#ah fuck i do not want to think about this.

[clockwayswrites]

@redghostbirdy Dick/Danny, skeleton shaped sugar cookies cw blood and stitches

Of course Dick still had to take his trash out after getting back from patrol. He was exhausted and wounded, but the trash had really gotten untenable and now had bio-waste in it. He had to take it down to the dumpster. It was almost a compulsion at that point to get it taken care of, or he knew he wouldn’t sleep well. As much as his family teased him about the state of his apartment he had his limits.

So, Dick tied up the bag, tugged it free of the bin, managed to slip on some shoes after a few attempts, and headed out into the hallway. And right into his neighbor.

His hot, brick wall of a neighbor that could totally bench press Dick in all the meanings of that phrase that Dick had totally been thinking a little too much about for the last few months.

“Whoa, careful there, darlin’,” Danny drawled, steadying Dick with large hands on both of Dick’s shoulders. “What are you doing wandering around out here at this time?”

“Um, trash?” Dick said ineloquently and raised the bag a little. The bag which apparently was leaking because his hand was wet.

Dick looked down at his hand and the red blood that coated it. Did his stitches pop?

“Ah, fuck,” Danny cussed and stepped back a little.

(Embarrassingly, Dick almost swayed after him.)

Danny lifted up the edge of his shirt, which may have killed what was left of Dick’s brain functions, to show blood flaked skin and—

“Is that a menstrual pad covering a wound?!”

Danny shrugged. “It’s just a little knife wound and Jess, the bouncer, hand one handy.”

“Oh my god. Just, come on, we’re getting that stitched up or at least bandaged properly,” Dick said. He set his bag of trash down by the door and grabbed Danny’s hand with his clean one to drag the bemused man into his apartment.

Luckily the first aid kit was still out on the little island counter and Dick all but pushed Danny onto one of the stools. Dick peeled the offending pad off maybe a little more harshly than was necessary and found a plastic bag to drop it into.

“I can’t believe that’s what you were using. And you call that little? How did you even get that? You’re the bartender! You’re supposed to be behind the bar.”

Danny just shrugged, an easy going and not at all repentant grin on his face. “I had to stop someone from being a creep.”

Dick just glared, mildly, at him as he washed his hands. He couldn’t really argue with that. He snapped on some gloves instead and set about cleaning Danny’s wound.

“I think this could use some stitches. I can do them, but I can also just get you patched up enough to go to urgent care if you’d feel more comfortable with that.”

“You can do them.”

“…yeah?” Dick asked just to be sure and glanced up at Danny.

Danny shrugged again. “I mean, you do have a very well stocked first aid kit on your counter already. Why was that?”

“Hush.”

Dick covered the area around the wound with a numbing agent while Danny chuckled at the non answer.

“If I promise to be a better patient than your students, do I get a cute bandage?”

Dick smiled despite himself as he threaded the needle. “All the cute bandages are at the gym. Stay still now.”

“Damn,” Danny said, and then waited until after Dick had started the stitches to ask, “What about a lollipop?”

“I might have some jelly beans still,” Dick said, grinning now. He kept his eyes on his work though, not wanting to give Danny uneven stitches.

Thankfully, Danny didn’t need that many and Dick was soon tying them off and taking a step back.

“No fun bandage, no lollipop,” Danny sighed, “what about a kiss to make it all better?”

Dick’s gaze shot up to look at Danny and his cheeky little smirk.

“Or did I miss read things completely?”

Dick rolled his eyes at Danny’s confidence, though it made him smile. “I think a kiss to make it better I can do.”

Danny’s smile turned into a full on grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dick said and leaned in to press his lips to Danny’s.

He tasted like spice, lime, and sugar.

[sahisan]

— curiousity killed the cat.

featuring . pm!dazai osamu.

tags . suggestive, so slight nsfw. civilian!gn!reader. dazai's a bit sick. just pmzai things yk (he's scary). weapons described (he has a gun). blood mentioned. gunplay mentioned (brief suggestive description). wc 1.8k.

author note . this is so random i don't even know if the paragraphs do well together bc i just poured my most random thoughts into it and i was sleepy and barely managed to proofread it. yep. i imagined mostly 20-22!pmzai here.

dazai hid many things. he hid them well; years of being on constant standby, awaiting, on guard about anything enemy or not related. he hid in the shadows no matter day or night, but the shadows didn't always necessarily mean him only scrambling around in narrow alleyways or in the safety of the headquarters—in reality, he spent little time in the latter, nor did he 'lurk in the shadows' often, unless on a mission.

he hid everything from everyone, including you; of course including you. and the thing that bothered him the most was you finding out about what he does. did. has done. keeps on doing every day. not only does he not want the port mafia's countless enemies to know about you, but dazai also dreads the thought of you getting even a little bit closer to the truth of what he does for a living. he thinks of how he might slip one day and just reveal his true nature, intentionally or not, and either let you be disgusted and scared or kill you immediately because you might report to the police; it bothers him in both ways.

dazai avoids the area of your home when out at work. he makes sure to put on some casual clothes before visiting your place. when things are bad, work routine and you colliding together closer to night, he makes sure to hold a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his inner pocket to quickly wash away the stains of blood from his clothes. he keeps a bit of cologne there as well, to hide the stench of blood he usually reeks of during the day—he doesn't even use cologne daily. if you need him right after work, he disposes of his weapons, giving them away to the underlings that follow his word.

everything is always under control.

like tonight. he'd had a "kill and dispose" assignment, after which he'd had to go to yours and spoil you with a movie night he promised you. ah, the long-awaited respite from everyday bloodshed.

yet he was still on guard; he always has been, but today was busy and rough and all he needed was your embrace and a movie as a background noise while he showered you with kisses and cuddled you with neverending hugs.

and dazai forgot.

already at your doorstep, already having ringed the bell by your front door when dazai looked down at himself and—

fuck.

there was a small but clear blood stain right next to his tie. ah. how great. he definitely won't have time to remove it, but he might try to win some time to divert your attention from it if you notice—and you will, if he doesn't do anything about it.

with the door opening, dazai threw himself at you, literally waltzing into your apartment, hip to hip, your left hand in his right and his left hand at your waist, he led you through the corridor in an almost hasty improvisation of a dance, causing his tie to sway just in the right direction and have you giving him a look that screamed "you and your antics again?". good.

"ah, you look especially divine tonight," he mused, nuzzling your neck and making you place your chin on his shoulder; very good, the stain was out of your sight at least for now, and he couldn't be happier about that. "i haven't had dinner yet but i already know what i want for dessert."

distract. distract and avert and keep away—best tactic of dazai's that rarely failed, and he was used to putting it to use everywhere he could, including you. you could be perceptive or gullible, didn't matter—it worked wonders on anyone and will continue working for as long as he wanted to.

dazai swayed you around a few more times, dancing his way into your living room while humming a nauseatingly sweet, random tune he made up in his head a second ago. hip against yours again, he let a content smirk wash over his lips.

a clank. soft, quiet sound of metal clanking once echoed through the room, and it was almost eerie silence aside from his barely audible humming just as his hipbone met yours.

that didn't sound good, considering the only thing on his hip was—

ah. dazai forgot two things tonight.

in reverie about cursing himself head to toe in his mind, he lost the sensation of your touch until it felt too suspicious and he was too late, you reaching for the side hem of his coat and tugging it away from his side to reveal it to the light. you were always so curious, and he couldn't tell whether it was bad or good for him in general.

the soft clink echoed once more as your fingers grazed the object, and his eyes narrowed. the gun. shit. in his distracted state, he'd forgotten to dispose of it along with wiping away the blood.

dazai's hand shot out from beneath the coat, and he knew he wasn't doing himself a favor by raising his hand to grab yours, only revealing the holster further, but he didn't necessarily give a shit right now. he ought to do more than care about the gun right now, like a proper boyfriend, first being calming you down and assuring you it's not loaded and isn't as scary as it looks and that you shouldn't be afraid and the second being change of course of the conversation so seamlessly that you forget about the weapon for the rest of the night at least (unfortunately, the last sentence never crossed his mind).

but when did dazai ever go according to an adequate plan?

his hand held yours in the air, palm gliding up and down your inner forearm, trying to, first, soothe every negative emotion that might come up on the surface of your face, as well as keeping your curious hand away.

"ah-ah-ah, how naughty," dazai purred, voice dripping with false sweetness even as his eyes glinted with dangerous amusement; what he was supposed to be doing absolutely slipped from his thoughts the second he sensed the quickening of your heartbeat and breath and the cautious halting and tensing of your body against his, and he was already getting hard just from this. sick. "what did i tell you about wandering hands, hmm?"

he ground his hips against yours once after that, letting you feel the growing hardness in his pants. distraction. that was the key. keep you focused on his body, on the pleasure he could give you, and you'd forget all about that pesky gun in no time.

“careful there, baby. wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot yourself,” he said with a twisted, growing grin. his other hand, previously holding your left one, slid away from it to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your jawline in a mockery of tenderness, visible eye looking down at your mouth.

"i'd hate to see those pretty lips marred by blood."

and yet, once he'd lifted his eyes up to yours, dazai could feel you tense under his touch, heart racing beneath your skin. he knew that look in your eyes, that widening of your pupils; he was all too familiar with it. fear. he had been so focused on the thrilling, twisted satisfaction the situation brought him momentarily, that he hadn't noticed how his actions were affecting you. his grip on your wrist loosened, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your inner wrist.

dazai sighed, deciding it was time to stop scaring you with both his demeanor and the weapon, even if it wasn't what he wanted right now at all; he had a switch to pull off, an appearance to keep up in front of you. ah, but how he'd love to prolong that moment for just a little longer: your fear palpable in the air, that scared glance you cast at him once, the trembling of your hands, hitch in your breathing and increase of your heartbeat.

maybe later.

"easy, easy," he murmured, voice low and soothing even as his mind raced. he tapped the holster twice. "it's not loaded, see?" a lie. "just a little souvenir," a lie. the gun was always loaded, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice, but you surely didn't need to know that. he'd already subjected you to more horror than a civilian would need to witness.

dazai leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "you know i'd never be involved with these types of things and would never hurt you, right?" honey-sweet, dripping with false sincerity words. what he was absolutely best at was lying and manipulating, and he couldn't even control it anymore; if he needed you to believe, he will make you believe, one way or another.

"but you also shouldn't go poking around where you don't belong," he purred lowly with an audible dangerous lilt to his tone, lips now moving lower and ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. "who knows what kind of trouble you might find yourself in. curiosity killed the cat, you know. you never know when you'll be the cat. and I'm not sure i'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

dazai could try to keep you away from his sicko tendencies and mind and thoughts that were all over the place and mingled together; the thoughts of protecting you from all of this meeting the ones of putting that gun to better use that just shooting people. and right now, he was barely holding it all in.

think of it this way: the thoughts of keeping his precious favourite civilian away from the corrupted knowledge and pain and feeling you tremble in fear underneath him, with the barrel of his gun tracing over your bare skin and getting dangerously close to where you'd need him most? oh, did the latter make dazai's stomach contort with desire and hips buckle up into yours. he would have to think more clearly about this later when his head wasn't a wreck of everything at once, but now...

"you want to play with something hard, baby?" dazai murmured in the end, all sultry and beaming with desire. "i'll give you something much better than a piece of metal to wrap your pretty fingers around."

dazai was sick and his mind twisted and he didn't get how he could ever keep someone like you by his side, but he supposed it was fate; and for as long as fate was merciful to him, he would make good use of it.

"but behave, hmm?"

[sgt-tombstone]

When Soap caught a glimpse of the red and white app on Ghost’s phone, he wasn’t sure he saw it correctly. It was the quickest flash, out of the corner of his eye, in a dark and crowded pub the night after one of the longest ops they’d been on in a long time. Surely, it wasn’t…

But then he saw it again, a few days later, when Ghost pulled out his phone to message Price about something inane, Soap sitting next to him like always. And there it was: Clue Period & Cycle Tracker.

He knew he’d recognized it the first time; it was the same app that his sister used when she and her husband had been trying for their second child, and he’d know the app logo anywhere with how often she’d shoved her phone in his face, complaining about fertility windows and PMS. But, contrary to popular belief, John MacTavish knew when to keep his mouth shut, so he didn’t mention it, despite the questions crawling up his throat like ants.

That didn’t mean he didn’t acknowledge it at all, though. It was a little hard to come to terms with, his hulking lieutenant being trans, but it didn’t change how he felt about him, the smoldering lust (and love) that he felt just by being in the same room as him. He needed to show Simon that it didn’t bother him, that he’d be supportive of him no matter what. That he would love him no matter what.

So, in typical MacTavish fashion, he started talking. Small stuff, at first, comments about how fucking stupid anti-trans laws were or how he’d always prioritized the people he loved over whatever was in their pants. It was awkward at times, and maybe a little heavy-handed, but he was trying his best. All it gained him, though, were confused looks from everyone around him, Ghost included. At one point, Gaz even pulled him aside and pointedly asked if there was anything he wanted to tell him, but Soap didn’t dare out his lieutenant, so he stammered through a denial and beat a hasty retreat.

Maybe he needed to be more explicit. The on-store base sold the bare minimum of period supplies, and he didn’t know anything about Ghost’s cycles, so he grabbed what he vaguely remembered his sister mentioning, along with some chocolate, pain killers, and a heating pad. It wasn’t much, woefully inadequate and almost comically small in the only box he had in his room, but… he was trying his best.

He knocked on Ghost’s door that night, box under his arm and heart in his throat. When Ghost opened the door, he practically shoved the box into his chest, his face burning with embarrassment, and Ghost leveled him with a questioning look as he waved him inside. The last thing Soap wanted to do was have this conversation, but he stepped in anyway, heart hammering as Ghost closed the door behind him.

“What is this, Sergeant?”

For once, Soap didn’t know what to say. Maybe this was a bad idea. How did one tell their superior officer that they were aware of and fully supported their gender identity, despite said superior officer never having actually told them about it? They didn’t, that’s how. Except that’s exactly what Soap had to do, somehow.

“I, uh,” he stammered. Great start. “I just wanted tae-“

“Why are you giving me pads, Soap?”

Soap wanted the floor to swallow him whole and leave nothing but a soot stain on the floor to indicate his swift descent into hell. Ghost had opened the box and was looking over it at him, one eyebrow raised in bafflement.

“I just,” Soap said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Was it hot in here? He felt sweat drip down the valley of his spine as Ghost continued to fix him with that same expectant stare. “I just thought ye might-“

“Do you think I have a period, Soap?”

It wasn’t said with an air of disgust, or even derision, just earnest curiosity, but it prickled something defensive in Soap anyway, and he rushed to explain himself.

