his lower stomach and more, he'd noticed. You fancied the idea disappearing down a hole right now, and placed your hands on your face in embarrassment.

"Hey hey," he said softly, coming to kneel in front of you as his two large hands came to rest on yours to move them away from your face. "It's okay, it's just," he caressed your cheek, "took you long enough muñeca, you could've just asked me."

"I know," you said, your hand sliding over his as you pressed your cheek closer, "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he assured you, "but in the future, whenever you're thinking about something like that, or anything, you have to tell me. Okay ?"

You smile softly, "Okay."

He came over and kissed your lips chastely.

"So," he said, taking your hand in his, "you want to learn how to do this?"

You inhaled, nodding. He came to kiss you again tenderly, coming to sit on the bed and lay down. He pulled you against him as you kissed, his hand coming to rest on your for a second. He stopped the kiss for a moment, tapping his watch gently. You were so happy of finally being able to do this, you couldn't wait anymore.

"Learned anything from the video?" he asked, glancing at you.

You said nothing, just tilted your head slightly to one side as you shrugged on all fours above him.

"We'll see, but be careful with that kind of stuff. A lot of it doesn't really show anything actually pleasant, it's all for show. Alright? Cariño?" he informed, coming to stroke your cheek again as you nodded. "Good."

Then his suit began to depixelate, and your eyes lowered until you finally saw the happy trail again, and what was just below it.

Okay, now there might be a problem you thought, because the dick the girl was sucking in the video, which was hard, just approached the same size as Miguel's... which wasn't hard yet. He was, and will be too big for what you were about to do.

"Everything is alright cariño?" he asked worriedly, "are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," you replied immediately, perhaps a little too eagerly.

A small smile spread across his lips.

"Good. If you're not sure what to do, I can give you small tips as you go along."

You nodded once more, your eyes dropping to his perfect torso. You lowered your face gently, kissing his skin gently, gradually working your way down to his navel.

He breathed softly, and you felt his skin grow grainy under your kisses. Then you finally reached his body hair, your hand resting on the sheets and gently caressing his hip as you placed soft kisses on his happy trail. A sigh of relief escaped from between his lips. The object of all your desires for a week was finally here, close to your touch.

Then, just a few centimetres lower, you came to face his cock. Your eyes locked with Miguel's for a moment as you kissed his groin, then coming to kiss his shaft running your lips along the base of his it.

You heard him inhale as the fingers of your other hand gently wrapped around him, holding him tenderly as you placed a trail of pecks from the base of his dick to his tip. You placed kitten kisses there as you felt him harden and grow between your fingers and against your lips.

This encouraged you, as you no doubt told yourself that you were doing the right thing for his body to react like that.

"Spit will help you, nena," Miguel murmured, surrendering gently to your touch.

You nodded, sticking your tongue out between your teeth to lick his tip, a low grunt echoing in Miguel's chest as you gathered drool on the sides of your cheeks to run down his length and lick him further. Your hand spread the saliva a little more evenly as you kissed your way down to his balls. Then, placing your whole tongue on his base, you worked your way up his entire length.

"This feels so good muñeca," he breathed, one of his hands gently stroking your hair.

You let a little more drool trickle down, your hand spreading it a little more evenly as you pulled the foreskin back to expose the head, kissing the uncovered pink and licking it gently as Miguel sighed and moaned. You made circular movements with your tongue, your eyes resting on Miguel from time to time.

"There's a spot, just under-"

But no sooner had he started his sentence than you opened your mouth wider and let your tongue slide under his tip, just underneath the crown, like you had seen the woman do.

"Yes, there," Miguel breathed shakily, his eyes closing as his head fell back on the pillow, "right there, just like that."

You let your tongue flick back and forth on that spot, beautiful moans rumbling in Miguel's throat. You readjusted his cock in your hand and then gently took his tip into your mouth, letting your tongue slide underneath him.

He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling in a long sigh of pleasure. Your mouth was so warm and wet and your tongue was incredible: perfect for him.

"You feel so good," he whispered, biting his lip, his half-closed eyes coming to rest on yours.

He was thick, and you were trying your best to make sure your mouth was wide open enough to contain him but also to keep the right pressure around him. So, breathing in gently to loosened your jaw, sank a couple of centimetres deeper around him, then pulled up slightly.

You started at a slow pace, taking your time to get used to all this and remember to breathe properly, but also to savour the moment. You relaxed your lips as you lowered yourself onto him, then pressed them once you got up, letting your tongue stretch out as soon as you came up to caress that sweet spot he'd mentioned.

"Be careful with the teeth, muñeca" he said softly as your teeth surreptitiously grazed his skin.

You widened your mouth a little more, breathing in so that your cheeks hollowed out and pressed against him.

"You're doing so good for me," he murmured, his hand still on your hair, caressing it even more.

