#and not just in the body image ‘health’ obsessed way

[krispiecake]

you know when you get those adverts for like protein shake meal replacement bullshit products and people say shit like ‘im just so busy with work i never have the time for breakfast or lunch or dinner or snacks, so this horrible brown powder milkshake is a huge life TIMEsaver!’ and ‘its so convenient! i just swallow a glass of tasteless powder to meet my basic vitamin needs and then i have all the time my employer wants from me!’ and then you have to keep watching the unskippable ad only for the person not to become immediately radicalised by what they were just forced to say. I genuinely cannot fathom how people write these scripts, say them out loud, film these videos, edit them and publish them and nobody involved in that process is going insane. are you even listening? are you reading those words? cant you see the exploitation of workers is forcing you to stop performing even the most necessary of tasks like eating real food? and cant you see we have been so convinced that is normal that there are entire businesses and ad campaigns based on it?

food, actual real good normal food, is a human right, but also part of your culture, your family, your community. Its a source of joy, health, fun, love and creativity. please dont let these fucked up companies convince you its just time that could be better spent slaving away for the rich monsters that hold your contract.

[ozzgin]

Is it just me or can I imagine a yandere with a darling who’s immune system and possibly everything about them just screams weak and pathetic, BUT their darling is actually very strong mentally and has and will create the most fucked up, batshit crazy inventions from what used to be harmless to something that can help them escape and possibly destroy everything in its path.

But at the end of the day, they become sleepy koalas who hug whoever is near them and fall asleep :)

This could be a request or rant, whatever you can think of! I just wanted to see how different yandere writers would interpret this small imagination of mine <3

But as always, stay safe and take care! everyone needs a break some time to time~

Sorry, but the moment I read the Darling's description, I instantly thought of Dr. Finkelstein from Nightmare Before Christmas. You know, Sally's inventor. 😭 So let me quickly write this down while I'm in my Shelley vibes, because I like the idea a lot. With a little twist, if you don't mind. :)

Yandere! Monster x Inventor! Reader

A frail inventor, and their affectionate rag doll that has been carefully stitched together for the purpose of a caregiver. An artificial existence, trapped within the confines of your lonely tower. Or so you might think.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior

"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel..." [Frankenstein]

You dangle an old, rusty bell for a good minute before leaning back in your chair. The barely audible chimes are quickly swallowed by the loud, mechanical groans of the gears and engines occupying most of this room. No matter, his ears are good. You picked them yourself. And surely enough, within moments, the door to your laboratory opens and someone cautiously walks in.

A tall, slender man. Or rather, something meant to resemble a man. The skin is a clumsy patchwork of blues and grays - you're no talented seamster, sadly - gathering together the body parts in what feels like a parodic attempt at mimicking God and his image. You gaze at the creature approaching you with a tray of tea and sweets. Scarcely your best work, if you must adhere to honesty. Regardless of the quality of your labor at the time of creation, you are proud of the result. How could you not be? You know this man better than you know yourself. Every organ, every artificial nerve cord, every blemish and stitch of his body was placed according to your intentions. A masterfully detailed project that took you years to complete; not an easy feat considering the lamentable state of your health.

"Here's your deadly nightshade tea." The man places a small, porcelain cup on the desk. "Do let me know when I should take you to bed, (Y/N)." You wave your hand dismissively and stretch out your limbs. "Not yet. I am almost finished", you respond, returning to the mound of metal scraps and pipes before you. "Can I ask what you're making?" The pale creature lowers himself to your level, a curious smile plastered on his face. "It's a mechanical heart", you reveal boastfully. "Like the one I have?" You run your hand through the creature's hair affectionately. "Almost. I'm testing out a different way to build the valves, for a more efficient pumping cycle." You continue to explain the intricacies of your novel mechanism, occasionally sipping on your tea. "Who knows, you might have a sibling in the near future."

The man's smile drops in an instant, and his sunken eyes widen at your statement. "What? Am I- am I not enough?" You glance at the creature as he becomes increasingly frantic. "Don't speak nonsense. If it comes out alright, I'll upgrade your own parts as well. I'm a disciple of scientific virtue, of continuous improvement." Nonsense? Vile treachery! You might've chiseled the brain that throbs within the walls of his skull, but his mind is his alone, and you seem to lack a fundamental understanding of his feelings and thoughts. His ardent confessions of love are met with mockingly pitiful grins, in the way a parent soothes a needy child. Even now, your eyes reflect nothing more than sympathy towards his protest. A childish tantrum is what you're most likely thinking. You've no time for emotional bagatelles. He can read you like an open book.

You simply won't understand. There is no place for a stranger in the life he's crafted with his very own hands: you, and him, and the evening tea with a side of butterscotch biscuits, and the bedtime talks, and the stripped branches of the decaying tree that rap at the windows on stormy nights. You might be the Inventor, but he is not just a mere, humble servant, a rag doll to be tossed around or toyed with. As you will soon discover, after all.

You awaken in the midst of night with your temples burning from a much too familiar headache. Although it's not just the pain that has disturbed your slumber. You can hear rattles and thuds coming from the upstairs laboratory. An intruder? Oh, your creations! The sound of glass breaking and metal scraping sends you into spiraling despair. You fumble to reach the nightstand, patting the surface in search for the bell and keys. You shake the handle in a panic, unable to find anything else in the darkness.

The chaotic rustle abruptly stops, followed by descending footsteps. You hold your breath as the chamber door opens, but it's none other than your creature. "Another flare-up? Shall I bring you some medicine?" the man asks with monotonous courtesy. "What have you been doing? What's all that noise?" you demand, agitated, but upon lifting yourself off the mattress you discover your legs are numb and uncooperative. The man hurries to your bed with a worried frown, and you hear the familiar clatter of the keychain coming from one of his pockets. "Have you taken my keys? Cease this foolishness at once!" Indifferent to your reproach, he places a firm hold on your shoulders and forces you back down, tucking you in effortlessly.

"You must forgive my impertinence." he says in a pleading tone. "I do not wish to impede the works of your genius. As your partner, however, it is my duty to prevent you from making mistakes." You furrow your eyebrows at his words. "What mistakes? My invention was flawless!", you argue fervently. "Indeed it was, but not its purpose. What need have you for another being?" It is the creature's turn for a passionate speech. He stands up with a confidence you don't recognize and continues: "You should know by now that I am fit to perform any role. That of your servant, your caregiver, your lover, or anything else you may desire. You can resume your tinkering starting tomorrow, but such blasphemies to our bond as the one today will not be tolerated." He straightens his vest and reaches for the door handle. "I will prepare some tea to help you rest."

Inconceivable. Your own creation, built with your own hands...Has something escaped your attention? His dialogue is deranged, tainted by madness. "Have I done something wrong?" you mumble to yourself, deep in contemplation. "Nonsense." the creature turns to face you briefly. "It was you who created me after all. Everything is perfectly splendid."

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Beauty is a beast that roars

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Blurb: You quietly long for Eddie’s attention, and when things with Chrissy start to look serious you resort to desperate attempts for him to look at you the way he looks at her.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, hurt (no comfort), Eddie is kinda a dick, obsession, hurtful notes being passed, mentions of bulimia/eating disorder, mild stalking, low talk about self image, societal pressure to look a certain way, mental health struggles, characters are 20+ and in a college setting!

-

divider by @reveriesources

It started as a slow burn inside of your chest. You blamed it on the stress of finals but the more you saw them together, the more that burn worsened into a blaze; scorching your heart and tarring it black.

You didn’t think it possible to be obsessed with someone that you didn’t love- but you worshipped the very ground that Chrissy Cunningham walked on. At times, you thought she was able to read your mind. The way she effortlessly flicks her natural glowing golden hair over her shoulder as she laughs, looking like she was sculpted by Aphrodite herself- or how she presses her perfect rosy lips in peppery and sweet kisses to Eddie’s cheek. She had him wrapped around her skilful fingers. You couldn’t stand it.

It twisted your insides into a rope like knot- so tight and big and uncomfortable. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think straight when you looked at her. At them. Your brain harbouring thoughts of envy, rotting from the inside out with lightless horrid concepts.

You couldn’t help but follow study Chrissy. Her signature blue eyeshadow that adorns her gorgeous blue eyes, her tiny upturned nose, her well proportioned features- her body. You had never repeated this information to anyone before, not even Eddie, because not only would it expose your research into Chrissy, but because you definitely weren’t ever supposed to find out.

You had walked in on her one day in the bathroom. She was hunched over in a stall, her white sneakers peeking out from beneath the cubicle door. She was vomiting. Harshly.

At first you thought she may just be sick, and she was, but it was a different conversation. You entertained that thought until you walked in a second and third time to her in the exact same position- her fatigued body draped over the toilet bowl. You understood how she maintained her physique. It broke your heart; momentarily.

What broke your heart more was that Eddie evidentially had no idea. You knew, deep down, Chrissy was just like you. A sad, broken girl. But she was better at hiding it. The Duchess of disguise. The Queen of your psyche. Your admiration of her was unhealthy, you knew that much. You just couldn’t stop. You needed Eddie to look at you the way he looks at her.

So you cut your hair into a fringe, and you change your clothes. You find your own signature colour of eyeshadow and you even purchase a few skater skirts. Sports had never really interested you until now; now you were trying out for the cheerleading team. And with being Chrissy’s friend- of course she gave you direct entry.

Because despite her beauty, Chrissy was also kind. Which made the knot in your stomach grow firmer, imbedding itself within you permanently.

-

“Hey, Eddie!” You make sure your voice is dripping with the sweetest form of honey as you bat your mascara thick eyelashes at him. He glances at you from his magazine, quirking a brow at your chirpy energy.

“Hello… What’s up?” He asks, his words clipped as his eyes focus back on the flimsy book he holds sturdily in his hands. God… his hands. The rings that compliment his slender fingers and the bracelets that dress his wrist. You couldn’t get enough of it- of him.

It was impossible for you to hold his attention for more than a few seconds, and you had bound into the library full of hope and partial confidence today. You had pieced together one of your best outfit. A denim jacket draped over your shoulders, a white tank top (with no bra) and a cute skirt in your favourite colour which also matched your eyeshadow. Your hair was in a voluminous pony tail, held up by a great big scrunchie and your eyes were bright with popping colour. Your cheeks were dusted with blush and your nails painted perfectly; with the help of your mother.

You couldn’t think of a reason why Eddie wouldn’t look at you. You looked totally bitchin’!

“Uhm…” you stutter, your small confidence wavering at his lack of interest, “We haven’t really hung out in a while… I thought maybe we could? If you like!” There is a festering in the pit of your stomach, a panic that grows with every anticipating second, “We don’t really hang out anymore... just us, I mean.” You add, hoping further context will make you sound a little less desperate.

You and Eddie used to hang out every day. Sometimes alone, sometimes with the whole group. But lately… things have changed. And you know the reason why.

Eddie acknowledged you with a hum, finally placing his magazine down and narrowing in on your appearance. You thought you wanted him to look at you, but the intense confusion on his face made you long for the earth to gape open beneath you and swallow you whole.

“Looks like ya did a deep dive through Chrissy’s wardrobe.” His chuckle makes your ears heat and your face flush as his fingertips pluck at the sheer scrunchie wrapped in your hair. You can’t tell if he is joking or not— but to you, it’s a compliment nonetheless.

After a moment of pause and total excitement you gather your composure quickly and cough a meek reply, “I’m trying something new.”

You’re trying to be someone new.

“Hmm,” He examines you further, “I dunno,” Eddie scratches at his chin, his once soft and playful features now express something more distasteful, “I personally prefer your old style— this seems… out of character.” There was a lilt to his deep voice, which made him sound interrogative.

“You.. you do?” You curse inwardly at the stutter in your airy voice. To say his words shocked you was an understatement. They had your jaw hanging loose and your eyes opened broadly. Had you gotten it all wrong? Were you really just as pretty before all of this? Or was he teasing you… was he trying to make you feel better? Was this his attempt at telling you that you look like an utter clown in comparison to Chrissy?

You’d never know… because you would never ever ask him such things.

You think back to a note that got passed to you in class not too long ago- you weren’t sure of the culprit (you suspected Jason) — it read along the lines of,

‘Apply all the makeup you want, but at the end of the day it’s just lipstick on a pig.’

Were you a pig? Was this all just a feeble and comical attempt at beauty? To be desired. To be wanted. It’s all you longed for. It’s all you dreamed of.

You wanted Eddie to see you. To want you. And at this rate, you were losing all hope.

“Yeah,” alongside a small laugh he also flashes you a toothy smile, a mocking smile— and you clamp your jaw closed to stop yourself from shaking out a sob, “Listen, you’re free to chill here with me if you want but— hey!”

You couldn’t take it. The embarrassment. The knife twisting in your chest and puncturing your heart. You flee from the table abruptly before Eddie even has a chance to say anything more to you.

What was wrong with you? You wanted his attention, you wanted him alone and when you got it you despised the humorous way he gazed at you. You didn’t want to be entertaining or funny— you wanted to be loved.

Loved by him.

To please him.

To make him proud…

On exiting the library you pass Chrissy who was entering through the heavy fire doors, clearly she is on her way to meet Eddie. It was uncanny, almost like looking into a mirror.

The blonde spares you a small smile but not without a worried and intrigued glance at your attire before she is muttering a quick ‘Hello’ which you don’t even bother to return. You are too focused on your pursuit to the bathroom where you can hide yourself in an empty stall and cry without judgement. The only issue? You didn’t bring any makeup wipes for the mascara that has plagued your face in splotches and streaks of black tears.

Your eyes sting furiously and your bottom lip quivers outwith your control. It’s hard to believe that you have allowed yourself to stoop this low, crying shamelessly on campus in front of your peers. Their sympathetic eyes and taunting grins don’t go unnoticed by you as you finally make it to the bathroom, bursting into the void room like a bat out of Hell. Slamming the cubicle door closed and sitting on the toilet bowl where you start to question reality.

What are you doing?

You despise the fact that you know, no matter what, no matter how stupid you look- how ridiculous your clothes are and your sorry attempts at looking pretty, you would continue to do it. Even if people stared, gawked, whistled, laughed… you would continue on this descent into madness. The chase of perfection. The downward spiral of your mind had only just begun and you had a far distance yet to fall.

-

Whilst classes had finished for a long weekend and everyone was outdoors enjoying what was left of the sun before Fall crept its way in, you were sat in front of your bathroom mirror. 

Pulling, pinching, tweezing, twisting, sucking, shaving, grabbing and crying.

God, you couldn’t stop crying.

You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t cry.

To you, winter was already here. You were chilled to the bone, hollow in your chest. Insides were sunken. You felt vacant of any joy.

“Honey!!” Your mother yells suddenly from the bottom of the staircase, her voice is cloud like and warm, “Someone is here to see you!” There is a mutter of something inaudible, “Chrissy!” She confirms snippily and your face drops heavily into a worried frown.

“I’m in the shower!!” You shriek back dishonestly and you are reminded that you have a heart as it shudders inside of your chest. You aren’t ready to see her— you don’t have a lick of makeup on, your hair isn’t done and you are still wrapped up in your bath towel. 

Your first thought is how do you get rid of her? How do you lie your way out of this?

You couldn’t.

“Okay, she’ll be waiting down here for you then…” Your mother’s voice dies out and you can hear her offering Chrissy something to drink and eat; which Chrissy declines.

You move around your bedroom agilely, hustling to get as presentable as you possibly could to face the girl waiting downstairs for you. It doesn’t quite register that Chrissy is sitting with your mother, chatting and possibly gossiping. All you care about is getting some makeup slapped on your face and some nice clothes hugging your body.

Your hair can be brushed, but you don’t have time to style it— that’ll have to come later. After multiple a few sprays of your favourite perfume that smells like vanilla and a tinge of cedar wood you feel ready enough to leave your sanctuary.

Nearly tripping over your entire wardrobe that covers your bedroom floor you fly toward the door handle, bracing yourself at the top of the staircase before you descend.

Time to meet your maker.

Your intense gaze flicks hurriedly between your mother and Chrissy as they both stand to meet you as you enter into the lounge room. Chrissy’s hair is twirled and curled to perfection and a short pink summer dress embraces her small frame. On her feet is a pair of red Mary Jane heels and you catch a peek at the silver jewellery strung around her neck and her wrists.

“Hi,” you say, feeling like it is the first breath you take since entering the room.

Chrissy bounds over to you, stringing her arms around your shoulders and pulling you in for a quick but sweet hug, “Hi!” She giggles in a sing song tone before pulling away, “You smell amazing by the way! You’ll have to let me know what that is later!” Her fingers linger on the exposed skin of your bicep and you cringe away from her touch.

“Thanks,” Your mother has long left the room and you walk a few paces away from Chrissy.

“We were heading to the movies, you wanna join? It’s meant to be such a warm night tonight!” To your disadvantage Chrissy follows behind you closely, closing the distance you were trying to create between the both of you, “The whole group will be there! Plus, it’s a thriller which I know you love.” She winks at you and you hate that you can feel your lips curving up into a minuscule smile.

“I dunno, Chris.” Your hand palms at the back of your neck, you feel hot with discomfort and to be quite frank all you want to do is lay in bed and mope.

“Please!” She clasps her hands together, inching closer to you— if that were even possible, “I’ll even buy your ticket!” Her pillowy bottom lip pouts out slightly, “I just wanna hang out with you, it’s been so long.”