“Ah saw ye had an app on yer phone and it’s the same one my sister uses so I figured ye were trans and just hidin’ it well so I just…”

He drifted off, words petering out when he registered Ghost’s chuckles. In fact, he was full on laughing, curled slightly over the box still in his arms, one hand raised to his face, pulling off his mask to wipe at his eyes. Hot rage swept through Soap at the sound.

“You bastart,” he cried. “Ah was just trying tae be supportive and yer laughin’ at me-“

“I’m sorry, Soap,” Simon said, schooling his expression slightly, but Soap could still see mirth dancing in his eyes. It was a good look on him, and it was hard to hold onto his anger in the face of it. “I’m feeling very supported, thank you.”

Hard, but not impossible. Soap glared at him through narrowed eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“If yer gonna mock me, I’ll take the box back, ye bampot,” he muttered, but Simon pulled the box closer to his chest, protective of its contents.

“It was a gift, Sergeant,” he said, shaking his head. “No take-backs.”

“What are ye, five?”

“Thirty-five,” Simon corrected, a glimmer of mischief in his smile. “And not trans, either. Though I’m sure every trans person is very appreciative of your wholehearted support.”

“Fuck ye,” Soap said without heat. The tension drained out of his shoulders and he slumped slightly where he stood in the middle of Simon’s room. “What’s the app for, then?”

“It’s to keep track of the side effects of my medications,” Simon shrugged, putting the box on his desk and stepping back over to his bed, but not before Soap noticed him pocketing the chocolate. “My psychiatrist recommended it. Works well, even if it gets confused that I never actually have a period. Good for keeping track of trends, though.”

And that… Made sense, all things considered. He knew that Simon took a small handful of pills everyday when they were on base, medications to help with his anxiety and other PTSD-related symptoms, but he’d never thought about the side effects that they might have. His confusion must have shown because—in a jarring moment of deja vu—he abruptly had a phone being shoved, albeit more gently than his sister had, in his face. He immediately recognized the app’s calendar, tracking various symptoms in colored tabs on each day. Most of them were orange, having to do with mood or sleep or energy levels, but some were blue or green, and he wasn’t sure what those were for. None of them, notably, were red.

“Oh,” he said dumbly, a little shocked at how forthcoming Simon was being about all of this. “Ah guess… Ah can take the stuff back then.”

“Don’t you dare,” Simon said quickly, a little teasingly. He put his phone back in his pocket and stepped unsubtly between Soap and his desk. “When your sergeant shows up at your door with chocolate and pain killers, he’s not allowed to leave with them, too.”

“Surely ye don’t need the pads, though, LT,” he said, cheeks heating with embarrassment again.

“I’m sure they’ll come in handy the next time you get shot in the field,” Simon smirked, dodging Soap’s badly-aimed smack with a chuckle.

“Ahm sorry,” Soap said quietly, not letting himself get swept up in Simon’s good mood. “Ah didnae mean tae assume-“

“Johnny,” Simon said quietly, suddenly in his space, his bare hand rising to tilt Soap’s chin up, forcing him to meet Simon’s eyes. They were soft and genuine where they bore into Soap’s, and the sight made his breath catch in his throat. “Thank you. You were wrong, but I appreciate the thought.”

“Yeah?” Soap said, embarrassingly breathless. When Simon nodded, he risked placing his hands on Simon’s hips, heat searing through the black fabric of his shirt.

“You noticed what no one else did and tried to be supportive the only way you knew how,” Simon continued, gaze still pining Soap in place, and Soap really needed him to step back or else he’d be very aware of exactly what effect his voice had on Soap.

“I always will, sir,” Soap breathed, and then abruptly stopped breathing at the darkened look in Simon’s eyes.

“You always take care of me, Johnny,” he rumbled, and the dam broke. Within a heartbeat, their lips met, a slick slide of teeth and tongues and pent-up desire, their hands sweeping across each other’s bodies, touching everything in reach. Soap felt one hand tangle at the base of his mohawk, the other splayed across his lower back, a radiating heat diffusing across his skin. His own hands were clenched in the back of Simon’s shirt, holding him as close as possible as he pushed himself up and forward, as far into Simon as he could get with layers of clothes and skin and muscle between them.

After an indeterminate amount of time—Soap couldn’t have guessed minutes or hours for all the money in the world—Simon gently broke them apart with a palm on his cheek, his hand so big that it covered the entire side of Soap’s face, and the thought made him whine even as he let himself be pushed away. They didn’t go far; Simon pressed his forehead against Soap’s, both of them gasping each other’s air as they caught their breath.

“Fuck, sir,” Soap panted, eyes pressed shut as he struggled to process what had just happened.

“Want to find out what exactly you were wrong about, Johnny?” Simon asked. Soap looked up at him, eyes flying open in confusion, then glanced down when Simon tilted his head with a smug smile. In the scant space between them, he could see the clear tent in Simon’s pants, and he couldn’t have stopped the moan that ripped out of his throat if he’d tried.

“Fuck, sir,” he repeated, looking up again, his eyes dancing with excited lust.

“I was hoping to,” Simon replied, and his laughter echoed around the room as Soap shoved him down onto the bed, his grip on his sergeant pulling them flush.

Later, as Soap laid on Simon’s bed, sprawled and strung out, the scent of sex heavy in the air, his limbs even heavier, he couldn’t help but to be glad, for the first time in his life, that he’d been wrong.

Read it on ao3 here!

[beef-brisket]

Lilith: Y-You can't kick me out! This is MY palace to! That THING in there isn't worthy of any of this!

Adam woke up to dragging and screaming. What the fuck?

He grabbed his bucket and slowly made his way to the door.

Adam: Lu, is that-

Adam opened the door and looked down the hallway. Lilith was dragged by her hair. She was licking and screaming. And she looks terrible.

He couldn't see Lucifer's face, but he could see his horns and tail. He must be pissed.

After a few minutes, the screaming finished, and a large door slammed shut. Did she leave? Adam doesn't want to me mean, but he's hopped she's left.

Lucifer: Addy, what are you doing up?

Adam jumped and noticed Lucifer walking towards him.

Adam: Sorry- just... the screaming-

Lucifer: Ah. I was going to put I silencing spell on her, but I like hearing her screams~. Now, let's get you back to bed.

Adam: I-I was thinking- maybe getting something to eat? I don't feel too bad at the moment.

Lucifer smiled and kissed Adam's hand.

Lucifer: That's fantastic, Addy. How about you go have a warm bath or shower, and I'll make you something to eat.

Adam nodded and went to turn into his room. But he couldn't move when Lucifer was still holing his hand.

Adam: Lu?

Lucifer: ...I saw those things she said to you.

Adam looked down: S-She... touched me, Lu... I didn't want her to- I couldn't fo anything! Especially when she-

Adam felt tears start to run down his face, but Lucifer quickly spawned a cloth and dabbed at his face.

Lucifer didn't know that she touched Adam. His memories were only focused on Liliths face.

Lucifer: Where, love? Can you tell me? You're safe.

Adam: ...M-My stomach and... my...

Lucifer stared at Adam before looking down. He softly touched his stomach, and the movement caused Adam to tense. But as his hand slipped further down, Adam jolted. Basically, trying to pull himself out of Lucifer's hold.

Lucifer instantly knew, and pulled his hand away.

Lucifer: Oh, my love. I'll butcher her for this. I'll skin her!

Adam: L-Lu- just stay with me- for now, please?

Lucifer was still fuming, but seeing his queens pleading look, he instantly gave in, and wrapped his arms protectively around Adam.

Lucifer: I'm so sorry, love. I'll protect you. For now and always.

Adam: Thank you, Luci... can you bathe with me? If it's not too much trouble?

Lucifer: I'd love to~.

Devil Lucifer x Ghost Hunter Adam

@beef-brisket ((Here it is lol))

Adam is trying to prove that ghosts are real so he started a YouTube channel with his friend Lucifer, who unbeknownst to Adam is the literal Devil.

-

Adam: I'm telling you Lu, this place is super haunted I can feel it.

Lucifer was unloading their filming gear as they got ready to go into this supposedly haunted prison.

Lucifer: I don't know Ad, you'll need more proof than just the wind.

Adam frowned: It was a whisper and you know it.

[hannahssimblr]

Beginning // Prev // Next

Transcript

Gabija: Hello! Please, come in. It is cold outside.

Jude: Yeah, the weather's turned.

Gabija: I'm making spaghetti.

Jude: Oh, you cooked? I actually just wanted to talk really quickly. I don't have time for-

Gabija: No, come. You'll have a plate.

Jude: Um...

Gabija: This way. It smells good, yes?

...

Gabija: This is my housemate, Lizzie. She is from the UK, like you.

Jude: Okay, well, I'm not from you UK at all. I actually haven't been there either, so-

Lizzie: Alright?

Jude: Yeah. Hi. Look, Gabija, can we just-

Gabija: Do you want to taste the sauce?

Jude: No, not really.

Gabija: No, come. You can tell me if it has too much salt or too little.

Jude: [tastes it] Yeah, it tastes like tomato sauce.

Gabija: [laughs uproariously] You're so funny! I tell Lizzie all the time of how funny you are.

Lizzie: She really does. Funny, talented, handsome... among other things. You've really got the full package, haven't you?

Gabija: Come, sit. The paste is finished.

...

Gabija: Do you know Jude has his birthday on Saturday?

Lizzie: Yes! I heard this. Gabby mentioned it to me once or twice.

Jude: Did she.

Lizzie: Have you plans together?

Jude: No.

Gabija: He is going to a party with friends.

Lizzie: Aw! You didn't want to go, Gabs?

Jude: It's close friends only. She doesn't know the guy hosting.

Lizzie: Well, at least you can both go to B-

Gabija: Lizzie! Shh!

Jude: What's going on?

Gabija: I have bought you something. A gift.

Jude: Oh, God. No, you really... I don't want anything, Gabija, seriously.

Gabija: You talked about how you like Bon Iver...

Jude: Oh, no...

Gabija: And I read they are coming to Berlin in some weeks...

Jude: Jesus...

Gabija: So I got tickets! One for you, one for me!

Jude: Fuck sake, Gabija.

Lizzie: [chortles] Is that how you say you love something in Ireland?

Gabija: You don't want them.

Jude: You made me a card, too?

Gabija: Yes. I painted it.

Jude: Why?

Gabija: For your birthday. I wanted for you to smile.

Jude: But we aren't even together. This is just casual. Why would you do all of this?

Lizzie: Excuse me. I have to go off and... do something.

Gabija: Have I misunderstood?

Jude: I'm just not interested in getting serious to the point that we're like, going to events together, if I'm honest.

Gabija: Oh.

Jude: ...sorry.

Gabija: You don't like me.

Jude: Look, if you got the wrong idea... [breaks off] It's me, right? It's me. I'm not ready for anything serious. I'm not looking for a relationship, and like I said, it's me, not you. I'm the issue.

Gabija: I don't think it's the truth.

Jude: It is.

Gabija: No. There is something about me you do not like.

Jude: Why would you say that?

Gabija: Because you were not happy with me when we had coffee with your Irish friend.

Jude: Okay, well, in fairness, on that day, you weren't actually supposed to come. You invited yourself.

Gabija: You said I could come.

Jude: I heavily implied that you couldn't, actually.

Gabija: you implied?

Jude: Yes, I implied.

Gabija: And do you want me to read your thoughts? You did not say no.

Jude: Well, you're supposed to pick up the signals.

Gabija: The signals are, 'I will not tell you, but please do not come because then I will be very upset'? I don't know what to say. You are a confusing man.

Jude: I'm not.

Gabija: You say one thing but mean another, and say you are not confusing?

Jude: Sorry if I'm confusing, then. Should I go, then?

Gabija: I don't care. if you like, you can finish your spaghetti.

Jude: [incredulous whisper] Why would I want that?

Gabija: It will otherwise go to waste.

Jude: I think in this case it's okay to waste it.

Gabija: Leave it on the table. Maybe I will eat it tomorrow.

Jude: Whatever you want. Hey, we're not going to be awkward in college now, are we?

Gabija: I think yes.

Jude: Ah, well. Obviously you can keep the tickets.

Gabija: I do not know who Bon Iver are. I got them just for you.

Jude: That makes me a bit sad, to be honest.

Gabija: Take them with you.

Jude: Thanks.

Gabija: Bye, Jude.

Jude: Yeah, bye.

[theyungihven]

DUMB DUMB ⁕ SAN

KINKTOBER EVENT

☆ pairing: serial killer san x female reader

⁂ KINKS : bondage, spanking

☆ genre: dark romance, smut

☆ warnings: spanking, mention of murder, use of ropes, bondage, morally grey main lead, cursing

☆ word count: who cares

☆ synopsis : he is your murder boyfriend who returns home and walks in onto you fucking yourself on the dildo tied to a human sized teddy bear. so he ties you up with rope as a punishment and edges you, not letting you come till you beg him like an obedient pet

Moans spew from your mouth as they travel to the living from the bedroom and san walks into the house, hanging his coat on the coat hanger and takes off his shoes.

He hears the sounds coming from the bedroom and chuckles, a smirk on his face as he stands in the hallway. He slowly strides towards the door, pushing it open without knocking.

You're too indulged in your own pleasure that you don't notice the door opening and him walking in. His eyes widen as he notices the scene unfolding in front of him.

You sit on top of the teddy bear as you bounce up and down. His smirk grows wider, and he leans against the frame of the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

His eyes trail down your body and he notices something....a blue glass dildo strapped to the waist of the teddy bear with a harness? "My, my, what do we have here…?"

You turn around, your head still hazy from the rush of hormones and lust fogging your brain only to look at your boyfriend leaning against the door frame as he eyes you up and down with a smirk. "honey….i can explain…"

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He strides further into the room, closing the door behind him. "By all means, darling, do explain. I can't wait to hear this."

You take in a deep breathe, getting off the teddy bear as you lift yourself off the dildo and collapse on the bed beside the giant fluff toy "we agreed on something but you were late so i had to do something."

He chuckles softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He runs his fingers through his hair, looking at you intently. "Ah, yes. I do remember something about that. And what was it, exactly, that we agreed on again?"

"honey today is halloween." you yell, "we agreed on you dressing up as hannibal lecter and me pretending to be your patient whom you lure sexually to be your victim as my psychiatrist." you huff and look at the floor in disappointment. "i didn't expect this from you." you get off and start to walk away.

He watches you as you get off the bed and start to walk away. A smile forms on his lips, and he stands up, catching up to you in a few strides and grabbing your arm, turning you to face him. "Hold on a minute, darling. Where do you think you're going?"

"you forget promises, you pay." His smirk widens.