His praise encouraged you even more, and you thought maybe it would be good to step it up a level. So you sank down on him a little too hastily, and he bumped your throat very lightly as you immediately pulled away, coughing slightly thanks to your gag reflex. How could the lady in the video make it look so simple ? You felt ridiculous.

"Hey, slow down," smiled Miguel as he straightened up a little to reassure you, "all the way down will take a bit more time, but you're already doing so good for me, arlight ?" He caressed your cheek. "No need to rush it."

You nodded softly, although you could have guessed that you wouldn't be able to take all of him in your mouth, especially with the little experience you had, you could still pleasure him.

You weren't just here to make him come, you were here to make him feel good because you wanted him to feel good. 

So you went back to kissing his tip, letting your tongue coat it again before taking it back into your mouth. You knew you couldn't suck the whole thing straight away, so you took his shaft in your hand, pumping softly. You let a little more saliva spill out as you remembered the movement of the woman's hand in the video.

You started twisting your hand clockwise while sucking on him, your tongue occasionally hardening near his sweet spot and the tip. He was making heavenly moans, his fingers weaving through your hair, his hips starting to move on their own.

"You look gorgeous," he moaned tenderly.

A low moan rose from your throat and vibrated against him, his head sinking into the pillow as his back arched, his fingers becoming a little firmer and gripping your hair.

When your jaw began to tire, you wrapped your second hand around his cock, twisting it counter-clockwise, your mouth concentrating more on the head. Your hands applied more pressure as you pulled back, and since your hands were twisting around him, you started softly twisting your head as well.

His hips dictated a rhythm that you followed, a little faster every instant, his hand on your head guiding you in the rhythm.

"You're amazing," he breathed.

You hollowed your cheeks, his rhythm quickening as his moans multiplied. He was going to come, and you would accept it with longing.

His breath became more and more ragged, and after a powerful moan and a single thrust of his hip, you felt it spill over your tongue. He was out of breath, and realising what he'd just done, he pulled out of your embrace confused:

"I'm so sorry!" he said, referencing your tongue covered in his cum, "It was just so good i forgot to pull out, you don't have to-"

But you pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth until the substance dripped down your throat and you swallowed. The taste was slightly salty, but nothing special.

"Swallow," he finished, a smile stretching his lips, surprised.

He straightened, pulling you to him for a gentle kiss.

"You did so great nena, really, I'm so proud of you. You were amazing... you are amazing."

A smile stretched your lips as he caressed your cheek and you came to kiss him again, delighted to have finally been able to taste your desire.

Bonus:

"So, was the material I sent you helpful?" asked Lyla.

"Very," you admitted, "excellent choice."

"What material ?" asked Miguel, confused.

"The new one for an upcoming suit," replied Lyla.

"I'm not sure we're talking about fabric here," remarked Miguel, slightly suspicious as he left the room and you winked at Lyla.

[tenacquity]

Hurley.

The name is all it takes. Before Iris has so much as peeped another word in regards to what specifically about him requires discussion, Ryunosuke already feels his shoulders sag, the original stroke of worry melting into a puddle of dread spawned from experience by now. Because nothing is ever simple with that man. Nothing would ever be simple. And without even knowing what in the world the great detective had done now to cause this stirring of unrest in Iris, of all people—who’s clearly the most accustomed to his antics than anyone—Ryunosuke can’t help the trace of exhaustion he already feels tugging at him, as if his body is preparing ahead of time.

But none of this is directed at her, no. Surely not. And while parts of him begin to tangle in anticipation of what will come next, he endeavors not to show it—endeavors to be the person Iris needs right now, as truly . . . he’s flattered she’s chosen to come to him in the first place. (The least he can do is try to ease her worries, then. Not that Ryunosuke would ever claim to be good at it.)

When she announces what troubles her, however, he has a devastatingly stronger reason for a thousand and one knots to twist and pull at his insides, enough so that he’s forced to look away, feign a momentary preoccupation with the nearest window (or perhaps debating climbing on out of it). The girl’s too smart for her own good, he oftentimes muses—and further wonders precisely how Sholmes manages to keep anything from her. But he has. No, they have. And all too readily does that seed of guilt in Ryunosuke’s chest spring a blossom he swears is blocking his airway.

What other explanation for how long it takes him to find his words . . . ?

“I—” His lips move soundlessly after that one syllable, eventually thinning to a line complemented by a thoughtful, vexed hum. Ryunosuke runs a finger over his mouth as if to loosen it, peers back at the clever little girl waiting for an answer. “You’re right, Iris . . . I’m rather positive there’s plenty Mr. Sholmes chooses to keep from all of us.” It comes out slightly more bitter than he means it to. He clears his throat, eases out a breath that partially grates through his teeth. “But if something is truly bothering you, then— Well, I-I suppose you ought to ask him about it.” (And hope he tells the truth . . . unlikely.)

While he isn’t entirely sure he wants this (backing himself into a corner, that is), Ryunosuke poses, “Is it a topic you’d like to discuss with me before going to him—?”

"Aww, you're too kind! Thank you, Runo!"