And she was right. It had been a long time. You had been so swept up in this horrible pursuit of yours that you forgot you were actually friends with Chrissy. Long before you even knew of Eddie’s existence.

A defeated sigh leaves through your nostrils and you raise your shoulders to your ears, “Fine.” You smile, a smile that feels the most genuine it has in weeks.

Chrissy squeals with excitement, jumping up and down on the spot before taking your hand into hers. Interlocking your fingers so she can make sure you don’t make a run for it, “Let’s go, tiger!”

-

You all find your seats quickly, settling into them with your snacks and beverages. You partially regret not getting a drink but you decide that you’ll be able to soldier through. It’s what you do.

It was no surprise to you that Eddie was there too, but you couldn’t help but panic at the sight of him waiting for you and Chrissy to arrive at the theatre. His tatted arms crossed comfortably over his chest and a love filled smile teasing at his lips as Chrissy trotted over to him, practically jumping into his arms for a hug.

You fell behind them, ensuring you left as much distance as you possibly could. The sight of Eddie alone was enough to send you tumbling into a frenzy of inky feelings.

You could smell Eddie’s cheap cologne mixed with a hint of powerful weed and for a moment it clouds your senses. Taking hold of everything you knew— past, present, future. You couldn’t think about any of it, not with his scent engulfing your nostrils like second hand smoke.

Once the group had settled into the dimly lit theatre you sink into your seat behind Eddie and Chrissy, your shoulders slumping as you wish for the seat to turn into some sort of magical trap door that will transport you to another universe. But of course, you could never be so lucky.

The movie begins with a deafening introduction and you wince at the sound, your finger tips brushing over your ears gently to make sure that they hadn’t been blown off of the side of your head.

Steve occupies the seat next to you, and Robin is next to him with Vickie. You had grown to quite enjoy Vickie’s company. You loved how happy Robin got when she was in touchable reach… you pined for a connection like that.

Normally, you would be in your element as you watched a thriller movie, but something in front of you proved to be far more interesting.

Eddie and Chrissy were whispering sweet nothing into one another’s ear, Chrissy giggling and blushing at whatever it was that Eddie had said— probably something dirty and ridiculous.

And you could handle that. You could endure that.

But what you couldn’t take was watching as their tongues battled it out in a sloppy and erotic kiss. Chrissy had asked you to come and see this film— was it all a rouse just so she could show you who Eddie truly belongs too? So she could dismiss your attempts and break your heart further?

Unbeknownst to you, Steve had clocked the expression on your face. Tears glossing over your eyes, your front teeth gnawing on your bottom lip to try and contain whatever this was that you were feeling— but most importantly, he noticed the newfound stiffness in your body. He could feel you going rigid next to him.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice is low and kind and you should have paid more attention to his attentiveness but you don’t.

“I need to use the bathroom.” Is all you reply before lugging all of your stuff loosely and lazily into your arms and bolting for the theatre isle, but not without earning a few confused looks from Robin.

You bypass the restrooms, your eyes focused on the colossal glass doors which would separate you from Eddie and Chrissy officially.

The humid air hits your skin in an agonising envelop of warmth and you pull your sleeve over the palm of your hand to rub against your soaked cheeks.

Your chest feels heavy with every shaking intake of breath that you manage to pull into your lungs. You are heaving, gasping for air as you sob into the thick material of your sweater.

The sound of passing cars hits your ears and you slightly angle yourself away from the access road connecting the theatre to other public establishments. The images of Chrissy tongue down Eddie’s throat plays over and over in your mind— you don’t even know what the film was about because you were so hyper focused on them.

Your skin feels as though it doesn’t fit right over your skeleton and you grab at the material of your skirt, fisting the fabric as you try to ground your raging emotions.

You catch a whiff of theatre food and it causes bile to raise up the back of your throat, vomit threatening to project from your mouth.

People pass you by, their out of context conversations entering one of your ears and leaving the other. You felt so overstimulated— so riddled with anxiety that your brain hadn’t had space to even register Steve’s hand on your shoulder.

But when you do, you flinch away from him, taken aback by the horror stricken look on his soft features, “Hey… what’s going on?” His voice is low, a whisper as he tries to contain the situation between the two of you. Not wanting whatever this is to spill into the public.

You shake your head, your strong walls flagging up, “Nothing,” you dismiss him, “That movie was just… really scary..” you lie through your teeth and your watery eyes betray your words as tears continue to stream down your flushed skin.

“Bullshit.” He spits, his eyes turning to slits as he inches in closer to you, “Tell me what’s wrong right now.” His thick eyebrows have furrowed deeply on his forehead and you continue to deny him of any information.

“Steve— I’m fine! That movie was scary, I’m scared! That’s all… and.. and I needed some fresh air.” You shrug your shoulders, hoping that the messy headed man would leave it at that but he replies to your dishonesty with a discontent shake of his head.

“You’re fucking lying. Why are you lying to me?” He is so close to you now that you can feel his breath fanning onto your face, “We’re friends, right?” He cocks his head slightly to the right, his eyes becoming a bit more gentle, “Right?”

“Yes!” You respond instantly, “Of course we are friends-“

“Then tell me what’s going on! What is all of this about!” He gestures to your face, but his eyes scan across your body as well. He wants to know the whole truth, and you aren’t going to give it to him.

“I just told you!” You try not to yell, and thankfully your despair is doing a good job at strangling your voice, “I needed air—“ Steve cuts you off.

“Stop it. Stop it now.” He takes a hold of your arm, hurrying you away from the movie theatre entrance, “Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can help! I can help, okay? There’s nothing too big.” You stare into his honey suckle eyes, seeing your owe reflection staring back at you. It causes your stomach to flip with disgust.

“Why can’t you just let this go? I’m fine, Steve! I’m fucking fine! I just wanted air because I felt sick and you’re causing a scene!” You’re yelling now, your once sadness provoked tears turning to anger.

“I’m causing the scene? You’re the one lying to me and busting my balls! I just want to help you!” He takes a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone, I’m fine on my own. I can take care of myself— you don’t get it! You’ll never get it, Harrington!” You jab at his chest, your body shaking with adrenaline.

“Harrington? Wow, okay. Something is definitely bothering you because you only ever call me that when you are really fucking pissed and I know I haven’t angered you this much so just tell me.” He circles you like a shark in murky water and you flee from him, needing some breathing space.

“Tell me!” He demands, charging after you.

You swing around to face him, your entire body feeling as though it’s going to combust.

“You wanna know, Steve? You really wanna fucking know?!” You march toward him, stopping a few paces away from his large frame.

“I’m in love with Eddie!” Your voice is an unattractive squeak, “Is that what you want to know, Steve? Are you fucking happy now?” You’re trembling now— a mix of rage, melancholy and dread.

“I am in love with someone who will never love me back. I… I have tried so hard to win him over.” You pluck at your t-shirt, scoffing at the silliness of it all, “I tried to change everything about me. I tried to be the one he would want but he doesn’t want me. He’ll never fucking want me, Steve.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, a form of defensiveness, “I’ll always be second best— no.” A moment of ugly realisation hits you, “I’m not even on his list. I’m not even a back up option to him. I’m a nobody. I can’t compete— I can’t compare.”

You’re a mess now. Smudged eyeliner. Smeared lipstick. You are a museum of failed art.

“I am in love with Eddie Munson and he doesn’t even know who I am.”

You try to lessen the blow of your own words with a tight lipped teary smile and a shrug of your shoulders… but whatever was left of your bruised heart was now torn to shreds. Unfixable. Unlovable.

“No one wants me.”

Through your distorted vision you hadn’t even noticed the tears pricking at Steve’s own eyes as he watched you fall to pieces in front of him.

Gently he brings you to lay flat against his chest, one of his hands rest tenderly against your hair whilst the other it draped over your shoulders.

He doesn’t say anything. He just holds you silently and allows you to sob into his broad chest— your makeup destroying his pristine white shirt.

A few moments of the embrace pass and that’s when you hear a muted voice from behind Steve’s large frame. A voice you had hoped to not hear— a voice that belonged to someone you had prayed would never ever hear you confess what you just had. A voice that was laced with what you could only pinpoint as malice and repulsion.

Eddie.

“What.. the fuck?”

And as Steve’s body tensed against yours, you blinked away the last of your tears and accepted your fate.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers

[moonlight-prose]

girl I just know Logan would fuck so good it’s criminal 😩

damn he can destroy me any dayyyyy

the way i am losing every bit of sense in my mind, body, and soul just thinking about this man is detrimental to my health. someone take away my rights to fixate on him cause i'm already dead. 18+ only. which means minors this is not for you.

He's nasty with it when he decides to fuck you. And it's not a hard decision to come to. In fact, he finds it relatively simple. All it takes is one smile his way, one glance in his direction, and would you look at that - he's hard and leaking.

Maybe it's some borderline obsession he has with you. He's choosing to think of it as love.

So when he finally gets a chance to take you in the way he likes - slow and teasing with just a hint of the feral animal within him - he jumps at the chance. He spreads you on the bed, locks the fucking door to keep out unwanted visitors (Wade), and delves into the fantasies that keep him up at night. Although in his mind, he prefers images of you coming on his cock, to endless nightmares.

You couldn't remember a time where you weren't possessed by this man. Where he wasn't claiming your mouth in a kiss so searing - all teeth and tongue and enough spit to trail down your chin. Where he wasn't knuckle deep - his thumb a constant pressure on your already overstimulated clit.

The sob he wrenches from your body isn't loud enough to appease his hunger.

So he curls his fingers, latches his tongue to your slit, and eats until your dripping down his chin. Later when your asleep, he'll be able to taste you still clinging to his lips.

Obscenely he once called it his midnight snack. Only to feel you punch him in the side with an embarrassed shriek.

And when he finally fucks you; sinks deep into your used cunt that's still throbbing from your fourth orgasm. He's depraved with it. He grips your chin and forces you to watch his pupils dilate - growing darker with each harsh thrust.

He uses the weight of his hips to pin you to the bed and pounds into your squelching pussy. Your dripping down to his balls that slap repeatedly against your ass. A creamy white ring has formed at the base of his red tinted cock, and the screams he tears from your throat are enough to soothe his inhumane hunger.

When he fucks you he's whittled you down to the raw nerves beneath your skin. He's ripped free every sound, every tear, and demands to see it again.

You finish with a broken wet sob that should be his name, but doesn't quite make the cut. And he cums inside you - always inside - with a harsh bitten out groan. One you'll replay on nights when he's stuck on a mission and all you have to keep you company are your fingers.

And even after all that. After you're a leaking incoherent person laying on the bed - eyes bleary with tears and lips curled into a fucked out smile. He'll kiss you softly, lick up whatever spit he missed from your tongue, and slide his way back down your body.

With the claim: A good man cleans up his fuckin' mess.

[crystalflygardener]

“save a cow, milk the milkman.” or let him milk himself…

Milkman/Francis Mosses short drabble where he can't help but (obsessively) pine for MC and that pining brings him to tamper with the milk he delivers to you.

Francis Mosses x GN!Reader

NSFW // CW: obsessive/lovesick and possessive milkman, pining, he’s a little submissive hehe, milkman is actually a horny virgin, breeding kink, it's not only milk in there, anatomically incorrect, lots of horny fantasizing. 1.4k words.

(A/N: he's such a cutie fr; dedicated to my milkman obsessed friends)

He should thank you, he figures, his dick twitches every time he sees you in the lobby. And maybe he purposely forgets his ID or his entry permit, just so you’d stare him down with that suspicious glint in your eye. Thank god all you need to see is his torso and above, or else you might just catch the tent in his pants as he casually strolls through the door you always unlock for him. How kind of you.. He can feel his fingers itching, his cock begging for release while he climbs up the stairs to his apartment. Maybe in the time it takes him to get there, he’ll have calmed down by then. But oh how he wishes that he could stare at you longer, memorize the lines of your face… But what if you start to think he’s a doppelganger? Oh, he would be devastated if you called the D.D.D. on him; all because he doesn’t know how to act around you. And so he’ll keep this ruse going, he’ll let you quietly wonder why his dark circles seem to be getting worse lately. Who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll worry about him enough to ask about it, or at least that’s what he wishes. The moment he enters his apartment and locks the door behind him, he impatiently yanks off his bow tie. It feels too constricting around his neck. In fact, his whole body feels too constricted in general. He finds himself rushing over to his bedroom and sprawling out onto his bed with his fingers frantically working at the buckle of his belt, sliding his pants down along with his briefs. Finally, his cock springs free from its confines, standing straight and proud, the tip beading with enough precum that his hand is able to glide smoothly up and down his shaft. Francis has a certain dislike, for the way you’re content with only a bottle of milk a day. He’d made sure to alter his schedule for you. You’re the only one he delivers milk to everyday, just so you’d never run out. But the reason why he dislikes it though… is because he also never runs out of 'milk'. Even after a hard day of work, he keeps himself up at night. With his back now against the headboard and his legs spread, his eyes shut as he paints pictures of you in his mind.. You teasing him.. You eagerly working your mouth up and down his length… Only for him to open his eyes and see the emptiness, where you should be, in front of him. It’s all simply wishful thinking, that he can finally replace his hand with any part of you he can get. After all, the glimpses of you he catches when you open your door to accept his milk delivery has proved to him that his hands would fit perfectly on your hips and the curve of your ass. Squeezing and kneading your flesh until it’s red while he empties himself inside you (preferably more than once)… (WARNING: SKIP IF YOU DON’T LIKE MILK TAMPERING) Francis enjoys the image of his cum spilling out of you far more than he likes to admit– it gets him off every time. But for now, he’ll settle for emptying himself inside your next milk delivery. What a diligent worker he is, ruining his sleep to provide you with his own homemade calcium. And if you notice the difference in taste, he’ll just tell you that he worries for your health, that he merely added a bit of vitamin D in there. If you, however, find out the truth, can you really fault the man for simply wanting to offer you a part of himself? (END)

[weird-obsessed-girl]

Bagginshield Fic Rec

I can’t believe I’ve had such an intense revival into The Hobbit Fandom after being obsessed with the movies when they came out just over 10 years ago now. There’s just some fandoms that have consistently amazing fanfics that are written beautifully and with such interesting concepts.

Some of these are a bit silly and cracky but i think that’s the appeal of The Hobbit, it’s a bit more cheerful than LOTR (vehemently ignoring Battle of the Five Armies)

So below is a list of fics I have loved reading organised by word count smallest to largest.

If you have any fics that you’ve read and don’t see here please share them with me! P.S, if you need more fics to read after these please check out the author’s other works.

Fanfiction Title - Author

Tags, description of fic | word count | rating

And Down the Road I Goes - pibroch (littleblackdog)

Kid!fic, mpreg, humour, dwobbits, beard problems | 1.3k | T

All That Glitters - BeautifulFiction

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, Dwarven culture and customs, Dwarven jewellery | 1.5k | G

Truth - alkjira

Body image issues, post-BAFTA, everybody lives, Dwarven beauty standards | 1.9k | T

Brethren, Braids and a Bothersome Burglar - Frankensteins_Monster

Unintentional Dwarven courting, and then intentional after communication is cleared up, Hair Braiding | 2.3k | T

There is A Child - smileybagel

Foresight, canonical character death, Thorin POV | 2.7k | T

Of the King and Consort’s Portraits - undomiel (dolcewrites)

Cultural differences, painting portraits, Erebor and Shire Parallels, domestic fluff | 3.4K | T

Shorn - Avelera

Mourning ritual, Dwarf culture and customs, misunderstandings, pre-slash, Long-beards mentioned! 3.5k | G

A Chance to Make It Right - smileybagel

Thorin is offered a second chance, magical dreams of future children, second part to “There is A Child” | 3.6k | G

The Proper Way To Call You Mine - Fantasyinallforms

Hair braiding, post-BAFTA, misunderstandings, Fili and Kili meddling, getting together, jealous Thorin | 3.6k | T

And in our love u see golden things - Seungshi03

Goldsickness as a mental health condition, domestic fluff, consort Bilbo | 3.7k | G

Riddles in the Dark Brought into the Light - Lucigoo89

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, PTSD, loooove fics where the trauma from the journey is included, background Dwalin/Nori | 3.8k | G

In More than the Wisdom of Years - jezebel_rising

Dis POV, everyone lives, reunions, Dis and Bilbo friendship | 4.2k | Not rated

A Dwarven Beauty - bevel_bee

Dwarven beauty standards, Bilbo is considered very attractive, but he’s very oblivious to the compliments, post-BAFTA | 4.6k | G

The Seven Gifts - snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)

Dwarf and hobbit courting, awkwardness, Bilbo remains in Erebor, miscommunication | 5.1k | G

The Stone’s Gift - SilverSkiesAtMidnight

Established relationship, consort Bilbo, “the Dwarven equivalent of cabbage patch hobbits”, dwarves made from literal stone, unplanned pregnancy | 5.2k | T

One Remedy for Gold Sickness (or maybe two) - randi2204

Bilbo uses an ancient hobbit remedy for greedy folks, flabbergasted dwarves | 5.8k | T * need to have an Ao3 account

Better an ugly face than an ugly mind - unpeumacabre

Dwarven beauty standards (and hobbit ones), Thorin POV | 6.1k | T

A Minor Problem - fideliant

Smut, thorin finds out Bilbo’s age, obliviousness to different species’ life expectancies | 6.4K | E

Bruises on the Heart - thehufflepuffhobbit

5 + 1 times, soulmate au, Thorin POV, bruises, sharing a bed, during the journey | 7.8k | E

Clue-finder - TheGrayKnight

Post-BAFTA, Dwarven courting, cultural differences | 9k | G

Queen Under the Mountain - benny_Laur

Character death (not really), Dis POV, I LOVE DIS, Requited love, Kili definitely should not be in charge of communications | 11k | Not rating

Call You Home - northerntrash

Hobbit culture, including hidden names (I like the hobbit side as it’s a popular trope that dwarves have hidden names), Thorin’s puppy-eyes, the company | 11.9K | Not rated

Planting a Hobbit - northerntrash

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, homesickness, domestic fluff, Thorin builds Bilbo a garden trope! 13k | Not rated

Forget-Me-Not - kerkusa, LordOfTheRazzles

Established relationship, post-BAFTA, healing Thorin causes temporary amnesia, Dwarf and Hobbit courting (again) | 14k | G

Defying Death (or at least the ones in charge) - Lucigoo89

I have yet to read this yet but it looks very promising! Bilbo has died and now it’s time for him to smuggle himself into Mahalia Halls to see his love again | 15.1k | T

Ere Break of Day - alexaprilgarden

During the journey, falling in love, Dwarven Ones, soulmates, everyone lives, angst | 15.6k | E

The Different Shades of Bilbo’s Love - SunnyRose

Kid Bilbo wants to be friends with Thorin, consenting adult romance later on, friends to lovers, flower language, Belladonna Took! 17.5k | G

I have loved you and you have not known it - KaavyaWriting

Miscommunication, the company come up with a way of making friends with a hobbit that is inaccurate, jealous Thorin, during the journey | 17.7k | G

You Got Me - drunkonwriting

Company-centric, dwarf culture, fluff, during the journey, friendship fic | 18.9k | G

Gardening - The Feels Whale (miscellea)

Bilbo returns to Shire, Kid!fic, cabbage patch hobbits, Bilbo’s under the impression Thorin died (he’s wrong) | 19.7k | T

My Princess, My Love, Marry Me! - mordelle

Alt universe, Princess Thorin visits the Shire, pinning Bilbo, Thorin is considered ugly by Dwarven beauty standards, smut | 36.3k | E

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Can we have creator wanting to die thing you wrote but with Xiao or venti? İ love my anemo boys. Could be a tic, or if you're lasy just write it as what you think would happen i would appriciate both if you could 🫶

Oooo!! There's an idea! Actually these two would be very interesting to write for me.