He grabs your waist with one hand, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, I never forget promises, love. And I have a feeling you're going to be rather…punished for your impatience."

You gulp down your saliva nervously as you look up at him "but- but i didn't do anything." He smirks.

His grip on your waist tightens slightly as he pulls you even closer, his body pressed flush against yours. "Oh, but you did, darling. You know what happens when you don't wait, when you don't follow rules?"

"there were no rules, san." His grip tightens on you. He grins, his grip on you only tightening even further, almost to the point of being painful.

His voice is low, a hint of menace in his tone. "No rules, hm? Well, I think it's about time I enforce a few. You're not going anywhere, darling. You--"

You wince at the painstaking grip. "i am going. cuz i can't be with a man that doesn't respect me and can't keep his word." His smile only widens, as he grabs your chin and forces you to look up at him.

"Oh, I don't think so, love. You're not going anywhere. You're mine, and I'm not letting you out of my sight. You can struggle all you want, but you-"

"san." His smirk falters for a moment, but his grip on you doesn't loosen.

"Darling, you're the one spoiling the mood. You're the one who couldn't wait patiently, who had to start things without me."

"we can talk this out i guess."

He loosens his grip slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Fine, then. Let's talk. But you're not leaving this room until we're done talking, understood?"

"yes."

His hands move upwards, grabbing your face. "yes,what?"

"yes,si-sir." He smiles, hearing the slight submissive note in your voice, and leads you back towards the bed, sitting down on the edge.

"Good girl." He pats his lap, gesturing for you to sit down.

You sit on his lap, looking down at the floor in your white lace lingerie. He grins, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer against him. "Look at you. So beautiful, so…. All dressed up in lace and waiting for me to come home."

"i'm sorry i was just sad and one thing lead to another" He runs his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle.

"I understand, love. But you should know better than to start things like that without me." his tone sends shivers down your spine.

"it's just a toy. sorry?" you look at him with puppy eyes and a frown. He chuckles, running his thumb over your cheek.

"You're adorable when you pout like that, you know. But it won't work this time, love. You need to learn a lesson about patience and obedience."

"nooo, please" you protest.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and commanding. "Yes, darling. You need to be punished. You need to remember that you belong to me, and you need to learn to wait for me. Understood?"

"but it's halloween"

He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. "I don't care what day it is. When I give you a command, you obey. And right now, I'm commanding you to take your punishment like a good girl."

"yes" a frown laces your lips as i get tear-eyed.

He chuckles, his thumb wiping away a tear that rolls down your cheek. "Good girl. I know you can be obedient when you want to be."

He pats his lap again. "Now, come here. I need you over my knee."

He grins, and pulls you onto his lap, positioning you over his knee. He runs his hand over your bare thighs, his touch gentle but firm. "Now, I'm going to give you a choice, love. How many spanks do you think you deserve for your impatience?"

"one?" He chuckles, his hand resting on your bottom.

"One, hmm? I think we can do better than that. How about five, then? For five times that you didn't wait for me as I told you to."

"i deserve it" regret laces your tone. His hand squeezes your bottom gently, and he nods.

"Yes, you do. But you want to be a good girl for me, don't you? You want to make me happy?"

you nod. He smiles, his hand coming down on your bottom with a soft smack. "Good. Then you'll take your spanks like a good girl and you'll do your best to learn your lesson, won't you?"

"y-yes" He spanks you again, this time a bit harder.

"Good. You're being so good for me, darling. I'm proud of you. But you can take a little more, can't you?"

"yes i can" He spanks you again, a little harder this time, and then twice in quick succession.

"That's my good girl. Taking your punishment so well. I know it's hard, but you're doing so well."

Tears lace your cheeks so he pulls you up from his lap and onto his lap instead, his arms wrapping around you. "Shhh, it's okay, love. I know it hurts, but you're doing so well. I'm so proud of you." He runs his fingers through your hair, his voice soft and comforting.

"im so sorry i didn't mean to." He gently wipes away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb.

"I know, darling. I know. You were just impatient, and you didn't mean to be naughty. But you need to learn, don't you? So you can be a good girl and make me happy?"

You nod, moving closer to him.

His fingers run through your hair, and he kisses your forehead gently. "Good girl. You're my good girl, and I love you. But disobedience won't be tolerated. Understood?" He lifts your chin up, his eyes meeting yours. There's a hint of possessiveness in his gaze, a sense of ownership. "You're mine, darling. Mine to love, mine to discipline. And I take good care of what's mine, don't I?" you weakly smile and he smirks, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer against him.

"That's right. I take very good care of you, don't I? And I'll always make sure you're safe and happy, even when you misbehave. But I do expect obedience from you, darling."

"i know i'm sorry." He smiles, his hand caressing your cheek.

"I know you are, darling. And I forgive you. But don't let it happen again, understand? You need to be a good girl and wait for me, even when it's hard. Can you do that for me?" you nod. He grins, his fingers tracing over your jawline.

"That's my good girl. You're such a good girl for me. I know you can be obedient when you want to be, and I know you want to make me happy. But don't forget who's in charge. I'm your dominant, your master, and you're my property. Understood?"

"yes."

"yes what, darling?"

"yes,sir." He smiles, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

"Good. That's my good girl. And you know what happens to disobedience, don't you? You get punished, just like today. And I don't like punishing you, darling. I prefer to reward you, but I will discipline you when it's necessary."

[emmg]

Hello love Can I ask for Raphael x reader where Raph actually shows love, buuut in his own twisted way? One of my fam members had autism and he never ever said those three words, but showed it in acts of service and paying attention to what you say/do aaand i was thinking about Raphael who tries to show how much he loves her(or them) but well he's not very good at this. Tav reading book- he will read it too, because he cares...just to tell her how much it sucks. She's bleeding after a fight? Throws her into his healing pool and tell her how stupid she is for the whole time he's with her and how she wastes his time, but won't leave her alone, because what if this dumb mortal drowns herself? A guy said something to her and she felt like sh*t or he touched her to make her uncomfortable? He would give her a very fancy box with big bow and smiles innocently at her ; 'Come on little mouse..open it' just for her to see somebodys hand or head 'oh..this? its this creep from yesterday' Tav wears something cheap? oh boy he would tell her everythink he thinks about this rag. She thinks he wants her to wear only expensive things, because how she looks=his reputation but the truth is he thinks she deserves only the most lavish things in her life and he wont allow her to live below HIS standards And his fav way of showing love is giving her mortal who hurt her in any way already beaten so they wont demage his precious possesion, but conscious enough so she can enjoy torturing them (for sure he does it for his own amusement more than hers)

What a fun prompt! Although, to be fair, I can't exactly make it totally healthy because Raphael isn't an emotionally healthy person to be in a relationship with so this is still a little bit dark, though definitely not awful haha.

ETA: ah crap I missed the part about x reader. So sorry about that. In my defence, I truly cannot write from second person point of view. I’m very, very sorry anon. I’ve tried before and it feels awkward to me and everything comes out… bad.

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

Sometimes she feels hollowed out, as if something essential has been scooped clean from within her. She’s not sure why she stays—or even if she’s staying at all. Maybe he’s holding her here, maybe she has no choice, maybe she lost that freedom long ago. Because you don’t walk away when Raphael is speaking; you don’t walk away when he’s watching you. And his eyes are always on her, always, always, always following.

That gaze—it leaves her feeling half trapped, half sanctified, as though caught in some dreadful, holy spell. He doesn’t look at others this way, she knows that, but that knowledge only tightens the hold, winds the snare around her. It’s nothing, she tells herself—this attention, his careful watch—yet it feels like everything, a binding without words, a noose drawing tighter, a claw sinking deeper. Time twists strangely when he’s near, spiraling into something she can’t name, and she can’t help but wonder: will his interest wane, fade away to nothing? Or will it sharpen, tighten, until it consumes her, leaving her breathless, until there’s no space left at all? 

If it does—if he closes around her entirely, if his grip becomes her world, pressing in until there’s no air, no light, only him—what will she be then?

And she’s not even sure if he cares. He holds her there, yes, but it feels like watching a game; his own personal mousetrap, an exquisite little experiment to see how far she'll reach for the cheese. She wonders if he’s simply taking what he can, drawing her deeper until he tires of her, only to discard her when he does, laughing at her fascination with him. She can almost see it—him spitting in her face, turning her out with a sneer, then pulling her back in just as quickly. He'd fuck her, taunt her, pull her close only to watch her shatter, then laugh, invite her back with a gift, something golden, expensive, dripping with indulgent mockery. 

But then there are the other things he does, things that somehow feel worse—things that make the walls seem as though they’re closing in, or maybe as if he’s drawing her into some embrace she can’t escape from. She’s not sure which would be more terrifying. 

Sometimes, when they’re in Avernus together, she finds the portals dead, the way back to her world—a world of soft light and mortal trivialities, the Gate and its grime—suddenly blocked, cut off. And it's always the same dance. She demands an answer, asks why she can’t pass through, why she’s stuck here in this burning place with him, unable to flee back to the familiar. And he only waves her off, barely looking up, irritation flickering in his gaze. He says he hasn’t the time to bother with “simple magic,” that she can wait. 

But he knows, he knows damn it, that she can barely summon a spark, let alone force open a gateway on her own. He knows she’s trapped, helpless as a moth in a bottle, wings beating frantically against glass she can’t see. And he watches her, almost bored, as she paces, her panic ripening, sinking roots in her chest. Because he knows she won’t leave, can’t leave, and he’ll let her struggle just long enough to make her feel it—the helplessness, the claustrophobia, the bitter thrill of his control, closing around her, almost gentle, almost loving.

And then, only then, he flicks his fingers, and the portals blaze open, bright and mocking, as if they’d never gone dead at all. 

She's interrupting him, Raphael says, a nuisance he has no time for. Important matters, contracts to seal, souls to collect—real work to do, and here she is, lingering in his shadow, hovering as if she belongs, asking him to breathe life into a stupid portal. He snaps at her to leave, to stop her pestering, to get out of his sight. And so she does, shrinking back, biting her lip, retreating into her quiet corner.

But then, later—always, somehow, later—he comes to her, waking her from half-sleep as he climbs over her, pressing down with a heat that seems to burn straight through her skin. He murmurs his need, his lust, his rough, clumsy want, lips grazing her ear with words that are half-whispered, half-demanded. And she lets him, wraps her arms around his back, holds him, breathes through the rush of his hands, the awkward rhythm of his taking. 

She feels the weight of him, the feverish heat, and she sighs into it, into him, because in the Hells, everything is unbearably hot. His skin burns against hers, more furnace than flesh, and though she knows he’s hasty, heedless, that she’s just an outlet, a brief relief, she takes it. She lets herself be consumed by it, that pressing heat because here, with him, it’s as close to comfort as she’ll ever get.  

But sometimes there are moments that make her think he might care, moments she savors, drinks in slowly, wondering if they're real or merely the product of his boredom. She can never quite tell, but she doesn’t mind; she lingers on these glimmers of gentleness, holds them in her memory far longer than she should. 

Like when she’s soaking in his absurdly large bath, reclining in the steaming water with her arms folded along the edge, her head resting on cool stone, hair spilling loose behind her. She’s doing nothing at all, simply breathing in the warmth, letting the steam curl around her. And then he appears, slipping into the room, extending those long legs of his, rolling up his sleeves as he settles by her side. He doesn’t join her in the water; instead, he simply sits, a book resting in his hands, the very one she finished days ago. 

She watches, amused, as he leafs through it, the prominent wrinkle between his brows deepening with each page he turns. His expression is one of studied distaste, the kind that would be comical on anyone else. But on him, it’s strangely captivating. 

“Unhinged drivel,” Raphael mutters finally, his tone ripe with disdain. 

“Hm,” she echoes, half-lidded, watching him through the steam. 

“Why do you read this?” he questions. “I have half a mind to burn it. The sheer embarrassment of sharing the same air with it—I hardly want it in my library.” 

She smiles, faintly, eyes closing as she stretches a little deeper into the warmth. “I’m done with it,” she replies, lazily. “Do what you wish.” 

He taps two fingers against the spine. “The Duke is an absolute cretin, I must say.” 

“Oh?” she murmurs, her voice barely a breath above the water’s surface. 

“Utterly insipid,” he continues. "Such posturing, such shallow arrogance. I wouldn’t offer him a contract if he were the last soul on the proverbial platter.” 

She laughs then, quietly, letting the sound ripple through the steam. She knows Raphael is just indulging in his own particular brand of superiority, delighting in the verbal dissection, and maybe he doesn’t care for her company at all. But still, he stays, perched beside her, weaving disdainful monologues that settle like warm coals in her chest. And for a moment—just a moment—she lets herself pretend that he’s here for her. 

He continues, eyes fixed on the offending book as if it’s a particularly irksome insect. “The Duke’s speech in chapter five...” he says. “So very witless, wouldn't you say? Who professes undying love with such clumsy metaphors? And in the garden, no less, like a character in a tragic farce. ‘You are my sun and moon,’” he scoffs, his voice rising to a mock-romantic lilt. “‘My stars, my breath, my—’” 

He pauses, catching her wide-eyed, incredulous look. A faint smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, and there’s a glimmer of something—mischief?—in his gaze. “Oh, little mouse, don’t look at me like that. Surely you didn’t think I’d stoop to reading this… for enjoyment?”

She raises an eyebrow, half-laughing, half incredulous. “You read it?”

“Of course I read it,” he replies, with all the haughtiness of a scholar who’s just suffered through a poorly constructed essay. “I couldn’t very well leave such intellectual refuse lying about in my library without inspecting it first.” 

“Just inspecting it? Raphael, you just quoted chapter five.” 

He waves his hand dismissively. “A tragic misfortune. I assure you, it was purely incidental. I only skimmed enough to confirm my suspicions about its total lack of merit.” 

“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes, watching as he flips another page with painstaking precision. “Is that why you’re carrying it around?” 

He raises an eyebrow, looking at her over the book with that familiar, aristocratic arch of his brow. “Little mouse,” he drawls, his tone both affectionate and condescending, “you really must learn what jests are. I can’t go about explaining them every time, you know.” 

The novel is set aside.

His hand slips below the water, and she knows, he’s done talking, at least about her books. His fingers graze her skin, tracing erratic patterns. She feels his hand leave her only to hear the soft rustle of fabric, and then he’s there, sliding into the water, slipping behind her. 

His arms wrap around her even as he pushes her against the cool stone of the bath’s edge. She feels his impatience in the way his hands move—roaming, relentless, almost rough, his fingers pressing into her skin, biting, digging between the ribs, as if he can’t bear to be gentle.  

