#and . and it’s the fucking alien show saving me

[skeletalheartattack]

hi I like gelato a lot

[gummybearzone]

ok but what if instead of having to get his balls back they had to get her tits back...

[freuleinanna]

I have rarely related to any doctor more than 13 because for someone having soo many feelings she's so chronically emotionally unavailable and scared of intimacy EVEN THOUGH SHE WANTS IT, honestly she's like a half-drowned cat hissing at air because it dares keep her alive, it's pathetic how she exudes second hardest sopping wet vibes after 10 (also second hardest gramps is not okay vibes after 12)

that being said, she gets go have a lifetime of healing. and maybe one day I'll find that I've dragged my feet forward enough to come home too

[koussevitzky]

How it feels to genuinely admit to myself that the x files found me at the right place and right time to perhaps save me when I could have gone back to being at my lowest

[aq2003]

series 3 is so frustrating because there is like a shining core of pure diamond underneath the problems . like conceptually it rocks so incredibly hard. but the problems

[kamwashere]

okay so. so. so okay. just finished season 5 finale (still reeling, mind you) and went headfirst to watching fight the future and uh why did no one tell me.

[singeryuri]

so y'know how ti.ll was forced to sing my clematis. i thought about jarek getting forced to sing one of iv.an's songs. currently swimming in my own tears

[heartofanenigma]

Thinking thoughts.

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.

[trianglegoddess]

I'm Still Standing

The League felt like they had a strong sense of Phantom’s power. After all, they wouldn’t have asked him to join the team, otherwise. He’s strong, he can fly, and due to his supernatural nature, he’s amazing on recon and stealth missions. He’s also incredibly reliable, and smarter than most people give him credit for. He’s a natural hero, a more snarky Captain Marvel, some news outlets have been saying. Always saving people with just the right words to say, with a humble smile on his face. 

Phantom, with all of his power, seemed untouchable in every definition of the word. 

And then they got invaded by Darkseid. 

It wasn’t the first time Darkseid had invaded Earth, but it was the first time bringing armies so large, the first time he’s attacked all over the world to spread the League thin. It is single handedly the worst alien invasion Earth has ever had. 

Batman, bleeding out on the sidewalk, Wonder Woman knocked unconscious and restrained by a nearly egregious amount of henchmen, Superman, weak from the kryptonite Darkseid had shot him with. Thankfully it had missed all the important bits, but with that bullet inside of him, Superman was also down for the count, as well as dozens of other League members. 

If it hadn’t been for Phantom, they would have lost. 

Phantom, who’s never been seen without a smile on his face until now. Phantom, who’s never had so much as a scratch on him, until now. Phantom, who has only ever been known to be kind and compassionate, even to his villains, until now. 

Usually there’s this sort of warm, comforting feeling that radiates from Phantom. It feels like a nice breeze on a warm summer’s day, a nice cup of hot cocoa, your favorite song. It’s a feeling of safety, as if everything will be alright just because he’s there. 

Here, though, something else, something much stronger, is radiating from him. It practically rolls off of him in huge waves, making those conscious around him more aggravated, more on edge.

Phantom pulls himself off of the ground. His suit is torn, and his green blood splattered on himself and the ground. He spits a glob of it out, along with a tooth. 

“Still, you stand,” Darkseid says, as if tired. “Do you not tire in the face of your own demise?”

“As long as I’m still standing, you won’t ever win,” Phantom says. His voice is low and threatening, reverberating eerily off of the broken infrastructure that surrounds them. It sends a chill down everybody’s spines, though if Darkseid is affected, he doesn’t show it. 

“Your comrades have fallen, your militaries have failed, and you have no other help arriving. Pray tell how one singular human will be able to take me down!” 

Phantom doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks forward so that his friends are behind him, and braces himself. Darkseid, unable to contain his own hubris, lets Phantom come closer. 

Phantom takes in a deep breath, as if he’s about to speak.  

Instead he wails. 

Any remaining glass shatters, raining down upon them as green sound waves push back the offending forces. 

And it’s loud, of course. The ears of Darkseid’s minions are bleeding, and many of them are either dying because it’s too much for them to bear, or they’re killing themselves to give themselves some modicum of relief. But it’s also more than that, more than noise. 

It’s mourning. 

The first feeling that overwhelms everyone is anger. Phantom’s anger at Darkseid, at the destruction, at the fact that he just can’t catch a fucking break and it’s not fair. The second, is the sadness. It weighs down upon their shoulders, suffocating them like smog. It invades every part of their being-their lungs, their joints, their very hearts-and it presses and presses and presses until there’s very nearly nothing left. 

Phantom still pushes on. He is nothing if not persistent, driven to fight, driven to protect his people, his team, his friends, his family. No mortal being could ever hope to have a lung capacity like this, but Phantom is no normal mortal, and Darkseid is finally starting to come to terms with that. 

The last wave of overwhelming emotion is more of an idea than it is an actual feeling. It’s not a threat, per se, but a promise. A promise to do everything in his power to destroy Darkseid and his forces permanently and with prejudice. A promise that no matter how hard Darkseid fights, he will not win. 

A promise that, if knocked down, Phantom will stand back up, and he will not lose. 

Eventually, after what feels like eternity, the wail dies down. There isn’t a single member of Darkseid’s army that’s still on their feet or in the air. Phantom collapses down to one knee, and bright, white rings flicker around his person for just a moment, before he wills them away and stands back up. 

It’s less walking towards Darkseid, and more stalking. They are not on equal footing. Phantom is the predator in every sense of the word, his anger and grief still radiating off of his body in ways that Darkseid is unable to comprehend. 

“Do you yield?” Phantom asks. His eyes are blazing green, burning into Darkseid’s very soul. It is a sort of animalistic, primal instinct deep within him that tells him, run, run as fast as you can. Darkseid’s hubris, however, remains unmatched. 

Even as he stares Death in the eye. 

“I do not,” Darkseid says. He tries to get to his feet, but his body won’t listen, still weighed down by the effects of Phantom’s wail. 

“Then as Phantom, King of the Dead, I hereby condemn you for the rest of your afterlife.”

“Don’t count your eggs yet, boy,” Darkseid spits. “I’m still alive.”

“No,” Phantom says, in a tone adjacent to someone who’s giving their condolences, “You’re not.”

Phantom gestures beside them, and Darkseid spares a glance and sees…Himself. 

His corpse is splayed on the ground, blood spurting out of his ears, nose, and eyes. He stares lifelessly up at the sky. The blood is still leaking down the sides of his face. 

“You’re dead now, Darkseid, and therefore under my jurisdiction. Due to your extensive list of crimes you will not receive a hearing, just your eternal damnation for the sins you’ve committed.”

Phantom waves his hand, and green chains and manacles appear on Darkseid’s wrists and ankles before he’s dusted out of existence, sent to his eternal punishment in another dimension. 

As soon as he’s gone, Phantom collapses to his knees. 

He’s not sure how long he’s there, sitting in the blood of those he’s killed, before Wonder Woman comes over. She’s covered in gashes and bruises and blood that isn’t hers, but she still stands tall and proud. A battle won is a reason for celebration, after all. 

He glances behind her, sees Superman taking Batman into his arms and flying off. 

Diana doesn’t ask him questions about how he’s feeling. A victory is a victory, sure, but not without its price. 

Instead, she holds out her hand. Danny grasps it, and allows her to help him to his feet. 

“As long as you can stand, you can win,” Diana says. “I think I’ll have to use that for my next big speech.”

“By all means,” Phantom tells her. “Just be sure to credit me.”

“Deal.”

[floatmeintothesun-2]

Wildfire

pairing; Mark Grayson x f!reader

tags: Smut, aphrodisiacs, , wc 3.9k, doggy style, oral sex (m and f receiving) cream pie, soft mark Grayson, mark gets in there :p, established relationship

tw: none

Quick summary; Mark comes to your place late at night, desperate and needy from the effects of an aphrodisiac (the result is a difficulty to walk afterward)

—

You know there’s something wrong the moment Mark raps desperately at your window. 

It’s been a long week and you had been looking forward to this – pampering yourself with a long everything shower and splurging on soft store-bought gelato while you binge trashy shows off of the internet with your trusty laptop. 

 Mark floats outside, looking agitated, eyes tracking you with unwavering intensity as you draw closer. When you open the window, you can see that he’s unnaturally flushed, sweat beading on his skin despite the chill outside. He looks a little worse for wear, but overall, you can’t see any glaringly obvious injuries.

As soon as you open the window he’s climbing inside clumsily, surging toward you with a desperate sound. 

“Baby, I – shit, got – got hit with something outside,” He stutters, stumbling over his own words and he practically plasters himself to you and goes limp. You nearly go down with him, having not expected to be saddled with 210 pounds of alien boyfriend. “I don’t – feels weird.” Mark looks at you pleadingly and you grow worried. Is he concussed? It takes a lot to actually hurt him, and for a second, you wonder if someone threw a cruise ship at him again.

He’s being pretty handsy too, squeezing at your hips, ghosting his lips over your cheek and forehead. Normally you wouldn’t mind – you’d welcome it, really, but right now, your main concern is whether or not Mark is injured somehow.

“Mark? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” You ask frantically, placing a hand on his cheek and he groans, leaning into your palm. His head tilts down, forehead meeting your shoulder as he trembles minutely, hands smoothing down your ribs and squeezing at your hips. Your breath hitches as he drags the tip of his nose over your neck.

“No, nonono, I just – I feel hot, wanna feel you, s’like it’s burning me up from the inside,” He slurs against your pulse point, lips pressing to your carotid artery, feverish in its temperature. Mark is almost crushing you to his chest as if he can’t live without your skin on his, as if he’s trying to open up his ribs and tuck you into the space next to his heart. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated so much until you can just barely see that gorgeous warm brown you love so much. “Fuck – I’m so hot. Feels better when you touch me.”

Your jaw drops as he nuzzles against you, disbelief and incredulous shock surging up inside you. Are you serious? This sounds like a corny freaking romance novel. Is this really a – 

“Mark did you get shot with a freaking aphrodisiac??” You ask, hardly believing it as Mark pauses in his relentless marking of your neck. God, you’re going to look like a tiger mauled you or something tomorrow. He squints at you.