-

Venti actually in my head is most likely one of the first to find out about the creator. I've already wrote how it happened in my first oneshot for this so you can scroll my profile for it. But! It's how he acts after that really gets my brain screaming. He would be such a depressed mess, absolutely devastated with himself for harming the divine. Seeing their body turn to ash while smiling had definitely messed him up a bit.

If he finds them again then all hell breaks loose, cause he is definitely gonna try and lock them in a safe place. Though that isn't really successful since creator being so mentally broken can and will find a way to experience another death. Though they can say goodbye to falling from high places as a method cause now the winds of Teyvat just refuse to let them end up as a splatter of muscle and blood, it's especially annoying in trying to push them to safety because of Venti's active paranoia over them.

He also would be helping Nahida in spreading the word to the other archons about the situation, though he very much will take the blame for being one of the first to harm them when they first arrived.

-

Xiao? Oh god Xiao has had enough trauma this is so painful dhskdjf. Because while Xiao I can see as more of a casual follower kind of, the fact that Morax would be such a big worshipper is probably the reason why Xiao would be protective of the Primordial Mother's honor.

It's why he would have the highest kill count, both to dispell any opportunity for Morax to get angry and to uphold the creator's honorable visage.

Which is why if I feel like the more he encounters the broken creator, who is constantly seeking for a more entertaining death, the more likely he becomes...almost worried? Like he would mainly think it's just another lunatic that is super obsessed with the creator that they physically changed their image to look like them as a way to feel closer, but as time went on and each one talks about the previous' death. He would definitely become suspicious.

Normally how I think about why no one found out right away from their first time killing the creator is because it's a common thing to not look at the body of an "imposter" or "heretic" as they die, solely because seeing them in such a state while having the Primordial Mother's face would be a disgrace to them. So they typically wait until the body is gone, and by then the golden blood has disappeared.

This is how Xiao would find out, he would directly look at them as they died before him to fully understand. And upon seeing that golden does the reality of the situation hit him harder than any karmic debt pain he's felt. All those countless deaths, all those bodies that piled up from him. It was the same god, the same creator who the entirety of Teyvat loved.

It's definitely going to eat at him, practically devour his mind and almost shatter his mental state. But instead of fully breaking down, he runs to Morax, the adeptus, anyone he can think of to try to rectify the mistakes he and the others of Liyue have made.

When the creator is put into a safe place by the time the entirety of Teyvat knows, he's the first to volunteer as a guard. To make up for not protecting them like he should've from the beginning. Though this isn't gonna be good for either's mental health since the creator would just beg him to kill them, and him begging them to not say such things and to please forgive him.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 2637

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

7. Strawberry Cream Puffs

Mary

Mary doesn’t realize what she’s hearing at first. If she did, she’d hightail it right back out the front door, phone be damned. But the sound of Bucky and Steve talking is muffled and indistinct from the distance of their bedroom, and Mary hurries around the apartment, checking for her phone by the coffee maker in the kitchen and then in the couch cushions after that. “Fucking fuck,” she hisses, annoyed. She doesn’t have time for this! She has to get back to work.

It’s only when she walks down the hall to check in her bedroom and is passing the door to Bucky and Steve’s room that she figures it out.

"Bucky!"

"That’s it, Princess, just like that. You’re almost there."

Mary freezes, whole body tensing as she realizes that Bucky and Steve are not just “talking.” Her face flushes, arousal swirling hard and sudden in her core at the sounds.

“Fuck, fuck … unhshit."

That’s Steve moaning. He sounds totally gone for whatever Bucky’s doing to him (God, Mary wishes she could see what Bucky’s doing to him). Against all common decency, she takes a step closer, putting her ear millimeters from the door. She can hear their heavy breathing, can hear the wet sounds of them fucking. Steve is making all sorts of obscene sounds, and Bucky’s talking to him, encouraging him in a dark, goading voice that Mary’s only ever heard the barest hint of.

"Ride Daddy’s hand, thaat’s it. Fuck back on it. Good girl."

Oh. my. god. Mary’s eyes go wide and her panties are suddenly, horribly wet. She forces herself to step away, then hears Steve wailing and grunting like he’s coming. Maybe he is, she doesn’t stay to find out.

Her face is flaming hot as she hurries into her room. And of-fucking-course: there’s her phone, still sitting plugged into the nightstand. She scowls at it, as if it’s the phone’s fault that she’s just witnessed what she has.

Wet panties don’t feel great, so she shucks her leggings off and changes, then grabs her phone and cautiously makes her way back out into the hall. Bucky and Steve are still in their room—she can hear them talking in there (this time only talking). But Mary knows they both have freakishly good hearing, so she’s dreadfully careful as she sneaks back out of the apartment. If they catch her now, the jig’ll be up. There’s no way in hell Bucky won’t take one look at her face and know. Then he’ll tell Steve, of course, because those two freaking live in each other’s skin. And then Mary’ll have to face them every day with the common knowledge between the three of them that she knows Bucky calls Steve a “good girl” in bed.

She makes it out of the apartment unnoticed, goes back to work, and spends most of her shift in a distracted daze, messing up more than one coffee order as she contemplates why she finds it so hot.

Bucky

It’s the weekend, so after Bucky’s done “teaching” his husband in bed that morning, they both get dressed and head out for their usual Saturday routine of going to the gym together.

Bucky’s not as obsessed with lifting as Steve is, so he finishes first and sits by the overpriced juice bar, entertaining himself with a little sample cup of some green apple-kale concoction and the view of his sweaty husband’s backside as he does weighted squats. “Looking good, Cap!” he calls out, loud enough for Steve to hear. Steve shoots him a peevish glance from across the way, which Bucky knows means Shut the fuck up. You’re so embarrassing. Bucky snickers and brings his green juice up for another sip.

“Been discharged for over a decade and you’re still using that,” Steve grumps at him when he’s finished and they’re walking out of the gym.

Bucky hums and kisses him on the cheek. “It suits you.” They join hands and start off down the sidewalk. Their Saturday morning routine is to get coffee after a workout—Bucky’s iced, Steve’s with whatever horrifically sugary additives he can think up. “My baby made Captain at twenty-five. That’s fucking hot.” He sees Steve’s blush and feels accomplished. “Plus, I know you like it.”

“Don’t hear me calling you Sergeant.”

“That’s cause I’m higher rank than you and you know it,” Bucky quips, and the two of them share a saucy grin that kind of makes Bucky want to shove Steve up against the nearest building and “teach” him something else. He refrains. “Have you told her we served?” he asks, referring to Mary. He’s steering them in the direction of the café where she works, rather than their usual place, and he’s sure Steve notices.

“No. But we haven’t gotten much into the details about anything.” Steve’s tone is slightly disapproving. “You let her avoid us with too much streaming."

Steve’s not wrong. They are halfway through the third season of Game of Thrones. Bucky squeezes Steve’s right hand with his left, indicating the metal arm. “She hasn’t asked about this.”

“S’probably just trying to be polite.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Bucky’s arm is StarkTech, so even though he’s a veteran with an amputation, he doesn’t come off that way to strangers at first glance. He gets passed over for the usual silent deference. And when people do clock the arm, he’s more likely to get stares and questions, rather than pity. He’s noticed Mary looking a few times, but she hasn’t said anything.

“You’re in long sleeves all the time, Babe,” Steve says. “She’ll ask when the weather warms up, I bet.”

“Yeah.” Bucky remembers why he likes winter so much. “… You think she’ll be with us that long?”

Steve looks over at him. “Honestly? Yeah. I do. She’s got a lot of issues, Buck. Have you noticed her eating habits?”

Bucky frowns. “I mean, she’s picky …”

“She restricts,” Steve corrects. “Her counselor called the other day and recommended we file a petition to extend the custody order.”

“Really? We’re not even halfway through it yet.”

“I know.” Steve twists his lips unhappily, looking down at the pavement as the walk. “Linda said we should try and talk to her about it now, rather than later. Try and frame it in a positive way.”

Bucky scoffs. “She’s gonna throw a fit!” (She does about most things.) “It’d be better if you or Linda brought it up,” he grumbles. “She hates me.”

“Hey.” Steve stops walking, stilling Bucky with a hand to his shoulder. “Hey. She does not. She’s just reacting to you cause you don’t pull any punches. I mean imagine how scary it must be, what we’re asking of her.”

Bucky frowns as he thinks about it. “I guess.”

“We bring her in, telling her she’s an incapable mess and that her life’s a shambles, and then she’s supposed to just one hundred percent trust us?”

"Well when you put it like that,” Bucky grumps. Not like they haven’t been doing absolutely everything in their power to show this woman that they’re not pervert serial killers, or whatever.

“Plus, she’s embarrassed about it. About what she needs.”

Bucky grunts, thinking back to how he’d felt when he was a kid and got placed on the spectrum. “You think evenings are helping?” he asks, looking to Steve for reassurance. “I’ve been trying to keep it as light as I know how …"

“Babe, aw. C’mere.” Steve pulls him in for a big hug and presses his face against Bucky’s neck. “Of course evenings are helping.”

“Steeve! Gross! Get off me, you’re all—"

“Shuddup,” Steve scolds quietly. He kisses his cheek, then pulls back with smiling eyes. “You’re a good Dom, Buck. Even a normie like me can tell that.”

Bucky’s insides warm at the praise, but he masks it with a theatrical scowl and a shove to Steve’s chest. “You’re all sweaty.”

“So are you, Jerk.” Steve takes his hand again and pulls him along. “It’s slow going, but it’s going. We just gotta give it time.”

Bucky grumbles quietly. They both know that giving anything time is not his forte. A few shops down, the café comes into sight, and Steve gives his hand a squeeze. “You know, she did tell me the other day that she thinks you’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

“She said that?” Bucky blurts before he can catch himself. Steve’s smirk widens and Bucky drops his hand. “Punk,” he huffs, pushing past him to open the café’s door and hold it for his husband.

The smell assaults them as soon as they step inside. It smells like heaven; like coffee beans and yeast, warm spices and flaky pastries. Bucky looks for Mary at the service counter, but when he doesn’t immediately see her he joins Steve in front of the pastry case to drool over said pastries.

“Oh my God,” Steve moans. “How’m I gonna choose?”

“How is my BMI not gonna go up with this chick?” Bucky agrees.

The case is stocked full for the Saturday brunch rush. Bucky’s eyes flit between the shiny-glazed doughnuts, the already-crumbling scones, the sugar-crusted muffins, and the cheese-stuffed Danish. “Fuuck,” he breathes, imagining a mouthful of cream cheese and dough. Steve makes a similar sound right next to him.

“Hey,” a sharp voice cuts in. “No jerking off to the baked goods. This is a family establishment."

Bucky’s eyes shoot up at the sound of Mary’s voice, then he grins as her words register. This is the first time he’s ever heard her use sexual innuendo. “Well I dunno …” he drawls. “That cream filling really gets Steve going.” Steve shoots him a dirty glare and Bucky thrills a little at the blush he can see creeping up the big lunk’s neck. So fucking easy. He looks back to Mary: She’s got her hair up in a sporty ponytail today, and there’s something shiny on her lips that makes them look extra plump. “How’s your shift going?” he asks, tearing his eyes away from her mouth.

“Good.” She offers him a little smile for asking, which is something she wouldn’t have done two weeks ago. She’s been resentful up until recently, of Bucky and Steve keeping such close tabs on her. Bucky’s hopeful though, because lately it seems like she’s taking to it. Maybe even mellowing out. “You guys look like you’ve been working out,” she says. The way her eyes sweep over them is appreciative, lingering on their chests and arms. 

Bucky can’t help it; he swells a little with ego. “Worked up an appetite,” he agrees. “Stevie and I usually go to a coffee shop that closer to the gym, but ever since we discovered this place …” Since we discovered you, he wants to say. “Well, let’s just say it doesn’t hold a candle to here. This place’s got better pastries—cuter baristas, too.” He winks at her and watches in satisfaction as she flusters and looks away, unable to keep from smiling just a little bit. As a Dom, Bucky’s always been drawn to that kinda thing. A girl who can’t take a compliment is damn tempting. It’s that shy little blushing smile that does it; it makes him want to tie her down in his bed, take her apart bit by bit while he forces her to cum and take compliments over and over again.

Bucky shakes himself out of it when he hears Steve asking Mary what she recommends from the case that morning.”Oh! Well, let me see…” She gives the pastry case some consideration. The way her lips purse in a thoughtful moue as she thinks seriously about it is very cute. “Hm, maybe the frangipane mousseline …  no! Oh, no, get the cream puffs. I made strawberry and raspberry ones today!”

Her enthusiasm is infectious, and Bucky but help and smile back at her. “Right. Two of those, then. And our usual coffee order.” He pays for the order and she starts flitting around making their drinks. On the other side of the counter, Bucky glances over to Steve. “Gotta get that cream filling,” he murmurs, and Steve rolls his eyes and tells him he’s a lousy human being.

Later on, Bucky goes to meet Mary after her shift ends. It’s been unseasonably cold for October and it had sleeted a bit during the afternoon earlier in the day. There’s a slick patch of sidewalk just outside the café’s front doors, which Bucky avoids but Mary doesn’t. It catches her off guard and her feet go out from under her in a flash. Bucky doesn’t think, he just reacts, catching her in his arms and yanking her in against his body. She gasps and grabs onto him, and once they’ve caught their footing, they’re just left standing there on the sidewalk, pressed as close together as they’ve ever been. Mary’s cheeks color so prettily, and her lips are parted, and they’ve still got some of that shiny whatever-it-is smeared on them, making them look vulnerable and kissable … Bucky’s struck hard by the sudden urge to take.

For once, he gives in to his urges.

Her reaction is a tightening of fingers on his jacket and a tiny gasp against his mouth. Bucky moves his lips against hers, urging her to respond. He’s kind of expecting her to push away, so he’s pleasantly surprised when she makes a sweet little noise in her throat and starts kissing back.

The shiny stuff, it turns out, is strawberry, and he’s not sure if he knows that more through taste or smell. Mary’s lips are so soft and so goddamned plush, her mouth incredibly yielding under his. It’s been years since Bucky’s kissed a woman, and he thrills with how small she is in his arms, how smooth the skin of her face is where it touches his. Everything about the way she opens up to him makes him think about how easy it’d be to take her apart in other ways. She whimpers against his mouth again, and that’s what it is about women that he misses, Bucky thinks. They’re such easy prey. The predator in Bucky likes that. He tries to remember to tell Steve that later. When he dares to swipe out with his tongue, she looses the tiniest little sigh and lets him in.

Dominant satisfaction at the small victory zips through him, and he moves his hands on her, down to her waist and around to the small of her back. He pulls her against him, just a firm tug into where they’re already pretty much pressed together. She whimpers and pants into his mouth and rubs against him needily, and Bucky has to pull back at the way that reaction makes blood rush from his head to other places.

He doesn’t want to be a creep, after all, but a submissive woman whimpering into his mouth and rubbing up on him like that can really only make one thing happen.