One hand cups her shoulder, anchoring her as his other hand travels down her side. It moves in a slow sweep, now a caress, almost reverent, then shifting, tracing a path with no pattern, simply moving, as if he’s learning her contours anew. His grip tightens, loosens, a rhythm that speaks of need and very little restraint. 

He dips his head, face buried in her hair, and she feels the weight of his breath, the moist heat of it on the exhale. There’s a hunger in his closeness, an intensity that borders on obsession. He’s quiet now, all the long-winded, self-important monologues silenced, his usual need to fill the space with words abandoned. 

She feels him pressing against her back, the hard, insistent weight of him, the subtle rock of his hips, and she sighs, her body folding further against the edge of the bath, yielding to him. The warmth in her chest spills out, dissipating into something intangible, and once again, she wonders: Was this all just a performance for her, or something he needs for himself? Was that little, half-sweet conversation meant to soften her, make her more pliant? Or, against all logic, did he truly want to speak to her, to share in that strange, fleeting intimacy? 

She wonders if he cares, even a little, if those sarcastic, needlessly elaborate jests of his are meant to coax a smile from her, to make her laugh. Or is it all calculated, a ploy to keep her engaged, to ensure that when he fucks her, she meets him with something more than passive resignation? She feels his fingers tighten on her waist, his breath hitch, and for a moment, just a moment, she allows herself to believe there’s something deeper beneath his touch, something that holds her in place as much as his arms do. 

There are other moments too, moments that sink into her like a sickness, twisting her stomach, filling her with a dread so deep it almost makes her want to flee, to scrub herself clean, to be rid of him. And yet, those same moments leave her feeling strangely exhilarated, a little unhinged, as though some part of her is thrilled by the horror of it all. 

Take the merchant, for instance. A two-penny swindler, trying to pass off cheap fabric as something exquisite. She spots his scam instantly—anyone with half a brain would—but he’s audacious, leaning in, voice low and greasy as he sells his lie. She calls him out, unimpressed, and he snaps, calling her a cunt. She flips him off without a second thought and moves on, thinking nothing more of it. She’s heard worse, so much worse, and just because she looks the part of a noblewoman at Raphael’s insistence doesn’t mean she’s forgotten the dirt and sweat of her own past. She knows the cheap tricks—how cloth is dyed in back alleys, stained with whatever can be found, how insect paste and a dash of alchemical solution turn cotton into “silk” for gullible morons. She’s done it all herself, seen the worst of it, and this pathetic attempt to cheat her hardly scratches the surface. 

She forgets the encounter entirely—until the next day. Raphael barely glances up from his writing, absorbed in the ink-stained pages of yet another infernal contract, when he pushes a small, ornate box across the table toward her. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge it beyond a faint, almost bored gesture. She blinks, glancing from the box to him, and then back, curious but wary, wondering if this is another one of his games. 

She takes it, hesitates, then lifts the lid. 

Inside, nestled against dark velvet, is a finger. Blue, bloated, stiff with the grip of death. Her stomach turns, nausea creeping up her throat as she stares at it, bile rising as the realization settles—this isn’t just some random, expensive trinket. It’s a message, as clear and cold as the dead flesh before her. 

“Oh,” she whispers, voice strangled, unable to look away from the pale digit lying in the box, rigor mortis locking it in a ghastly curl. Her hands are trembling, fingers itching to drop the box, to shove it away, to wipe away the memory of this grotesque gift. 

She looks up at him, horrified, and finds his gaze resting on her, idle, yet somehow amused. 

She stares some more, her mind spinning as she tries to process what she’s holding, what this grotesque little gift is meant to convey. A part of her wants to retch, to bolt from the room, while another, unhinged part of her feels an inexplicable pull, an urge to draw closer to him, to be entangled in whatever madness constantly hangs off his sleeve. 

But she doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, she lets out a half-laugh, shaky and weak. “That’s… not what usually comes in jewelry boxes.” 

Raphael arches a brow. “I’ve given you plenty of jewelry, little mouse. Rings, bracelets, earrings—a whole collection of baubles you hardly deign to wear. Lavaliers, circlets, gems so fine even the simpering nobles of Waterdeep would weep for them. And yet, here you sit, determined to remain a rube.” He tsks, rolling his eyes with theatrical annoyance. “Mayhaps, I thought, just mayhaps, you might appreciate something different to suit that plebeian palate of yours.”

“Whose is it?” she asks, though she already knows. She feels the answer in the pit of her stomach, in the memory of yesterday’s insults and her dismissive walk away. 

He only shrugs, dipping his quill in ink. “I’m told he was a merchant.” He pauses, as if to savor the uncertainty flickering across her face. “Or was it a dockhand? Perhaps a barkeep. Truly, who can keep track of such insignificant lives?” 

She watches, spellbound in a way she can’t quite understand, as he sprinkles pounce over the wet ink, the tiny white particles catching the dim light. He lifts the paper, blowing the pounce off with a sharp exhale that sends the fine dust scattering into the air, drifting toward her. She coughs, swatting it away, a moment of reflexive frustration breaking through her discomfort. 

“So many names,” Raphael murmurs, almost to himself. “So many lives, so many inconsequential little people. It’s hard to keep them all straight, isn’t it?” 

She stares at him, a blend of revulsion and fascination churning within her. His words hang in the air, so careless, so detached, as if snuffing out a life meant nothing more to him than discarding an old, forgotten knickknack. And yet, he looks at her now, watching, as if expecting her reaction, waiting to see if she’ll recoil or lean closer. 

She leans closer, letting the moment pull her in, and he gives a satisfied little hum, returning to his writing with an air of contentment, as if the world is exactly as it should be. She watches the steady flow of his hand, the way his quill glides across the page in elegant, looping strokes, his cursive rising and falling. Her mind, however, catches on another thought, one that wraps around her and refuses to let go. 

He cares, she thinks, or at least he acts as though he does. This is how he responds to insults aimed at her, as if her offense is his to avenge. But another thought lingers, darker and heavier. He knows—that’s what unsettles her. If he knows, that means he saw, or had someone watch on his behalf, and that means she’s never truly alone, even when he isn’t there. She wonders how far that gaze extends, if he’s tracking her every step, every word, if he’s marked her movements like pinpoints on a map, an invisible tether she’s unknowingly bound herself to. 

Her hand drifts to her throat, almost absently, fingers brushing the skin there as if she might feel some hidden collar, a leash she’s been wearing all along without realizing it. But of course, there’s nothing—just bare skin and the faint, lingering warmth of her own touch. Still, the thought unsettles her, sends a flutter of anxiety mixed with something else, something uncomfortably close to… warmth. A warmth that spreads through her chest, that holds her in place despite the quiet urge in her feet to stand, to move, to walk as far as she can. 

But she doesn’t. Instead, she stays there, leaning close, just watching him as he writes, utterly absorbed in whatever Infernal text he’s crafting. And as she watches, that warmth in her chest grows, mingling with her apprehension, a mix of dread and fascination that knots itself around her, binding her there as securely as any leash he might conjure. 

Another day, another reckoning. 

She’s a mess of bruises, skin mottled and darkened so thoroughly she resembles a patchwork quilt rather than a woman. There had been a brawl, Astarion may or may not have thrown punches he couldn’t back, and they both may or may not have drunk too much. Korrilla may or may not have been at the Caress at the same time, her wicked laughter mingling with the chaos, and now her nose is a crimson fountain, dripping ceaselessly. Even the potion Korrilla forced down her throat did nothing to blunt the ache, the slight sneer on Korrilla’s face as she half-carried her back to the House of Hope making it clear she didn’t particularly want to be back tonight. 

When she stumbles in, Haarlep just laughs, calling her a “bloody, battered fool” and waving her off in disgust when she starts peeling off her clothes. With a muttered “Ew,” he disappears as she limps toward the restoration pool, her one salvation tonight. She knows it’s usually reserved for soothing injuries from far more… pleasurable encounters, but she hardly cares as she sinks into it, wincing as the water starts working its magic, stitching up minor cuts and scrapes as she closes her eyes and lets her head fall back. 

She drifts, the water lapping around her, letting the throbbing recede—until a sharp yank at her scalp rips her back to the present, her head wrenched above the water. She chokes, sputtering out bloody droplets as her eyes snap open, and she finds herself staring at Raphael’s livid face, exasperation etched in every line. His hand is tangled in her hair, and her scalp stings from his tight grip. He glances down at his dripping sleeves, soaked from pulling her up, and curses. 

“What a stupid way to die,” he hisses. “Drowning in my boudoir because you’re too idiotic to stay awake.” His fingers tighten in her hair, and there’s no mercy in his eyes. “Take a deep breath now.” 

She barely has a second to react before he shoves her head under the water, his hand pressing down with unrelenting force. Her body jerks, and she inhales raggedly before he drags her up again, just long enough for her to gasp for air and catch his sharp, appraising look before he shoves her down once more, holding her under like a misbehaving dog in need of punishment. Water floods her nose, stinging as she chokes, her hands scrabbling for purchase against the pool’s edge. 

Up again, another cursory glance, and then he plunges her under once more, his grip firm, a rhythm of punishment and cleansing, as though he’s scrubbing the night’s sins from her with each forced dunk. She claws at his wrist, nails scraping against his skin, and he finally releases her, leaving her gasping and hacking as she collapses against the pool’s edge, water pouring from her lungs in a desperate, wheezing cough. 

She realizes then, as she shudders and coughs, that the blood is gone; her nose, once a mess of numb throbbing, now feels raw but whole. She clutches the pool’s edge, head bowed, catching her breath as the water stills around her. Raphael just stands there, dripping, sleeves ruined, as he observes her. 

“Well,” he mutters, flicking water from his fingers with a faint sneer, “at least you’re less of a mess now.” 

He hauls her from the water, pulling her sodden form from the boudoir and away from the rumpled heap of her clothes. His eyes drift over them—the plain tunic, the uninspired trousers, the scuffed leather boots—with a look of disdain so pointed it almost makes her wince. 

“An offense to beauty itself,” he murmurs, almost to himself, though the words slap her just the same. “These… things.” His lip curls. “They will burn. They’re an affront to my eyes, and my patience is wearing thin.” 

His gaze slides back to her face, catching on her bruised nose, and he tilts her head with the care one might give a very expensive artifact. His fingers are unhurried, methodical, as he surveys her battered skin. “I don’t keep unsightly things, you know,” he says. “I like my things beautiful. It’s why I collect them—why I keep them close.” 

Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, his tone shifts to something almost conversational, a careless elegance in his words that sets her nerves alight. “Tell me, little mouse,” he begins, fingers tapping idly on his thigh, “shall I lock the door?” 

She feels a shiver run through her, her voice faltering. “Which… one?” 

He tilts his head in mock contemplation. “Why not all of them?” 

“Raphael…” she starts, but she isn’t even sure what she wants to say, or if there’s anything to be said at all. 

Unhurriedly, he begins to strip off his clothes, each gesture carried out with an almost ritualistic elegance. He slips out of his doublet, casting it aside with a look of mild annoyance. “Your doing,” he sighs, smoothing an imaginary crease before discarding it. “This fabric—fine enough to silence even the heavens—ruined by your negligence. It cost more than you could dream, more than most would spend in a lifetime.” 

She watches, stuck somewhere between disbelief and fascination, unsure if he’s preparing to fuck her or simply indulging in the strange meticulousness of his undressing. Each cufflink is unfastened with almost absurd care, each tie released with the same flawless precision she knows so well. The clothes fold neatly under his hands, smoothed and arranged as if they were sacred relics, and though part of her wants to laugh at the absurdity, she knows better than to test his patience now. 

Raphael pauses, shirt open just enough to reveal the line of his throat, his collarbone stark against tan skin. His eyes pin hers and his voice takes on a melodic, almost regretful tone. “Perhaps if I lock you in,” he murmurs, “you might refrain from throwing yourself into every pit of squalor in the Gate, seeking out any hand willing to smash that face of yours.” 

“No one seeks that, Raphael,” she says, her voice sounding distant. “It just… happens.” 

He snaps his fingers with a sharp, final click. “Yes, yes,” he echoes, almost as if humoring a child. “And doors just… lock themselves.” 

[transbianmuffin]

Memories pt. 3

cw manipulation but we all know she wants to be a pet, also two queer flirting and a hint of gaslighting

********

this thing is huge, and it's almost nonsensical, so much complexity so incredibly decorated so alienating?

"This is...incredible..."

"This, dear, is Opicala. The main Affini ship overseeing Jupiter."

"How? How? It's..."

"Huge? Fantastic? I know you tend to struggle with words." "Majestic!" "Haha, yes majestic is a nice one to describe it." "..." "I know, I know, most of sophonts don't comprehend the grandeur of Affini's architecture." wait those two affini have people? on a leash? what the hell? I've heard about domestication but I thought it was mostly reducing them to zombies and those guys are making out? they seem so happy so carefree what is happening and why why why I- I like it? No I don't want to be a slave I want peace not being a slave again "But I guess you're not looking at the architecture, don't you?" "Those people, collared, on a leash. Are your slaves? Is this what's gonna happen to me?"

they seem so happy, their eyes filled with bliss their mouths drooling each other's saliva and they seem no to care about a thing which is not their own tongues twitching and swirling "Slaves? Dirt, no! Absolutely not. My dear, those are pets. Domesticated sophonts, and we love our pets so much." "I was told that you enslaved people, keeping them drugged and compliant and used them as your servitude or to do menial work for your empire..." "The rebel propaganda really got you there, my beautiful terran. No, not at all. Well, they are drugged most of the times. That part is true, but I can assure you they really like it. As you did, a couple of days ago when we had our first chat." "What will be of me?" "Well, techinically you'd have been sent to forced domestication since you are a rebel. It is also true, though, that you did what you did and that would make you a defector. In addition to that you surrendered without any resistance and moreover you gave us some very useful intel." "So?" "So, my dear, I filed a special plead for you. You won't be assigned to forced domestication. You will stay here for a while and then we will drop you wherever you like on Jupiter. Lastly, we will grant you the status of 'independent terran', unless..." "U- unless?" "Unless you'd actually want to stay and be a pet, my dear. Oh you would be the cutest of them all. You'd have to either pick or be picked by an owner and you will live forever in care and bliss." oh god oh god a pet? would I be a good pet? I mean those two earlier seemed to be happy but maybe there were only high as fuck but being a pet seems so nice

"An owner, like you?" "Ah, you're saying this, not me~" "I- I don't know." "There is another little thing I forgot to mention." "Now you're scaring me." "Good, you will learn to fear the giant plant girl which work consists mainly in interrogating and inflicting terrible tortures to rebels." "...Sinea..." "Just kidding, just kidding! Look at your face, stars you are so damn cute! Anyway, I saw from your medical report that you were under special medications for HRT, am I correct?" "Y-yes." "Well I think it is worth mentioning that the meds you were taking are nothing more than candies compared to our Class G. Which is basically the same thing but way more advanced and effective." "Oh..."

is she lying? maybe she wants to drug me again but maybe I can trust her, she's been so kind with me and advanced HRT is a dream come true

"Am I picking your interest there?" "Y-yes." "Of course this is not to convince you at all. I am just saying that here you will be loved in a way you have never experienced. You are free to go whenever. Just say a place on Jupiter and we'll drop you there instantly, Deena." "I need some time. I am tired and it's a lot to process." "That's perfectly understandable, little one. Want me to carry you?" "..." "Stars, when you give me those puppy eyes I- I simply can't! Come on. Here." "Those pets."

god they seemed so happy I was envious? jealous? yes that's the word

"Those pets, yes." "Those pets." "Yes those were pets. Do you have any specific consideration you want to make here or are you simply stating a matter of fact, my dear?" "They seemed so happy. Their kisses so blissful, their minds overwhelmed with joy and passion." "Florets usually do that. Here they are safe, protected, free to explore their true self, their true nature. Nobody judges them and the joy you saw in their eyes was certaintly shared by their respective owners."