“Mmaybe. Robot mentioned something like that I think… I wasn’t listening. He told me to go blow off some steam.” He admits slowly with a shrug. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. “ Mark tries to kiss you again but you put a hand to his lips, making him sigh and lean into your palm.

“Hold up. Is there a way to fix this? Did Robot tell you to do anything else?” You ask and Mark wrinkles his nose

“Probably. Said something about physical touch and uh, sex.” He winces. “By the way, do you..? S’not necessary, I think. I was gonna ask earlier but I got distracted.” You blink at him, and he raises his eyebrows.

Since he's been off doing his usual saving of the world and other worlds in space and other other worlds in even deeper space, etc, you've barely seen him all this week. And here he is now, practically draped over you, stubbornly sticking to you like a barnacle. And while you've made do with your trusty vibrator, it's not comparable to the way he feels. 

Also, you've just really, really, really missed him. 

"I mean. I'm down. If it uh, cures you faster then it's fine with me." You reply, ignoring the way sticky heat pools between your thighs at the thought. God, you don't want to sound like a sex-deprived freak but you've been needing him for a while. Mark frowns.

"I don't want it just to be for me," He says in a clear effort to cut through the haze of incredible horniness that is undoubtedly clouding his mind. "If you're not comfortable– "

"Mark. I don't know how else to say this but if you don't do something in the next three minutes, I might jump your bones. What I'm trying to say is that I am willing. Very willing." You confess and he blinks. You blink back at him. Then he laughs and pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours with a relieved little sigh. You melt into him and Mark closes his eyes.

It starts off sweet, soft and gentle as Mark licks at the soft swell of your bottom lip as if asking for permission. It always does – Mark is, at his core, a wonderfully sweet, gorgeous person. But you’re greedy and he needs more, so you press closer, opening your mouth. He groans, his hands squeezing your hips.

Heat coils into your lower stomach as he swallows your moans and moves his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and slow and when you press your hips against his, he makes a muted hiss of pleasure, fingers tightening on your skin.

It’s easy to follow his lead as he presses closer, your head growing fuzzy as you belatedly remember that you do eventually have to come up for air. You tap the side of his arm lightly and he pulls back, not even out of breath but looking equally as wrecked as you feel. His eyes rake down your body, taking in your soft skin, your figure covered in nothing but a fluffy white bathrobe, smelling of his body wash — smelling like him.

“Bed?” He asks desperately and you nod. You don’t know if the aphrodisiac affecting Mark is contagious but you feel yourself getting embarrassingly wet after a few kisses and you’re pretty sure Mark’s halfway to just grinding against you like a cat in heat. He scoops you up easily like you weigh a couple of grapes and you blink — only to find yourself nestled in bed a second later. 

Mark is already on top of you, somehow halfway done with taking off that stupidly tight suit that shows off his impressive musculature and toned body. He peels off the legs of the suit quickly, kicking it off and leaning down to kiss you again, and again. The noise of quiet relief he makes when he rips away his jockstrap may very well be the most ridiculously sexy thing you’ve heard.  Your hands are already grasping at his pecs, squeezing and pinching, drawing a muffled whimper from the freaking alien currently in the process of divesting your robes from your body. 

“Shit — baby, take this off, take this off now, please,” he begs, fiddling with the knot you’ve tied at the front of your robe. His hands are clumsy and you reach down to do it yourself, figuring that it’s a little unfair to have Mark be the only one naked here. Once you manage to open it up and toss it away, he’s palming at your tits, leaning down to pop one in his mouth while the other is squeezed gently with his other hand.

It feels like fire, his searing tongue drawing circles around your areola and you whine, eyes squeezing shut as a hand comes down to find your clit. It takes a couple of tries but Mark locates the little bead and uses the pad of his thumb to swipe over it, moaning desperately into your skin. There’s a hot coil of bliss building in your gut, tight and expanding with every moment Mark keeps his mouth on your tit.

“Mark — oh god, I’m gonna — nnshit, I’m gonna cum,” you warn shakily and he whimpers at your words, pulling off your breast so he can kiss you messily. It doesn’t quite land and he ends up kissing the corner of your mouth but it’s fine, you don’t care, not when his thumb is rubbing figure eights on your clit. 

“Cum, then, I wanna see you. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum on these fingers,” he murmurs against your cheek, and you nearly sob when you feel a thick finger press against your cunt. Your hips buck as he drags his sopping finger in and out, curving and hooking against your g-spot, the palm of his hand fixed to your clit. “You feel so — so wet, baby. M’gonna add another, okay?” He says, and you nod frantically.

God he feels so fucking good, the stretch is unimaginably delicious as he adds another finger, pace unrelenting as he pumps his digits into your dripping cunt. It feels so much better than your own fingers, thicker and longer, able to hit that one gummy spot inside of you that makes you keen. It’s almost blinding and you tremble as a tidal wave swamps over you, overwhelming and hot like a freaking supernova.

Mark kisses your stomach, nearly reverent in the way he maps a path of wet open-mouthed kisses down your abdomen. He pulls his fingers free from you and pops them in his mouth absentmindedly like he barely even thinks about the motion even though just the sight of that makes you almost cum a second time. 

“So pretty, so so pretty.” He mumbles, dragging his tongue across your inner thigh. While you blink stars out of your vision, he leans down, gently scooping your juices up with his tongue and swallowing them, tracing the outside of your pussy and cleaning you up with the single-minded focus of a man on a mission. You tremble through the aftershocks as he presses a shaky kiss to the hood of your clit.

“Fuck, Mark.” You breathe, carding a hand through short fluffy black hair and bringing him up so you can kiss him. He tastes like you – faintly tangy, slick and he hums quietly against you before drawing away.

“Good?” He rasps, and you nod, cupping his jaw and cheek with your hands. He closes his eyes briefly; if you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he was calming down. He’s still sweating though – burning hot and so, so needy even though he’s trying to hide it. 

“C’mere, pretty boy,” You croon, reaching down and gently curling around the base of him. He’s silky to the touch and thick, and no matter how often you do this, you’ll probably never stop wondering how you’ll take it. He whines, bowing his head until his forehead meets your shoulder, hips fucking into your palm as you press your thumb to the head, rolling back the foreskin there. “I got you, took care of me so well, baby. I’m gonna take care of you now. Just relax.”

He makes a ragged sound, shuddering as you pump him slowly, his face screwed up in pure relief and bliss. You push him back gently, guiding him until you’re on your knees and he’s sitting back, legs spread. His cock twitches in your palm, practically dripping like a leaky shampoo bottle. The sounds he’s making are heavenly, and you mentally resolve to keep them locked away in your mind forever.

You kiss his tip, working your way down with teasing little sucks and licks until you’re at the base, hand gently working at his balls. Mark draws in a ragged breath, trembling as you mouth at his cock.

“Stop– Don’t tease me please, baby,” He hisses, his hips bucking up when you drag your tongue along the underside. “Oh fuck –come on, feels so good…” 

You obey, if only because he’s starting to look desperate, and you can tell he’s halfway at his breaking point. He’s wonderfully thick, filling your mouth with a satisfying heaviness and Mark throws his head back with a long, drawn-out moan. A hand settles on the back of your head, thick thighs framing your body as you inhale through your nose and go deeper. 

“God – shit! Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck, keep going, uh huh, just like that. ” He rasps, digging his hands into your lovely bedsheets. It’s a bit rough – his hips keep jerking up into your hot mouth even though he babbles out apologies hastily afterward, and his cock drags a bit too far every so often but fuck, it’s good. You don’t know if you can cum from just sucking dick, but if anything, you know that you’re well on your way to finding out. He sounds so out of it already, his voice quivering as he pushes you down further, just a little bit. “Nn– oh god, oh god, you’re so good for me, so good to me. Shit, is that the back of your throat?”

You take the hint, inhaling and swallowing until you physically can’t anymore, jerking off what you can’t fit in your mouth with your hand. With the other hand, you play with your clit, moaning muffledly and Mark swears, no doubt feeling the vibrations from your voice. You think he’s still talking, having always been pretty vocal while fucking you into the mattress or buried in your cunt, but you can’t really make it out through the sound of you messily choking on him.

You can feel him shift above you, the grip in his hair tightening slightly. 

“Oh fuck are you — “ He cums. A lot. You gag, having not expected it and a strangled, low sound erupts from Mark’s chest. You swallow what you can, astounded by the sheer amount as your boyfriend hisses swears and unintelligible gasps.

You swirl your tongue around the tip one last time to make sure he’s done before pulling off of him with a slight pop. He looks wrecked, hot and sweaty, thighs still spread wide. His fat cock is still hard, flushed at the tip and leaking slightly. God, you’ve never met a man with a prettier dick than Mark. 

While he blinks listlessly at the ceiling, you busy yourself with suckling at his balls, rolling and massaging the skin gently as he finally manages to regain lucidity. 

“Baby. Fuck, so — you’re so good. So good.” He mumbles, and you can feel the embers flickering in your lower stomach at his praise. Two strong hands gently pull you up, and you find yourself situated in Mark’s lap, complete with him peppering feverish kisses to your neck and face.

“How do you feel?” You ask and he closes his eyes.

“Like I just had one of the best orgasms in my life. Also super horny. Like. I just — can I fuck you now? Please?” He asks desperately and you look down at his cock. It’s still hard. You’re not sure if he skipped the refractory period all together or literally just got over it super fast. That’s probably an effect of the aphrodisiac. Also holy fuck.

“Jesus. Yes. Please.” You manage, and he kisses you again, soft and gentle as he lays you out over your bed. It feels like reassurance — a quiet reminder. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

“Gorgeous.” He mumbles, crawling on top of you and wrapping a hand around his swollen cock. Mark braces an elbow over your head, giving himself a few short pumps before grinding the tip of his dick against your clit. You nearly cry as he just keeps rubbing against you, slick and hard and you want him inside now. He is smearing pre cum over your clit and while it feels so freaking good, it’s not what you want. 

“Mark — please.” You whisper and he presses a kiss to your stomach.

“Okay. Okay — I got you. I got you.” He murmurs, notching the head at your pussy and slowly pushing inside. You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale tightly through your teeth as you feel the first inch or two squeeze in. You’re probably wetter than the Niagara Falls right now — courtesy of Mark fingering you and eating you out + whatever slickness that was there beforehand but god, the stretch is still intense.

“Crap. Fuuuck.” You hiss and Mark kisses your brow.