They’re left standing only inches apart, panting into each other’s faces. Bucky’s still holding her steady but she manages to find her footing. He pulls his hands back to himself.

Mary’s flushed and her lips are still parted. The way she’s looking up at him makes it very hard for Bucky not to just grab her again. He manages not to, offering her a crooked smile. “Well. That was … unexpected.”

“Yeah,” she breathes. Absently, she licks her lips, almost as if she’s trying to taste what just happened. “Yeah it was.”

They lock eyes, and Bucky knows from that look that he doesn’t have to bother asking if it was okay that he kissed her. She liked it.

They wind up walking home holding hands, Bucky pushing back a grin the entire time like a goddamn virgin.

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[genderqueerdykes]

I really really appreciate the posts about fat acceptance and stuff. I used to be pretty underweight but I've definitely gained weight (and muscle too I'm sure) on HRT, the way it sits/distrubuted on me is something that is hard to see sometimes and there's a lot of parental commentary about fat people that needs to be worked on.

hey, you're welcome! i'm glad you agree

gaining weight isn't always bad, in fact for many people, it can be an outright blessing. people can have a wide variety of conditions that can lead them to being chronically underweight, and putting on even a few pounds was seen as a huge accomplishment and a safety net. my best friend is this way

even if it's not required for one's health, putting on weight isn't inherently bad. every person's body has a range in which it attempts to naturally sit for their baseline weight. this will vary greatly from person to person based off of activity levels, hormone levels, genetics, individual dietary needs vs. dietary intake, digestive issues, eating disorders, allergies, food intolerance, neurodivergence, developmental disorders, and more.

the way i see it is it becomes very obvious to a person when their weight has actually come to negatively affect them. this will be marked in a decline in energy, feeling fatigued and malaise most of the time, headaches, difficulty getting out of bed, increased chronic pain including pain while standing or walking, breathing difficulties, difficulty walking/moving long distances for reasons not due to joint or connective tissue health, becoming pre/diabetic suddenly if one was not before, and/or other health complications that were not present before the amount of weight was gained

most fat, chubby, etc. people are sitting well within the healthy range for their body without realizing it. our bodies are great at telling us what they need it's just hard to listen when we're busy, exhausted, and/or neurodivergent. many people have a good idea of what their body needs but get talked or shamed out of doing what's right for them. parents, like you said, are especially uptight and strict about weight for seemingly no reason.

i've always been fat my whole life. once i reached my teen years i began to hover around the 300 lb range and that's where i've always been. my mom was fat and so was my dad, and both of their families. my mom projected so much of her fatphobia on to me it was unreal. she would critcize me any time i wanted a snack by asking "you're eating again?" and other dumb shit. children are growing and active, they need a lot of food, especially for good brain function (yes, our brains need fuel, revolutionary concept, i know)

i don't understand why parents desperately NEED their children to be physically attractive to them. can we talk about this? i know it's uncomfortable but this is a huge parental issue. i am SO tired of hearing parents go ON AND ON about how "beautiful" or "handsome" their children are. it's extremely creepy, there's no reason to focus on their appearance like that. some parents become SO distressed when their children are not conventionally attractive, as if it makes them less attractive by proxy. it's insanely creepy. a child's conventional beauty or lack there of should be of no concern to a parent- why do some parents obsess over this? it gives the child severe body image issues and it's not a good level of vanity to project on to a kid

anyway, it's okay to be fat, especially if you find you're not struggling with pain or mobility. some people will have pain and mobility issues no matter what weight they're at. everyone's different. someone's weight is their own concern and nobody else's, unless there is medical significance in which case it is between them and their medical team. not every fat person has health issues due to their weight, in fact, most do not. it's okay to let your body be the weight it wants to be

nobody should have to constantly feel like they have to be fighting their own biology just to look "more attractive". people are attractive when they look the most like their real, natural selves. it's way more flattering and it's better for the individual. don't expect other people to go through hell just to look "good". just let people be themselves. let people feel good, and feel good about themselves. worry about yourselves when it comes to appearance

anyway, thank you for the feedback, i really appreciate it! i will always be here for other fat folk because i've gone through many interesting situations with diet and health and my weight always sits around the 300 mark give or take 20 lbs in either direction. my lowest weight as an adult was 260 lbs. my highest was 360. muscle tissue plays a huge factor in this right now for me. i have clothes in my closet that range from literally Small all the way up to XXXL and they all fit me just fine. weight isn't as big of a deal as people think it is, it's a very neutral thing most of the time

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃-𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒.

pairing: coriolanus snow x toxic!fem!reader

summary: someone always throw a spanner in her works, to achieve her biggest dream —being coriolanus’ lover, wife and claiming power. luckily, y/n is not on the loser side when it comes to playing. 

trigger warnings (overall): mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she’s doing nasty things), reader’s family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, blood, violence, killing people, hunger games stuff, i just love volumnia gaul, reader hates lucy gray and everybody who’s around coriolanus, mental health problems mentioned such as psychotism, domestic violence mentioned, drugs, mention of sexual fantasies. 

trigger warnings (in this part): toxic!reader, reader meets lucy gray for the first time, reader hates arachne, DEATH, blood, cruelty against people, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, unhealthy body image, drugs, SMUT, p in v, fingering, poorly written smut.  

prologue. part 1. part 2.

y/n squirmed on the inside. 

it was strange, but not unusual. y/n always squirmed when she went to the zoo, seeing animals in locked cages was not her kind of pleasure. it didn’t help that the media was there too, so she had to play nice in front of everyone. probably she could never warn lucy gray, not to mention that in front of coriolanus. if she ever said a word about executing her from the picture in any sort of ways, lucy gray was surely the tricky bitch who would spill it to him. and that was the last thing she needed. y/n sighed, blinking a couple of times before she turned to the grid of the cage the tributes were held –being nice to not to get unveiled was truly a tiring thing. but at least, lucy gray wasn’t the one who got to go to dinner with coriolanus. no, not on her watch. 

“are you feeling okay, y/n?” did she look not okay? that can’t be possible. even if her uterus were eating her up and her corset tried to pierce her ribcage, y/n’s rule that she should never look like a damsel in distress, she just shook her head. 

“everything’s fine, corio. will you introduce me to lucy gray?” 

so here we go. 

safe to say, lucy gray was pretty good looking. y/n had to admit this, she could state anything about anybody, but being pretty was really objective, based on the standards. of course, not as good- and well-looking as someone from the capitol, anyone could always judge if a person was from the capitol or one of the districts. even people from the first and second district were much more… chav. lucy gray was skinny, underfed and messy, how could she ever compare with y/n? nevertheless, she had to make sure that lucy gray doesn’t think of herself as though she believed she was. it was important for het to not become a main character in her game. y/n saw the whole world as a big, never-ending set of games, because it was, depending on how seriously people took it. because in the world, there were many games. games about money, about power, about life and death, and about control. and lucy gray wasn’t the one who had connections. but now wasn’t the time to beef, if lucy gray blows off at the games, coriolanus will never get the plinth-prize, and y/n didn’t had that much time and space to find out something for that, too. so lucy gray had to survive. y/n just had to make sure that the end justifies the means, and she was nothing but a tool to get money and power. 

sejanus was already showing food for marcus. shit, sejanus… y/n’s mind was bugging, she still didn’t know what to do with him. if her game was a table of chess and coriolanus was the rook on the table, then sejanus was the queen… or the king. he could take a simple checkmate on all of her moves, no matter what. yes, sejanus was following coriolanus with getting food to his tribute, but only one bad move from him was enough to screw up all of her plans. and sure, he had noble parents, and he could pull out his head from the hook, but not coriolanus. and against the fact with the two being good friends, blood was still thicker than water. 

“lucy gray, this is my good friend, y/n y/l/n.” and his soon-to-be wife and lover. 

“hello, y/n.” act casual, act natural. don’t talk about feeling sorry for fucking around the mayor’s daughter and her lover, this isn’t announced. never let them know you did research all night. 

“hi, lucy gray. how are you feeling? probably… not so good because of this cage.”

“i’m pretty fine, thank you. just hungry a little bit.” 

“oh, i brought you food. y/n and i thought about getting you food.”

“yes. you have to be strong for the games.” if you dare to die, i’m going to kill you myself. how could anybody do this small talk for so long? words didn’t came into her mouth, she wasn’t the type who could talk for hours about nothing. there were days when she was alone with the maids in the house, or upstairs, and she didn’t talk for days if nobody bothered her. 

“thank you so much.” lucy gray whispered, taking the cookie, offering one to her. y/n looked at the cookie, then her. looking at the cameras, she shook her head. eating a cookie with a tribute? if somebody sees this, she will be treated equally as the other students, and she won't let it. she was now a working woman, one of the workers of volumnia gaul, what would she say if she saw this? 

“oh, no… i can’t eat cookies. i just had breakfast.” she wasn't in the mood to eat cookies with this girl, watching how arachne played with her tribute was more interesting. 

“you said you skipped breakfast because you slept in.” looking at coriolanus, y/n slapped herself in her mind. her bleeding days were killing her brain, and no medicine could make her concentrate enough. 

“uhm, yeah, but i ate at work. really, we bought the cookies and the food for you, so–” what the fuck was with her? were the pills she took yesterday night too strong? 

“y/n, did you eat or not?” coriolanus’ question and his worried face made her… satisfied. not because he was worrying about her, but because he was busy with her. y/n blinked up, shrugging her shoulders. thinking about he’s gonna be worried about her when they’re gonna be a couple, even pregnant, it was pure pleasure. 

“it’s alright, corio. i will eat when i get home, and i will eat at night, on our date.” she whispered, audible enough to lucy gray. holding his hand, she hoped she reassured her. “really, it’s nothing. let’s… care about lucy gray, she’s your tribute.” 

as coriolanus crouched down to her, y/n wanted to do the same, but lucretius flickerman was faster, approaching her with his loyal cameramen. 

“...and what a surprise that we are seeing a true noble, a noble from the noble, y/n y/l/n! tell me, how are you here?” he asked, y/n tried not to look into the camera as he almost showed the microphone into her mouth. 

“i just accompanied coriolanus and the others from the school. as well as they’re his friends and classmates, they’re my friends, too.” 

“how cute! tell me y/n, if you could bet on one of the tributes, perhaps even supporting them, who would you choose?” tricky question, tricky question! if everybody sees this, hyping up coriolanus wasn’t a bad idea. 

“i think… it’s a good question. some of them, such as marcus and lucy gray. i think they’re good. marcus seems strong, and lucy gray… she surely knows more than just singing.” she wanted to punch the cameramen, everybody could surely see how white her teeth were. 

“it’s really interesting… also, we heard a rumor that you work with volumnia gaul now. is it interesting to see how the games improve?” trying not to furrow her eyebrows, y/n looked at lucretius. 

“my work at dr. gaul and everything that happens there is strictly confidential. i can’t say anything about the games, but it’s gonna be really entertaining.” 

“thank you so much, lady y/l/n! now, let’s see how–” 

clunk! the sounds of iron and glass clashing catched the showman’s ears too, looking into the direction. y/n couldn’t decide to laugh or look terrified at the sight of the blood that was mounting from arachne’s neck. standing at the grid of the cage, she saw as coriolanus hurried to help arachne. he was still running to help her, a really, really good man… y/n knew why she loved him. 

“what the hell happened?” lucy gray whispered to her, making her shake out from her state. looking at her, y/n clenched her jaw. 

“i’m going there. stay away from that girl who stabbed her.” 

stepping to the scene, y/n crouched down too, caring about not touching the soiled ground with her silk skirt, wondering about the color of the blood. a big pool, arachne’s life. one hand still around the bottle, she was smart enough to keep it in, but she couldn’t like with a broken bottle in her neck forever! sardonic slut, making jokes of everyone, licking up and kicking down. i know you talked about me when i wasn’t near, calling me a psycho, and that i was my parent’s pet and mentally disabled for being a private student. the truth is, i never could stand that perfidious snake-face of yours. how could you ever face the mirror in the morning without breaking it with your eyesight? without spitting on yourself? 

“y/n, what are we gonna do?” coriolanus asked her. his hands were shaking, one at her neck. she brushed arachne’s hair, trying to patch up the blood with her handkerchief, wiping her eyes like she was crying. everybody was rushing from them and the cage, peacekeepers were surrounding them. 

“i don’t know, dear… i am so sorry, arachne was such a good friend of yours…” 

“somebody help, please!” he cried out, making her look away, to the exact point as one of the men shot the stabbing tribute girl in the stomach. well, at least lucy gray didn’t have to worry about her any longer. “what the fuck is happening, y/n?” 

“i don’t know, i don’t know!” she knew exactly. just as the peacekeepers grabbed coriolanus’ and her arm to drag them away, y/n signed them to let her go. “i just… i just want to look at her, please, for the last time.” 

“you only got one minute. your little friend stays here.” 

stepping over arachne’s body, she lowered down to see the light gone from arachne’s eyes. as her hair covered her face, y/n tried to press down the smile as she thought about her list. look at you, arachne… mocking everybody, and now you became the prey? deep down, you wanted to die like this, didn’t you? as a victim. so everybody can forget how sordid you are. nobody will ever know the truth about what you did, playing with that filthy girl’s food, what did you think she will do? jump around and beg for you? now, everybody only can say how clever and beauty you were, how hard you tried to get the fucking plinth prize, cracking their hands as they look at each other at your funeral. nobody will ask why the girl stabbed you, thanks to the contrary of the capitol and the districts, but hey, that’s why we love being distinguished, isn’t it? and don’t worry, i’ll keep your secrets, and you don’t even have to thank me crane, because i am a good friend. a really good one. 

reaching for her eyelids, y/n slowly pulled them down. she was never near a dead body, and the thought of it disgusted her a little bit. she wasn’t a killer, she was… a gamer. a really good one. the blood almost spilled on her shoes, how filthy. 

turning back to coriolanus as they walked out, she leant her head on his shoulder. instantly thinking about the date, would it be morbid to kiss upon their dead friend’s corpse? arachne has nothing to do with this. well, she had nothing to do with this. 

“are you okay, dear?” she asked from him, looking up to him. 

“yes, it’s just… i still can’t perceive what happened. and you, are you okay?” coriolanus muttered as they sat down on one of the benches in the park. cars were honking, wheels clashing against the gravel; the ambulance arrived. a hearse could be better, but y/n couldn’t blame them. it was strange to see clemensia and arachne get out of the picture, they were sidekicks for too long. 

“i am okay, thanks.” 

“you just saw her dying, and went back, why did you do that?” looking at him, coriolanus shook his head. “i’m sorry y/n, i shouldn’t ask you that, it’s just… i was so terrified, maybe i am still right now.” 

“i just… wanted to say goodbye. arachne was a little bit mocky all the time, but… she was a friend. a good one.” her sound was a little bit catatonic in her head, all the time she told a lie. 

“you are right. sorry for asking this, really, i didn’t have the spirit to go back there.” 

“don’t worry, corio. maybe she shouldn’t play with that girl… you know how cruel the games can be.”

“you are right, y/n. the games are stressful for everybody.” y/n nodded, reaching for his hand. 

“do you have the stomach for tonight? i know this is horrible, but… maybe we can get each other into a better mood.” 

looking at her, she tried to smile a little bit. not a too big, unnatural smile compared to the fact that somebody just died, and not even a poker face like she didn’t fucking care about what happened. 

“of course i have the stomach, it would be my pleasure, y/n. i just have to go home to change.” coriolanus answered, making y/n truly, truly happy. 

“it’s really good to hear.” 

a death is one thing, but the future is another. 

she had to make the move, arachne’s death could slow down things. hortensia pulled her hair a little bit, curling it with little clips, swirling her locks around heated sticks. this night had to be perfect, exactly because of what happened. running through her eyebrows with a clipper, she looked at the clock –she had still an hour, her clothes laid on her bed. 

“you are gonna be so beautiful, miss y/l/n.” the maid praised her as she lined her eyebrows, spraying perfume on her wrists and behind her ears. morphia did the same when she was meeting timothé, and they were together, didn’t they? rubbing nacre powder over her eyelids, she was ready. 

“could you pull my corset tighter, hortensia? please.” standing up, she held onto the pillar of her bed. 

“are you sure, miss y/l/n? i’m afraid that–”

“i am sure, hortensia. we will be afraid if coriolanus snow won't like my appearance.” 

it was painful. feeling her bowels sticking together, framed by her bones that dug into her stomach and lungs, but at least she looked desirable. 

“are you feeling alright, miss y/l/n?” 

“of course, i’m fine. thank you.” she muttered as the maid helped her pick up the clothes. a red dress, slightly slit up but not too long to look like a prostitute, a couple of black heels, not too high to fall in them. suddenly the door creaked, it was her mother. a glass of wine in her hand, she leaned on the doorframe, a silly smile on her face. 

“look at my little girl, hortensia. isn’t she beautiful and adorable?” she asked, making the maid turn to her. 

“she’s beautiful, lady y/l/n.” 

“she already told me that, mommy.” y/n muttered, a little bit annoyed at the fact that her mother looked up and down on her like a piece of meat. sure, everybody always measured her like she was one, but her own family could at least have a little dignity for each other. 

“it’s natural that you are stressed. is that a corset on you?” lorelei asked, placing down her cup to brush out the dress, the wrinkles on the waist area were long gone. 

“thanks.” y/n responded. 