"I would like to talk to one of them, if possible." "I have a better idea. There will be a little social gathering among florets later, their owners will be there but they won't interfere too much in their interactions. While I am not still your owner, I am your temporary ward so I can vouch for you. There you can talk to any of them and maybe even do something more than talking~" "S- still?"

what does she mean with still? still? she wants me to be her pet? what?

"Uh?" "You said you are not still my owner." "No, no my dear you must have misheard. I said that I am not your owner, which is true. I mean I could be your owner if that's what you want but the choice is yours and only yours."

maybe I misheard? I am sure she said that but I'm also tired and the feeling of her vines around me are so beautifully distracting

"I- I think I'm sure of what i've heard?" "Aw darling~ you are so tired, sometimes it happens to misheard stuff when we are tired. Misheard or projecting. Anyway, would you like to go to the floret's gathering?" "Maybe you're right. I am really tired but yes, Sinea, I'd love to go." "Very well, but first I must to inform you that I won't let my ward take part in a social event without some glowing up. You still smell of surgical sanitizer and your dress is unacceptable. I have a reputation." "Sure..." "That's my good girl. We will go at mine, have a bath, some grooming and I'll provide you with something suitable to wear."

hehe good girl~ wait a second a bath, a dress? what am I a doll? but I don't want to make her feel bad at the gathering I guess I can see how it goes

********

[kaisaerinlover]

michael kaiser

tw: dubcon, incest

michael kaiser. he’s a great brother, he loves his baby sister and she loves him too. he’s an excellent brother, actually. except for when he’s not. except for the times like now. he’s angry. he just got home from practice and he’s mad, you don’t know what at, what do you know about football? you don’t pry and you don’t ask, you know how he is when he’s stressed. you know he’s home because of the loud bang from downstairs. you’re thankful you aren’t the wall because you can all but imagine the hole that kaiser’s tattooed fist has more than likely just left there. you’re thinking about it still, so hard you don’t even notice your bedroom door slam open.

kaiser looks pissed, and stressed. he’s looking at you with rage and desperation. you’re confused, what are you supposed to do? “mic-“ he pins you to the bed before you can even speak his name fully, hand over your mouth and wrists over your head. “don’t talk, please, just let me have this.” have what? you don’t know what he’s talking about? poor you, you’re so innocent, it’s funny. kaiser would find it cute usually, but not right now, he needs this so bad. he smashes his lips onto yours, this isn’t the sweet kisses you’re oh so accustomed to; this is desperate. if he wasn’t your brother you’d think he was about to cannibalise you or something, seriously. kaiser is a little rough sometimes, but never in this setting. usually it’s a punch or a few insults, not this. but ah, you’re so wet already; and you’re so ashamed of that.

he’s already on top of you, peeling off your cute pajamas that he graciously gifted you just last week (thanks big brother) and pinching you everywhere harshly. you can see in his eyes something is seriously up, he’s so desperate. he pinches your tits in his much larger hands, and you whine. “all mine, you’re all for me, aren’t you? say it.” his tone is stern, and you know better than to disobey, but he also looks so desperate, what has gotten your brother so riled up? “all for y-you micha, everythin’ for y-you-“ you sputter out between breathy moans. he’s toying with your nipples, and it hurts. he’s so mean, and you hate yourself for liking it.

if he didn’t notice your arousal before he definitely has by now, you’re grinding on the knee he has slotted between your frail legs. “you want me? say it, tell me you want me” and you shake your head no. no way, you don’t want this, it’s too rough for you. he has to be nicer with you. and he doesn’t like that, are you out of your fucking mind? your brother is michael fucking kaiser. he’s done everything for you, he raised you and you tell him no? “you fucking whore, just listen for once, don’t you remember everything i’ve done for you? is that how you treat your brother who gave up everything just to give you a good fucking life?” he’s right. how could you do that to your brother? you’re a bad sister aren’t you?

before you know it you’re kicked onto the floor between his legs as he pulls his shorts down and palms his erection through his boxers. and you’re so cute down there. you’re clinging to his leg looking up at him like he’s a god passing judgement on you. “‘m sorry mikka, sorry f-for real- i’ll be good i swear-“ you sniffle. and man are you cute. you look like a kicked puppy. god you’re so easy to bend to his will. it’s a miracle you’re his sister, because if anyone else was your brother you’d be done for, they would take so much advantage of you. he muses to himself, even though he knows he’s probably way worse than anyone else that would ever even interact with you (if he allowed it, which he’s never going to.) he brings a finger to your lips to hush you as he pulls out his cock completely. “it’s ok, just be good for me now, ‘kay? i had a long day.” and you are good. you’re so good, opening your mouth so pliantly to take your brothers dick.

he’s gripping your hair so hard you’re scared he’s about to pull your scalp off, but don’t worry, he knows better, he knows how to make it as painful as he can without causing you any actual harm. lucky you, or something. it hurts really bad, you’re too delicate for this, but when you open your eyes and look up to see your older brother in complete ecstasy it’s so worth it, so worth gagging on his fat cock ‘cause at least it makes him happy. at least you’re repaying him for everything he’s done for you, right? he deserves this! everyone deserves a break ‘specially your brother ‘cause he does so much for his beloved baby sister. kaiser loves it, seeing you on your knees between his legs, the girl he raised like a kid, his sister, the one he shares the same eyes with, the same hair, the same smile that you wear so much better, everything. so fucking cute. you’re so perfect, he’s secretly so insecure you’re going to pack up and leave him one day. it’s why he’s been so stressed ontop of soccer. please don’t leave your brother after he did so much for you! you look so docile down there, and you are, he knows ‘cause he trained you to be like that. you’re good for him always, and he likes that.

it’s so rewarding when he finally cums. you’re panting so much, some of his cum almost spills out of your mouth. he’s quick to close it with his hand and you feel a little embarrassed. don’t be such a wasteful idiot, you have to take everything your brother gives you so generously. both of you are worn out, he thinks you look so cute, mouth stuffed full of his cock and seed like a cute hamster. he wipes his spent dick on your cheek and ruffles your hair affectionately. “good job, you did good” all of his anger dissipated as soon as he came, he’s so lucky he knows it. having a baby sister is the best, seriously, the best remedy for any negative emotions at all.

you’re still so wet, and you’re so ashamed! you shouldn’t feel like this, but you do, and kaiser knows it too. good thing you did so well at taking his cock tonight, now he’ll indulge you a little too. you’re still on the floor, sitting with your legs up and a little spread. you look so cute, looking up at him with so much admiration and love, like he’s some deity. to you he is, he’s your whole world actually, you don’t have anyone except him. you’re kinda like a pet, he thinks. the saying that you should be nice to your pet because you’re their whole life, but they aren’t your whole life because you have other people, other things, other responsibilities. that’s kind of how your brother views you. you’re so closed off from everything else, it’s funny. a pet sister. he wants to laugh at the thought, but he simply looks down at you. you were really good, weren’t you?

he brings a socked foot between your legs and massages your soaked panties with it. ah, it’s so degrading, and you moan so sweetly afterwards. he’s teasing you, you know you probably look pathetic, mewling at your brothers foot tormenting your aching pussy, but you don’t care, you want it so bad. he’s toying with you, he’s so mean sometimes, you think. but it’s better than before, at least he’s not mad. he’s smirking down at you. “feels good? little slut” he chastises you, but his words don’t hold any real malice, only love. you don’t need to answer, you won’t be able to form a real sentence anyway, don’t worry, he knows that. he just keeps toying with your aching core with his foot. like you’re some insignificant pet cat on the floor.

and then comes what he was waiting for. your sweet begging, it’s so cute, you’re so cute, adorable in fact. “s-stop playin’ mikka- please- need you- please i was so g-goodddd” you whine at him. and he agrees, you were good. such a good girl for your brother. fine, he’ll indulge you. you’re on his lap with 3 of his fingers rubbing on your cunt, your brother’s fingers are so nice, he knows exactly what you like. he stops for a second to shove his fingers in your mouth. “can you taste how sweet you are on your brother’s fingers, hm? prinzessin?” he laughs. he’s so condescending the whole time, you feel so pathetic for enjoying this. he probably thinks you’re a fool! and he does, but in a different way, he thinks as he goes back to rubbing your little pussy, you’re a fool, but it’s okay, you’re only the product of your elder brother. he made you this way so he could enjoy you, let him reap his reward, okay? don’t overthink! your brother likes how pitiful you are under his touch. under his presence. under simply him.

it’s deplorable how much you’ve enjoyed tonight, your brother’s fingers still toying with you til’ you can’t take it anymore, but neither of you care. you can’t care anyway, this is normal to you; you’re a well trained girl and your mind is elsewhere on this subject. he could care, but he doesn’t, if you don’t care why should he? finally, his skilled fingers coax you to your orgasm, and you pant in his arms. he brings his fingers to your mouth again and you mindlessly open for him to insert them. see, well trained and cute. you’re so pliant, he loves it. he truly outdid himself raising you.

you’re asleep straight after that, clinging to his side in bed as he scrolls his phone. man, having a baby sister is the best, he’s almost sorry for everyone else who pays for therapy and medicine, when the best cure to every problem is free! it’s just having a younger sister to use!!! he kisses your head and smirks “sleep tight, katzi” and closes his eyes too. what a good day he’s had.

[kanasbinwriting]

Hello!! Do you think you could do "a date with death" headcannons?? Like just general romantic headcannons!

GENERAL DATING HEADCANONS

Thank you so much for your request!! Apologies for the long wait :( I was quite busy recently.

I love him so much I might even do a part two if I can come up with more after I finish all of my requests...

I listened to the adwd soundtracks as I wrote this lol. Idk and idc if someone cares or not, but my Casper plush arrives soon and I'm sooo excited ^^!! Anyway, enjoy!!

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

- He looks like someone who adores kisses but wouldn't initiate them at first, so you'd have to make the first move

- But don't worry, if you stop giving him kisses and tease him enough he'll be the one to initiate them

- He gets especially weak in the knees when you kiss him on the neck

- Do you guys know that meme "Ah, yes. My girlfriend and her 500 dollar four foot tall mareep."? That's Casper with his Azrael plush and I will die on that hill

- He will laugh at you if you get jealous of his plush

- How can you be jealous of a plushy...? Mortals sure are weird...

- In the beginning stages of your relationship, he would be very shy and uncertain when it comes to initiating physical touch, but when you initiate it? He would never say no

- He loves to tease you but will explode when you tease him back

- No matter how often he denies it, it's obvious that he loves your teasing and adores the little back and forth you guys have

- You don't know how makeup works? Don't worry, because your personal makeup assistant is here!

- He would LOVE to do your makeup whenever you please, may it be every day or just on special occasions it doesn't matter to him. He also loves to have you this close to him and cups your cheek when he does your eyeliner

- Don't get me wrong, I bet he's a great cook, but I don't think he knows a lot of recipes and will make the same things over and over again

- If you want to eat something different, feel free to join him. I think cooking would be one of his favourite activities with you

- If you're a picky eater, he will make sure to only add the things you like

- His baking is shit though, no matter how precisely he follows the recipe, he somehow always fucks it up

- Even though he gets easily flustered, I think you two moved on quite fast in the relationship

- He would love to include you in his nightly routine

- Your skin's going to look glamorous!

- Even if you don't want to use his products for whatever reason, he'd still enjoy having you next to him doing your stuff as he gets ready for bed

- Even with Azrael in his arms, he still wouldn't be able to fall asleep without you. So when you get home late expect a grumpy reaper waiting for you on your bed

- He'll immediately forgive you when you give him cuddles

- I think one of his love languages is physical touch

- He isn't too keen on PDA, but he'll still hold your hand and give you small kisses in public

- In private he's a big cuddle bug though

- I think he would enjoy being the little spoon and big spoon, you can take your pick. He would also enjoy every cuddle position where he can hold your hand and look at your face

- One of his other love languages is definitely words of affirmation

- He enjoys receiving it as much as giving it

- I don't think that gift-giving is his love language, but he'll still give you gifts from time to time to surprise you

- Okay, I think I should stop talking about his love languages, but let me drop one more.

- I definitely think that one of his love languages is quality time

- Be it going outside for a walk or just staying at home cuddling while watching one of your silly series, he will always want to spend his time with you

-  He seems like a morning person to me, but he also enjoys staying in bed with you cuddling

- He's a GREAT listener

- No matter the subject, he will always engage in it and ask questions about it

- He loves listening to you info dump

- He'll even check the things you like out so he can engage in the conversation more

- I like to think that he enjoys playing coop games with you... especially Cult of the Lamb :)

- He's quite tidy and keeps his things organised, but he still wouldn't want to clean after you

- So if you leave your dirty laundry on the floor, be prepared for a big lecture

- When it comes to arguments, I think his reaction depends on what kind of argument it is

- Are you arguing about something silly? He will act stubborn and be a little know-it-all, even if he knows he's in the wrong

- If it's a more serious argument he will raise his voice, but won't scream

- It'll take him a day to cool off, and it will be a bit hard for him to apologise first but he still manages

- He will feel a bit awkward at first when everything's sorted out

- Just tell him that everything's fine now and give him a little smooch and he will be back on track

- Tbh I don't think that he's a jealous type, he trusts you a lot

- He does get jealous though when you somehow manage to spend more time with someone other than him

- I think he would immediately seek you out and talk to you, embarrassingly admitting that he's jealous

- If you have any hobbies and/or a fan of certain things, be prepared to suddenly have tons of merch and/or stuff of it on your bed waiting for you

- He'd look at you with a smug smile waiting to be praised and praises he will receive

- If you have any trauma and are mentally ill, he will do his best to support your every need

- If you have sudden outbursts and want to be left alone, he wouldn't mind going to a different room and wait for you to calm down. He'll still feel bad for leaving you

- He needs a lot of reassurance when it comes to your mental health and what exactly you need him to do

- The same goes for when you're chronically ill

- He won't bother to look the information up, he knows that not every method applies to the same person and will just straight up ask you what you need

- When he's sad, all he wants is for you to hold him and tell him that everything's going to be alright

- If you're stressed due to work or an entirely different reason, be prepared to get spoiled by him. Of course, he would lecture first that you need to take better care of yourself, but he will immediately massage your head after

- He will tear up if you give him a gift and bake/buy him a cake on his birthday

- If you have a hobby that he can somehow participate in be ready to have a player two, because he will join you

- He likes it when you call him baby girl. Even when it confused him at first

- He loves it when you give him serious and silly pet names, he isn't picky

- He knows that marriage is a big thing for most mortals, so he would love to marry you. It doesn't matter if it's official or not

[tallulah477]

Forbidden Late Night Rendezvous

Neteyam x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Word Count: 974

A/N: For more about how I picture alien genitalia, see here.