Happy to hear her tea receive such high praise, Iris clasps her hands together and grins. But she lets her arms fall to her sides after a moment, and then a somewhat more serious expression forms on her face. It's not grim or worried - it's more like it's just serious enough to tell that whatever she has to say is something important.

"Well... it's about Hurley." she starts - and then smiles again. She doesn't want Ryunosuke thinking that anything serious is wrong, or to worry him, after all, and it's really not something all that urgent... it's just that it's important to her. But of course, the best way to ease Ryunosuke's worries is just to get into the details without delay.

"It may sound a little strange, but... I know there's something he's keeping from me. I'm not angry or upset about it. Hurley has lots of things he doesn't talk about, and I understand that he's just trying to protect me."

It's a mature perspective from such a young girl. But deep down... she can't help but feel a little sad whenever she thinks about it. Is that selfish of her? She's not sure what exactly it is that makes her sad... perhaps because she hasn't spent too much time thinking about it, telling herself that she's being silly or unreasonable. But Iris knows that her feelings aren't unreasonable to have, and if there's anyone she can talk to about it - she knows that she can trust Runo.

"But I wanted to talk to him about it. I'm just not really sure where to start." She hums thoughtfully, before looking back at Ryunosuke again - her gaze having at some point wandered off. "Would it be okay... to ask for your advice?"

[freyaphoria]

I see the request is back to open AAAAA!

lately I've been imagining if mingi is good at sewing and it's his soft side (because I saw the FIX ON stuffs and wondering if he produces the stuff by himself), so he had a crush with yn but he is to shy to say it. when he saw yn kissed by his best friend yunho he became so madly jealous and feel guilty because he can't blame his best friend and got mad to yn instead.

by the next day he saw yn and yn is smiling at mingi as if nothing happened.... he wonders if those pretty lips could smile only at him, by sewing yn's lips.

Broken Doll

tw: dark fic!!!! Yan!Mingi, kidnapping, stitches, fainting, blood, kissing, obsessive behaviors, mingi is sooo delulu loll, restriction with handcuffs (let me know if I missed something)

wc: 2.7k

taglist: @aim-blossom @bambisd0ll @oddracha @peqchplvto @hwxbibi (dm me if you want to join the taglist)

Mingi stood in the dim light of his room, taking in the sight of his latest creation one final time. His fingers carefully traced the last knots and ties of the thread he had worked so diligently to secure. He let his eyes linger on the hoodie he had meticulously sewn just for you, its fabric soft and inviting, featuring his signature stitched phrase "fix on" that had become a signature of his work – it was the 47th item he had lovingly sewn with you in mind. With a careful motion, he folded the hoodie and placed it gently into the wardrobe he had designated exclusively for your clothes. Inside the closet, various dresses, t-shirts, skirts, coats, hoodies, and many other clothes were waiting, all sewn by him to fit your body and style perfectly. Mingi often daydreamed about the moment he would summon the courage to present these lovingly made items to you, to see you adorned in the clothes he had crafted with his own hands.

His eyes scanned the collection, trying to find which piece stood out as the most exquisite. If he were to gift you one tomorrow, which would be worthy of such an honor? Mingi's hand glided along the hangers, his fingertips brushing against the various fabrics. Despite the perfection he strived for in each garment, his eyes found minute imperfections in every piece. After careful consideration, he decided that the hoodie he had just completed would be the ideal first gift. It represented his most recent work, showcasing the refinement of his skills over time. The choice of your favorite color for the fabric and the elaborate embroidery of his "fix on" signature – a signature he had been incorporating into his creations for years – made it particularly special. The timing seemed perfect as well. With the weather turning cooler, gifting you the hoodie would allow him the pleasure of seeing you wear it. The thought of you wrapped in his handiwork sent a shiver of excitement through him.

This hoodie was not just a piece of clothing; it was a lasting impression of his feelings for you. He resolved that he wouldn’t postpone any longer; the next day would be the day he would finally tell you how he felt and present the hoodie to you. He had to stop his growing admiration for you from reaching a dangerous level, and the best way to do that was to tell you that he loved you.

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The following day, Mingi arrived on campus, his nerves frayed with anticipation. In his hands, he clutched the carefully wrapped gift, a physical manifestation of his affection. His body betrayed his anxiety – hands trembling, breath coming in short gasps, eyes heavy from a sleepless night spent rehearsing what he would say to you. As he scanned the familiar surroundings, he noticed something unusual: Yunho, his best friend and constant companion, was nowhere to be seen. This absence struck Mingi as odd. He and Yunho were practically inseparable, and it was unlike his friend not to check in with a simple "where are you?" message. As he walked, Mingi pulled out his phone and attempted to call Yunho, but there was no answer. His heart lowered slightly, as he could have used his friend's support and advice in this moment. Approaching the cafeteria, a familiar spot where they often met, he felt a surge of anticipation mixed with anxiety. He called Yunho again, hoping for a response, but what happened before him made his heart drop.