“i was just as terrified as you before i met your father, i can tell you, y/n. but it went well, because the three of you are here, aren’t you?” she giggled, making y/n roll her eyes. 

“don’t you have to watch the tv, mommy?” she turned to her as hortensia cleaned her shoes. 

“i know you don’t want me here, my dear. and it’s perfectly fine that you want to concentrate on your little date today.” it’s not only a stupid little date, it’s the whole matter of my future. “also, i know that you want to marry coriolanus snow, but honey, is he really worth it?” 

y/n turned, crouching in front of her mother; holding her hand as hortensia walked out, she knew her more than her mother. y/n could bear many things, but questioning her love was the main thing that set her mind on fire. looking at the place her mother stood only a couple of minutes ago, the hole of the butter knife got her eyesight. she looked like her mother too much, staring at her was like staring at the life she could get, but so much better. 

“mommy, please. if you want to question me, talk with father about it. otherwise, never doubt me, ever.” talking with long, stiff words, y/n brushed her mother’s hand. “do you understand me?” 

for a moment, she thought that her mother was gonna slap her, but instead, lorelei giggled. as she searched for her glass. 

“you are much more determined than morphia, my dear. i hope your date will go well, the chauffeur is yours tonight. if snow comes too, then… don’t make much noise. your father won't be here tonight anyway, but i’d like to get some sleep.” she said, turning out on the door, closing it. hortensia asked if she could come in, making y/n nod. looking onto the picture where she and coriolanus stood, she didn’t even realize her heart was nearly beating out of her ribcage. picking up her white, snow-like stole, spraying perfume on herself, hortensia straightened her dress, escorting her down the stairs. 

the place coriolanus offered wasn’t a big deal, but that’s what she needed. as long as they could talk without one of her father’s workers or her mother’s friends interrupting them, it was fine. helping her take off her stole and pull out the chair for her like a gentleman, y/n asked for an easy meal. not being able to think with a full stomach was one point of that, but the other was the meaning of the meal. watching his father’s guests taught her that when somebody wanted to have breakfast, lunch, dinner or even a fucking tea party, it wasn’t about food, no. food was just the cloak to cover up nasty things. 

“are you feeling alright?” coriolanus asked her as they got their food. y/n dug into hers, then looked up at him, smiling. he didn’t look like a half-god; he looked like apollo himself. the dim light sculpted his cheeks and his lips, y/n wanted to dig into his hair between two messy kisses, and although she was a virgin, she could imagine how it was like to have him thrust into her, giving out the animal-like noises she remembered in her dreams. 

“of course, this is a really lovely place. i am so happy that we are here, i wanted to do this for so long.” she answered, placing down her fork as she held his hand. 

“for so long? how long, y/n?” he teasingly smiled, making y/n look away. for a lifetime, baby. 

“from the moment… you helped me up in the hall of the college.” 

“so from the moment we first met?” 

“no, we met before! i…” will the truth hurt him? “...i noticed you at a dinner we attended with my family.” she was fourteen, and coriolanus moved things in her like nobody else. probably that was the time when the chemicals in her brain made her difficult, nearly banging her head against the wall as she couldn’t even understand herself.

“which one?” 

“two years ago.” a little lie couldn’t hurt anybody. 

“it’s gonna surprise you, but… i noticed you too, y/n. i wanted to talk to you, but you had to escort your sister, and my grandma said that it’s not appropriate.” 

“really? that’s so… inevitable, don’t you think?”

“i don’t know about these things so much, y/n. but i think you are so beautiful.” 

“thank you so much. you look also handsome, coriolanus. and… i want to talk about something, something that… can really, really influence our future.” 

“really?” he asked, making y/n slightly lift her eyebrows. oh god, be not only a fling, y/n. 

“yes, of course! you know, my family takes marriage really seriously, and…” seeing the slight worry on his face, y/n held his hand again. “i really don’t want to rush you, my dear. it’s just, my father gave his blessing when i told him that we are going on a date.” well, he’s not really, but he will. cyril will even thank her when she’s gonna be the first lady of panem. 

“that’s wonderful, y/n! you know, i’d never guess that, because, you know… how me and my family, and my father–”

“corio, please. what happened in the past didn’t depend on you. it was a real, gigantic catastrophe.” those wankers took everything away from us. “who would have guessed what’s gonna happen with the thirteenth district? your family bet on the wrong horse, but sometimes, it happens.” 

“i know, but it’s still my job to get money to help my family.” coriolanus answered, taking a sip from his wine. “you know, y/n, this plinth-prize thing is tiring me out as hell, and i really don’t know what to do. it can seem like i’m in control, but all i see are walls and i keep clashing into them. i knew i had a big chance to get that prize, and i hoped that things would turn out in a good way, but… i don’t know, it’s like a curse.” 

y/n nodded, leaning on her hands, brushing the ring on her middle finger. her ring finger was reserved from the moment she saw coriolanus. 

“i hope i’m not boring you, y/n, but–”

“no, of course you don’t! it is my pleasure that you share your concerns with me, although i can’t do much. i wanted to offer my help, but things happened too fast, and volumnia has eyes everywhere. i still don’t know what she’s going to think about today, when i lucretius asked me up. being asked before cameras is not my type.” 

“don’t worry, i don’t like him either. but he’s gonna present the whole games, so i have to get used to it.” 

“you will, my dear, and i have no doubts about that.” she smiled, eating some more. trying to get her foot more comfortable as the heels burned her soles, she accidentally knocked into coriolanus’ legs, making her look up at him. “oh my, sorry, it’s just…”

“don’t worry, y/n. does your feet hurt in those heels? i can’t comprehend that even when tigris are wearing them, they look awful to walk in.” 

“no, it’s perfectly fine.” noble people doesn’t have to dig in the mine or sweat in the factories, but as hard to swallow a pill, the hard work is still their task –redistribution between districts and control all the twelve districts are really hard, while they have to wear uncomfortable shoes and suits, smiling every time even if the question is the most humiliating shit ever. deep down everyone in every district knew that if the capitolium lashed out, there wouldn’t be the slightest hope of survival.

“if you say so… and, how is the work with volumnia?”

“well, i can’t tell you secrets, but… she’s pretty okay.” she’s an animal. she would be ready anytime to pull my stomach out through my throat if i’d tell anything about what’s going inside there. “her ways are interesting, i admit that, nevertheless, she’s a mastermind.” 

“i’d like to work beside a mastermind, or to talk with a mastermind.” silly boy, he was already dating with one right now. but even y/n didn’t know that. she never knew any other mindset than hers. 

after dinner, coriolanus paid and helped her out of the restaurant. the city lights were dim and almost turned off, but the night didn’t end, not for them. 

“thank you, corio. this was a lovely, lovely night.” she whispered, putting her hand on his shoulder as they stood before each other. she imagined as they stepped out from even such a little restaurant, photos flashing around them, people admiring them as they sat in the car to go home to a big castle or mansion. 

“thank you for coming, y/n. and give my greetings and thankfulness to your father.” leaning down, more like supporting than holding her jawline gently with his fingers, he pressed a kiss on her forehead, y/n’s knees brushed in her excitement. only coriolanus could bring out this state from her, nobody and nothing else. she was a diamond under pressure, and coriolanus was the last push she always needed to be more perfect. as he ended the soft kiss, y/n pursed her lips, looked at his eyes, then his lips. and the next move surprised her even, tearing her soul into pieces in a good way. 

coriolanus lifted up her face by her chin to kiss her. so this was it? this is what true love feels like? this is what fulfilled love and devotion feels like? he was so soft, she wanted to bite into his skin, but instead, her lips just brushed his, slimming down her hand to his chest, as he softly grabbed her neck to make her stay. oh my, y/n thought, sighing as she sipped a fresh bite of air through her nose. she didn’t want to end this, no. not tonight. god knows when they can be together again, be together like this. 

behind them, a car honked. despite being a good chauffeur, helius isn’t the best at timing, y/n thought as she almost rolled her eyes annoyed by her chauffeur, brushing coriolanus’ face to make him stop. 

“this is your car? sorry, i’m…” 

“come with me, corio.” she whispered, brushing her lips against his chin. 

“are you sure about that? your parents–” y/n grabbed his hand, slowly dragging him to the car as helius opened the door for them. coriolanus helped her get in, as the car started to drive, y/n turned to coriolanus. they began to kiss again, she tried to brush her tongue to his, but now he was the one who pushed her away gently, trying to brush his hair to look somehow collected. “y/n, your parents are home? i can’t be respectful enough if they see that i’m eating up their daughter.” 

“my father isn't home, and my mother is sleeping now. please, dear…” she tried to lean over him, it was impossible because of the height difference. coriolanus smiled, brushing her face. 

“how could i say no to you after this?” he said, letting her bury her lips into hers for the rest of the ride. arriving home, y/n nodded to helius as he could now retire for the rest of the night. stepping up on the marble front garden fastly, she opened the door. placing her finger before her lips, she signed to coriolanus to be quiet, hurrying up on the stairs to her room. y/n was glad that hortensia did her job and tidied up the place, so all they had to do was lie down and continue what they began. 

“you are so beautiful”, coriolanus moaned as he peeled down his coat and his jacket, y/n threw her stole onto the dressing table. 

“you are so handsome”, y/n whispered, kicking off her shitty but glamorous shoes, helping him unbutton his shirt as she kissed his jawline. something strange took over her mind; if someone asked her what she’s going to do tomorrow, she couldn’t answer, couldn’t form even a single thought. it was so animalistic, just as she hovered over coriolanus, sitting on his hips as she tried to unzip her dress, as coriolanus reached for it to help her, y/n remembered that she had a corset on. leaning away from him, she faced the mirror on the dressing table. 

“what’s the matter, y/n? did i do something?” he asked, reaching after her as she tried to pull it off without him noticing, but it was impossible even for her. “y/n, what are you doing? is that… holy, you wear a corset?” 

“yes, but… don’t worry, it’s just because…” who the fuck was her? she wasn’t bragging, why did she slip apart? she stopped her thoughts as coriolanus crawled behind her, helping her unzip her red dress, kissing her hair from behind. 

“y/n, i hope you know that you don’t need that.” coriolanus muttered, grabbing the ropes of the corset to ease it around her form. kissing her hair again, then moving around to get to her cheeks. as he reached her lips, the corset was undone, thrown into the corner of the room. “it can stay there, love. look at yourself, how beautiful you are, the girl i fell in love with.” 

looking into the mirror, it always saw makeup and craziness, and now… look at yourself, y/n, getting what you wanted. is this how the world works? is this how the university rewards me for my efforts, my sacrifices? y/n look at coriolanus in the mirror, the red dress holding the last bits of her breasts, turning to him, she let him get over. peeling off her dress, by an instinct, brushing his clothed cock with her knees, hearing an elated whine from him. she knew he was a virgin, she was too, but she moaned louder when coriolanus brushed her naked breasts, playing with her nipples while kissing her. it was so new, so unusual, and yet, everytime his fingertips touched her sensitive buds, she felt her blood striking down to her core. 

“do you like this, y/n?” he asked, making her hiss, nodding as she looked up at him. 

“yes… please, corio… i want you…” she gasped, trying to reach for his cock even if she didn’t know what it was going to feel like. coriolanus smiled shyly, reaching for her hips to lift it so he could take off her underwear. y/n wasn’t shy, and this was the first real pussy he ever saw, and if it depended on her, the last one, too. so, how could he compare her to any other girl? 

“i want you, too. but… i heard that it can hurt.” he kissed her, and a slight pain striked her core as she felt something crawl up. she accidentally bit down on his lips too hard, drawing blood. “i’m sorry, y/n, i just thought that–”

“please don’t stop,” she cut into his words, grabbing his hand to guide it back. if his fingers were this long and stretching her out this much, how is she going to fit his perfect cock into her cunt? it was painful at first, but it changed to pleasure, she hoped coriolanus felt the same silk on the inside, the silk she felt every time she fingered herself. the impulse grew in her stomach, similar to the way when she was fingering herself, but it was another impulse. erratic, something she wanted to scoop up into a bowl and drink from it. coriolanus stopped, pulling his fingers out, y/n grabbed his wrist to lick herself off. it was messy, but she swore she saw his pupils dilated as he looked at her. 

“i think it’s time for me to take this off too, isn’t it?” he asked, pulling down the waistband of his underwear. she hadn't seen so many cocks before, but he was so… beautiful. not too short, not too long, curling up a little bit, almost touching his abdomen from the excitement. y/n hoped that from the previous actions he got hard, because that’s what the girls always talked about at girly nights, but seeing the pre-cum dripping down on coriolanus’ cock got her mouth watering.

“do you want me to pleasure you?” she asked, already leaning up on her elbows. coriolanus shook his head, kissing her as he guided her to lay back down. 

“no, love. it’s not about you, it’s just… i don’t think i’m going to last long even if we begin this,” he whispered, y/n giggled as coriolanus rolled his eyes joyfully. 

“this is my first time too, corio.” 

“i know, and i’m trying to make it hurt as little as i can, but please don’t be mad at me if–” y/n grabbed his chin, making him face again. 

“how could i ever be mad at you?” she asked silently, brushing her forehead to his. coriolanus held her hand, grabbing his cock with the other, placing it to her core. y/n held onto his shoulder, just as in her dream. 

“i hope you will enjoy this just as much as i do.” he whispered, kissing her, slowly slipping inside. y/n felt like she was teared apart, hissing, pressing her thighs to his waist. even a tear slipped from between her lashes as she tried to hold in the agonizing scream. she knew this would turn intp pleasure and sparks too, but it was so fucking unbelieveable to realize. 

“should we stop, y/n?” coriolanus asked, his sound husky from the thigh feeling, burying his head into her neck. y/n shook her head, slipping her fingers into the hair on the back of his head. 

“just keep going, it will be good, i believe”, she muttered, and with that, he began to thrust. the first dozen were painful, as if his cock tried to murder her, but after a little time, it eased up, and she caught herself softly moaning as their lips melted into each other again. “you can be faster if you want”, y/n whispered, making coriolanus nod, an adorable look on his face from trying to concentrate and not cumming. when he first hit the spot where she could never reach, y/n almost clawed into his back from the pleasure. she understood why people loved to make love; the way his cock filled her pussy was so natural and so perfect, her heartbeat and his moans thrumming in her ears, his big hand grabbing into hers stronger and stronger, not letting her lift up hers, ever, pinning down and dominating her. another tear striked from her eyes, but this was because of happiness, pure beatitude. 

“i’m… ngh, love, i’m not going to last long”, coriolanus moaned, hitting her pleasure spot again and again, making y/n’s abdomen curl tighter and tighter. she felt as if she was a bomb ready to explode, reaching down with her free hand to her clit, circling it. it was too much, feeling how pubic lifted and fell every time he pulled out, only thrust into her, y/n turned her head so she could last longer, but it didn’t help, coriolanus was everywhere, in her mouth, her cunt, her hand, her ears and her eyesight, even in her mind. 

“i’m…ah, corio, i’m going to cum, love…” she tried to say, his cock giving her the finishing move to push her over the edge. everything turned to white and black at the same time, she felt the pleasure and pressure blowing up in every cell of her body, striking through her veins to get the sensation from head to toe, thighs pressed to his side to make him go deeper, she felt her mouth opened, a silent scream coming out as a long, ragged, guttural moan. feeling him slowing down, she knew coriolanus reached his high too, laying his head on her collarbone, breathing heavily. for a moment, y/n didn’t know where she was, she only felt the softness under her, his body upon hers, and the last, tingling feeling in her pussy. 

coriolanus pushed himself down from her, laying beside her on his back, placing his hand on his chest. y/n looked at him, panting, smiling as she could, kissing his face. 

a couple minutes later she was dressed in a robe just as him, the blanket covering them. y/n laid on his chest, looking into the fire, grabbing one of his hands as he stroked her hair. 

“this was fantastic, y/n. thank you so much, for everything.” 

y/n rolled her eyes, kissing his skin as she smiled. this wasn’t the soft smile she formed in front of him, this was the smile she formed when she was alone, but the darkness kept her secrets. for a moment, clemensia and arachne long forgotten, even sejanus’s and lucy gray’s face faded as there were just the two of them. 

“you don’t have to thank me for anything, corio. i am glad that you are happy.” 

a/n: i'm really really really tired but i couldn't let you down girliez!! i hope you liked it, i passed my test but i'm gonna have another )): nevetheless, i'll try and write more and more parts because i have plans, so don't worry <3

taglist: @champomiel @stelleduarte @diamondsbestie @tomriddles-wh0re @ikeryn @americanprometheuss @themorriganisamonster @cybersry @marihoneywk @randomgurl2326 @jxynotfound @velunis @theoriginalwife000 @coconut-dreamz @lukepattersin

[yukieya]

PATHETIC.

WOOHOOO !! im back after being on writing block for about a month! 💔💔 anyway, let’s get started and please continue with caution with this fic! ( this is not proofread. )

paring ; eki x reader ( a bit of ike x reader. )

genre ; stuff.. possessive stuf– yea ok let’s go

disclaimer ; possessive/obsessive behaviour, dark theme ( obv ), mentions of dead bodies, kidnapping,etc.

The sounds of rushed heels clicking as you ran through the dark alleyway followed by the loud heavy breathing, taking turns to lose the person from behind you.

He did not look like Ike, he looked way different than Ike. He seemed different, his aura didn’t feel safe, it felt eerie.