CW:// AgedUp!Neteyam, P in V, Ass Smacking, Sorta Cheating (Reader is promised to another person), Creampie, Alien Genitalia, Knotting

It’s forbidden. You can’t do this with him. 

“Neteyam,” You whimper as he shoves you down harder, your cheek pressing into the rough sand. 

If your mother found out that this is where you come during your late night walks, she would skin you alive and feed you to one of the tsuraks. Your father would be heartbroken, his precious daughter sullied by a Sully - one of the very people he allowed refuge to in their time of need out of the goodness of his own heart. 

Your father’s pained expression and your mother’s angry eyes flash in your mind, threatening to roost there and coil guilt around your heart for betraying them like this. They have a mate picked out for you already. 

Kahoke - a fine hunter. Strong and noble and an invaluable member of the Metkayina. He would make a good mate. He’d be kind and take care of you. Be loyal.

And here you are betraying him. 

Your parents and Kahoke fly out of your mind as fast as the gasp rips from your throat. Neteyam’s hand lands on your ass, the sharp smack of bare skin on bare skin echoing down the empty shoreline. Your hips push back against him harder, ass shaking and begging for another smack that he happily delivers and the sting makes your cunt clench greedily around his cock. 

“Be loud for me, y/n,” He tells you through his grunts, hips snapping against your tender ass. “No one is here. You can moan all you want.”

His demanding tone makes your neglected clit throb even harder and his hands feel like scorching fire on your skin where he has you pinned down, one hand on your hip and the other curled around the back of your neck. His tail curls around his body to wrap around your thigh - yet another action to keep you in your place underneath him. 

Your hands fist into the cold sand, searching for security but finding none when all of the tiny grains just slip right through your fingers. You can’t find any leverage as Neteyam thrusts into you with powerful strokes, grunting and groaning from behind you as he fucks you against the shore of the small secluded beach that had once been your safe haven. 

Neteyam takes it over now and makes it your place - together. You can’t find it in your heart to mind. 

He fills you up so perfectly, stretching you out on his cock and bullying your insides with the barbs on his shaft. The feeling of him inside you makes your brain melt, your arms limp at your sides as your mouth hangs open in a permanent silent scream. You know your drool is making wet spots on the sand. 

“You feel so good wrapped around me,” He moans, cock throbbing between your slick walls. “So perfect for me, yawne.”

You whine. “We shouldn’t–AH!” 

He cuts off your protest with another sharp smack to your ass, the skin under his hand tingling and warm against his palm. 

“Shut up,” He growls. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

You can feel the large ball of his knot bumping against your entrance and a whimper claws at your throat as you subconsciously press back against it. You shouldn’t let him knot you. The meaning of it is too intense. The risk it poses to everything  - everything that you’ve built for yourself and the life you're supposed to have is too much to allow. 

“That’s it, paskalin. Gonna take my knot like a good girl?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You whine, but it’s all in vain. You know it and he knows it. 

You’re going to take his knot because you both want you to - betrayals, forbidden rendezvous, and right and wrong be damned. 

Your words still make him angry though, jealousy evident, and he punishes you by grabbing a handful of your loose hair, dragging your head back as far as you can take it as he pushes his knot inside your greedy cunt. You cry out as he shoves his hips against your ass, the knot slipping inside your dripping hole as it clenches around him, desperate to keep him inside your warmth as if pushing him out was even an option. 

“Fuck, Neteyam!” You scream.

Neteyam hisses at you in warning, his tail tightening into a death grip around your thigh as his hand sneaks down to rub quick circles on your swollen clit. “Shut the fuck up and cum for me,”

The feel of him stretching you out, locked and held hostage on his knot, and the skilled pressure of his long fingers on your sensitive clit are your undoing. Your eyes roll back into your head as you cum, moaning and body shaking as it tries to jerk away in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. But Neteyam keeps you still, pinning you against the sand as he drags every ounce of your orgasm out of you. 

Distantly, through your pleasured haze, you can hear Neteyam’s own groans of satisfaction. His cock throbs, the knot just locked inside the rim of your entrance swelling and growing even more as he cums inside you. The warmth of his release coats your insides, and it feels both just as damning and satisfying as it truly is. 

It’s only then that Neteyam releases you from your pinned place underneath him. Carefully, he maneuvers you until you’re both on your side and he wraps his arms around your shaking form, holding you close in his protective embrace. 

“You did so good, yawne,” He tells you. 

You don’t respond, the guilt already crawling back like it always does despite how good it feels to be in his arms. 

It’s forbidden. You shouldn’t do it. But you know you’re going to keep doing it anyway. 

[konigsluv]

MDNI!! DARK THEMES!!

LOSER!König x Drugged!Reader

Loser!König spikes your drink and fucks you in the backseat of his car.

contains: rape, non-con sex, roofied alcohol, penetration, rough sex, desperate sex, drugged!reader

a/n: this one's a bit long but I hope y'all like it :3

Loser!König was absolutely thrilled when you agreed to go out with him. He has noticed you around base, following you around, and getting jealous when you talk to other men that aren't him. Even though you've never talked to him, ever....

It was pathetic really, but he's always been pathetic. Woman have never took a liking to him; they always called him too rough, too disgusting, too fucking creepy. He was a loser when it came talking to them, stuttering over his words, and trying to turn away to hide the growing bulge in his pants. It's why he was so ashamed when he fell for you.

You being perfect.

And such a stark contrast to himself.

Soft hair, small hands, smooth skin, and the way your eyes crinkle at the edges when you smile. It was all so perfect. So can you really blame him for falling in love?

Maybe that's why, when you actually agreed, he was on cloud nine for approximately one minute before his mind spiraled.

Why would he do that?

Now he has to take you out to dinner, talk to you without stuttering, and try and convince you through subtle actions and words that he was a good man for a woman like you. But god, that would prove to be impossible.

You were just too out of his league. You only ever agreed to go on this date because you pitied the poor big fella! König thought there was no way you would agree to a second date, and a third and fourth and so on and after.

Thus, drastic times came for drastic measures. König wanted, just once, to feel your skin on his, to feel your cunt suck his cock in and squeeze it to hell- and he was going to get it.

Before you realized who he truly was...

König pulled out your chair for when you sat down, his hands shaking as he got a whiff of the nice perfume you were wearing. He then sat in his own seat, it creaking from his large stature.

"You uhm- look lovely tonight," He says, a crooked smile creeping onto his face.

You smile politely at him, "Thank you, it's a new dress." you accept the compliment, "I also see that you've cleaned yourself up for the night,"

You know who he is, Colonel König around base, but you never would have suspected he was interested in you. Much less he clean up his look and actually wear something nice.

König gave a small dry laugh to your comment, "Ah, yes, I have....." he then glanced down to the white empty plate sitting in front of him.

This was awkward. He didn't know what to say! Oh god, he's going to ruin the night isn't he?!

You clear your throat and look around, flagging down a waiter and ordering a bottle of wine for the table.

"You okay with red wine? I drink it to ease my nerves sometimes," you say softly, subtly trying to reassure him that's it's okay to be nervous and to loosen up a bit.

König nodded, "Yeah, yea, that's uh- red wine is fine," he's never once indulged himself with the dark red liquid.

Tapping your nails against the table you inhaled heavily, "So, do you come here often?" referring to the restaurant.

"No I," he paused for a moment, thinking about his words so he doesn't stutter, "I don't. But I thought you would like it since it's-" he looked around, "you know, like fancy,"

You laugh softly and didn't even notice his sharp intake of breath as he focused mostly on trying not to get hard. The sound of your laugh sent heat rush to his groin; he wanted to be the one that made you laugh.

"Yes, it is nice in here. I do like it if you were wondering."

König nodded then sighed, bouncing his leg under the table. He was barely listening to what you were saying. He's sorry, but he's got other things to focus on. Like the little bag of pills in the pocket of his pants.

Just then, the waiter came back and set two wine glasses down and poured the red wine into them before setting the bottle between them on the table.

"Enjoy your evening," he says then walks away.

König clenched his jaw tightly when he watched you bring the glass up to your lips and take a small sip. He was so fucking anxious, was his plan even going to work?....

Dinner went on as normal, well, as normal as it could be with a guy like him. With every question you asked he would give one sentence responses. It kind of bummed you out because he was the one that asked you out in the first place. The man didn't seem interested in you at all.

Sighing, and finishing your meal you strand up, "Excuse me, i'm going to go refresh myself," you say then walk to the ladies room.

König watched as you disappeared down a hall then looked around anxiously to see if anyone was nearby and watching him. Once he realized the coast was clear he shoved his hand into the pocket and pulled out the small bag. He fumbled with it, his large fingers making it more difficult to grab and open it. Or maybe it was because he was shaking.

He kept glancing over his shoulder, waiting to see you standing directly behind him and staring at him with disgust. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but schatz, he needed you- and as much as he loved you, he couldn't trust you to let him touch you.

That's why he's somewhat- no, fully obligated to do this.

König leaned over the table, dropping the small white pill into your red wine and watching it dissolve. He then sat back in his chair, staring at the glass with darkened eyes.

He actually felt relieved, he done it without getting caught- and just one sip of that wine would make you delirious. Clenching his fists, he glanced back over his shoulder to see you walking back from the bathroom. God, he was so fucking nervous but also so excited to have you, to taste you.

"I'm back," you say, sitting back down with a small smile, "Have we gotten the check yet?"

König blinks, "Ja, I took care of it,"

"Oh, thank you," you then stand up, patting down your dress for no apparent reason, "Ready to go?"

He panics.

"Aren't you going to finish your drink?" He says quickly. You glance down at the wine then let out a small amuses huff from your nose.

"You're right," you pick up the glass, bringing it to your lips, and he watched with dark eyes as you took two gulps of it before setting it back down.

"Thanks for dinner," you say as he stands up.

"No need to thank me," he replies. After all, he'll be getting his thanks soon enough...

It wasn't long until you two were walking to his car when you stumbled slightly, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself. Your brows furrow together and you bring your hand to your forehead, groaning.

"Is something wrong?"

Glancing up, there were, what seemed to be two König's staring down at you. You squinted your eyes, trying to focus on one but it was blurry, "I had... had a bit to drink," you say slowly and he nods.

"Come on, let's get you back to the car, then you can rest," He wraps his arm around your backside, firmly grasping your waist as he held you up until you guys got to his car. You slumped against it as he unlocked and opened the backseat.

"Here schatz, ruhe diche jetze aus..."

Your eyes dolled back into your head as you tried to speak, but only quiet slurs of deformed words came from your swollen lips. Your whole body felt like lead as you tried lifting your head to see what felt so hot between your legs.

"so good..." König mumbled into your cunt as he lapped up the slick that pooled out of you, "you're so good liebling..."

His large hands gripped your thighs, kneading them under his calloused palms as his slippery tongue slid in and out of you before grazing over your swollen clit. He sucked the bead into his mouth, savagely moving his head from side to side as he growled into your pussy.

"no...." you mewled weakly, "sst..." you managed strength to lift your hand, but you could barely do anything when you tried pushing his head away. König just groaned into your cunt as he felt your hand grab onto his hair.

You liked this schatz, didn't you?

Why else would you be moaning for him? Grabbing his hair? Getting even more wet when his tongue was doing its best you clean you up?

"so needy," he cooed, spitting onto your pussy and watching the saliva run down your folds, "I'll take good care you of you, schatz. kein grund zur sorge,"

König then pulled away, running his hands down your legs before moving them up towards your entrance. He slipped his middle finger inside of you and groaned at the sight of your cunt sucking him in desperately.

Soft moans dribbled out of your mouth as König slides another digit into your leaking pussy.

"sto...p," you manage to say, your voice cracked and tired. God, you felt exhausted, so fuzzy and dizzy.

It didn't take him long to drive you to an orgasm, your whole body tensing, your back arching up and your eyes rolling into the back of your head- losing consciousness.

It was only when your head bumped repeatedly against the car door as he shoved his fat cock in and out of you that you regained consciousness.

One of his hands was placing at the base of you throat, squeezing, while the other was gripping onto the edge of the seat.

"Oh je, du bist so verdammt eng, es fühlt sich so gut an," he whines as he bucks his hip into you. König didn't even have a technique, just mindlessly thrusting his too big cock into you at a relentless pace. You swore that every other second you blanked or blacked out.

"-urts!" you cried, choked gasps coming from your mouth as you tried to control your breathing, "h-hurts!..."

König groaned as he slowed his pace, now dragging his cock slowly in and out of your right wet cunt. The hand on your throat reaches up and he brushed his fingers against your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

"m'sorry schatz, I didn't think about your head...." he cooed before grabbing your waist firmly and manhandling you into a different position.

Now you were sitting on top of him, his length stuffing you full until his tip was kissing your cervix. It was painful, but there were slight shocks of pleasure that kind your mind blank. You were so fucking out of it you could barely tell what was happening- which direction you were facing....

His hand cupped the back on your head, bringing your face into the crook of his neck as his other hand caresses your bare side.

"is that better?..." he whispered into your ear before grabbing your hips and fucking up into your sloppy wet cunt.

God maus, you felt so fucking good. After this one taste, how was he supposed live normally?

Your body went limp; small incoherent mumbles and whimpers sounding from your swollen lips. König loved it, every second of it. Your delirious state just convinced him that it was him making you feel like this. It was his cock that was causing you to black out from pleasure....

"i'm so close, so close to cumming in you. ich werde dich mit meinem sperma füllen," he says desperately as he bucked his hips up ruthlessly.