There, right in front of him, was Yunho, completely engrossed in a passionate kiss with you. You both looked so lost and passionate; Yunho’s hands were on your waist and your hands were tangled in Yunho’s hair. It took a moment, but when you caught sight of him standing there, your surprise registered on your face, and you instinctively pulled away from him; confusion clouded Yunho's face as he turned, suddenly locking gazes with his stunned friend.

In that moment, a whirlwind of emotions surged through Mingi – shock, betrayal, anger, and heartbreak collided within him. Despite the turmoil, Mingi didn't blame Yunho; after all, he had never told Yunho about his love for you. Yes, Yunho knew he was in love with someone, but Mingi had never said it was you. He didn't blame Yunho; if Yunho had known that Mingi was in love with you, he would never have done such a thing, Mingi was sure of that. All of Mingi's hurt and anger, therefore, became focused solely on you. Hadn't he made it clear before that he liked you? In his mind, he had made his feelings abundantly clear – the smiles, the shared class notes, the daily greetings. He believed his actions had spoken louder than words, making a formal confession almost unnecessary. But you, like a whore, had kissed his best friend, Yunho. Slut. How could you do this to Mingi? Despite all the clothes he had specially sewn for you, despite the masterpieces he had spent hours on, you had chosen his friend. Mingi could never forgive this.

You pulled away from Yunho's lips and smiled at Mingi. You fucking smiled. This had to be a joke, or Mingi must be having a terrible nightmare. Like a slut, you had cheated on him with his friend and then smiled to his face. That smile, which he had once found so endearing, now seemed to mock him. Mingi immediately left the cafeteria with growing anger and disappointment inside him and locked himself in the bathroom.

Of course, you and Yunho didn't understand what had happened. Mingi was just a friend to you, you had liked Yunho for weeks, and it was obvious that Yunho liked you too. Why had Mingi suddenly gotten angry and left? "Baby, let me check on Mingi." After Yunho kissed you one last time, you nodded, and with Yunho's leaving, you were left alone in the cafeteria.

Mingi's phone kept ringing with Yunho's missed calls, but Mingi didn't answer any of them. He wasn't angry at him; he just didn't know what to say to him. Mingi valued their friendship too much to risk saying something in the heat of the moment that he might later regret. You were the only one to blame here. You had gotten close to Yunho while Mingi was around, and on top of that, you had smiled at Mingi as if nothing had happened. A dark thought began to take root in his mind – you needed to be punished for the pain you had caused him.

Normally, Mingi wouldn't have kidnapped you; he had thought about it before and wanted you to fall in love with him on your own and live with him willingly, but after this, Mingi was going to kidnap you and punish you.

He stuffed the gift he had carefully prepared and wrapped for you into his bag and headed towards the parking lot, where the cameras had broken down long ago but no one had fixed it.

Yunho searched for Mingi everywhere in the college, called him countless times on the phone, but there was no sound from Mingi. When he realized that his class was about to start, he gave up and decided to stop by Mingi's house after class.

Mingi waited for your class to end, like a lion lying in ambush, beside your car, waiting for you without being seen by anyone. When he finally spotted you walking alone towards the parking lot, a momentary pang of guilt struck him. You looked so vulnerable, so unaware of the turmoil raging within him. But in his twisted logic, he pushed aside these feelings, convincing himself that his actions were justified.

Mingi's pent-up emotions exploded in a moment of brutal force as he ambushed you from behind. The sound of your head repeatedly hitting the car echoed in his ears, but he couldn't stop. He was hitting so fast that you were sure you would die there. Before you could even process what was happening, darkness engulfed you, and Mingi took your car key that had fallen from your hand, opened your car, seized the opportunity to bundle you into your own car. After making sure he hadn't left any traces behind, he got into the driver's seat. "I did this because you made me angry. You have to pay for what you've done." Mingi? This name flashed in your mind. The voice belonged to Mingi. But why would Mingi do this to you? Mingi's voice sounded very distant, as if you were in a glass jar and hearing the outside muffled. You tried to move your hands, but they were very heavy. When he started your car, you stopped resisting and closed your eyes.

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When your eyes fluttered open, a wave of numbness enveloped your entire body, leaving you disoriented and struggling to piece together your surroundings. You racked your brain for any memory of what had transpired, but found only a disconcerting void. There was an echo of a sound that faintly resonated in your ears, reminiscent of an engine's hum, yet softer and more persistent, like a background murmur that wouldn't fade away.

Your hands were tied firmly to something on either side, and as you tried to shift them, a feeling of helplessness washed over you. The bright white light that flooded your vision was blinding, making it nearly impossible to keep your eyes open for more than a fleeting moment. Attempts to speak or scream were futile; your mouth felt as if it were encased in a thick fog of numbness. You couldn't even muster the strength to part your lips or form the words that desperately wanted to escape.