”Need me to stop? Too much?” He asks worriedly but you shake your head immediately. 

“No. No, I’m okay. Feels good. God you feel good, Mark.” You groan, and really you’re not lying. He makes a low sound, deep in his chest, pressing his forehead to yours as he slowly bottoms out. He feels so thick inside of you, hot and right and so utterly addicting that you can feel your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Oh — nnnfuck. Feels so — so fucking tight, so pretty, baby, pretty girl, you’re so s— sweet, god,” Mark babbles senselessly. You feel so warm, almost like you’re molded to the shape of his cock. You’re made for him, he’s made for you, fuck, Mark wants nothing more than to just stay here in this moment, wrapped up in you. You’re whimpering breathy little noises he doesn’t even think you realize you’re making, but they sound so fucking nice.

You open your eyes, grabbing at his arm and squeezing. 

“Mark — please, want more,” You’re looking at him with those big eyes, pleading and he’s not going to say no, he’s never going to say no to you. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. It feels overwhelming — but in a good way. Overwhelming in a way that Mark is addicted to, wholeheartedly. Soft, so soft, warm, your hands are on his shoulders, he can feel your chest rising and falling as you breathe —

Fuck, he has to move. 

Slowly, mind numbingly slowly, he drags his hips back, before fucking back into you. It’s gentle, for now. He doesn’t want to do too much too soon, even though his blood is singing for him to just fuck you, hard and fast, the way he knows you like. It sends burning bliss up the length of his spine and his hands travel down to your hips, hands squeezing at the squishy flesh there. Soft. So soft. 

You shudder beneath him, and your thighs try to close from where Mark is nestled in between them. He holds them open and inhales shakily, praying that whatever self-control he has left will carry him through the night. He keeps his thrusts gentle, no matter how much this goddamn aphrodisiac wants him to fuck you straight into the mattress. It’s slow and sticky, sweat clinging to his body — he doesn’t know if it’s his or yours but honestly, he can’t find it in him to care about it for all that long. 

You can’t really think straight. It’s torturous, this slow pace, but it feels so goddamn good at the same time. His cock is angled perfectly to hit that one soft fleshy part inside of you that makes you see stars. He’s everywhere, lips on your neck, hot and searing. You dig your nails into his biceps as he gives a particularly devastating thrust. 

“More?” He asks breathlessly, and you swallow down a whine, nodding quickly. He leans down to kiss you, long and sloppy. You think you might fucking pass out as he begins a much more punishing pace — it’s unforgiving as bliss spreads and blots out everything you can possibly register. “Look so pretty when you take this cock, huh?”

Mark just keeps fucking into you, hard and fast, deep. The small little whimpers and moans spilling from his mouth should not sound that good but god, they do. Sweat beads down his brow and you can actually feel his cock twitch inside of you. It’s hot and sweaty and you’re pretty sure your brain is halfway to leaking out of your ears as molten lava sears pleasantly through your veins like fire. 

Mark just keeps talking, but you can’t make out the words through the sound of your hips slapping against his. You think your bed is rocking with the force of his cock driving you into the goddamn mattress and he hisses a loud swear, pulling out. 

You only have a moment to mourn the loss before he flips you over and slips his cock back inside, bracing his hands on your head besides you. This is how you know whatever self control he was holding onto by a thread has completely snapped. He plants a hand on your hip and drags you back onto him while fucking back into you brutally. 

The way his balls slap against your clit and the feeling of him practically rearranging your insides, you’re not sure you’ll survive this. You think you’re drooling onto your goddamn pillow but you can’t really tell. The only thing you can think about is Mark’s thick cock pounding you into your bed, his hand on your hips, his searing touch. It’s so good, so goddamn good and if you weren’t currently chock drunk, you’d make sure to tell him. 

But your mouth isn’t quite forming words and you can only sob into your pillow, feeling his pelvis smack against your ass. And honestly, Mark isn’t doing much better. The way your tight little pussy clenches around him makes him almost cum on the freaking spot. He knows that he’s not going to last much longer, and judging by the way your thighs tremble, you’re not either. 

“M’gonna make you cum okay? Gonna take care of you, pretty girl, j— just hang in there with me, I got you. Wanna feel that pretty pussy cum on this cock, come on baby,” He whimpers, closing his eyes as the tidal wave of insurmountable pleasure crashes over him and you cry out, arching your back as you cum. 

Mark swears, loudly, as he feels you clamp down on him. He doesn’t even try to stop himself. Doesn’t try to hold anything back or skim off his orgasm by his fucking teeth or something. His hips stutter. 

Hot, sticky cum pulses into you as he groans weakly, his moans growing high and loud. It’s nearly never ending, the soft sweetness of complete bliss overwhelms him, rendering him inconsolable in it’s wake. You can feel him fill you up and you can only gasp quietly. Mark shudders for a second, then pulls out. You wince at the feeling of his cum starting to drip out, pearly beads sliding down your thighs. 

You collapse into bed and Mark lays himself out on top of you, moving slightly to the side as an acknowledgment to your need to breathe. He doesn’t seem like he wants to move any time soon, turning you over so he can see your face. 

“Hi.” He smiles. You smack his arm weakly with a little laugh.

”Hi? That’s the first thing you say to me after you’ve fucked my brains out?” You ask and he shrugs, still glowing, still grinning happily at you. 

“I think — I think I’m good now. Hopefully.” He says and you blink as you remember the whole reason this started. 

”Feel better?” You hum and he kisses your cheek, wrapping an arm around you tightly.

”My metabolism burned through it, I’m pretty sure. Hooray for Viltrumite genes.” Mark mutters and you bury your face into the crook of his neck. He draws the blankets up over you and him, kissing your forehead, then the tip of your nose. 

“We still gotta clean up, Mark.”

”I know. We can take a shower together. For efficiency purposes.”

”…Sure. For efficiency purposes.”

—

guys I swear I’m not abandoning Miguel I’m gonna write for him soon trust 🙏

[verdantlights]

Thoughts/Analysis Part 2 (but its coherent)

OKay so i slept (finally) after staying up since wednesday morning and only getting roughly 5 hours of sleep in total?? until I finally managed to get decent hours of sleep last night. anyways. i am still not normal in the slightest over round 7 but i have many more thoughts, am a lot more coherent, and have had it swimming in my head for a while.

TW for mentions of drug use. I'm gonna start with Luka. I've stated in the edit I made of the original post as well as in a few reblogs, but Luka is a victim. A lot of people are Luka haters, and that's valid! I am also, to an extent, a Luka hater.... even if I have a thing for blonde twinks with issues. But his character is also incredibly interesting. If you are familiar with Honkai: Star Rail, then you might understand what I'm saying when I think Luka is a combination of both Sunday AND Robin. He has the trapped bird in a cage mentality from Robin with the need for order and control mentality from Sunday. Order and control referring to winning being the only thing keeping his sanity in check.

Luka, as a human pet, is aware that he is playing a losing game. He needs to win, but he knows that winning Season 50 is not the end. He may have won against Till, but now the segyein are going to put him against Hyuna, considering Hyuna and Mizi were referred to as special guests. The way he looked at Hyuna in that last scene was part of him realizing this. It's the face you pull when you realize something horrible, but you need to keep face/keep your composure.

Their ear pieces are similar to their collars in that they show the emotions of the wearer. We can clearly see Till's earpiece glowing red the entire time (up until Mizi appears), and Luka's is constantly glowing green. Luka was seen in hysterics pretty much the entire time like the one frame where he's holding in his laughter.

Luka was drugged on something that makes him euphoric and lose his sense of control, like weed or cocaine. He found fucking with Till to be the funniest thing ever, but it's not normal for Luka to be so outwardly expressive of his elation. We know he enjoyed fucking with Mizi, even if it let to getting his ass beat, but even then, he wasn't as expressive then as he was with Till. That leads me to believe that he has something in his system to heighten his emotional output as well as some sort of adrenaline drug like what Till was most likely given.

What bugs me is that they don't show us what color his earpiece is as he looks at Hyuna. We see Till's earpiece turn green at Mizi, but does Luka's stay green as he looks at Hyuna? I feel it was orange, but that's just me.

Luka now knows what's about to happen, which is also why Hyuna tries to stop Mizi. Hyuna knew the whole time that if they were to save Till, they'd be walking straight into the trap. Mizi's heart is too kind and she's desperate to save Till.

Thankfully, what Hyuna had gone there for originally seems to be completed. Whatever files she was downloading was complete before she went after Mizi, and I think that's where were gonna see Issac and Dewey again. I think she might've been uploading those files to them so that they can take the lead from there. This leads me to my prediction for the next episode. (ill get to till last, hes my little meow meow and im not normal about him)

I don't think Blink Gone is done. I believe there is a part two to the Finals, and that round 7 wasn't even the final round. I've already stated that the most likely thing to happen next is Luka v Hyuna, but then I also talked about Issac and Dewey.

Hyuna could have gotten her hands on high profile data regarding Alien Stage. She sends the data to Dewssac, and they shut down the stage from the inside, allowing the resistance to come in and do a massive sweep, hopefully before either Hyuna, Luka, or Mizi dies.

Now, as for Mizi. We know Mizi is the main character, and there are people who are saying Till's death boosts her hero arc. Now there are two ways I see this happening, either:

Vivinos keeps up their streak of tragedy and kills off everyone, leaving Mizi isolated entirely.

Or someone (dewssac, hyuna, mizi, maybe even luka) pull through and live to save more people.

If it's the first one, Till is dead dead. If the second, Till has a chance at being alive.

There are many reasons why Till is most likely alive, and as a hopeful feeler... I also am clinging onto the more hopeful ending (the second option). Not just because "Haha guys I need Till to be alive, he's my bias" but also because seeing Mizi completely isolated and forced to fake a smile and perform would absolutely fucking destroy me and I don't think I'd ever be the same after that, honestly. Like that genuinely scares me.

There's the narrative of ALNST and vivimeng's beautiful storytelling. That is my number one hopeful reasoning for Till being alive. If Till dies here, it would be utterly nonsensical and it would ruin the narrative. It would completely void all of Ivan's character, for starters. I was just talking about this with @rockwgooglyeyes and Vant (idt they wanna be tagged here), but Ivan's character is static. He is not dynamic or fluid, but he is extraordinarily complex which makes up for it. He never really had an arc of his own unless you count what happened in his past during/before being bought by Unsha. His death is meant to haunt the narrative, meant to haunt Till. So why would he die, only for Till to die a few hours later? It would completely ruin what he was meant for and it would be so unsatisfying and bitter.