You just wanted to visit Ike to get your things you left at his house, only to be towered over by “Ike” who seemed to have dyed his hair and given himself golden contact lenses.

But enough of that, you managed to take a turn and lost him. You sighed in relief as you tried to calm your nerves down, back pressed onto the walls. You tried to figure out why he’s like this, what happened to him and how did this even happen?

The last time you saw him wasn’t something you’d want to look back at either. He was stressed and gave you the cold shoulder, you scolded him to take care of his mental health and take breaks every now and then to which he responded with a door slammed onto your face.

You decided it was time to give him some space, knowing he’s not the type of person who would leave you alone after being stressed out but it’s been weeks. You couldn’t help but come over to his house and–

“ Found you. “

The voice gave you chills as you looked up at the figure towering over you with his golden eyes glowing in the dark of the alley.

You felt your body tense up and move but the man in front of you was fast enough, grabbing your wrist in the process. “ Now, now.. we don’t want you running away hm? “ He chuckled darkly, staring into your eyes filled with fear. “ Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t want to run away from someone like me. “

“ Or else you’ll end up like them. “ He took out a picture from his pocket, showing you the souls he took. You felt your stomach turn when you saw the image, covering your mouth as you nodded.

The man hummed and smiled, putting back the picture into his pocket, “ Good girl. “ He stated with his eyes closed, “ ..How about we go back to the house? “

You wanted to refuse, you didn’t want to be with this guy the whole day or else you’ll feel uncomfortable, “ ..I can hear your thoughts, Reader. “

and that was the last thing you heard before everything turned black in your vision.

You slowly started to regain your vision, the room was dark. The only light you can see is from the bottom of the door in front of you.

You tried to study the room, only to realize you were tied up to a pole with your back pressed against it. You started to panic but before you could the door in front of you started to open revealing the figure you encountered only for the figure to chuckle.

“ Took you a while to wake up, I thought you were about to die because of the drug. “ The figure said, turning on the lights of the room revealing his features making your heart drop at the sight of him.

He fixed himself, wiping some red stains off his face before he turned to you with an eerie smile, “ ..Speechless now, are we? “ He said, studying your body.

When you didn’t respond to him, he hummed as he walked up to a table and pulled out a picture. “ ..You know, you’ve caught my eye for a while. “ He spoke up as he flapped the picture for a clearer image.

He turned around with the same smile he gave to you, “ ..No wonder Ike wanted you for himself. “ He mumbled, you could hear him clearly as you started to open up your mouth.

“ ..Who even are you? “ You questioned, making the man lift his head up in the direction of your voice “ ..Little lamb can finally speak, mmh? “ He trails off, placing the image in front of you.

“ ..Well, then. The name’s Eki. “ He introduced himself, staring at you with that golden eyes of his. “ ..Your beloved Ike Eveland’s Alter Ego. “ He stated.

You stared at him for a while wondering if this was the reason why Ike was keeping his distance from you. He never told you about Eki before.

Too clouded with your own thoughts, you looked down at the picture that was placed in front of you which made your stomach drop. It was a picture of your stalker lying on the dirt with blood poured all over him.

“ ..You like what you see? “ He spoke up, adjusting his glasses as he lifted your chin by his finger. “ ..Pretty sight, isn’t it? “ He paused, “ I didn’t like how that asshole was touchy feeling with you, so i outed him. “

With your silent as your answer, Eki sighed before staring into your eyes, “ Well, someone gotta protect you. “ He gave you a grin, as if the things he did were nothing, “ after all, someone as fragile as you could seriously get fooled so easily.. “ He mumbled.

“ w-why.. why are you– just why are you doing this..? “ You choked out a sentence even if your throat feels like it was getting dry, making Eki turn his head towards you “ That damn novelist has everything I wanted, I might as well play with his doll toy that he wants to keep as a secret so much. “ He scoffed, turning his head away.

He paused for a while, “ ..though it would be nice if you stayed here forever. “ he gave a grin, “ like your legs wouldn’t work, so you don’t have to run away from me.. “

His last sentence made all the hairs on your body go up, you struggled against the rope as Eki watched you pathetically try to escape.

“ There’s no use, honey.. You look pathetic struggling against those ropes. “ He stated in a dark tone, lifting your chin up and making you stare into his eyes as if he was trying to hypnotize you.

“ You’re gonna be with me forever and ever until we both fucking die. “

” Älskling. “

“ Älskling..? “

“ Älskling!— “

You gasped as you quickly sat up on the bed, pressing your back against the head of the bed as you regained your breath and posture, “ ..Älskling?.. “

The soft voice you heard sounded familiar, not bothering to look at him in the face as you tackled him into a hug which caught him off guard, “ W-Woah! ..Another nightmare hm? “ He chuckled softly, caressing your locks.

“ You mind telling me what’s wro–.. “ He stopped his sentence when he stared at your shaking figure, “ ..We’ll talk about it later. “ He smiled softly, humming a melody that always kept you calm.

Ike continued caressing your hair, pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead, “ I got you. “ He reassured, calming your nerves.

Ike smiled as you slowly started to calm down, his eyes momentarily fade into the familiar golden-ish color for a bit but you shrugged it off as one of your imagination.

“ I’m right here. “

time taken : 3 days ( i was procrastinating. )

words : 1.2k words !!

wooo!! i’m finally back after a month of being on writing block ( might go on another bcs exams TvT.. ) hehe i was craving for some eki fics so i decided to js go crazy w this

[loveemagicpeace]

☕️☀️Virgo Season🛁🫧

Negative- earth- mutable sign

♍️The symbol for Virgo is the Virgin. In the ancient world, she is the temple virgin, dedicated to the deity. We can translate this as an instinct for self-sufficiency and devotion to practical service.

For Virgos, mind and body are linked; regular exercise and healthy eating help you to maintain effective mind-body balance. Virgo's role is to establish and work according to a system. With planets in this sign, you dislike chaos.

Virgos can often get lost in the detail, unable to see the bigger picture. Sweating the small stuff can turn into an obsessive need for order and control.

🪻Herbs associated with Virgo: lavender (it is a plant that calms and is good against anxiety).

💎Crystals: peridot (a semi-precious stone of compassion, health and abundance).

The symbol would represent the intestine, to which Virgo Government. The Virgin is represented by the image of a girl with a scope wheat in hands, which is obviously based on Greek the goddess Demeter and the Roman Ceres. A virgin girl is a symbol of endurance and chastity. Virgo is an independent sign. They have virgins a strong sense of self-confidence that ensures that their expectation of intrinsic value is not based on opinion of others. Although Virgos are ruled by Mercury in the same way as Geminis, they are completely different - Virgos don't like too talkative people and prefer to be alone than in too big a group. They are analytical and think things through.

🫧Because Virgo is a caring earth sign for the body, takes nutrition seriously and wants to ensure that her body works as efficiently as the rest areas of her Life. That's why it's a healthy choice Vegetables, such as whole grains, fruits and vegetables, eats a vegetarian diet or adheres to such a diet or different diets.

☁️People born under this sign care a lot about hygiene and are known for being in the zodiac most often they wash their hands.

☕️In virgo season you may be inspired to bring more ritual to cleansing your body and home, to bring order to what feels messy, and to bring surrender where you can’t make change. You are asked to take what feels big and break it down into small steps and little wins, and to concentrate on those steps, on how they compound, on how we evolve through and with them. To clear away all the noise, the extra, the outside, all that is not yours, and to explore who emerges from underneath it all.

🛁Virgo Rising-you will be more inspired about things that concern your appearance, style and personality. You will feel more confident in your own skin and the things you will do. You will find the light within yourself and feel more inspirational energy. Find faith in yourself and what you want to be. Be proud of who you are.

💗Libra rising-you will find a lot of inspiration through spirituality, subconscious energy, creativity. You will be more creative and maybe you will discover talents that you have not yet discovered. Everything you dream can come true, you just have to believe.

🫧Scorpio rising- you will emphasize friends more - maybe meet new people. You will find a lot of inspiration through dreams and interests. You might be more critical of who will be by your side as you turn your dreams into a reality. Follow your dreams.

🧜🏼‍♀️Sagittarius rising- you will find inspiration through the things you do, your career - maybe your parents or an authority figure. You may find yourself changing your mind constantly, especially if you have several goals or a few different professional tracks. Maybe your mind will be more serious and focused.

⭐️Capricorn rising- you will find inspiration through things that you dig deeply into and that are important to you. You will also feel a lot of inspiration through quality conversations. You will have an inner journey about the things you deeply believe into. And in the end you will notice how much you have grown and how intelligent a person you are. And how your life has progressed. Watching podcasts, reading books that inspire you will help you. Have faith!

🌿Aquarius rising-Prepare to be exceptionally introspective. You may have to reflect on whether you are in a healthy situation or entrapped in an entanglement. You will find the most inspiration through insight into yourself. Insight into deeper things will make you think.

🧁Pisces rising-you will find inspiration through good relationships and people. Whether you’re interested in someone new or thinking about rekindling with a former flame, Mercury retrograde will caution you to look before you leap. Go with the flow. Think about who is really there for you and who is not. Chill.

🍒Aries rising- improving your routine health and lifestyle it's the key here. You will be more productive and do more for yourself and your body. Maybe you start new sport. If you have struggled with financial worries, then you may feel more hopeful now. Everything you do is part of the process and eventually you will be where you want to be.

🥨Taurus rising- you will discover more of your hobbies. You will have more fun and do things related to your joy. Perhaps someone with whom you had an affair may appear. You can attract a lot of people during this time. Doing something you really enjoy will be the key now. The Sun is at home in the 5th house, which means that this will bring you even more joy and happiness.

🌴Gemini rising-Virgo sun will warm your fourth house of home and family. Also Mercury retrograde will influence what could be revealed, you may find out some family secrets that could shape your perception of your childhood as well as the home that you are creating at this time. Maybe you will be more inspired through the decoration of the room or home. Look for things that will make you feel warm and at home.

🪷Cancer rising- More and more inspired to talk, think and things related to it all. You may feel like now is the time to speak your truth. You can also travel somewhere or go on a short trip. Don't think too much, be present here and now. Don't worry about things, just be. Sometimes silence is better than words.

🎸Leo rising- finding your value, things in which you see potential and relationships that you think are really good is in the spotlight. The potential for growth and genuine connection lies in embracing reality and collaboratively shaping your journey. U may find yourself debating on saving or spending money more than usual.

✨Ig-bekylibra✨

-Rebekah🌸⭐️⛵️

[sol-consort]

im obsessed with the line from allers about creepy turian fan mail. love letters that are so sentimental and tender they cross over into frightening. being way too intimate in writing to someone who barely knows them, if at all. it's so fun🌹

A well-structured society built on self-control, service of others, and utter devotion to the cause makes the best soldiers in the galaxy. The most efficient and organised military.

but...as an unforseen consequence, turians have absolutely zero chill.

"As uptight as a turian" is a common galactic phrase for a reason. It's hard for them to come off as casual. More often than not, it results in awkward encounters in their sincere-but-misinformed attempts at befriending the other species.

Their social awareness covers all the appropriate terminology to address your superior, a fellow man in arms, innocent civilians, an unruly enemy, they even have a whole script on addressing a once fellow soldier turned enemy.

But not friends.

It doesn't extend to coming up with good pick-up lines for the hot human at the bar, either.

All those feelings they keep repressed in order to be the ideal turian model have got to come out somewhere somehow.

The lines between "charmingly invested" and "intrusively creepy" tend to blend when it comes to a turian. They end up shooting themselves in the foot by either coming off too strong and intense or too cold and detached, depending on their self-restraint for the day.

Much like we need sunlight and physical touch or our mood inexplicably sours. Turians need to blow off steam every so often in order to remain the epitome of discipline, or they will grow agitated and feral.

And if a cute human celebrity catches their eye, oh, you've earned a loyal turian fan for life. The creepiest war-nerds fans you'll ever have, but immensely devoted.

Making the most hardcore fans you'll ever meet. Their admiration tethering on the edge of obsessing. Their fanmail is shamelessly intrusive and overwhelmingly intimate.

Pouring all of their intensity into this one person that they decided to worship for life. There is determination in their step, head fringes more puffed, talons shinier, shots more precise than ever. A noticeable improvement in their health and performance ever since they started writing you weekly letters.

Greatly detailing the events of their last dream where a batarian group kidnapped you and their team was tasked by the government to rescue the human celebrity, instead of the human military because "turians just do it better"—how you ended up clinging to their arms as they carried you to safety, calling them your hero, looking in awe at their sharp talons, asking if you can touch them. The sensual kiss that followed, your cute pink human tongue, oh so short, their longer blueish one easily covering it whole.

—only for their eyes to snap open, looking up at the ceiling, laying on their bed, alone.

The sound of their purring filling the room whole, they've never heard it that loud before, the vibration in their throat is overwhelmingly intense.

The taste of your lips at the tip of their tongue, their soft sensation ghosting over their hard shell.

As for the reminder of the letter, they mention all their favourite moments in your last interview. They made one of your shots during it their omni-tool background! They're absolutely in love with your new wardrobe. Human fashion is so eyecatching and tantalising, especially the colour you wore in the interview. Did you know its the same colour as their clan tattoo? What a small world, or maybe it's fate? You'd look amazing in anything, actually. Even nude, especially that. Sometimes, you wear really tight shorts and flimsy tops, and they picture a vivid image of the silhouette of your soft body underneath. By the spirits, how are humans so plump?

[tiredbonbon]

Despondent

Yan! Albert Wesker x reader oneshot ~

A.N: I finally got motivation to write something again 😭 Resident evil has consumed my life in and out help. This was pretty much a no brainer to write so do excuse me if its not that good yet.

Summary: You made a foolish attempt to get away from him, and now your gonna endure the walk of shame back.

Warnings!: implied Kidnapping, mention of needles/medical equipment, obsessive behaviour, hurt/little to no comfort, implied manipulation, major yandere themes

“You know, this was an imbecilic plan to begin with.”

“I know.”

“And after all I do for you, it’s a bratty gesture.”

“Im sorry.”

“…” He didn’t respond to your silent apologies, still walking onwards, his heavy combat boots tapping loudly against the floor. He was meanwhile carrying you like it was nothing, and for him it probably wasn’t. His arms rested under your thighs, holding your body against his as your arms lazily hung over his shoulders and your head rested on his shoulder, your whole body language displaying defeat, because thats what you were, defeated.

The worst thing was that he wasn’t even wrong, maybe it was imbecilic to plan this out for weeks, only to miserably fail and be carried back like a toddler after throwing a tantrum.

Its been maybe 2… 3 months since this situation had began, and if you didn’t know the experience of a living nightmare, then you did now.

Chains, Belt Straps, Needles, Pills. Those were all images that flashed through your mind when you tried to remember how the time had been so far. The first month was scarce of any memories, you were a fighter most your life, so initially you were fighting him too, tooth and nail, at first he found it cute, but it didn’t take long for him to start pricking and feeding you with fast acting and heavy sedatives. The injections and pills in turn hazed your memory to an extreme, along with lots of other side effects.

The weeks after that were monotone, which was why none of them stayed in your memory much either, he’d monitor your health and gave you vitamin supplements for the lack of sunlight, you initially refused to take them, but after a while, he beat you to it too.

You really thought this could have been it, that you had outsmarted him and found a safe way to get out of there, to get your life back, but no. The faked submission so he’d put his guard down, the extreme weight loss to fit through the tight spaces in means to get out, even the combat your practiced when you were alone, it was for nothing.

Because this was Albert Wesker.

And now you were here, laying pathetically in his arms as he carried you back to the inevitable, a walk of shame. You didn’t want to fight him, no, god no, he’d break you in all senses of the word, no matter how much measly combat you practiced, his reflexes, speed and brute strength would make quick work of it, overpowering you would be easier than squashing a fly.

“I do admire your determination though, my love.”

“…” Your eyes narrowed, because you knew in his eyes determined was just another word for reckless.

“You’ve grown awfully quiet, you know?”

Tears pricked the sides of your eyes.

“I hate you.”

… he chuckled

“I know.”

[ishomieokay]

And We Made You Pairs (Ch. 4)

──── a homelander x arab oc story.

✰ summary - Homelander’s mission in Syria puts him in direct conflict with Noura, an activist working to protect her country from foreign interference. Although their initial encounters are fraught with tension, over time they develop a begrudging respect for one another. Homelander is drawn to Noura’s fearlessness and conviction, while she catches glimpses of humanity in him.

When Noura’s town faces annihilation, Homelander must make a choice. Will he remain the military’s loyal wardog, or will he do something good for once in his life? ao3.

✰ warnings//tags - enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, terrorism, kamikaze missions, minor injuries, intrusive thoughts, mental health issues, parasocial relationship, obsessive behavior, one-sided attraction, anxiety disorder.

✰ taglist - @discowizard88, @possiblyafangirl, @sacha1slytherin, @infinetlyforgotten, @redroserabbit, @1800imgay Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Homelander gritted his teeth, his arms wrapped tightly around Amir as they shot higher into the sky. The man was barely conscious, his face streaked with soot and tears, his thin frame trembling against Homelander’s unyielding grip. Amir’s hands clung to his shoulders with a desperate strength that made stripping him of the explosive vest a clumsy, frustrating task.

"Hold still, you little—" Homelander muttered, his words bitten off by the sharp snap of a loose strap finally giving way. With a growl of effort, he yanked the vest free, throwing the mass of wires and metal to the side. For a fleeting moment, there was only the sound of wind howling around them.