As your vision slowly clears, you make out the silhouette of someone, a man hunched over a desk. And that annoying sound that was constantly piercing your brain was coming from there. You wanted to open your mouth and tell him to stop that, but both your mind was very tired, and your mouth was numb; you couldn't feel your lips, tongue, or teeth. The figure paused their work, momentarily silencing the continuous sound, and you watched as he picked up a pair of scissors from the cluttered desk, his movements deliberate yet mysterious. When he lifted his head, revealing a piece of fabric that lay in his hands, clarity began to creep in—you realized he was sewing something with a sewing machine. But confusion clouded your thoughts.

But why? Why were you here, and why was he sewing something here? Did you know him? Your mind was very foggy; you tried to come to your senses, but it was very difficult. A flicker of recognition stirred within you. You felt a sense of familiarity toward the person, although his name eluded you. Min... It started with an 'M.'

"So you're awake, doll," the figure spoke, getting up from the chair and making his way towards you. As he approached, a sense of dread settled in your stomach. "I didn't think you'd sleep for such a long time; I thought you were dead." He crouched down to meet your gaze, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker. "How do you feel?" he asked, his hand brushing softly against your head, yet the touch felt unsettling. You wanted to say you felt disgusting, but your lips didn't move. He got up from where he was crouching and sat next to you on the soft bed you were lying on. "It's silly of me to ask you questions and expect you to answer," you didn't understand what he was talking about. You were getting more and more silent, and the pain in your head had reached a noticeable level. You wanted to moved your arms, but cold metal handcuffs on both sides prevented you. Panic was progressively spreading through your veins, and your irregular breathing was the only sound filling the silent room.

He gazed at you for what felt like an eternity, allowing a heavy sigh to escape his lips. "You look very beautiful," he said, a statement that should have brought warmth but instead sent a chill down your spine. As he reached out toward you, an instinctual urge to pull back surged within you, but the energy to do so eluded you. His fingers brushed against what you thought were your lips, a gentle caress that you couldn’t feel, leaving you in an unsettling state of numbness. "First, let me remind you why you're here," he continued, his voice smooth yet sinister. "I've loved you for a long time, I admire you, but you, like a whore, went and kissed my best friend. That's why I kidnapped you."

Mingi.

The name jolted your memory back to fragmented moments; flashes of laughter, stolen glances, and the painful realization that he harbored feelings for you. Confusion wrestled with disbelief as he spoke, all while a smile danced on his lips, his fingers still trailing along your face. The smile was disarming, but it contrasted sharply with the surreal horror of the moment. You suddenly felt a wave of panic when his hands moved down to your clothes. You were even more confused when you noticed that your outfit had completely changed. The new clothes were made of a fabric you didn't recognize, and a deep sense of dread set in as you looked down at them in shock. As you were trying to look at yourself in surprise, Mingi spoke. "Ah, do you like your new clothes? I sewed them. I made them all carefully to fit your body perfectly." Due to the increasing panic, your head was starting to spin, and you were slowly regaining consciousness.

You wanted to shout at him, curse at him; you wanted to ask why you were here, tell him to let you go, but you couldn't open your mouth and speak, as if your mouth was numb like in a nightmare. "I also sewed something else; would you like to see it?" His question hung in the air, and you could only manage a slow shake of your head, a silent plea for him to stop. The handcuffs biting into your wrists were relentless, the tightness a stark reminder of your captivity, and a numbness was beginning to creep into your fingers.

Mingi excitedly stood up, walked a bit in the room, and took a large mirror in his hand and approached you again. As you were about to try to pull back in fear, you saw your own reflection in the mirror.

Was that thing you saw really you? It was as if you were seeing a film frame from a banned torture movie. What you saw was so foreign to you that you couldn't even react at first. Your lips were sewn together, meticulously stitched up like a doll, swollen and bloodied, thick threads crisscrossing in a grotesque pattern that held them shut, and gave a smiling expression.

This couldn’t be real. You felt the numbness in your lips, yet the sight before you defied all comprehension. Your mind raced; how could this be happening? Surely you would feel something if your lips were truly sewn shut. But right now you felt nothing.

"How is it? Do you like it?" Mingi's voice sliced through your panicked thoughts, his expression filled with a sickening delight. You tried to respond, to express the intense horror consuming you, but your voice betrayed you, silenced in this waking nightmare. "I sewed your lips because you smiled at someone other than me, because you talked to him, and because you kissed him. You belong to me, only me." A small sound escaped from your throat, a pathetic echo of your horror. Mingi’s smile broadened, but it was devoid of warmth, a chilling reminder of the depths of his obsession.

"Broken toys need to be repaired, don’t they? You were broken too, doll, very broken." He lowered the mirror, closing the distance between you, leaning in with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "So I repaired my most beautiful toy by sewing it.” You started to shake and felt like you couldn't breathe. “You can just smile at me." Just as Mingi was about to approach your lips and kiss you, he was interrupted by the familiar ringing of his doorbell.