However, there's also the thematics of ALNST. Rock called out @pwippy for this already, but I'm gonna call them out too because fuck you plip (/j i love you plipster). Rock put it really well in these two excerpts I took from his post:

"Alien Stage is a universe full of suffering and pain for humans, forced to perform until they literally die on stage, all for the entertainment of the audience. It's not even meant as a way of exerting control or oppressing them, though it serves that purpose, because why would the seygein bother to oppress something that can't even fight back? Why go to the trouble of controlling something that is just a pet, whose cries are the fuel for a new age?"

Once again mentioning the Hunger Games because I genuinely can't help myself I love THG way too much, but that's the key difference between ALNST and THG: the human pets aren't being forced to do this because of a past rebellion and are being punished by the oppressing government... They're being thrown into this for fun. Full credit to @alien-til-i-stage who said this as a joke, but it is really fucking real, but the segyein bringing their human pets to watch ALNST in the audience are like people bringing dogs to a dog fight in real life. And that, I fear, puts into perspective as to just how much of a pet the humans are to the segyein. They are only there for entertainment. The resistance is mostly a thorn in their side as of right now (dewey and issac better change that next episode or istg) and killing these humans is simply just fun for them. They know humans can be hostile, just like dogs, but they tame them and make them docile and obedient, only to make them kill each other in the end, even if it's through a singing competition rather than an all out teeth and claws brawl. (except for round 5, that doesnt count)

"In this world of pain and suffering, perhaps death is a mercy. If Till is truly dead, then he no longer a tool for his oppressors, he is free of their control. For Ivan and Sua both of their deaths were mercies to them- Ivan was able to die for the one he loved, as was Sua, and neither of them were forced to live in a world without their beloved."

(thank you rock i love you pookie snookie)

He also mentions that it's not in character for Till to die, which I completely agree with. Till's persona is that of someone who wants to win, but not in the same way Luka needs to win. Till wants to win to live and survive with those he loves, he wants to win to beat the system, but considering how dystopian of a world this is, as much as he wants to win and save Mizi, he craves death as a freedom.

That out of the way, another thing that @junebluues actually got me to think about was this:

The bomb has Till's eyes and is crying as it knows it's going to die (assuming it's a sentient alien like Freddie). And the comparison here honestly opened my eyes a little bit and got me thinking.

Was Till a catalyst? Because that was a smoke bomb. I ended up thinking about it for a minute and came up with three possibilities where Till is a bomb/smoke bomb:

Mizi is using Till to hide her feelings

Till is the bomb that sets off a chain of events

Till is used to hide/cover up the real plan for either the segyein or for the resistance

I don't think it's the first one, I feel like it'd be closer to the other two, but any three of those could work. Because Mizi's feelings of despair over her situation can be hidden behind the hope as she reached out for Till. But as the smoke clears (Till dies) she remembers that it was, in fact, a bomb.

EDIT: Also, the lyric that plays during the smoke bomb scene is "No, don't look back now" which also kinda leads me to believe that Till is the start of a chain/domino effect. Once you knock the first domino, you can't go back.

I think someone somewhere had also talked about Till being forced to be used as a catalyst/bait again considering how well it worked here. There's a good chance Urak might have supplied the drugs to Till and also paid out or WAS paid out by another person to use Till as bait. Urak wouldn't want his pet that he is grossly possessive over to die that easily without every ounce of use being wrung out of him,,, something something Till being a Trojan Horse of sorts (thanks rock for that one, too).

EDIT: I also remembered that during the sequence in the song where the audience is singing the chorus and we see Ivan on the screens, is when Till looks like he's about to pass out. What gets me here is the fact that it is quite literally a chorus of vultures. The audience singing the chorus with images of Ivan surrounding him and seeing Luka mimic Ivan made Till realize that he was surrounded and that's when he started losing hope. It's why his reaction to Mizi is so prominent, because it's like she was there to save him from the vultures. The audience singing is my favorite and also least favorite part of the video/song because the feeling of being surrounded and cornered with everyone against you and their voices echoing in your head... really does it for me. I really want to animate this sequence from up close in Till's POV.

Anyways the 4th reason i had for the bomb theory was that Till is smoking hot (sorry). okay im done now i think,,,,,, i might actually come back with more because i think i forgot something... but i cant remember..... i forgor.....

other tags: @shakingparadigm @aakaneeee @ivanttakethis @k9punkout @crustyfloor @apriciticreveries @bluemoonscape @tsukacchako @nottoonedin @paperstarry

side note that i genuinely put more effort into my analyses than i have ever put into any school essay ever

edit: FUCK I WAS SUPPOSED TO ANALYZE THE LYRICS AGAIN GOD DAMNIT i dont feel like doing that anymore ill just do it later maybe

[mozzzz05]

I hate to bitch but… I’m going to:

There was just? So much wrong this season and not even because I wasn’t a fan of the ending - in fact, I quite liked that they were 8 little marigolds together - but the rest of it!?

There’s at least three plot lines that added fuck all to the story - and I’m all for fluffing out the stories/characters, love me a filler episode - but not only did we not have time for a filler episode with 4 less episodes than usual those plot lines added nothing to the characters or the story or anything really.

Klaus getting kidnapped (again), no one noticing (again) - getting possessed & having sex, getting buried alive (again, if ykyk) apart from Alison going to save him - what did it add? - I love Klaus he’s literally my favourite character, I always want more Klaus but it kind of feels like they didn’t know what to do with him? - “let’s make him relapse and do some crazy stuff, for shits and giggles!”

Diego & Luther going to the CIA - this is the one I see the most sense in of course, but apart from making Diego realise that he shouldn’t take Lila and his kids for granted and announcing that the CIA guy was part of the whole Jean & Gene cult thing (and getting to see David Castañeda’s abs (despite supposedly having a Dad Bod now?)) it kind of went on too long? It felt like it was slightly misplaced? Idk

And of course, how could it go unmentioned - the Five/Lila romance? whAT THE FUCK!??? Like it’s creepy both ways bcos Ritu Arya is 15 years older than Aidan Gallagher - freshly legal - and because Five is nearly 70 at that point? And that’s without even mentioning the fact that, oh yeah - Lila’s married to his BROTHER? But if you took it out - what would change? Genuinely? That Lila will always choose her family? Choose Diego? Tbh she could easily come to that conclusion without any romance, she clearly longed to go back more than Five did (who btw, abandoned his family after spending his entire life trying to save them - WHAT?)

The only one making any progress was Viktor

And so many things left unexplained- why did Ray leave Alison? What happened to Dave? (Guessing he’s long dead now but we still don’t know if Klaus’ s2 plan had any effect & the only hint of him we got this season was the dog tags (more than last season at least)) Why is Reggie a fucking alien? How did he get to earth??

I just feel so unpleasantly underwhelmed for a show that has meant so much to me the past few years, for an ending that was mildly disappointing but not as much as the 4 episodes that came before it.

[beanghostprincess]

I've seen quite a few people complaining about the first episode of DanDaDan and claiming it "sexualized Momo", "was too freakish" and "the SA scene wasn't necessary".

As if... That wasn't... The whole fucking point.

I actually appreciate the freakish alien SA scene. It of course has layers of comedy because this thing never stops being a romantic comedy with freakish and shonen shit, but that doesn't make it any less good of a representation.

It's almost as if Momo's first interactions with men weren't her being treated like shit or as an object as a juxtaposition with the way Okarun treats her... Gyaru's and other japanese subcultures have been hypersexualized over the years. Women get kidnapped and raped every fucking day. Do you expect the fucked up aliens to do it in a respectful, pretty way? Do we just cut to the next scene and miss the whole fucking point about Momo saving herself without Okarun's powers, but hers? I get that the animation is gorgeous and all but that doesn't make Momo look sexualized in any way. Wow! A girl in her underwear because she's about to get SA! I wonder what the author might mean by this! I'm sure he's trying to sexualize her instead of using it as a plot device and development for her character! (That last part was sarcasm, btw).

I can't believe I'm here explaining this.

I guess I just like the fact that Momo goes from dating a jerk and being kidnapped to be SA to falling for a normal guy who respects her boundaries and treats her like a human being and they don't make a huge deal about him being decent to her. Call me crazy, but maybe the whole "I won't let anyone hurt her" scene was necessary for both characters.

Also, the whole show is about a guy losing his dick and getting it back so I think there's gonna be some nudity involved and the fact that people can't handle it probably means it's their own problem. Skill issue.

[rottenzombrainz]

Tokyo Debunker; silly headcanons for each ghoul!

Just little silly traits for each ghoul. They're not meant to be good or bad, just silly!! :3

Frostheim

Jin Kamurai - Jin has a one-of-a-kind limited edition Hello Kitty lighter with a pink flame.

Tohma Ishibashi - Tohma's the type of guy to say "it's a quarter to one" "it's half past nine" "It's three eigths past six" etc.

Lucas Errant - Luca has absolutely no grasp on satire. Like, imagine Kaito showing him one of those "blink if you need help" videos and Luca is just like "Kaito?!? Why are you laughing?!? This person needs help!!"

Kaito Fuji - Kaito unironically likes "I'm 14 and this is deep" content.

Vagastorm

Alan Mido - Alan wears the same Halloween costume every year. Every single year. If it gets damaged or doesn't fit anymore, he just buys a new one that's the exact same.

Shohei Haizono - Sho would be really into collecting designer shoes. Bro probably has an entire wall of fancy basketball shoes.

Leo Kurosagi - Leo will just randomly say "*sucks teeth* Don't worry I'll edit it out in post" during normal conversation. You'll never know if he's actually recording or not

Jabberwock

Haru Sagara - This is already kinda canon, but Haru definitely falls for any and all scams. He probably buys things like dehydrated water and a treadmill even tho he's running around Jabberwock all fucking day.

Towa Otonashi - Towa loves gnarp gnarp alien cat videos. He loves them. immensely.

Ren Shiranami - I feel like Ren would have a really hard time pronouncing certain words like "anomalous" and "anemone" (just like me fr)

Sinostra

Taiga Hoshibami - Taiga would really easily fall down YouTube rabbit holes. Like he'd start off with watching a firearm review or something... and two hours later he's seventeen parts deep into SpongeBob conspiracy theories

Romeo Lucci - Romeo is deathly afraid of piss. human piss, animal piss, dirt ( he thinks it's all just worm poop...which it kinda is).