Then came the blast.

The world erupted in fire and sound, a shockwave tearing through the air and swallowing them whole. The heat seared his back, even through his almost indestructible suit, and he clenched his jaw against the pain. Homelander twisted, curling his body around Amir, his arms tightening like a vice. The man was limp now, his head lolling against Homelander’s chest, oblivious to the chaos.

The familiar sensation of control—the effortless mastery of flight—was ripped away. The force of the explosion had hit them like a tidal wave, knocking Homelander off balance. They tumbled through the air, spiraling out of control. It was disorienting, like being caught in the barrel of a wave at the beach, dragged down and spun around by an unseen force. The smoke blinded him, the heat clawed at his skin, and for a moment, he wasn’t the all-powerful Homelander. He was just a man trapped in a storm of his own making.

"Goddammit," he growled, his voice barely audible over the roar of the shockwave. He forced himself to focus, to cut through the dizziness and the noise. His instincts screamed at him to let go of Amir, to prioritize his own safety. But then the image of Noura flashed in his mind—her wide, tear-filled eyes, her voice breaking as she screamed her brother’s name.

Homelander pushed harder, his body straining against the aftershock as he fought to right himself. Finally, he broke through the worst of it, emerging into clearer skies. The fireball from the explosion still lingered below, a furious bloom of orange and red, but the immediate danger had passed.

Panting, he slowed, hovering midair. Amir dangled in his arms, completely out of it, his head resting awkwardly against Homelander’s chest. A thin trickle of blood ran down from his temple, disappearing into the collar of his shirt. He was alive, though, his shallow breaths warm against Homelander’s suit.

Homelander looked at the man with irritation. "You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?" he muttered, though there was no one to hear it.

He glanced down at the cityscape, smoke rising in thick plumes over the square below. From this height, it almost looked peaceful, the chaos of downtown Damacus muted by distance. His mind churned with frustration. The plan had been simple. Let Amir blow himself up, then watch the story hit the airwaves: Violent Terrorists Claim Suicide Bombing as Cease-Fire Diplomacy Resumes. It would have been a perfect headline, a clean, easy way to make the world see with what sort of savages they were dealing with.

Al-Sayed had ruined it, though. Her sudden appearance in the square had thrown everything off balance. He hadn’t thought, hadn’t calculated. He’d acted on pure impulse, snatching her brother away from her without stopping to consider the consequences.

Now he was stuck with the fallout—literally.

Amir stirred slightly, a faint groan escaping his lips. Homelander stared at him, his irritation flaring anew. "You better appreciate this, kid," he muttered. "You just cost me a hell of a lot of PR."

The thought gnawed at him as he began his descent, the city’s lights growing brighter as they approached. His mind flicked back to Al-Sayed again, to the way her voice had cracked when she screamed for her brother. There had been such raw emotion in her tone, such desperation. He hated it. Hated how it had clawed its way into his chest and made him feel… something.

With a heavy sigh, Homelander tightened his grip on Amir and adjusted his flight path. There was a hospital nearby. He would drop the man off, let the doctors handle it, and leave before anyone could start asking awkward questions. He glanced down at Amir one last time, his expression hardening. He should have let him die. Gladly would have, if it wasn’t for… well, that didn’t matter anymore. Now, he needed to focus on damage control.

The fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor buzzed faintly, casting a cold, clinical glow over the pristine tiles. Noura sat perched on the edge of Amir’s hospital bed, her hands clutching the thin blanket as though it could anchor her. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside him was the only sound in the room, a metronome marking time. Amir’s face, pale and bruised, looked impossibly fragile. A faint trail of dried blood stained his temple, and his left arm was wrapped in a thick bandage. But he was breathing. He was alive.

The doctor’s call had been a blur of words—“stable,” “lucky,” “brought in by someone”—but she barely remembered any of it. Relief had flooded her, an overwhelming wave that left her legs weak and her throat tight. Watching Amir’s chest rise and fall now, she felt the tight knot in her stomach loosen, though the edges of fear still gnawed at her.

Her brother stirred, his eyelids fluttering before slowly opening. His gaze was unfocused at first, then landed on her. “Noura?” he croaked, his voice rasping like sandpaper.

The sound broke something inside her. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she dared. “Amir,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re alive, you’re alive.”

Amir winced but didn’t pull away.

“I... I’m sorry,” he murmured, his words barely audible.

She pulled back, her hands cupping his face. “What were you thinking?” Her voice cracked with a mix of anger and anguish. “You could have died! What were you trying to do?” Her words came out in a rush, her chest heaving as she fought to contain her emotions.

Amir turned his face away, his jaw tightening. “I thought... I thought it was the only way. Hassan said—”

“El Ghany!” Noura spat his name like poison. She released Amir’s face and stood, pacing the small room. “That man lied to you! He used you. Don’t you see that?” Her hands clenched into fists, the nails biting into her palms. “He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anyone!”

Amir flinched at the venom in her voice but didn’t argue. His shoulders slumped; his gaze fixed on the blanket pooled around his waist.

“I know that now,” he said softly.

She stopped pacing and turned to him; her eyes harsh. “Then why, Amir? Why would you—” Her words caught in her throat as her gaze fell on him, so small and broken, sitting in the bed like a boy caught in a storm far too big for him.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Tell me everything. I need to know.”

Amir hesitated, his fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “It’s hard to explain,” he began, his voice shaking. “I just remember pieces, the wind blowing… I didn’t think I’d make it. But then… he took the vest off me.”

Noura stiffened. “Who?”

“Homelander,” Amir said, looking up at her. His brow was furrowed, as if trying to piece together the fragments of a dream. “He... he saved me.”

The room seemed to tilt. For a moment, Noura only stared. “He what?” she whispered, the word barely leaving her lips.

“He took me out of the square,” Amir continued, his voice growing steadier. “He flew me into the sky. When the bomb went off, he—he shielded me.”

Noura’s mind raced, trying to make a sense of what she was hearing. Homelander? The symbol of everything she despised—the butcher who had left her town in ruins, who had stared her down through the smoke and blood without a flicker of remorse. That man had saved Amir?

“You’re sure that’s what happened?” she asked, her voice tight.

Amir nodded. “I remember his face. He looked... angry. Like he didn’t want to be there. But he didn’t let me go. Even when the bomb went off, he held on.” His gaze dropped to his hands, his voice lowering. “He brought me here after. Left without saying a word.”

Noura sank onto the chair, her legs giving out beneath her. Her thoughts churned in confusion and anger. Why would he do that? Homelander, the man who killed with impunity, who paraded himself as a savior while leaving only destruction in his wake—why would he save Amir?

Her chest tightened, a thousand conflicting emotions clawing at her. She hated him. She hated him for the lives he’d taken, for the grief and pain he’d caused. And yet, he’d saved Amir. He could have let him die. He could have watched as the bomb consumed him and flown away without a second thought. But he hadn’t.

“Why?” she muttered, more to herself than to Amir.

“I don’t know,” Amir admitted. “He said something before, when we... he said it wouldn’t matter if I died. That it wouldn’t change anything.”

Noura didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Her mind was a maze of unanswered questions, each one leading to a dead end. Was it a game to him? Some twisted attempt to make himself look good? Or was it something else?

“He’s playing with us,” she said finally, her voice sharp with anger. “That’s all this is. Don’t think for a second he did this out of the goodness of his heart.”

Amir’s expression darkened, guilt and confusion warring in his eyes. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But I’m alive because of him.”

Noura turned away; her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She didn’t know what to feel. Gratitude didn’t come easily when it was tangled with hate. She wanted to scream, to cry, to demand answers from the man who had turned her world upside down. None of that would change what had happened, though. None of it would erase the truth.

Homelander had saved her brother’s life.

The alley was shrouded in darkness, the dim glow of a distant streetlamp casting faint shadows across the damp ground. Homelander leaned against the cracked concrete wall. He had flown halfway across the city, away from the chaos of the markets and the prying eyes of both allies and enemies. His iconic red, white, and blue cape was singed in places, the faint scent of smoke still clinging to it. His hands, usually steady as steel, trembled faintly at his sides.

He stared at them, his jaw tightening. He clenched his fists, trying to will the shaking away, but the tremors only grew worse. The pain from the explosion was dull now, an ache buried under layers of adrenaline and denial. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a blast head-on, but something about tonight felt different.

He hated it.

“You’re a mess, John,” a familiar voice drawled, smooth and mocking.

Homelander’s head snapped up, his gaze falling on a puddle of rainwater pooling near a drain. The reflection shimmered, and there it was—his shadow-self, lounging against the opposite wall, arms crossed and wearing a smirk that Homelander wanted to wipe off his face.

The other tilted his head, feigning concern. “Shaking like a leaf, all alone in a dingy alley. Not a great look for America’s golden boy.”

“Shut up,” Homelander growled, pushing off the wall. His boots scraped against the wet ground as he paced, trying to channel his frustration into movement. “I’m not in the mood.”

The other straightened, his form shifting slightly as if the puddle rippled. “Oh, I can see that. Big night, wasn’t it? You pulled off quite the stunt. Risking your flawless self to save that scrawny little arab. You almost looked like a real hero. Almost.”

Homelander stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, his voice low and venomous. “I was ready to let him die. It was all part of the plan. It should’ve been easy! But then...” His words trailed off.

“But then she showed up,” the specter finished for him, his grin widening. He clapped his hands together slowly, the sound echoing faintly in the empty alley. “Bravo, Johnny boy. Once again, you’re letting a pair of big, pretty eyes throw you off your game. And the worst part is she doesn’t even know you. She’s just some woman you stalk on social media. It’s fucking… sad.”

Homelander turned away, his shoulders stiff. He stared down the alley, his gaze unfocused. “She wasn’t supposed to be there,” he muttered, more to himself than to the voice. “None of this was supposed to happen. I had it all under control.”

“Oh, sure you did,” the other said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, saving the woman… that I can understand. I mean, if you really wanna hit that. No judgement. Saving the kid, though? Shielding him from the blast? Dragging him to a hospital like some fucking paramedic?” He let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, real controlled.”

“I didn’t do it for her,” Homelander snapped, spinning around to face the reflection. His voice echoed off the walls, sharp and biting. “It wasn’t about her.”

The other arched an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. “Of course not. You just felt like playing guardian angel tonight. Happens to the best of us.”

Homelander’s jaw worked, his teeth grinding together. He knew the truth, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He could still see Al-Sayed’s face, twisted in fear and desperation as she screamed her brother’s name. It had been raw, real—nothing like the fake saves he was used to performing back home. For a split second, her voice had cut through the noise, through the chaos, and he had acted.

“You’re obsessed with her,” the other said, stepping closer. The puddle’s reflection rippled slightly, as though it were leaning in for effect. “And you hate it. That’s why you keep flying to her rallies, hovering outside her apartment, scrolling through her videos at night like some lovesick teenager.”

“Stop talking,” Homelander hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits. His hands twitched, the urge to smash something, anything, coursing through him. “You don’t know anything.”

“Oh, but I do,” his reflection said, his tone softening to a mockery of pity. “I know you’re scared. Scared that she sees through the suit, through the speeches and the smiles. Scared that she doesn’t fear you the way everyone else does. That’s what gets under your skin, isn’t it? She doesn’t buy the act.”

Homelander’s chest heaved, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He could feel the words digging into him, each one like a knife twisting in his gut. He wanted to shout, to lash out, to silence the voice. It wouldn’t matter if he did, though. Deep inside he knew that every single word was true. He understood now what the shaking was about, and the explosion had nothing to do with it.

He was afraid.

“She’s nothing,” he said finally, his voice strained. “A nobody. A little activist with a big mouth. She’s nothing.”

The other’s smile widened, but there was no humor in it. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself, Johnny, go ahead. But you and I both know the truth. She got in your head. Like Madelyn, like Stormfront, like Maeve. And she’s not going anywhere.”

Homelander turned sharply, his cape snapping behind him as he stalked down the alley. The puddle rippled again, his reflection fading into the distorted light. But the voice lingered, echoing in the corners of his mind.

“You’re slipping, Johnny,” it whispered. “And sooner or later, you’re going to fall.”

Homelander didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. The truth was already chasing him, no matter how fast he flew.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp painted Amir’s bruised face in warm light, highlighting the purples and blues of the day’s events. His breaths came shallow but steady, his chest rising and falling under the thin hospital blanket Noura had tucked around him. She sat in a wooden chair by his side, her elbows resting on her knees, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

Every so often, she glanced at him, as if reassuring herself he was still there. The weight of everything that had happened pressed down on her, heavy and unrelenting. Before he woke up, she had spent hours waiting in the sterile hospital corridors, pacing and praying. Now at least, she could breathe a little better.

The creak of the door pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned her head just as Fatima stepped inside, her face lined with worry. The older woman had been her steadfast friend through so much, and yet tonight, Noura felt a gulf of incomprehension between them. How could she explain what had happened?

Fatima crossed the room in a few hurried steps, her eyes darting to Amir’s sleeping form before landing on Noura. “I came as soon as I heard. Is he...?”

“He’s alive,” Noura spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t know what else to say. “He’s... alive.”

“Praise be to God,” Fatima murmured, her tone reverent. “What happened?”

Noura opened her mouth to answer, but no words came. She looked at Amir again, his features so much younger in sleep, almost childlike. Where could she even begin? The note, the market, the explosion—all of it blurred together in her mind like a terrible, surreal dream.

Finally, she said, “It was Homelander.” The name came out thick on her tongue, like something foreign and unwelcome. “He saved Amir.”

Fatima blinked, confusion flickering across her face.

“What do you mean, ‘saved him’?” she asked cautiously, as though Noura might shatter under the weight of the question.

Noura pressed her palms together, her fingers curling tightly until they turned white. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “The bomb went off, and I thought... I thought Amir was gone. But he saved him. He flew him out of the blast and... and brought him here, to the hospital.” Her eyes flickered to Fatima’s, as if asking for an explanation. “Why would he do that?”

Fatima’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Why do you think?” she asked, her tone sharper now. “It’s a publicity stunt. A way to make himself look like a hero. It’s what he does. You’ve said it yourself, time and again. Don’t fall for his games, Noura.”

Noura flinched, the words cutting through her like a blade. Fatima was usually so soft-spoken, so unassuming. Perhaps because of that, the statement stung more. “I know who he is,” she said defensively, though the conviction in her voice wavered. She remembered Homelander’s eyes as they locked with hers, just before he took off. Wide, confused and so very, very blue. Human. “I know what he’s done. But this... this felt different.”

“Different?” Fatima’s voice rose slightly, incredulous. “Noura, the man is a killer. He’s destroyed families, communities—he destroyed our town. You think one act of mercy erases all of that?”

“No,” Noura said quickly, shaking her head. “No, of course not.” But even as she said it, doubt crept into her mind, insidious and persistent. She looked back at Amir, the memory of his trembling hands clutching the detonator fresh in her mind. “But he didn’t have to save Amir,” she added quietly. “He could have let him die. It would have been easier for him.”

Fatima’s eyes softened, but only slightly. “That’s exactly why you should be careful,” she warned. “He’s the type to play long games, Noura. He didn’t do this for you or for Amir. He did it for himself.”

Noura bit her lip, her gaze falling to her lap. Fatima was right, of course. She knew from past experience that Homelander’s actions were nothing more than calculated self-interest. It would be easier to hate him, to hold onto the anger that had driven her for so long. But the raw force of the explosion, the image of him shielding Amir with his own body lingered in her mind. It didn’t fit the narrative she’d built around him. It didn’t make sense.

“Maybe,” she said at last, her voice barely audible. “Maybe you’re right.”

Fatima reached out, placing a firm hand on Noura’s shoulder. “I am,” she said with quiet certainty. “You’ve seen what he’s capable of. Don’t let one moment of weakness make you forget the bigger picture.”

Noura nodded slowly. Fatima’s words made sense, and still her heart refused to settle. There had been something in Homelander’s eyes when he had looked at her—something she couldn’t put into words. It wasn’t the smug superiority she had expected, nor the cold indifference she had come to associate with him. It had been... different.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes for a moment. “I just don’t understand,” she whispered. “None of it makes sense.”

Fatima gave her shoulder a squeeze before standing.

“Maybe it’s not meant to,” she said. “But you can’t let it distract you. Amir needs you now more than ever. Focus on him.”

Noura opened her eyes, watching as Fatima moved toward the door. She nodded again, her thoughts a tangle of conflicting emotions. As the door clicked shut behind Fatima, she looked back at Amir, reaching out to gently take his hand in hers. His skin was warm, his pulse steady beneath her fingers.

“You’re safe now,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow. Safe was a relative term in their world, and she wasn’t sure she believed it herself. Her gaze drifted to the window, where the city lights flickered in the distance.

Homelander’s face flashed in her mind, unbidden. She could still see the way he had stood in the market square, towering and unyielding, a force of nature. She hated him for everything he represented, for the destruction he had brought to her home and her people. But still she wondered.

Why had he saved Amir? Beneath the façade, could there be more to him than violence and cruelty?

Noura didn’t have answers, only questions that wouldn’t let her rest.

The hill overlooking the desert felt eerily still under the night sky. The lights of Damascus twinkled in the distance, a faint shimmer against the endless darkness. Noura’s steps were slow but deliberate, her heartbeat a drumbeat in her ears. She wasn’t entirely sure what had brought her here—anger, desperation, or the stubborn need for answers. The weight of the day was bearing down on her, the memory of Amir’s bruised face lingering in her mind.