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a/n: Hello! If you read this far, thank you, you were not bored lolll. I would be very happy if you could give me feedbacks!❤️❤️❤️

[ilovedilfsandleonkennedy]

you find yourself staring at your husband...

as you wordlessly take in his appearance.

you remember the last time you kissed him very well. it was little peck to his right cheek.

yet you don´t remember giving him the hickeys on his neck you´re currently staring at.

könig knows what he´s done. of course he does.

he keeps his gaze lowered, clearly avoiding your gaze and silently revelling in remorse making you wonder if these guilty feelings of his are even real or if they´re just a hoax like his love towards you.

"i can explain, love, i was drunk…. i-" he halts as he breathes heavily, trying to take a step closer to you, but stops when he notices you backing away from him.

he was drunk. you almost laugh to yourself.

"no." you say, trying to get the hell away from him.

all those sleepless, exhausting nights wondering if your husband would come home to you again, or if he´d spend the night with some woman he picked up from the bar, have finally brought you to this breaking point.

you aren´t even sad or shocked anymore, just tired and fed up with his bullshit, knowing this numbness has been clouding your mind for a while now.

you stare at the ring on your left hand, your head racing with doubts and thoughts.

"love-"

"stop calling me that." you whisper. he frowns at that.

könig watches you leave the room, reaches out a hand, but then quickly withdraws it, well aware that he´s lost the right to touch you a long, long time ago.

"i know i´ve messed up, i know that. but please, please," he begs but it doesn´t faze you, "don´t give up on us. don´t do this."

"there is no 'us'", you mutter, "there never was an 'us' and there never will be an 'us' ever again."

you grab a bag to pack your belongings, as you'd rather burn alive than spend another minute in this hell.

"please wait, please.. i can´t imagine my life without you, without your warmth."

'then why did you sneak out and seek the warmth of another woman?'

his heart is racing as he finally realizes the magnitude of his mistakes, "let me explain. i was just trying to escape my problems for a moment-"

"your problems?" you scoff, "'for better or worse', remember?" you scream.

könig doesn't say anything, he just stares at you while tears well up in your eyes.

"if you´re dealing with problems, you´re supposed to talk to me about them and not go and fuck someone!"

"love, i´m so sorry-"

"i´m leaving." you say, ignoring his attempts, "i´ll stay at john´s until we got this figured out. until you fucking learn how to respect a marriage," you shout, angrily poking your finger in his chest.

he´s silent again, the only reaction are his eyes widening at your outburst.

it makes your blood boil that he doesn't show any kind of reaction. he doesn't even try to get you to stay. he´s not trying to convince or pressure you into staying either.

and you realize he never really fought for you. he never did.

"i understand." no he doesn´t.

"you will also give me your signature because i want a divorce," you finally say, "i can´t do this anymore and i´m afraid forgiving you over and over again for your mistakes is gonna kill me eventually."

"a divorce?", he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

—

this is so bad aaaaa, anyway should i make a part 2?

[theoceansluvr]

Study Date Headcanons

warnings; none ! characters; percy jackson, jason grace, + leo valdez author's note; did i technically write a study date fic already ? yes. did i write it with my big 3 ? no !! also i wrote this during breaks on my AP psych assignments so it's a tad bit wonky.. T^T

PERCY JACKSON -

oh boy.. you guys rarely get any actual work done-

but it's very fun either way !

i feel like he has a self established award system so that for every problem he gets right, he gets a kiss..

which usually just ends in him asking super easy questions he already knows the answer to in order to get one.

"hey, the answer to #5 is y = 7.5 , right ?" "uhh.. yeah ? you've gone over that like five times-" "crazy ! i got the answer right though SOOO"

very ineffective method, but you still fall for it

in the scenario where you do get some work done, it's usually bc both of you procrastinated super hard

(we hate deadlines in his household !!)

anywho, lots of snacks too ! like blueberries, blue cookies his mom made, other various things to yer liking !

amazing with science for whatever reason ??? so go to him for help !!

i give him aaaaa 9.5/10 on the study date scale: only productive when necessary but worth it for the kisses !

JASON GRACE -

the most studious person on earth, literally has never missed a deadline !

except that one time but that's bc demigod stuff

has decent handwriting ??(he was raised by wolves okay :c) but enough that you can share notes with having to decipher anything

really good in english but simply bc latin influences on it

will study for like.. 3 hours straight without breaks so you have to grab him by the ear to relax and drink something other than cold coffee and flat red bull..

takes a crap ton of ap and honors classes it's unbelievable, so def the man to go to for anything !!

ermm classical music or pure silence, no in-between ! unless you play the music which is usually what happens

makes you tea/coffee before hand since it helps him focus so he just assumes it'll help you

not necessarily a study headcanon but if you share classes he ALWAYS partners up with you !

anyways, i got sidetracked 10/10 on the study date scale: very productive evening !

LEO VALDEZ -

MY BOYFRIEND EVER !!!

another ap and honors class taker so pls ask him for help in literally anything !