Ritsu Shinjo - Ritsu is one of those people who can't sleep if there is a single spec of light.

Hotarubi

Subaru Kagami - I feel like Subaru would have one mobile game on his phone that he's reached level 844 on or something. Something like a word puzzle or match three game.

Haku Kusanagi - Haku fucking loves cunty scene crunkcore music. S3R3L, Millionaires, 3OH!3. Inside, he's just a pretty rave girl.

Zenji Kotodama - Whenever he plays online games, Zenji would mistake NPCs for real people. I feel like he'd also say "thank you!!" to virtual assistants too.

Obscuary

Edward Hart - Ed would fucking love those Tiktok videos with the TV show clips and subway surfers gameplay at the bottom.

Rui Mizuki - Rui has an uncanny obsession with the Sims 4. He has all the dlcs, an entire hardrive of mods, hundreds of save files, and is a top creator on the Sims 4 Gallery

Lyca Colt - I think it'd be really funny if Lyca had a pollen allergy. Especially since Obscuary is full of plants.

Mortkranken

Yuri Isami - Yuri is incredibly bad at ice skating and roller skating. He always falls on his ass, bruises something, takes a bad fall, etc. Which is the real reason he hates going to Frostheim!!! /j

Jiro Kirisaki - I feel like Jiro has one thing that he just absolutely loves that isn't medicine. a special interest, one might say... And it's probably the most niche thing ever too. Like sea cucumbers. imagine - he just fucking loves sea cucumbers. You're getting your health checkup and you ask him "read any good books recently?" and he's like "Yeah, I read this book on sea cucumbers the other day" and then you just have to listen to him talk about sea cucumbers for the next 20 minutes.

[wreckmetoji]

Don’t Call Me Friend

A fic in which you find a cynical man desperately needing medical attention

↳ Millions Knives/Reader

content warning. gender-neutral pronouns, afab reader, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex, profanity, shameless smut, slight fluff, alien genitalia, oral (m!receiving), fingering, creampie, knives has never seen a pussy in his life, probably missing some tags but it’s 8 in the am and im tired

this is a fic trade piece dedicated to @strbrmlk​! Go show them some love, they have lots of Knives content!

minors DNI

8.7k words

The light was unlike anything you had ever seen. It was cataclysmic, swallowing a city whole and whoever dared to remain, and even from so far away the shockwave winded you and made your eyes burn. Bright scorching purple, a light so pure and refined you had half a mind to think it was cast down from heaven itself. A shaky sigh pushed from your lips, shoulders sagging at the weight of the realization the city you were heading to had just been completely leveled, now nothing but a crater.

 Perhaps you would take advantage of the night and keep traveling. Your bones ached, legs begged you to stop and rest, but now there was no refuge. You had to persist. Fuck, how far away was the next city, the voice in the back of your mind nagged as you began packing up your few belongings. You were nearly out of supplies, running dangerously low on water and even worse off for food. It was fine, everything would be fine, you always managed to scrape by no matter how dire or desperate. 

 With a low grumble, you hiked your bag over your shoulders, adjusting the straps before spinning on your heel and making your way back. Only upon glancing over your shoulder one last time, did you see a second impact several yards away. It was smaller, much smaller, and you would have missed it had you not seen the plume of sand that flew into the air as a result. Was it rubble left over from the blast? Had anything managed to survive that? Curiosity got the better of you, sliding down and climbing over dunes hastily to see what had landed so close. Maybe, if you were lucky, it was some intact supplies. Wishful thinking, maybe. 

 Upon reaching whatever- no, whoever- had landed, your hands flew up to your mouth as you gasped. A body, unidentifiable, completely burnt and scorched to a crisp, missing flesh in his arms and face. You inched closer, tiny steps carrying you nearer as you gave him a good glance over. Usually the sight and smell alone would leave you gagging, but you were compelled, maybe they were alive?

 A slow rise and fall of their chest was all you needed, luck be on their side. Not on yours however, considering your survivors guilt would eat you alive if you had just left the poor man, so now not only were you stuck trekking across a barren desert with little to no supplies, you were doing so with a dying man that was in desperate need for medical attention you were most certainly not qualified to execute. Still, you did your best to wrap him in the comfort of your sleeping bag, tactfully tying it up with some spare rope and wrapping around your waist and arms. The chances of him surviving were less than slim, but you would be damned if you didn't at least try to save his life. 

 This conclusion nearly killed you, several times throughout your trek back to the small town you came from did you encounter obstacle after obstacle. Hungry vultures preying on the smell of death, inconspicuous bandits waiting around every rock and dune, and the fact you hadn't had a crumb of food or drop of water the entire way. At some point you must have started hallucinating, because you swear you could see the burnt skin on the stranger's face stretch in some unexpressed emotion when you poured the last droplets of water in his mouth. Regardless, the sight of the town flags waving in the wind was enough to nearly bring you to tears. Glancing back at your injured traveling companion, you huffed out a relieved sigh, whispering, "We'll get you some help, friend. Don't worry."

 As it turned out, medical professionals were just as shocked as you to see someone in such horrible condition to still be living and breathing, and even responsive. Perhaps you weren't hallucinating when you saw him move earlier. 

 It took hours to get him in a bed, wrapped in bandages and gauze, leaving you to sit in the tiny room with him and sweat over the quadruple digit medical bill resting in your hands. No good deed goes unpunished, you thought to yourself, gently sighing and reclining in the bedside chair next to the mysterious man. You had money, sure, maybe enough to put a down payment and work the rest off over the next couple weeks running odd jobs around the small town. Maybe you could borrow a car and make some money off of supply runs, now that July was destroyed you could imagine They were just as desperate to help as some off-the-map backwash towns. 

 Movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention, seeing a tenderly gauze wrapped arm shift, attempting to raise up with weak urgency. You stood from your chair, sliding onto your knees beside the bed, resting your hand as tenderly as you could on him. "Hey, it's okay," You called out, to which you could see him tense ever so slightly, "It's okay, you're all patched up. Don't be afraid, you're in good hands. I promise."

 Recovery was speedy, the doctors had mentioned. The mystery man was making amazing progress, and the speed in which his scorched skin was healing was inhuman. What would have taken months, years, if at all, was taking less than weeks. Those weeks you spent working at a local baked goods shop during the day, and a bar at night, keeping you endlessly busy and then some. Still, though, you would find time at the end of every shift to slip by the medical clinic in which the mystery traveler was stationed at, sitting with him for a bit and talking. It was odd, you noted, telling someone so much about yourself, the things you're interested in, all the way from your name to your favorite book you've managed to forage out of the odd pawn shop. It was odd having someone know so much about you, and you didn't even know what they looked like, who they were, how they sounded. 

 Still, you liked to think he enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his, even if he couldn't say anything. 

 The day you could no longer keep up with the payments for his care was the day the weight on your shoulders tripled. The nurses were empathetic, stressing over the steps you would need to take if you were to do it yourself, but emphasized the clinic wasn't a charity. Only slightly concerned one of the nurses mentioned he did have to be sedated nearly every time they changed his bandages, or he would put up too much of a fight, how the hell were you going to get sedatives? In all, you understood, and part of you knew this would be where you ended up, considering two minimum wage jobs could only get you so far. At least now instead of exorbitant medical fees, you could house him with you in your shitty little rental. Now you could see him more often too, you just hoped that his bandages would be fine through the day, or maybe you would have to start taking your lunch breaks to come home and tend to him. He was your responsibility, after all, and you had made peace with that. 

 Honestly, you were expecting the first day to be the worst. You stood from your kneeling position beside your bed in which the man was currently occupying, taking a deep breath and mentally going over all your steps on top of he puts up a fuss, don't be surprised. The second your hand made contact with his covered shoulder, he flinched, and you mimicked the reaction, squeaking a quiet, "Sorry! I should have said I was going to touch you." You sighed again, resting the supplies on the bed. "I've never done this before, so... Please be patient with me. I'm just trying to help, friend."

 Unsure if maybe it was a familiar voice, or your reassuring words, but he definitely wasn't a nightmare like the nurses mentioned he would be. You unwrapped, washed, put on the required prescription ointment, and then re-wrapped both of his arms, quickly moving to his head. Your fingers hesitated, hands hovering over his neck for a moment. You could still see his scorched face, the missing skin, and showing bone. Still, it had to be done. After steeling yourself, and verbalizing where you were going to be touching next, you began to work the bandages from around his neck, then his jawline, slowly revealing him to you. 

 It was a sight you didn't think you could have ever prepared yourself for. You'd been told he was making a speedy recovery, not a freakishly inhuman recovery, but the skin on his face had nearly completely healed over. The skin was fresh and stretched and definitely not an accurate representation of the man he once was, and the voice in the back of your head silently wondered if it would scar like that, but his eyes. You couldn't stop the quiet gasp that left your mouth as your hands dropped, his right eye being revealed to you. Despite the wounds, the scaring, he was beautiful, even as he fixed you with a confused glare. "Oh," You found yourself saying, cheeks ruddy and thoughts scrambled at the way he stared at you, "S-Sorry, I just- I wasn't expecting..."

 Unable to finish your sentence, your hand reached up instinctively to touch at the healed patch of skin at his jaw. Turquoise gaze shot down, hand flying up to intercept your course of action, snatching at your wrist in a tight hold. You couldn't will yourself to be shocked, or scared at the amount of strength behind his grip, only staring at his exposed eye with silent wonder. Finally, you whispered, "Sorry... You're just... Your eyes are very beautiful. Please let me change the rest of your bandages?" To your surprise, he did, his eyes glancing out the window as you removed and replaced his bandaging. When you asked if he would prefer to have the bandages off or over his eyes, he didn't reply, only continuing his hardened forlorn gaze out into the streets below. So, you decided for him, leaving his eyes uncovered. It was a hardened decision to leave him a stack of bandages to change whatever was under the waist and above the thigh, not wanting to impede on his privacy more than you already had.