Ahead of her, Homelander hovered above the ridge, a looming figure against the starlit sky. His cape fluttered faintly in the desert breeze, the red fabric dulled with soot and grime from the earlier explosion. He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her approach until she was almost within reach. Then, as though sensing her presence, he descended effortlessly, his boots touching the sand without a sound.

Noura stopped short, her breath catching in her throat. She had imagined this confrontation a dozen different ways, yet none of them felt as surreal as the reality before her. He looked different in this light—not the polished, untouchable icon from the news but something... frayed. The skin around his eyes was drawn tight, and his jawline was clenched with an emotion she couldn’t place. It was his hands that caught her attention, though, trembling faintly before he laced them behind his back.

“Why?” The word escaped her lips before she could stop it. Her voice, raw and sharp, cut through the quiet. “Why did you save my brother?”

Homelander tilted his head slightly, as if the question amused him. His lips quirked into a shadow of a smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Was this just a game to you? Playing with his life—playing with our lives?”  

He turned to face her fully now, his clear blue eyes oddly distant. “It’s always a game, isn’t it?” he asked, his tone light but edged with something darker. “That’s what I do. The big bad American supe, toying with the little people. Would that answer satisfy you, Noura?”

Her name on his tongue was jarring, spoken with a strange familiarity that sent a chill through her. She’d been sure he didn’t know it. As a matter of fact, while she made her way to him, she’d wondered if he even remembered who she was. For some reason, he did. “Don’t do that,” she snapped, stepping closer. “Don’t try to turn this into something clever. I want the truth.”

Homelander’s smirk faltered. He exhaled through his nose, a sound that might have been a laugh or a sigh. “The truth,” he echoed, his gaze drifting past her, to the lights of the city below. “The truth is... I don’t know why I saved him. I just did.”

“You’re lying.” Noura’s voice rose, a mixture of fury and frustration. “Men like you don’t do anything without a reason. You wouldn’t risk yourself for nothing.”

“Risk?” He barked a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Do you think that blast could’ve killed me? Hurt me, sure. Stings like a fucking sunburn. But I’m still standing. I always am.”

“You could’ve let him die,” she pressed, her voice breaking. “Why didn’t you?”

Homelander’s expression hardened, the faint flicker of amusement vanishing. For a moment, he said nothing, his silence stretching unbearably between them. Then he shrugged, his tone turning mocking. “Maybe I just didn’t feel like watching your brother burst into little pieces all over Damascus. I do have a sensitive stomach.”

Noura stared at him, her chest heaving with suppressed rage.

“You’re unbelievable,” she whispered, her voice harsh with anger. “Do you even hear yourself?”

He didn’t answer, his gaze slipping away again, as if the conversation no longer interested him. That dismissal, that refusal to acknowledge her, ignited something in her. She stepped forward and shoved him. It was like hitting a brick wall. He didn’t budge, didn’t even flinch. But before she could pull away, his hand shot out, catching her wrist in an iron grip.

Noura froze, her breath hitching. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was unyielding, a silent reminder of the power he wielded. His eyes, now fixed on hers, were colder than she’d ever seen them, and yet there was something else there—a flicker of an emotion that was quickly buried.

“You’re not going to change me, Noura,” he said softly, almost too softly. The words hung in the air, strange and weighted, as though they were meant more for himself than for her. “No one can.”

Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I don’t want to change you,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I just want to understand.”

Homelander’s expression shifted, the briefest crack in his facade. He released her wrist abruptly, as if the contact had burned him. “Good luck with that,” he muttered, bitterly. Noura took a step back, her pulse racing. She wrapped her arms around herself, the night air suddenly feeling much colder. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the silence between them heavy with everything unspoken.

Before she could say anything else, he rose into the air, the gust of wind from his departure rustling her clothes and the edges of her hijab. She stood there in silence, watching him disappear into the night sky.

The room was still and silent. Stripped of his suit, Homelander stood in front of a wide mirror, his reflection bathed in the dim glow of a single lamp hanging from the ceiling. His skin was bare, pale, and unblemished except for the faint pink hue that stretched across his back and shoulders. The aftermath of the explosion.

It was strange, feeling pain. Not sharp, not excruciating—just a persistent, dull sting, like the aftermath of a bad sunburn. He hadn’t lied to Al-Sayed about that. The sensation was alien to him, unsettling in its novelty. He dipped his fingers into a tub of cream and began spreading it over the discolored patches. The coolness offered little relief, but it gave his hands something to do, something to focus on other than the whirlwind in his mind.

His eyes flicked up to the mirror. He didn’t like the man staring back at him. He looked too human, too vulnerable. The faint tremor in his hand as he applied the cream hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Get it together,” he muttered under his breath, but the words rang hollow.

The explosion replayed in his mind, a loop of heat and chaos. He remembered the searing wave against his body as he wrapped himself around Amir, shielding him from certain death. It hadn’t been instinct—he’d hesitated. He could have let Amir die, let the narrative write itself, a tragedy spun in his favor. But then Al-Sayed had appeared, and everything had gone sideways.

“Why?” he whispered to the reflection, as if it held the answers he couldn’t find within himself.

He remembered what he’d said to Amir in that alley. Show them you’re not some mindless weapon. At the time, the words had been meant for the would-be-bomber, a taunt, a challenge. But now, stripped of his armor and alone with his thoughts, he wondered if those words had been aimed at himself. Had he been trying to prove something? To Noura? To the world? To himself?

The thought made his stomach churn.

Homelander’s fingers tightened around the edge of the dressing table, his knuckles whitening. He wasn’t some bleeding-heart wuss. He was strength, control, and power incarnate. That was what made him untouchable. So why couldn’t he shake the image of Noura’s tear-streaked face back at the market, the anger in her voice when she’d demanded to know why?

“You’re not going soft,” he told himself firmly. His voice echoed off the sterile walls, but even to his ears, it sounded like a lie.

He turned away from the mirror, pacing the length of the room with measured steps. His cape lay discarded on the floor, a crumpled heap of red and white, its pristine image marred by soot and dirt. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this—uncertain, conflicted, human.

A distant rumble broke the quiet. The sound of engines approaching. Military vehicles, their headlights slicing through the darkness outside the window. General Thompson was approaching.

Homelander’s jaw tightened at the thought of the general. He had never disobeyed Thompson, never given him a reason to doubt his loyalty or his effectiveness. The man’s approval had always been a given, as steady and reliable as the suit Homelander wore. But tonight? He could already picture the disappointment, the anger etched into Thompson’s face.

For a moment, a fleeting moment, the image of Thompson’s fury made something deep inside him recoil. Not fear—he didn’t fear anyone—but something dangerously close. Shame. It sat heavy in his chest, a weight Homelander didn’t know how to carry.

“No,” he growled, shaking his head. “No more of this.”

He squared his shoulders, forcing the conflict down, burying it beneath layers of hardened resolve. He was the Homelander, America’s greatest hero. He wasn’t built for doubt, for regret. Whatever had happened tonight—whatever impulse had driven him to save Amir—it wouldn’t happen again. He wouldn’t let it.

By the time the sound of boots reached his door, his expression was cool, his stance unwavering. He was back in control. Or at least, he would make them believe he was. But deep down, beneath the surface, the questions still lingered, unanswered and relentless. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to face them.

[soursvgar]

hii !! i have been absolutely obsessed with your writing every since i found your blog 💖 the way you write each character is just oshshqjs SO good (especially lucifer!!i see him as a hard character to write but yours is just *CHEFSKISS*)

if its okay i would like to request the brothers reacting to an mc who strongly reeks of their sin, i would like to think that the brothers sense their sin on humans so them coming across of one who is just bathing in it would be interesting, whether mc acts on it or not its up to 💖💖

The brothers with MC that matches their sin ♡

A/N: thank you so very much, this is a huge compliment 🥺 this is actually such an incredible prompt and i love this idea so much, it was challenging but really fun! i really hope i managed to convey your intentions with this request ;v;

Pairing: demon brothers x gender neutral reader

Warnings: Since this inherently revolve around the topic of sin there are some warnings, so please read at your own discretion! (food mentions and implied ED to some level in beel's part, as well as insecurity and mental health themes in general, also just basically demons being demons?)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Lucifer ━ ෆ

Pride is the sin used to weaponize the devil himself, a deceitful perception of the self that led to the downfall of many━ but not yours. Adversative to the concept of humility, you exult in your achievements and flaunt your success; you've always believed that preeminence should be celebrated. Needless to say, you did not draw the same praise from others, judging you as arrogant and vain. Thus, a new beginning in a new place was exactly right for you. But what happens when two entities harboring hubris are put together?

The moment you walk in, Lucifer has you all figured out, or so he believes, at least. Your conceit is so prominent it tugs on every cell in his body. But to his dismay, the act you put among demons is the antithesis to the image you exude. You portray a clean, humble image of an innocent human, ready to cleanse a rotten world. He will force it out of you, though, there is no need to be modest, not with him. And it will be exceptional, a beautiful display of your sin.

"There's nothing more attractive than a corrupted soul." He exclaims when he finally earns a scarce chance to be alone with you, signaling you to join him on the couch. "Us demons..." He trails off, eyes skimming over your features. "We can't resist the temptation to taint a pure soul, but when we sense a human with a sin already ingrained in them, it's even more impossible to defy our instincts." Explaining, he pulls you closer by your collar when you take your seat next to him. "Will you be good and start acting upon yours━ or shall I say, mine? Or do I have to provoke you to do so?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Mammon ━ ෆ

For anyone who is familiar with you, or even just spent a couple minutes in your company, it is clear that you are ambitious, and always strive for the most. You need to present yourself in the best luxurious brands, you absolutely have to acquire the most advanced, cutting-edge technology, and you would never be caught with a cheap knock off of anything, down to the smallest, most mundane items. Throughout your entire life you had been insatiable, forever on the pursuit for the next big thing; careers, relationships, you always desired something better than what you already had, which was going pretty badly for you. That is, until you reached the devildom.

When Mammon meets you it’s like he finally finds his partner in crime. It's your visuals that speak to him first, your glamorous attire was the first piece to a puzzle that piqued his curiosity. However, it's only when he delves deeper, picking your brain during your time spent together, that he realizes how deep the sin runs within you. But is it morally wrong to feed into that sin? Will he break some kind of a promise to Lucifer or Diavolo for tainting your delicate soul if he only fosters an already existent feature? And is he even a demon if he wouldn't at least try?

"Oy." He calls out to you from the further corner of the room. "I'm about to sneak out and hit the casino, do ya wanna- like, y'know, join maybe? First few rounds are on me- unless ya end up losing." He examines your body language as you listen intently, and by the looks of it, it tells him that it's game on.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Leviathan ━ ෆ

Veiled under the surface, lies a thin layer of covetousness under your compliments. It's not that you are unable to genuinely flatter, it's just that you are certain it is your wishes that should be coming true, your efforts coming to fruition, not others'. It had been a bad habit that you were unable to shake, forever to be concealed in the depths of your wishful, jealous heart. Unless?

When you first arrived, Leviathan was unfazed; you were just another human, a species he was well acquainted with, and found pretty boring - faultless, innocent normies with their rules and integrity. Once he makes the effort to step out of his room and actually meet you, though, something immediately clicks in him, you are different. Leviathan sees through you, your sin glows in his eyes, responding to his presence as it engulfs you in its aura. He had never perceived a human beautiful before, not until he senses the envy waiting to ooze out of you, and he can't wait to release it, wanting to see your malice shine in its full glory.

"Hey best friend." Leviathan grins at you, hand delicately caressing your cheek as he speaks, his tone soft and mellow. "Remember when I beat you in your favorite game? Over and over again? And completely crushed you? Aren't I so good at it?" He merely laughs as your face flushes, enjoying the anger visibly seething within you at his attempts to make you act out on your envy. Strangely, you didn't mind, and you have never felt more validated in your life. No one in the human world prepares you that being in love with a demon means they absolutely bask in anything you ever viewed as your shortcomings.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Satan ━ ෆ

You didn't want to call it anger issues, but everyone else did. In your opinion, it was everybody else's problem for trying you. You were aware that your patience has its limits, and said limits are plainly easy to cross; it doesn't take much to provoke you and your reactions are far from being controlled and passive. You choose to live by it, though, as your wrath is a beast even you couldn't tame, and you wonder if anyone out there were to prevail it.

He wants you as his project. Satan mentally exclaims. His own little feisty human who's troubled with the burden of a short fuse and fails to command it, just like he used to be. Teaching you to contain and channel your power is an achievement he'll be able to brag upon, something within his department, that only he can master, and Lucifer could never. Except, he did not expect the outcome - Satan finds himself fascinated by you, your reasonings, and most of all, the passion that fuels your intense emotions. Without realizing, his plan backfires as he ends up wanting more of your fire, more of your ferocity, becoming a little too tangled up in enabling your wrath, and reviving his own in the process.

"I said I don't have it!" Your brows furrow, shooting daggers at the blonde. "It's alright if you took it, just let me know next ti-" His expression is calm, even condescending while he accuses you in vain. "I didn't take it!!" You don't allow him to complete his sentence, your nerves quickly getting the best of you as your voice is raised by a couple octaves. Satan smirks, he knows you didn't take his belongings, but he also know you're one popped vein away from turning the situation into a steamy, temper filled makeout session.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Asmodeus ━ ෆ

Viewing the world through a pink lens, you were one infatuation away from losing your mind. No one could quite understand your deep attachments, or support your confidence; perhaps it was all because you are the one putting the emphasis on your wrong attributes. There is no doubt that you are breathtakingly beautiful, and people notice it from a mile away, letting you have your way with them whichever form you like. But then, why do you constantly feel so empty?

There is no way a human can be this beautiful, maybe- even more than himself? No, this can't be, can it? Asmodeus finds himself in a state of consternation. He resents it at first, he used to be the one drawing everyone's attention with his unimaginable beauty; it's not until your eyes finally meet that he's struck with the same bewilderment. But something seems off about this human, do they seem... sad? For some reason, it cheers him up. Maybe it's because it makes you more approachable, or maybe it's because he finally meets someone who shares a similar problem, one that no one else can see past the initial vibrant attitude. No one, but Asmodeus.

"Do you like this outfit on me?" Patting out your clothes, you bashfully seek for Asmodeus' approval. "Sweetheart, with your gorgeous face you would look good wearing even a potato sack." His eyes soften as he scans your roseate cheeks. "You do look good in it though, but... you know that that's not where your charm lie, right?" He frowns when your eyes widen with surprise, are you truly not aware of your good measures? Because they are so obvious to him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Beelzebub ━ ෆ

Food is among life's greatest pleasures - satisfying, comforting and delicious. You label yourself a curious connoisseur, admiring the different stages your food goes through before ending on your plate, tingling your tastebuds. You truly love, appreciate, and cherish the different types of cuisines in the world, however, society viewed your food adoration as disgraceful, consequently causing you to suppress a meaningful chunk of your personality for the sake of acceptance.

Beel is desensitized to the inkling that washes over him when he initially sees you. He's used to receiving this warm, familiar feeling from food all the time, so he's mostly indifferent to it, and didn't realize it's actually you emitting it this time. He only pays mind to it when the family sits down together for your first dinner with them - inquisitive, you eye the diverse food on the plate, only to reject it with a smile. Cocking an eyebrow at the sight, Beel is wondering who in their right mind would refuse a devildom delicacy.

Later that evening, a knock on your door breaks the silence settled in your new room. You allow the visitor in, watching as Beel steps in with a loaded tray, filled to the brim with a variety of snacks. "You didn't have anything at dinner, so I wanted to introduce you to some other local treats, maybe there's something in here that would fit your taste?" He explains, placing the platter on your desk. "Thank you Beel, but I'm not really hungry." You inform, but the latter won't budge. "Well, I'm staying here until you try at least some of them, so take your time. I have no other place to be at for awhile." Your heart flutter at the gesture. Maybe in this new world you no longer have to hide who you are, at least not with Beelzebub.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ ━ Belphegor ━ ෆ

On any day, you would take staying home with a good book or a movie over going out. Leaving your safe haven often feels like a chore, and the older you became, the rarer it was to find the time for these moments of solace. Nothing beats the comfort of staying in bed for you, cuddled in a duvet and left to your lonesome. But people continually take it the wrong way, deeming you apathic and careless for not wanting to engage in the same tiresome activities they enjoy. Life in the human world is not easy for a domestic being, and surrounded by all the wrong ones, you find yourself pondering if like-minded people even exist.

Belphegor has months of making up to do when he's finally (properly) introduced to you. His sentiment with you was way too damaged to even acknowledge the fact his sin was practically covering every inch of your existence, something he usually would sniff from miles away. It took a bit of warming up from your side as he patiently waited for you to set the pace, but when you finally agree to nap with him one afternoon━ nose buried in your soft locks━ he ultimately detects the reason he feels so in tune with you.

"Who is it?" Belphegor peeks over your shoulder as your phone lights up with a text message. "It's Asmo, he wants me to go window shopping with him." You sigh, your finger hover over the keys, contemplating your reply. Belphegor puts an end to your turmoil by taking the device from your hands and clicking it shut. "There, problem solved. Now come back to bed, it's cold without you by my side." He smiles, pulling you closer by your arms. "You're a bad influence, Belphie." You shake your head, but he just shrugs in response. "You can call it that, but I just know what you want."