ESPECIALLY MATH 🗣️🗣️

probably takes like.. algebra 2 freshman year

anyways, not the most focused person but he gets his work done super fast despite that !

fast and correctly might i add, like it pisses teachers off when he talks on class and is like "oh i already finished !"

makes you dance with him during study breaks :3 doesn't matter how late it is or if yer in the library, yer dancing to whatever music is playing in the earbuds you guys are sharing

if he finishes his work early he either helps you or just.. stares at you longingly ?? very sappy

he also draws all over his notes so good luck trying to read them !

he gets an 12/10 on the study date scale: im bias + i hate math and would kill for this man to help me with it.. T^T

THIS WAS ACTUALLY SO FUN TO WRITE- might start doing more multiple character works tbh.. anyways !! hope you enjoyed loves🩷 also it was very tempting to put connor in here :(( kinda wish i did but i have work to do !!

[tenacquity]

If anyone could easily send Ryunosuke into a whirlwind of confusing emotions and keep him ever on his toes, it was typically Kazuma. One would think—given all that practice—he’d be a lot more equipped to deal with a similar nature in someone else, and yet… The present situation was doing a fine job of proving the young lawyer had much to learn: new terrains he needed to establish a footing in first before even attempting to walk.

Kaeya was—and perhaps always would be, Ryunosuke entertained—an entire puzzle of a man. Most of the time, as much as Ryunosuke desired to understand him intimately, he found himself running into one wall after another—as if each wall he managed to break through only made ten more rise up between him and that clarity: between him and knowing for certain what lived beneath a facade he’d at the very least learned Kaeya kept up in every interaction.

The Cavalry Captain strung him along on that thread of intrigue. He (somewhat shamefully) hung on to Kaeya’s every breath with the eagerness of any detective on the verge of solving a mystery—right there on that precipice, so close to finally reaching a conclusion only for the cliff to crumble beneath him and whisk him away ruthlessly. Because here, even in this moment, Ryunosuke felt like he was spiraling down an endless drop: one where he only on occasion would be upright, discerning anything going on around him, before the world turned upside down again.

Kaeya teased him—he always did. He had that knowing look on his face: a handsome smirk (it was no wonder he could charm most anyone he came across), a twinkle in his eye, a few well-placed statements on how fake their little “relationship” had been this evening as if he wanted to make that blatantly clear to Ryunosuke: Don’t get ahead of yourself. It was all for fun.

But, well. Who are you trying to convince with that? Ryunosuke wondered.

Something he’d suspected—one of the few aspects of Kaeya he’d grown to understand—became entirely clear: He lies to himself as much as he lies to everyone else… Doesn’t he?

Over the course of this well-practiced explanation, Ryunosuke felt his heart doing about a thousand different things: racing so fast it might as well jump out of his chest, screeching to a halt, tumbling down that chasm with him. Pink hopefully suited him; with how persistently warm his face felt, he assumed the color was well on its way to being permanent. As a hand roved over his waist, as those fingers became tender in their hold on his hand, Ryunosuke didn’t break eye contact. He searched the farthest reaches of Kaeya’s stare; he kept digging, digging, looking—

What are you so afraid of?

“Kaeya.” The word came out on a breath, somewhat of a prayer to the night breeze as Ryunosuke gathered the tattered remains of his composure. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t move an inch. He just stood there, a prolonged blink before meeting that eye again. “I— … You don’t have to—” A sigh seeped out, not at Kaeya, but at his own fumbling while he attempted to put his confusing thoughts (and feelings) into words. “You… know you’re allowed to feel things—right?” And he gave that hand another squeeze. “No matter what the other person’s ‘reaction’ might be… that doesn’t make anything you are feeling any more or less important.”

Finally, Ryunosuke moved. But not to leave Kaeya’s side. With their hands still intertwined, he led the captain forward, and thereafter pulled him into a quiet alley where the intimacy of their conversation was less likely to be heard.

“No, I suppose… you’re not wrong,” he confirmed then, casting a furtive glance to the main road to ensure no one had seen them. “But why you’re more concerned about my feelings as if they— As if you need permission to feel anything yourself… What did you expect me to do, exactly?” Ryunosuke pinned his gaze again, something stern but unmistakably compassionate burning in his eyes. “Reject you if my feelings didn’t line up with yours—? Kaeya, whatever you may be… Whatever we may be—now or in the future—you’re important to me. And I’d never turn my back on you for something as honest as… ‘matters of the heart.’”

His mouth slid into half of a smile: quaking ever so slightly at one side. “You didn’t need an excuse to say or do any of those… ah—things back there. Just for future reference.”

Given his ability to keep up with Kaeya to an impressive degree, Ryunosuke's fumbling in this moment spoke volumes. Kaeya could always find a way under one's skin if the desire struck; he could always read another well enough to turn the tide in his favor. Observation was one of his greatest strengths. Nothing escaped his notice.