 After you finished up, you sighed, standing and cracking your back. "I have to go to work now, bills don't pay themselves. There's some pre-made meals in the fridge, and some bottled water as well," You smiled at him, his gaze refusing to meet yours. You took note of the slightly disgusted scrunch of his face, your lips curling in a sad, empathetic smile. "Please... Make yourself at home. What's mine is yours." You gathered up the used bandages, throwing them away, shuffling about for a bit, before leaving for your day.

 When you came back on your lunch break, you took note that he hadn't eaten anything. You would have found it odd, if not for everything else that surrounded him in his shroud of mystery.

 Life continued like this, and even if you were working yourself to the bone and absolutely exhausted at the end of every day, you found satisfaction in the recovery of your anonymous guest at your hand. It was enough to keep you going, knowing someone needed you. Even if sometimes you caught his frustrated glares, or looks of disgust out of the corner of your eye, you found it hard to take them personally. You wouldn't exactly be thrilled to be in his position, and accepting help was difficult for some people. Nevertheless, every scowl and glower he gave you was met with that same sympathetic smile, brows upturned, radiating nothing but unending kindness and compassion. You couldn't pinpoint when, unsure exactly how it came to be, but his dirty looks became less and less, slowly being replaced by what could be misconstrued as disinterest, but there was something else. Curiosity, maybe?

 "Okay," You called over your shoulder, sliding your shoes on at your front door, "I'm headed to work now! I'll be home a bit later than usual, I need to pick up groceries, so if there's anything you want I- I..." You patted down your pockets, brows furrowing at the realization you had misplaced your wallet at some point in your rush to get ready. 

 "Here," A baritone called out from behind you, scaring the living daylights out of you.

 You shrieked, whipping around with your hands up and out, as if you had any grace or tact to defend yourself against a potential intruder. Instead, you were met with a broad bandaged chest, eyes glancing up slightly to see that same look of indifference with something. What came out of your mouth was more a puff of air than a laugh, disbelief convincing you that you had just heard things considering up until now you had assumed he was mute. 

 "Th....thank you," You muttered, gingerly plucking your wallet from the palm of his bandaged hand. Meeting your eyes for just a moment too long, you found yourself searching. Searching for that unnamed emotion you saw whenever he looked out the window, or when you caught him watching you eat your food out of your peripherals, or whenever you gave him your understanding, endlessly kind smile. His abhorrence was apparent, before he turned around and headed back to your room. 

 Most of your day was spent thinking about your auditory hallucination, or at least that's what you chalked it up to be. It was deep, authoritative, and had a chill running down your spine. It also really couldn't have been anything else, and you had thoroughly gaslit yourself into believing you were crazy until you heard him speak a few days later.

 The stress of having two mouths to feed was quickly smothered upon realizing the man you had taken in didn't require food to survive. You wondered just what kind of being he was if not human, and the words fallen angel briefly passed through your mind. There was no such thing, and the thought alone was silly in itself. Still, it never stopped you from wondering just what you had gotten yourself into. Distracted thoughts wandered, resulting in you slicing at the tip of your finger as you prepared your dinner. You yelped, quickly sticking your index finger in your mouth purely on reflex. 

 "Stupid creature," Came that same baritone, your gaze shooting up and meeting the hardened gaze of your guest. Your mouth fell open, blinking stupidly at him, before your brain caught up to what he was saying. All you did was laugh, pathetically, and nod your head.

 "Yeah, it was a stupid mistake, wasn't it?"

 He seemed taken aback by this, downcast brows raising slightly as he watched you rinse out your cut, but not take the time to patch yourself up. You simply went back about your business making food, avoiding using your injured finger as you continued. He scoffed, which garnered your attention for a second time, your gaze coming back up only to see him turning on his heel and walking back to your bedroom.

 After dinner, you gently knocked on the bedroom door, slowly emerging with an armful of supplies. Unsurprisingly, he was on the bed as he usually was, looking out the window. Pattering your way over, you dumped the supplies beside him on the bed, kneeling on the floor to sort through everything, noting the fact he was already sticking his arm out for you to begin your work. This had been your routine for weeks, but even after all this time he never once willingly complied. The sight made you smile, a small laugh escaping your lips as you unwrapped him, put on the cream, then re-wrapped him. 

 "You're making fantastic progress, I'd say you probably won't have to wear so many bandages anymore after this week," You mused, working on the bandages on his chest next. "It's crazy, your hair is growing insanely fast, your skin is basically as good as new-"

 "Why do you persist?"

 The question caught you off guard, his voice scratchy from lack of use, but the deep rumble of him rattled your body. You paused, unable to answer right away. "Because... I saw someone out in the middle of nowhere gravely injured. I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I just left you there."

 "So you pity me? You think you're superior, and this is for your own satisfaction?" 

 Despite the venom tainting his voice, you couldn't help but smile, shaking your head as you applied more cream to him. "No, absolutely not. I don't think I'm better than anybody. I saw someone hurting, and I know how it feels to have people turn a blind eye when one is in need of help." Your eyes glanced up, a lump in your throat forming when you caught him gazing down at you. "Humanity is... lost, I think. Everyone is caught up in themselves and their wealth and their own general wellbeing, we forget to take care of the people and things around us. We forget that we can't just take, and there has to be some give. So this is me trying to be a giver in a world full of takers, I guess."

 "It's pointless. You're insignificant." He scoffed, lifting his arms as you worked your way down. 

 "Yeah, maybe. Maybe I'm never going to amount to anything, and I'll have spent my life trying to make up for humanity's shortcomings and regret it later on, but I'm willing to accept that when the time comes. For now, I'd just like to help you get back up on your feet," You emphasized your words by tying a little knot in the gauze, holding it into place. Standing, you reached for his neck, your hand being intercepted for not the first time. He held it there, not as hard, but there was a threatening aura if you disobeyed his silent request. You stood, quietly, nodding for him to say his unspoken words.

 "You didn't bandage your hand earlier," It was more a statement than a question, but you understood the connotation behind it regardless. 

 With a shrug, and a smile, you braved through the threat and pushed your hand forwards, unwrapping him. He let you, surprisingly, with an unreadable expression. "I would much rather have all the supplies I need to take care of people that need help more than me. It's just a small cut, after all." He was quiet, watchful eyes peering at you as you unwrapped his now growing tufts of platinum blond hair. It was coming through smooth, even, as if he hadn't been scarred from head to toe in burns. "Besides," You continued, decidedly leaving the bandages off his head, "Why would I waste perfectly good supplies on someone insignificant?"

 Maybe it was because he wasn't expecting your self deprecating answer, or throwing his description of you back at him, but he seemed genuinely surprised. You didn't take the time to enjoy it, simply flashing him another smile before gathering up the used bandages and supplies and leaving him to his solitude he seemed to enjoy. 

 In the following days, he became a bit more chatty. At first you only noticed his presence, hovering around you in your general space, and part of you wanted to laugh at how similarly he behaved to a cat. The second you would acknowledge him, or glance in his general direction, he would leave the area, as if he didn't want you to perceive the fact he seemed to be curious about you and what you were doing. It was cute, despite the dangerous aura he seemed to exude sometimes, and you found yourself looking forward to just being able to exist in the same space as him. Once he managed to warm up to the fact you didn't seem to want or expect anything out of him, he became more obvious in your space, offering a roll of his eyes as you spoke to him about nothing at all in particular. Sometimes it was your day, your coworkers, something interesting you saw at the market. You never asked anything of him though, not even his name. He had given you a stern look one morning, asking why you never wanted information out of him. I'd like to think if you want to tell me something, you'll tell me when you want to, you said softly, who am I to make demands and take what I want from anyone?

 He never really had much to say when you answered his questions, but you could always sense the surprise. The realization came to you quickly, the side eye he would give you when you smiled at his otherwise hurtful comments or cynical view on you and your species speaking volumes. It was like he had already formed an opinion of who you were, a predisposition to fall into simple categories of "good", and "bad", with humanity, including you, falling into "bad". Nevertheless, you continued to surprise him, constantly going out of your way to make him a priority, put his comfort above yours to the point where you had been damned to sleep on your lumpy, three-times thrifted couch. Never once did you complain about the crick in your neck, or your sore shoulder, or the tweak in your back that made you wince when you knelt down to change his dressings. You were doing this of your own volition, after all, simply happy to help someone that was obviously deeply wounded by people before you.

 The day you came back dirty and defeated and worse for wear was the day something significant change in him. 

 Pushing through your apartment doors as normal, you saw him sitting on your couch, brows furrowing at the state of you. Your face was dirty, palms and forearms scraped and bloody, a small cut on your cheek and matching cuts in your work clothes. Despite your appearance, you greeted him with a weak smile. "I'm sorry," You huffed, setting a paper bag on the counter, walking over to the kitchen and washing up your hands, "Let's go change your bandages quick."

 Leaving no room for argument, not that you were sure he would do that anyways, you gathered up the necessary supplies and crouched in front of him on the floor. Trying desperately, but failing, you winced as you gloved your scraped palms, and this time finding yourself unable or willing to meet his gaze, You could feel him watching you, calculating your every movement. You had finished up quickly, now that he was more man and less bandage it was an easier process. Finishing up, you gathered all the used supplies in a pile, tossing it into the garbage. Looping back around the couch, you took a final look at him before nodding, a forced smile through pursed lips. "Alright, I'll get dinner start-"

 An iron grip encased your wrist as you began walking back around the couch, holding you firmly in place. You winced again, his fingers encasing a particularly nasty scrape. You didn't resist though, simply staring at him with a confused expression while he stood from his sitting position. He dwarfed you completely, despite the lack of exercise and movement he was still built and arguably massive, so you found yourself staring in awe whenever you were in relatively close proximity. 

 "Clean yourself up. It's an eyesore." 

 Perhaps his words stung more than they should have, but you sighed, nodding slowly. He released your wrist, letting you walk to your room to grab a change of clothes. Unlike his previous mannerism, existing in your general space without getting too close, this time he was hot on your heels, directly behind you the entire time. Plucking up some comfy pants and a loose shirt, along with a towel, you trudged your way over to the bathroom. Once you reached the door, you went to close it, eyeing him suspiciously as he stood in place with his arms crossed just past the threshold. Closing the door with a click, you stripped, turning the taps on and hopping in. Feeling the tears well up that you had been staving off were harder and harder to fight back, deep in and out breaths only helping so much before the cloud over your head began to storm. Before you could let it consume you, you washed yourself up, dried yourself off, and got changed, deciding distracting yourself would be better than wallowing in self pity at the loss of your wallet, groceries, and dignity. 