It only takes a couple of more clumsy, sloppy thrusts for him to be releasing inside of you- filling you with his creamy seed. There was so much it seeped out of your hole, coating his cock in a milky substance and forming a sticky ring at the base of his shaft.

"I love you- ich liebe dich so sehr, I love you," he whispered, caressing your hair and tangling his hands in it. You were long gone by now, having passed out from the sheer overstimulation- mixed with the drugs of course....

"So good.... did you like it too?" König asked breathlessly and when you didn't respond he simply chuckled.

"It's okay little maus, i'll let you rest.... you probably need it for the amount of times i'll be fucking you."

please do not copy or repost on any platforms without my permission

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

[que3rduckling]

(For your jrwi pd x Batman crossover) hmmm do you think they’d confront William with the idea that he was in a lazarus pit??

OH MY FREAKING GODS YES

I love this idea sm

okay here's how i am imagining it would go:

William, who is very much trying to mind his own business and doing some more detectiving

Red Hood, emerging from the shadows beside him: How was the La-

William, who almost went intangible from the scare, screaming: AH- WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU COME FROM??

Red Hood: The Alley, duh. How was your little swim in that nice green pit?

William, confused asf: ... What?

Red Hood: Yk the Lazarus Pit. You look like, no offence, some who just came back from the dead. So how was your stay there?

William, who is even more confused now: I uh- I don’t know what you mean! I’m a normal alive human hahaha-

Red hood, raising an eye brow under his helmet: Game knows game. If you haven’t died before then I’m still in the fucking grave. So did you have fun?

William: I- I didn't go into any pit! I don’t even know what the hell that is! Can I please go back to my investigations-

Red Hood: bullshit

William: No- not bullshit!

Red Hood: Your telling me you didn’t get dunked in a green lake and then came back to life?

William: No I went to the spirit world and got thrusted back into the real world as a ghost like a normal person! Now what the FUCK is a Lazarus pit?

Red Hood:

William:

Red Hood: and I thought the Lazarus pit was a shit deal

William: I still don’t know what that is-

Red Hood: Doesn’t matter. You’ll probably learn soon

William: who-

Red Hood, who has now disappeared into the night

William: .. That was so ominous wtf

(also very side note i genuinely started shaking/pos when i got this ask bc A) you wanted to hear more about my silly lil crossover and B) i love your blog a lot lmao so tysm for sending this in!!!!!!!)

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s5 episode 1 thoughts

bouncing. bouncing up and down. off of the walls. this episode was SO good. thank you. everyone say thank you, chris carter. thank you for fainting scully, tomato lover scully, doctor scully, crying mulder, plotting mulder, breaking and entering mulder, and for skinner in general.

but back to who i was before yesterday... allow us to return to past juni.

it’s been 800 years… (and by that i mean a week and 2 days have passed since i last watched an episode)

we left off in a pretty… precarious position. so i’m interested to see where things go from here. and hopefully they will be less stressful.

but i’m so happy to be back! i swear once i finish this show i’ll have to quit my job. there will be nothing to get me through LMAO.

it sounds like mulder is going to do some breaking and entering… again, fork spotted in kitchen

how the HELL did he fake his own death… this is giving sherlock!!

god, hearing her voice trembling again as she talks about identifying his body… i did not need to relive this pain!!

so we go back to him crying and watching alien stuff on his couch the night before her big meeting

“an act of faith began with an ineloquent certainty that my journey promised the chance not just of understanding, but of recovery” <- oh… so he admits to the whole thing being about healing…

and he says that he hoped finding the truth would reunite him with his sister, which i KNOW he was thinking all along, but hearing him SAY IT is still devastating; the way he never actually said it aloud before was very impactful, and so is his decision to break that vow of silence

“a belief which i now know to be false and uninformed in the extreme” <- NOOO please do not give up my king… i do not entirely believe this kritshcgau fool

he’s sobbing. he's so pretty when he sobs even if it is sad.

“my folly revealed by facts which illuminate both my arrogance and self-deception” <- oh no… i wanted him to Realize he was being Like That... but not in this way…

so he picks up the gun, saying it would be easier to end this journey if the pain had just been his own… and oh my god......

but then the phone rings… and it’s kritshcgau? he’s trying to explain that he might have been followed after leaving his apartment, but mulder does not give a FUCK LMAO

he wants to know who this man is and if they really gave scully cancer because of him. understandable.

he’s looking around for bugs in his room as he is warned of what’s going on…. and he finds one on the ceiling!! and not the insect kind, the camera kind!!!

mulder finds someone upstairs watching him on camera and burning stuff, but then this mystery guy picks up his shotgun and shoots mulder??? maybe?? it’s hard to tell??? strategic cutoff??

(i assume it’s shotgun guy from before, but frankly i don’t remember what his face looked like, so. listen! a lot can happen in a week and two days)

ah, it feels so nice to be watching the intro again. nature is healing… and by nature i mean me.

scully gets home at midnight, checking her voicemail… she starts to get undressed for bed

“keep going, FBI woman” <- WHAT THE FUCK. 

IT’S MULDER??? she’s soooo GAGGED LMAOOO THE LOOK ON HER FACE???? i’m howling 

MULDER BABY YOU CANNOT JUST SAY THAT WHEN YOU BREAK INTO SOMEONE'S HOUSE. BAD BOY (sprays with water) (sprays with water) (sprays with-

“mulder? what are you doing? why are you sitting in my bedroom in the dark?” <- a VERY reasonable question!!!!

he says there’s a dead guy in his apartment. she’s had ENOUGH of his shenanigans, and he clarifies that he is NOT joking

he had been under surveillance for at least 2 months!!!!! that is freaky omggg… god only knows what they saw him doing

he says that he can’t talk to anyone at the bureau because this whole hoax leads back to the FBI!!!

HOLD ON PAUSE. WHY THE FUCK DOES SCULLY HAVE A POSTER OF DIFFERENT TOMATOES ON HER APARTMENT WALL. HOLD ON I’M FUCKING CRYING. STOP. THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY. oh my gooood. 

she saw a poster of tomatoes and said you know what? this would look FANTASTIC in my apartment. 

god, scully, you truly are the best character of all time. i had no idea you felt so strongly about the humble tomato. 

i cannot complain about anything else that happens in this episode, i’m out of breath from laughing. oh my god. this is gonna get me through so much. tomorrow i’m gonna go to work and a customer is gonna yell at me and i’m just gonna smile thinking about scully’s tomato poster.

i don’t even really remember what was happening. 

okay, right, so the guy whose apartment was above mulder’s, he was destroying records of himself calling the FBI. so who in the FBI was he calling?? and must it be the one who is behind all of this??

“i will not allow this treason to prosper- not if they’ve done this to you” he says <- OKAYYYY!!! protective man is in his protective mode 🔥 you truly do LOVE to see it. it’s almost as good as scully in doctor more but let’s be honest, nothing can ever beat that.

ohhh, he says they can lie back to them!!!! sneaky sneaky man... your fox-like nature is showing

so it was HIS IDEA to have her come and make the ID on his "body" even though it was false!!??

so she was ACTING in that meeting??? WAS SCULLY A THEATRE KID?? because she sold that for real!!!!

he’s going on about how he’s asking her to lie so they can find out who this enemy from within is….

scully runs into skinner after identifying the body, who asks if it’s true that mulder is really dead, and she lies, saying yes. he wants to know if she’s okay, and she pulls the “i don’t know what to say” card, which is entirely understandable.

he asks how she made the ID if he died from a shot to the head, so she says she saw him earlier that morning and he was wearing the same clothes. and there’s a look skinner has into the distance as he tries to determine how and why they would have seen each other before 6:30 am. like you could see the gears turning in his head as if he was saying omg, so they WERE together this whole time. it’s comical, in a way. 

which also leads me to wonder, well i’m no expert in these things, but if you know someone long enough, wouldn’t you recognize them even sans face? by body alone? 

he says he’s very sorry. and when she tries to leave he very sternly calls out “agent scully >:| section chief blah blah blah thinks you’re hiding stuff” (paraphrased obviously)

skinner looks SOOO suspicious of whatever she's plotting lmaooo. and he is right to be!

meanwhile, a very alive mulder is going to the department of defense to scout some advanced research using the dead guy’s ID!! ooooo high stakes, high stakes!!!! he's narrating that if they’re busted, they’re done for good!!

now scully is in the office with the section chief. and he’s talking about someone from the DOD giving her classified information. 

they ask her for information and she’s clearly hiding stuff…. but she identifies kritshcgau!!! omg i didn't think she was going to!!

uh oh… kritshcgau sees mulder in the DOD!! “hey! how’d you get in here?” “through the front door” <- lmao he can never be serious!!

kritshcgau tells mulder to come with him… is this a trap??? 

he’s gagged because that card gives mulder LEVEL FOUR CLEARANCE which i take is a BIG DEAL

yes, it is, because it would give him access to EVERYTHING!! even the thing he wants most of all… the cure for scully’s cancer!! you can see the tears forming in his eyes at the thought… oh man. ohhh mulder…

cancer man has burst into mulder’s apartment… now what are you doing here, you freak???

OHHHH he finds a photo of mulder and samantha on his desk when they were kids... ohhhh... my heart 😭😭😭😭😭

(there’s also some art on the wall of mulder's apartment that i can’t make the details out on. one piece seems to be some sort of pastoral scene with a sheep in it? and the other seems to be abstract. does anyone know what they are? i mean, it’s no tomato poster. but still)

CSM is actually crying seeing this photo and the blood he presumes to be mulder's on the carpet, and i don’t know if he feels genuine sadness or is just heartbroken his decades long alien colonization plan has been thwarted. honestly i do think he’s sad about mulder. he seemed to be in love with both mr. and mrs. mulder tbh, and that can do things to a guy. 

he finds the secret ceiling camera...

scully is in mulder’s office now, calling someone. she pulls out the phone number shotgun guy had been calling!! holly answers it and says she is so sorry to hear about what happened to mulder…. but scully has no time to talk about these things

who is this holly? how does she know scully? are they friends? i need the backstory.

scully… you are so beautiful…. holding this paper and calling holly on the phone, telling her when the calls were placed so she can track down who shotgun man called a million times…..

OH GOD!!! IT’S SKINNER’S EXTENSION!!!

scully looks devastated by this… but just as she begins to process it all, the scientist calls her back about the ice!! she has so much on her mind, please do not make her come look at some damn ice 😭

now, i do not believe that skinner is really behind all this. if he is involved at all, it is because he made that deal with CSM to try and save her... and maybe he was tricked, but he did NOT do it willingly!

kritshcgau and mulder are talking about level four, which apparently a place and not just a classification, and is home to medical facilities!! and vast quantities of DNA storage!! from every person who has ever given blood or tissue since ww2!!! 

damn that’s crazy. how tf would you even store all that?? it’s gotta be a warehouse.

he’s saying this is the hoax into which mulder was drawn…. the US fanned the flames of UFO stories to draw attention away from the whole “mutually assured destruction” thing, which, well, not sure how well that worked out 

OPPENHEIMER MENTIONED‼️him and that damn hat…

(actually still haven’t seen that movie btw. sorry i guess. idk. i’m busy)

KHRUSHCHEV APPEARS ‼️i love to see a familiar face from my textbooks in my TV programs. it's like a crossover event.

kritshcgau says the business of america isn’t business at all, it’s war. well yeah. that is true. and the cold war was an excuse to keep spending military money with no war. which i guess that sort of maybe tracks??

writing off korea and vietnam as just countries squaring off “a few times” is kinda crazy, but his point is: no one used the big bomb.

mulder asks what we are all thinking: what does this have to do with UFOs?

well, let kritshcgau tell you, son. after roswell, the more the government denied about UFOs, the more the public believed them, which was great timing for a country developing supersonic flight

oooo, he claims they almost got caught in korea, as they were accused of using germ warfare. but it’s nothing like what they have now, like what was used for the gulf war, developed in this very building! (said with a very dramatic flourish)

this is a lot of world building at a breakneck pace, and i don’t even know if i’m supposed to believe any of it. maybe some secret top percentage of the government thinks this is true, and the tiny syndicate knows it actually isn’t. that’s my best guess.

the abductions actually did happen, he clarifies, but not by aliens. hmm. a top secret project. well without aliens what's the point?

kritshcgau says it’s about DNA control. but for what purpose???

mulder asks, why make a whole fake alien body for all this then? and kritshcgau says because scully wouldn’t have been alive to disprove the alien body if their timing had been correct!!! so he would have believed it, then they could discredit him!

kritshcgau also says his son coming back sick from the gulf war is his retribution for going along with all of this, and he's thinking there’s a cure for him somewhere in there. well i think the whole gulf war disease and advanced cancer are very different. but maybe they both have secret cures?

off mulder goes, into level 4, taking one last look at kritshcgau, who is immediately apprehended by the DOD for questioning!!!! i feel that this will be the last we see of him.

cutscene to someone racing a horse?? is it bestie well groomed man?? and his many horses??

no!! it’s the department chair guy meeting with CSM!!! CSM is pissed that he didn’t know someone was watching mulder, but the chairman denies it.

he is even MORE pissed about being cut out of this project; “i CREATED mulder” <- okay so that is not putting out the “CSM is actually his father” allegations

chair guy says that mulder is dead

OHHH BUT CSM SAYS “i’ve never underestimated mulder. i still don’t” <- DAMN!!! that’s absolutely wild… i guess it’s important to know your opponent, and how willing they would be to fake their death, and if they could pull it off or not

(CSM angrily leaves)

back to scully at the ice core guy’s lab. and again, oh my god, she’s beautiful. no no no i don’t want to hear about fetal bovine serum. what the hell does that even mean. go back to her beautiful face.

he put the junk from the ice core in the serum... the cells were dividing… into somatic development?? the beginning of a life form. she looks shocked by this, but again. idk what that means!

bleugh, the ice core sample creature... it looks ugly…….

mulder’s snooping about the level 4 area, but the DOD people are behind him, and none of the doors have opened!!! he says that if they find the cure, it will mean for sure that he has believed in a lie from the start. well, i don’t think that’s true necessarily. i mean, the abduction thing could be from an alien-government collaboration, or aliens could still be out there, just not involved with this one thing, you know?

he picks a lock (okay!! crazy skyrim reference) and finds himself in a very dark room. and i am attracted to him. don't worry about it. anyway, whatever he sees seems to shock him???

cut to a TON of CGI aliens on cots LMAO WHAT???? just laying out n about 😭 it had to smell so bad in there… i imagine aliens smell very bad

now this alien closest to him has been lovingly crafted with practical effects, which is much better. so we can see his slime. that is not the part that is better, the slime visibility; its just that practical effects look more visually convincing in such a case

scully is narrating that she had no way to reach him and talk about their discovery of an unidentified life form. which is what happens when you fake your death and go in the secret medical facility of doom.

why is he TOUCHING the nasty alien body???? EUGH!!!!!!

scully is pondering if this thing she found in the serum could be the proof of an alien or the proof of a hoax… a lot of big questions for her to handle here 

he sees some flashing lights deep in the secret corridor, and follows it…. a whole lot of strobe light action going on in here. that stuff doesn't even bother me and i was like damn, that was a lot. i imagine it was much worse for the people who already have issues with bright lights.

she says that maybe this thing in the ice core sample is biologically connected to her cancer?? 

how does this connect to all of those half-alien, half-human people they found back in arizona??!!

beautiful man is looking through the window… 

OH MY GOD HE SEES A BUNCH OF WOMEN BEING SCANNED????? WITH BRIGHT FLASHING LIGHTS?? oh man.... WHAT IS GOING ON???? what are they DOING??

what did they call it before?? inducing mega ovulation?? yikes.