Thus, in the moments after his calculated strike, the impish Captain caught the hitch in Ryunosuke's breath and the astonishment widening dark eyes. As his companion slowed to a stop, Kaeya's steps followed suit: keeping them locked in that orbit, dancing end-over-end in this game of cat and mouse. In the midst of his scrutiny—studying and memorizing every response he earned—Kaeya was struck by how charming Ryunosuke looked in his fluster. The mischief in his grin grew more pronounced the more he floundered.

"Hmm, well...Technically all of it was," Kaeya said with an easy shrug. "Surely I don't need to remind you that we're not, in fact, a couple." And while he didn't verbally acknowledge it, the gleam in his eye as he glanced down at their interlocked hands seemed to challenge that statement as much as the gesture itself.

"As I said: the main reason was to ensure the extension of our evening together. The second reason..." and he trailed off purposely, relishing in the drama, the anticipation of the pause— "...was to fluster you." Kaeya dipped inward with that admission, drinking in the swath of crimson that painted Ryunosuke's cheeks. "I'd say that was a resounding success.

"But if you want the truth?" Before that truth was even offered, those words felt foreign on his tongue. Bitter. Kaeya swallowed the taste; he wouldn't back down now. "I wanted to see how you would react. Onlookers have certain expectations when they think two people are a couple. If I were to speak about you that way, or touch you that way..."

Uncharacteristic for a man whose heart had long since fractured into shards of ice, his hold on the bend of Ryunosuke's fingers was gentle—even tender. Kaeya used it to tug him nearer. He stepped into his space, his opposite hand daring to cross that distance to settle at the curve of his waist.

"I can discern almost anything about anyone from the briefest conversation." His voice too had lowered; hushed not out of respect for the late hour, but for the preservation of this moment. Only for Ryunosuke to hear. "But I'm afraid that matters of the heart are where my talents find an abrupt end. I couldn't predict how you'd react."

Kaeya's thumb stroked over his knuckles—unconscious, almost hesitant. A coy smirk attempted to hide that uncertainty. "You still look like you want me to mean it. Am I wrong?"

[tidaltow]

❝ You have done me a great service. Thank you, my son. I only wish I could spare you from the hardship and dangers you'll surely face. ❞

@seaprofound || 🥺🥺😭

He doesn't know what he's supposed to say to that. Which ends up being a good thing, because even if Percy wanted to talk, it feels like an entire bundle of seaweed has climbed up his throat (and he doesn't remember ever consuming that, so go figure).

Poseida looks at him earnestly, with that overflowing adoration of hers, but this time too with something a little more: an equally brimming pride he's not known he needs as much as this . . . until the very second she expresses it and he stands there like a doofus wondering how to react. She tells him he's done well. Great. That alone is enough to tug at something in his chest. Then she goes on to express how desperately she wishes she could save him—

Percy's tired. (Gods, he's always tired.) And yet, those words jumpstart a new rush of energy: a shot of what seems like electricity sparking through his veins—something to keep him going. When he smiles at her, a prickling nags behind his eyes. “I wouldn't let you even if you tried,” Percy counters, and though his next breath brings with it a laugh, it's warped on a small tremble. “C'mon. You know this about me.”

Besides, as far as he's concerned . . . ? She's done plenty.

[monstersholygrail]

hhands on learner hehe... i sure hope so ,,>_<,, but on that note, really quickly wanted to say happy birthday to ballet anon!!! i'm sorry your day didn't go well, i hope the rest of the year is kinder to you :(

with that being said... i hope it isn't pervy of me to think about dragon bf mating press. mmating press... heehehe... one of my favorite positions, but its sooooo underrated aaaaa >:T

'm a lil' curious tho... what're your favorite positions to write? :0

( 🍰 )

Saw this a little late, but this is so sweet!!! Love the intermingling emoji anon loveee

Anything to do with thinking of dragons in any sexual capacity is more than perfectly wonderful to me. You’re totally good, love. It is a very good position. I don’t think personally I could get my knees into that position. But that actually poses a very interesting thought.

Dragon bf and his big and towering frame hovering of you as he wildly fucks into you. The idea of making you feel just how big he is inside you making him nearly feral. So he pushes your knees up to your chest, relishing in the long moan that slips from your lips. When suddenly he starts to meet the resistance, your limbs not allowing for the satisfaction he needs. With his giant clawed hands he continues to push down on your legs, forcing you to feel the painful stretch of your legs mixed with the pleasurable stretch of his cock molding your pussy to his length and girth. And when you cum, milking his cock for all it’s worth, you don’t think you’ve ever cum harder before.

Pfff, hope you enjoyed that. That was inspired by the memory of my karate teachers pushing my knees down in the butterfly pose to make us more flexible lmao.

And thank you for asking!! I think my favorite positions to write are probably variations of doggy style and cowgirl. I tend to write them in my fics the most lol. But I’d like to add some variety to it just so my stuff doesn’t get repetitive. Maybe I’ll have to do some research. Oh woe is me 😏