 Upon opening the door, your guest was still firmly stood in place, completely unmoved from his last position you saw him in. You stared back, taking a small step forward and hoping he would get out of your way. His eyes were watchful, knowing, and the way they peered down at your scrapes and bruises, then came back up to your eyes was enough to tell you what he wanted from you, and that he had no intention of getting out of your way until then. 

 You didn't know why, you didn't know why that was what broke the dam, why the smallest glance had tears pooling in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. You stood there, staring at each other as tears bubbled past your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks, until a soft sob left your lips. Hanging your head, you watched your tears hit the tile of the bathroom floor. Perhaps because you were clouded with stress and regret, you could justify taking a step forward. Perhaps, because you have been trying so hard for so long, you just needed someone to tell you that you were doing a good job, you could justify resting your forehead on his chest, loosely wrapping your arms around his waist. For the first time in the months you had known him, you took, and you felt a deep guilt about it.

 "I'm sorry," You whispered into him, closing your eyes as you went to pull back. A hand at the back of your head stopped you, pulling you back into your weak, one sided embrace. Despite the fact he didn't rest his arm around you, despite the fact all he did was put a hand in your hair, you found yourself tearing at the seams, coming undone and sobbing against him. 

 After a couple minutes, your shoulders stopped quaking, your sniffles began to subside, and you heard that deep voice in the crevice of his chest speak. 

 "Finish cleaning yourself up," His voice was low and assertive, to which you let out a small saccharine laugh, nodding your head against his chest. 

 "Okay. Thank you, friend," You slowly took a step back, looking up at his firm expression. Brows upturned, you offered your signature bittersweet smile, still teary eyed and ruddy cheeked as you wiped your face. His expression fell, lips downturned at your harmless name for him. It was visible, the cogs turning in his head as his eyes watched you brush the tears from your face, glance down at your pouty lips and wet jaw, then back up to your eyes. 

 "Nai."

 "P... Pardon?" You paused, watching him take a step towards you. 

 "Call me Nai," He took another step forwards, crowding you in his space against the bathroom counter. You found yourself bending back a bit, eyes wide and glassy as you watched him lean into you.

 "N-Nai," You repeated back to him, watching his eyes search you again. This time it was more frantic, his mouth hanging open, obvious distress on his face until he was nearly nose to nose with you.

 "Again."

 "Nai... What are- mmf-" 

 All it took was a blink. You blinked, and his lips were crushed up against yours in a searing kiss. It was desperate, needy, forceful, expressing every emotion he had kept bottled up in the back of his mind. White knuckle gripping the edge of your bathroom counter, you leaned back even more, spine bent over the surface at an uncomfortable angle. You tried pulling back, tried to ask him what he was doing and if he was okay, only for a hand to come up and firmly grip your jaw, holding you in place. The hand on your face squeezed, prying open your mouth with ease, his tongue licking into your open mouth before pressing his tongue against yours. Just as you let your eyes shut, just as you began to press back up into him, he ripped away, taking a stride back. Panting and delirious, you blinked through your daze, seeing the disgusted scrunch of his nose and downturned brows as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

 Flinging the partially closed door open, Nai stormed out in a heated rush, leaving the door to hit the wall and bounce nearly to a close again. All you could do was stare at the empty space where he was once standing, your mind having to work double time to catch up with everything that happened. Taking a deep, shaky breath, your fingertips ghosted across your lips in stunned silence. He looked so desperate, so hurt, and more than anything your heart ached at the expression that had graced his smooth, angelic features when you had spoken his name to him. Completely torn, unable to weigh the pros and cons of simply just leaving him be, or being at his side, you decided against your better judgement and slowly exited the bathroom. Your hair was still wet, cold droplets penetrating the thin fabric of your night shirt. Steeling yourself, you pushed through the threshold of your bedroom, only to see the tall man ripping off the bandages on his arms and chest. You sprung into action immediately, concerned for his healing process.

 "Nai, stop that-" 

 "Do not!" He yelled, turning around and facing you. His eyes were wide, stress evident on his face due to his inner turmoil. When you swallowed, taking another step forward with an outstretched hand, he snarled, clenching his jaw. 

 "Please, Nai, let me fix your bandages-"

 "Why do you persist?!" He asked for a second time, "You are a disgusting, unworthy creature. You are insignificant and meaningless! You have no right being so similar to him!" Insult after insult, he stepped closer, never lowering his voice, "Your kind are repulsive, you do nothing but take, nothing but steal, nothing but hurt."

 The fact you only pursed your lips, unmoving in front of him, seemed to escalate his fury. 

 "What makes you so different?" He growled, impeding on your space for a second time this evening, the malicious aura surrounding him different as his hand shot up, clasping around your throat and fingers digging into your jaw. Still, you did not move, only wincing when he tilted your head back at an angle stressful on your weary muscles.

 Your docile, unintimidated nature broke down his walls, his grip wavering, before loosening completely. He kept his hand in place, his chest heaving from his one-sided outburst. Quiet, much more quiet than he had been, he whispered, "Why are you so different?"

 Slowly, as not to shock him, you raised a hand, eyes downcast at a portion of his arm that was scratched and bloody, most likely from his frantic half attempted escape out of his dressings. You were careful, wrapping the ripped dangling bandage around that spot, lifting your other hand to tie it off. Grip slipping, his hand slowly slid down the column of your throat, the heel of his palm resting on your collar bone while his fingers brushed your pulse points. He was impossibly close again, but this time there was no distress. There was no urgency. Only disbelief, and that familiar inkling of something else you had gotten used to finding in his eyes.

 "I understand," You breathed, taking his sagging shoulders as an okay to keep going, "I understand that... People are cruel, and evil- I know. I encounter it every day. I know. It's tragic, and horrible, and that's why I try so hard to make up for others' shortcomings. I try my best to be the good I want to see in this world."

 Turquoise eyes watched your hands continue tying off frayed ends, watched your lips purse and eyes grow glassy at the state of him, and he huffed a sardonic laugh. "It's pointless."

 "I know. But that doesn't mean I'll ever stop trying."

 Only met with silence, you scanned his expression, seeing that same bewilderment you were met with nearly every time you surpassed his expectations. It made you smile your signature smile, a small puff of amused air leaving your lips as his fingers twitched against your skin, enclosing the base of your throat in a loose grip. There you stood in silence with him, letting him mull over whatever he needed to sort through internally, you would be patient in letting him take his time. Gaining trust was never an easy process. He noticed this, brows furrowing as your hand came up and gently caressed the rough tattered fabric clinging to his arms. He swallowed, and just as you opened your mouth to ask if he wanted you to fix it for him, he was barking a quick order.

 "Get on the bed."

 Instantly you were bashful, cheeks heating up in a vibrant blush, ears warm and expression puzzled. Still, you listened, watching his hand fall from your neck before stepping over to the bed. You crawled on, settling yourself in the center of the mattress before spinning around and facing him, folding your hands in your lap as you awaited his next request. You never ended up receiving one, simply shuffling up closer to the pillows as he climbed on with you. Once again, he was caging you in, eyes searching you for any dishonesty, as if he still had his doubts about you but was unsure how to prove you wrong when you were so irrevocably good. His interest seemed to outweigh his suspicion, or maybe there was something else that had him gravitating towards your melancholic, teary eyed optimism. Perhaps that him he had mentioned was not so different from yourself. 

 Unsure what to expect, you simply blinked at him, slowly leaning back on your forearms, before laying down, his body unmoving as he watched you shifted your weight to lay on your side. Your eyes stared out the window towards the starry night sky, listening to the rustling of fabric sheets, before the mattress was sinking lower behind you. The sudden shift in weight had you pressed back against him feeling an arm come around, elbow resting on your waist, forearm tucked around your waist and hand dipped under your side, you inhaled sharply, tensing slightly. His uncertainty and back and forth had you confused, unsure exactly what he wanted to do or what he thought of you, but the closeness and physical touch had your throat growing tight and those familiar tears welling up.

 "Nai... What are you doing?" You asked, barely above a whisper, unsure exactly what his intentions were with you at this point. Only met with silence for a short while, you closed your eyes, soaking in his warmth- because God was he warm- appreciatively. 

 "This helped my brother when we were young." 

 Understanding he probably wasn't going to elaborate further, you simply huffed a small, weak laugh at the insinuation he was treating you like a child, but you were grateful nonetheless. You weren't expecting him to have the capacity or compulsion to help you, considering many occasions had come up in the weeks you knew him where you had been in a position of needing help and he would only watch scornfully with crossed arms. A cheeky smile cracked your features, daring to turn your head and glance back at him at the risk you would be pushing him away. You were going to say something about him treating you like a child, but your smile fell the second you saw the expression on his face. His brows were downturned, but he looked tired, a twinge of sadness he poorly masked as irritation.

 "Your brother must have been lucky to have you," You whispered, unsure what else you could have said, unsure if there's anything you could say to take away his pain and sadness. "I know I am."

 There was a spark of recognition, realization, a switch being flipped in the back of his mind you barely managed to catch before he was leaning into you, slotting his lips against yours. You were surprised by him again, but much more accepting to his advances now that you got a brief glance into the window of his mind. He had so much inner turmoil, internalized emotion he masked with anger or irritation or indifference. Pushing into him, only enough to reciprocate, the arm around your waist tightened before turning your body, flipping you on your back. Gasping when your back hit the bed, the old springs below groaned in retaliation as Nai made space for himself between your legs, forcing them apart with flat, firm palms. His short, platinum blond hair illuminated by the moonlight made him seem even more angelic, the pale white light accentuating every dip and crease and crevice of his fit physique laying underneath tattered, torn bandages. You breathed as he leaned down, unable to contain your quiet, "Beautiful..."

 It was difficult for you to comprehend, the languid kiss becoming more tongue, his teeth bared and biting at your lower lip when you pushed back, threatening to invade the space of his mouth. Strong hands came up to the small of your waist, grabbing at you in such a way it made you vividly aware of the fact he was so much bigger than you. He seemed to realize this too, pulling back from your spit ridden kiss to glance down at your much smaller body so pliant in his hands. His brows furrowed, mouth hanging open slightly as he squeezed. It wasn't hard, only enough to make you squeak, his eyes shooting up to glance at you through his light lashes. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, pushing it up and past the swell of your breasts despite your flustered protests. Not even realizing your eyes had clamped shut, you cracked an eye open to glance up at him, surprised to see him transfixed. His hands grabbed, squeezed, brushed, every bit of skin, setting your nerves on end when he always nearly avoided touching the most sensitive parts of you.