BLEUGH. i paused here as scully was getting blood drawn. i am woozy. how do they fake that for filming??

she needs a southern blot, btw. if that means anything to you. to compare that culture to her own DNA.

belaughhh. she needs the match before 7. he says we can’t do that.

“it’s got to happen. everything in my life depends on it” <- YOU TELL HIM!!!

he has no idea wtf that means but is taken aback by her seriousness

NOW WHY IS SKINNER WATCHING THIS????

OHHH SHE GOES OUT AND CONFRONTS HIM!! “is this more dirty work you’re doing for the DOD??” <- OHHHHH she is NOT HOLDING BACK

he says he has the tests from the body they found in mulder’s apartment on his desk; he knows it isn't him!!! and as she compounds the lies, she compounds the consequences!!!!

OHHHHH THAT WHOLE SCENE WAS SOOOOO JUICY I’M GONNA TEAR OUT MY HAAAAAIR

“all lies lead to the truth, isn’t that right?”

“and what about your lie, agent scully? what does it lead to?”

“the truth- about the men behind what happened to me, about my abduction and the tests, about being exposed to something against my will, about being put on a table and having something implanted in me and then having my memory stolen, only to have it returned along with a disease that i was given.” (ohh she was getting more and more furious as she said this and it was SO good)

“is that your justification? if that what you’re going to tell the joint panel tonight?”

“are you afraid of that?” <- OHHH her mocking and accusatory tone… i need it bottled

“well, considering the dead man in mulder’s apartment was murdered in cold blood and you willfully misidentified him, yes, i am afraid. but i’m only afraid for you” (<- and i do believe him, that he is scared to watch her proceed in this way, almost recklessly, even though it's calculated)

“you’re going to use that against me, aren’t you? you’re going to use me as i’ve been used all along- to preserve the lies”

“where is agent mulder?”

(she walks away)

WOOO baby, that scene was ACTING!! the tight closeups on their face was crazy, and it def could have backfired had they not been so freaking talented. every microexpression spoke a thousand words. i feel energized just watching it!!

jumping up and down. jumping up and down. we are sooooo back.

ohhh she goes into the lab herself to do the testing… in her lab coat… and her goggles… spinning the blood around… i’m faint…

meanwhile, mulder's walking through some weird pipes?? 

AUGH, there’s something IN HER BLOOD WATER, and she says it could be a connection between the conspirators and the cancer in her blood…. well to me it looks like a worm

he finds a new secret door and enters with a hand in his pocket, looking around... tension!!!

she’s ready to blow open this whole conspiracy!! ooooo you'd better stand back and watch it happen!

(they’re narrating all of this because this is a tv show and that is how an audiovisual media works, but i find it funny to imagine them speaking into a voice recorder as they describe their highly illegal activities)

he reaches the end of the mystery space and finds a ton of filing cabinets??? so he’s going to the scully file. he finds hers!!! it is a paper with a bunch of letters on it. which clears up nothing

and he pulls one out for kritschgau’s son as well!!! but it looks like his is blank???

someone from the DOD calls CSM to say that “scott” (mulder with the dead guy's ID card) made his way into the pentagon!! so he’s off to go find him. stay away from him, freak...

scully is rolling some sort of paper after soaking the mixture of stuff from her blood. you’re confused, i’m confused, i’m fascinated as to how this was explained for filming purposes, but here we are

“if my work with agent mulder has tested the foundation of my beliefs, science has been and continues to be my guiding light” <3

“now i’m again relying on its familiar and systematic methods to arrive at a truth- a fact that might explain the fate that has befallen me”

i love that she sees science as familiar and systematic; she really seems to be someone that values those aspects of stability, of knowing what can and cannot be true, and as the world grows more and more complex as they unravel the conspiracies, she turns to what she knows she can rely on. it reminds me in a way about how she values the comfort of a home, of the known, of what can be experienced and understood. she seems to thrive on that sort of knowledge, and i relate to it. something steady to keep her afloat, you know? it also speaks to her rigidity in following the rules. there is order and structure that maintains things, and that can be a great comfort, or a terrible hindrance if it is used for evil. but she, deep down, believes that there still is fundamental good. the rules, the science, the facts, the comfort of them all. it’s a terribly scary world; her biggest fear is what others are capable of. of course there is comfort in the known and the material. i like that a lot.

she hopes to match the virus from the mystery organism to the stuff in her cells, which would mean that her cancer has a cause, even if a cure is unknown! and maybe then they could find a cure to the virus thingy...? is this wishful thinking??

“if science serves me to these ends, it is not lost on me that the tool which i’ve come to depend on absolutely cannot save or protect me, but only bring into focus the darkness that lies ahead” <- hey. hey ouch. pain.

i refuse to consider such a possibility. there are too many more seasons ahead.

back to mulder in the labyrinth, looking for stuff that matches the numbers on her card. ough… why does his hair look so good…

anyway, he finds some sort of liquid

OH scully has done it!!! she’s mixed her DNA with the viral DNA from the cell!! oh, the ice core doctor guy is SHOCKED to learn that she has stuff in her that was also in the CANADIAN ALIEN MOUNTAINS!!

she explains that she believes she was exposed to this material that gave her an illness… and when he asks what kind, all she says is that it cannot be cured. damn. that was very dark.

so mulder finds this little vial of stuff with the specific numbers on it?? in a tiny tiny little bottle?

is it shots shots shots shots time??

he’s leaving from the pentagon, and in a voice over monologue, points out that he is as dependent upon her as she is upon him for the cure!!! as now she must convince the committee of her story!!!

she goes into the meeting room, bracing herself…. and she begins where we began in the last episode!!!! and now we know WHY she is reporting on the illegitimacy of his work!! ah, it is sweet relief to know there was no backstabbing between them

mulder is trying to sneak out… but his card swipe isn’t working…. and the military guys enter!!! 

can he play it cool?? can he beat them in a fight??? well, it FINALLY works, and one thing he can do is run!! and he manages to!!!!

GASP! CSM sees mulder leave, and says to let him go!! he seems almost relieved to see mulder alive and with this mystery liquid

and scully’s doing her oscar-winning performance about identifying a body. an absolute serve.

but skinner comes in just as she says this…. 

her eyes are filled with tears as she pulls out the evidence… (which is just two lines on paper, but you KNOW she is going to explain it)

and she notes that the whole thing was “planned and executed by someone in this room”, seeming to blame it all on skinner… oh my god…

OH MY GOD SHE’S STARTING HER PRESENTATION AND HER NOSE STARTS TO BLEED???

SHE FAINTS?????? and SKINNER CATCHES HER????

she looks at him and says “you…..” before passing back out <- WHAT DID SHE WANT TO SAY TO HIM??!??!?!?!?!

mulder is with the lone gunmen analyzing the mystery liquid…. and it’s water??

hold on, i had to rewatch her fainting and skinner catching her… how he starts to hold her face but stops himself… the way she says “you” so quietly… and then she loses consciousness again… oh my god… to be caught by the person she thinks is killing her… 

and skinner… i don’t believe for a minute that he is behind this. how hurt he must be at her accusations, his terror in watching her march ahead recklessly and lie to these people who would kill her in a heartbeat, and actively ARE killing her, and he was the one that made the deal with the devil to try and get this to stop happening, but what if he’s only advanced the work of the devil and got nothing out of it for himself…? and she doesn't even trust him!!!!

i rewatched that scene 4 times. and it was amazing during each of them.

and mulder… with his water… mystery water in vials… what can it do?? is it really just water?? why tf would the government hide vials of water with incredibly specific numbering deep in the pentagon. i don't buy it.

oh man, we are SOOOOOO back!!!!! i am bouncing off the walls. i cannot WAIT to learn what happens next. the angst here was EXQUISITE.

i’m such a sucker for angst involving mulder/scully and skinner. it’s going to get me EVERY time. over and over and over again. it just punches me in the gut. and all the other stuff punches me in the gut too, but this one has a certain je ne sais quoi factor about it; is it the mentor/mentee relationship of it all?? the way they care about each other but don’t know how to express it?? how they go from being willing to die and to kill for each other and then suddenly that trust is entirely removed, back and forth, back and forth? oh, it’s like CATNIP to me.

scully fainting and him catching is already going to be on my list of favorite moments, i know it, i know myself too well.

AUGHHHHHAUAGGHHHHRAUGGHHHHHAUGHHHHHH i LOVE THIS SHOW see it can be SO GOOD WHEN IT WANTS TO BE!!!!!!!!!

the trickery!! the plotting!! the deception!! the mysteries within mysteries!!! i still think the aliens are real though!! what are they doing with those women?? giving then alien DNA so they can steal their eggs to make alien babies?? what is that oil stuff in mulder?? and where does krycek fit into this??? and again, those half alien things in arizona?? don’t tell me!! don’t tell me because i am excited to learn!!!

YEAHHHHH!!!

[outlying-hyppocrate]

might not be entirely human and also bisexual but that's whatever. i have school to finish

[yuwuta]

JJK OLYMPICS OHHH YOURE A GENIUS

head spinning w sooooooo many athlete aus rn….. 

satoru honestly isn’t half as cocky as the media makes him out to be but he could be because you bring up world champion men’s freestyle swim times and it’s his name on the scoreboard ten times before someone else shows up. he’s faster than himself by fifteen seconds all around, he’s earned a bit of cockiness. mentioned in the last post that whenever he’s at a competition and he finishes a race, he looks at the camera and signs a little infinity sign and then blows a kiss to you. some bitter old coach always calls him out on it, and gets him fined for unsportsmanlike conduct, and he’s happy to pay the fees if it means getting a message home to you, but eventually you two come up with a new code; and at his next race, he places gold, turns to the camera, crosses his middle finger over his pointer finger and smiles. when he’s in his post-race interview, he makes sure to explain that he does it for you with the widest smile on his face.

megumi nepotism baby but not in the same sport. toji was a multi gold medalist back in his heyday for shooting, so it’s not really a surprise to anybody that megumi has scary good aim, but he takes to archery instead of shooting. actually the idea of megumi being an emo little kid and throwing rocks at a tree when his dad pissed him off his hilarious, and even funnier is toji watching him, slightly amused and a little scared because megumi is maybe six and hitting the exact same spot every single time. he grows to be very blase about it—it’s more of a release/hobby for him that he happens to be really good at, and well, now good enough to earn a few olympic medals. megumi is not a fan of having his dad ruffle his hair on international television after he’s won, but he supposes it can’t be helped.

i don’t know where to put yuuta…. tennis…. tempting….. him in his little white shorts…. little grunts after he serves…. cries….. a complete 180 in his personality when he’s playing vs doing anything else. so charming and sweet and kinda shy when he’s being interviewed, and the second he steps on the court his eyes are so cold it’s scary…. need him… extremely nerdy about his rackets, and shoes, and clothes, and rambles to you about aerodynamics and posture and torque whenever you ask him to teach you, and you always have to shutup him up with a kiss and remind him that yeah you sort of want to learn to play tennis for him, but mostly you came bc he looks hot doing it. once he got asked in an interview if he ever thinks about you while he’s playing and his response was very concise, “no, never. it would be a big distraction,” and did not realize the implications of his heavily televised words. 

also…. not to make this post 40% yuuta but we could pull from canon a bit and make his sport fencing. he doesn’t excel because he’s the strongest, it’s because he’s learned to treat the sword as an extension of himself and a good strategist… also because i like the image of him pulling the helmet/mask off and shaking his hair out………..

don’t even know where to put yuuji…. volleyball? basketball? track and field??? the irony of him easily being the most athletic but canonically does not want to play sports 😭 but i can see him playing a sport because someone scouts him and it turns out to be a way to make steady money to support himself and his grandpa :( by the time he’s qualified and made it to the olympics, wasuke is doing much better (thanks to yuuji having landed some preemptive sponsorships and being able to afford better medical care), but not so well enough that he can travel across the world to watch yuuji play. wasuke tells you that you should travel and be with yuuji, but yuuji is so touched by the idea that you would stay with his grandpa and be by his side when he’s away :(( he wins gold, of course, and he doesn’t even wait until the closing ceremony—which, he’d mentioned in all of his interviews, so nobody can be too upset. he’s on record saying, “i’m excited to play, but i’m even happier to be going home. my girlfriend and my grandpa are watching me and i miss them!” several times— he’s on the first flight home with flowers, and tears in his eyes. puts his gold medal on his grandpa’s neck as a thank you, and spends probably thirty minutes straight hugging you and kissing you and honestly don’t put it past him to propose now that he’s got nike ambassador money 

nanami started judo as a way to relieve the stress of his overbearing job, and someone at the gym/training center notices he seems to be a natural despite being a beginner. he starts to draw a crowd, which annoys him at first because the point of judo was discipline and release from having to deal with too many people at his office job, but nanami supposes he can’t be too mad when you introduce yourself as a talent scout and offer him professional training. there’s irony in him accepting your offer, because it was definitely not based in professionalism at all… quitting his job as a salaryman to become a professional athlete in his mid-twenties was not on his bingo chart, but if it means he will have met you, then so be it. you’re with him all the way, through his training, competitions, world championships, qualifiers, all the way until he’s on the podium. you’re the first to congratulate him, but he interjects by telling you he’s quitting. you ask him why—he just won at the olympics for crying out loud, but nanami just shakes his head, puts down his flowers and his medal so his hands are free to hold your face and tell you, “it would be unethical to kiss my manager, so i am quitting.” (later, when everything is said and done, and you two are cuddling, you mention to him that he could just hire a new manager, and not quit his new career, to which he blushes because yeah… that’s probably more rational, but rational was not in his train of thought at the time)