 The thought of has he not done this before briefly crossed your mind, but was dismissed when he thumbed over your nipple, eliciting a drawn out whine from your throat. You were half expecting him to have a negative reaction, considering every time you had an innately human reaction to something, he was quick to scrunch his nose and turn away. Instead, he repeated the action, leaning down to shove his tongue in your mouth in the process. It was easy, your gasp and whine allowing him immediate access, and your eyes were rolling back at the feeling of him caressing and squeezing you. Another whine pulled from your throat, this time muffled by his mouth and tongue, you gently placed your hands on his wrists. He tensed, but didn't stop, a silent affirmation that you could keep going. Your hands skated up his arms, over his shoulders, arms winding around his neck, nails slowly dragging up the top of his spine. He groaned, squeezing your breasts in his hands, before his hands shot down to your hips, pulling you up and into him to meet the roll of his hips. 

 "Ah! N-Nai!" You gasped, glancing down at the pair of oversized borrowed sweatpants he had donned nearly every day living with you. Never had you been so happy to own a piece of clothing from an ex, and the satisfaction of watching your house guest fill them out much better was a treat in itself.

 "Again," He demanded, watching your expression scrunch and release as he rolled his hips into you again.

 "Nai," You breathed, throwing your head back against the pillows, nails digging further into his back. The noise he emitted was animalistic, grip wavering on your hips. You heard a rip, eyes shooting open and glancing down to see your shorts and underwear in tatters on the bed. It looked as if they had been put through a shredder, and all you could do is stare with absolute bewilderment as to how he had managed that so quick.

 However, you were unable to say anything, now being zoned in on the heave of his chest, or how his eyes locked on the line of your pussy. A lump formed in your throat, wondering if maybe something was wrong, if maybe he thought you looked weird, or gross, and subconsciously you tried to tuck your legs up to close them, but with him occupying that space there was simply no room. He glanced up at your eyes again, then down, a hand abandoning its place on your hip to thumb over your already embarrassingly wet cunt and part you. Sitting back on his haunches, using his knees to push your legs apart further, his other hand came down, spreading you with both thumbs to observe. The embarrassed noise that left your lips didn't tear his attention away, hands coming up to hover over your mouth as you watched him, once again begging the question...

 "Have you never seen one before?" You blurted out, cheeks rosy and eyes half lidded. Really it was the only explanation, as far as you were aware you weren't completely abnormal down there, at least not that you were told. Almost immediately regretting your decision, the slow slide of his eyes up to your face, he didn't answer, but there was a tinge of pink at the tips of his ears that spoke for him. "Here," You bit your lip, a hand coming down and slowly sliding your fingers down, then up, gathering some of your slick before rubbing at your sensitive bundle of nerves, "Like that."

 Nai seemed to look apprehensive, confused, only for a moment before he mimicked your actions. You keened, back arching slightly as he pressed his fingers just a bit too hard. Reaching down, your fingers encased his wrist, holding it back slightly. "Gentler, you have to be gentle... Please."

 A frustrated scoff was all you received, nevertheless his actions seemed much more careful, gentler, and you were only moderately concerned that the thought made your heart swell. With his middle and ring finger moving in slow, deliberate circles, you arched your hips into him, eyes sliding shut once again as he toyed with you, his fingers quickening in pace. His name was a mantra on your lips, syllable after syllable egging him on, before his fingers came to dip down like yours had. They dipped down a bit too quick, too hard, his fingers dipping into your aching core up until the second knuckle. A choked out scream was ripped from your throat, not expecting the sudden intrusion, but his curiosity gave you no respite. His fingers delved deeper, then pulled back out, all the while you were gaping at the ceiling at how well only two of his fingers seemed to fill you. 

 "T-That's- N-Nai, it's sensit-ah! " You bucked your hips when his fingers delved back in, seeming to get the idea quicker than you were hoping he would. Crying out a moan, you whined for him, keened for him, peering at him through your lashes as he fucked you with his fingers. Despite being rough around the edges, his fingers managed to reach a specific spot that you were sure was going to make you cum soon if he kept abusing it. As if he had done this plenty of times before, his eyes were locked onto yours, his other hand pressing down into his tented pants. The pants were loose around his hips, baggy on anyone that wore them really, so you didn't know if he was really that fucking big or if it was the moonlight playing tricks on you. It made your mouth water.

 "Nai," You called out to him desperately, hand clasped around his wrist once again, "I want to touch you too," Your voice was quiet, raspy, sweet, and the smile gracing your features made his furrowed brows and focused scowl falter. Pushing yourself up on your forearms, you reached down, finger hooking in the waistband of his pants. Seemingly growing confidence, or more likely it was his ego shining through, he sat up on his knees, allowing your hands to pull the fabric down. 

 It was a visceral effort not to have the same reaction he did to you when you were met with sticky white petals encasing what would have been a normal, albeit massive, cock, absolutely shocked beyond comprehension. You always entertained the thought he was non human, considering how often he spoke lowly of humans and his incredibly short healing period. The glyphs running up the length of him left you breathless, the slow ooze and drip of endless precum coming from the tip making you lick your lips. When your hand gripped him at the base, the glyphs pulsed and glowed, the surrounding sticky petals curling in and around your hand. The glyphs began to spread, across his pelvis, down his thighs, and then you realized where you had seen these markings before...

 A Plant. He's a Plant. His otherworldly beauty and distain towards people suddenly made so much sense, and you couldn't fault him for it.

 Pushing yourself up onto your knees, but still not matching his height, you slowly moved your hand, a quick, deep exhale coming from his slightly parted lips. His cheeks were much more ruddy, a stark contrast to his pale skin and hair, and you couldn't help but smile softly at him as you gripped your fist a little tighter, the slide up and down slick and smooth with how much liquid was dribbling out of him. All you could do was watch, stare, transfixed by the dribble, the glow, before you couldn't take it anymore. 

 "Can you sit back for me?" You were sure he wouldn't be so willing to relinquish control, but the kind words coming out of your mouth weren't unalike the gentle words that you muttered whenever you would wrap him up or tend to his wounds. So, he did, kicking his sweatpants off and sitting back against the wall for you. Leaning down, you continued to pump the length of him. Testing the waters, you gave the head a kitten lick, pleasantly surprised by the sweet taste of the viscous liquid coming out of him. It reminded you of honey, or nectar, the floral scent behind it completely bewitching. Your lips encased the tip, a low groan being punched out from his lungs as you did so, hands working what you weren't immediately fitting into your mouth. 

 Really, it didn't take much to completely unravel him, only managing to hollow your cheeks and move down about half way before his hands were grabbing at your hair and forcing you the rest of the way. Unsure exactly why, even as you gagged you were moaning around him, earning noises from him in return, but you were completely enamored by him and his cock that you didn't care he was pushing his hips up to meet you half way, fucking your face. He was rough, tugging your head down in time with his upwards thrusts, his grunts and groans increasing in frequency as you completely lost yourself in him. Hand reaching down, spinning circles around your clit, you felt his hips stutter and falter before he let out a long, primal groan, pumping your mouth and throat full of cum. You spun your fingers faster, chasing your high desperately as he gave quick, shallow thrusts into your throat, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop, and you thought you might drown in him before he was pulling out of your mouth, globs of sweet liquid pouring out of from your lips, clinging to your face and bed. 

 "Fuck, that-" Interrupted, you were grabbed by your bicep, being hauled up and tossed back. Your head hung over the side of the bed, addled brain trying to catch up to your sudden upside-down visual. When you felt weight on top of you, you strained to lift your neck, watching as Nai wrapped his arms around your thighs, tugging you into him. The slide was easy, instant, completely sheathing himself in you with one strong thrust. You wanted to scream, but the position you were in coupled with your throat being fucked raw, all that came out was a pathetic squeak. He grunted, setting a brutal pace, tugging you in time to meet his thrusts by your thighs. You moaned, gasped, sputtered, tried calling to him to slow down, please, but it fell on deaf ears. 

 Completely unexpected was the hand that came down between your legs, thumbing at your clit. That seemed to be enough for you, your mind running blank and seeing stars as he continued to fuck you through your earth shattering orgasm. Your legs seized, muscles spasming and tensing as you felt an unfamiliar wetness between your legs. A deep grunt and growl was immediately followed by a pair of strong hands grabbing at your waist, tugging you up and into him as if you weighed nothing at all. Delirious, mind spent, you could barely register the fact you had thrown your arms over his shoulders, a hand gripping your hip so tight it was certainly going to bruise as he fucked up into you. His other hand grabbed at your cheeks, squeezing and forcing you to look into his piercing gaze. He was beautiful, his eyes, the crease of his brow, the snarl on his lips and his bared teeth, primal and angelic.

 "You're mine," He growled, your mind spinning as you moaned and whimpered for him, "I'll keep you, pet, I'll protect you, but you're mine. Do you understand?"

 Barely able to nod in his grip, you simply swallowed, choking on a raspy yes. 

 "Say my name."

 You didn't think you would be able to, mind hazy and voice weak, but one hard thrust up had your voice punched out. "Nai!" You keened, eyes sliding shut as you felt your second orgasm creeping up on you so soon. "Nai, please I'm go-gonna- cum!"

 The firm grip he had on your face moved back, fisting your hair and pushing your lips up into his as he groaned into your mouth. His cock twitched inside of you, pumping you to the brim with more cum. He never stopped, hips humping up into you through his orgasm, pushing you over the edge on your second, and you were completely devoured by him. 

 Stilling, Nai pulled back, his heaving breaths fanning over your cum and sweat sticky face. His eyes scanned you, and all you could do was stare dumbly in return. Slowly, he lifted you, grunting when his softening cock slid out of you, petals curling and wrapping up to encase him. The slow dribble down your thighs made him huff a seemingly amused exhale, keeping you close in his arms as he laid back on the bed, you on top of him. Nothing was said, only the wind and chirp of bugs outside encasing you in a melody perfect to drift off to. You sighed, adjusting your head so your face was tucked into the crook of his neck. He tensed, but said nothing, so instead you filled the silence. 

 "I'll be yours, Nai. I'll take care of you."