#best weight lose method

[immortalsins]

went running and can report i'm still not that person

[ranjith11]

Achieve Balance and Calorie Deficit for a Healthier You!

Are you looking to make a positive change in your lifestyle? It's time to discover the power of balance and calorie deficit! Take control of your health and reach your goals. #theamazinghealthtransformation #riteshbawri

[yieldtotemptation]

BLUEBERRIES ft. Chaewon

chaewon x male reader smut

9k words

"SURPRISE ATTACK!"

—is the last thing you hear before your entire world tilts sideways, the weight of your girlfriend crashing into you, sending you toppling over the arm of your chair and onto the thankfully plush carpet.

And just like that, Kim Chaewon has arrived—shattering the quiet of your apartment with the sound of her giggles and the thud of your bodies.

To her credit, she gracefully lands on top of you—legs straddling your torso, hands pressing down on your chest—pinning you to the floor, and she's grinning—all doe-eyes and mischief, her hair fanned out around her like a strawberry-blonde halo.

"Do you surrender, baby?"

You could pretend to put up a fight—push back a little, buck your hips, take her by the waist—get a little rough. But why would you? Especially when losing meant having Chaewon on top of you.

So, like always, you decide it's best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants and you play along: enjoying the creamy thighs squeezing your sides, that collarbone peeking out of your stolen sweatshirt, those impossibly large eyes looking down at you as she makes herself comfortable—and you respond with a rather theatrical groan, "I surrender, Chae."

"Nuh uh," she corrects you, her voice dropping down a comically low octave. "It's Chaewon-rys Targar-something, Queen of Apartment 19-4, Ruler of..."

"My fridge?" You offer.

"Very funny,” Chaewon replies, bemused.

It's been weeks without this—without her—and you've barely survived. Chaewon's schedule is a merciless beast, devouring every second of her time. But here she is, now, with you—on top of you—back in your life and picking up from exactly where she left off.

“But,” she continues, “seeing as you're in the mood for jokes how about… ThisI" Chaewon turns cruel, unveiling her most brutal method of torture—tickling. She catches you off guard, shifting her weight, her hands abandoning your chest and flying to your sides, her light fingers dancing over your ribs, her nails lightly digging in just enough to make you squirm.

"Wait-wait-wait!" You try to twist your way free, but she's got you good, her fingers now inching closer to your armpits, towards your most vulnerable spots. "Mercy!" you yell, but she's just getting started— “Mercy!”

"No mercy!" She's relishing this far, far too much, all giggles and grins, delighted at your pathetic efforts to struggle out from her grasp and escape her vicious assault. Your laughter comes out in uncontrollable bursts, as you desperately try to cover your sides to protect yourself from her onslaught.

"Ok-ok-ok-I give up! You win— you win—I give up!" You cry out, your laughter morphing into wheezes as Chaewon's relentless tickling at last, mercifully subsides.

"Aha! Round 129 goes to Kim-Chae-Won!" Chaewon turns and bows to an imaginary audience, mimicking a faraway crowd chanting her name "Kim-Chae-Won! Kim-Chae-Won!"

"I have once again been defeated," you feign a dramatic sigh, drawing an even harder laugh from Chaewon as you roll your eyes to the back your head and let your tongue loll out of your mouth.

Your apparent death does little to faze Chaewon, who takes this as an opportunity to plop down on your stomach, pressing her full weight down on your chest. She props her elbows on either side of your shoulders, her chin resting on her interlocked hands. “I guess it’s time to claim my prize.”

Chaewon slides her hands upwards, her fingertips walking up your arms towards your wrists, squeezing them lightly and pulling them over your head, holding them firm against the ground.

When your eyes finally refocus, she’s hovering over you, her button nose brushing against yours, and her lips—bright pink and slightly parted—just millimeters away from your own.

You're trapped under her, but you hardly mind—she's so warm, so soft, so natural—crime would skyrocket if this was considered a form of punishment.

"Let this be a lesson," she's whispering now, very much satisfied, so close that waves of her strawberry-blonde hair spill down on either side of your face. Strands tickle your nose with the scent of her shampoo, a floral bouquet that you've come to associate with lazy Sundays and the promise of warm breakfasts in bed. "I. Always. End. On. Top."

She finishes her victory speech by stealing a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

That simple kiss has your mind wandering, entertaining the thought of flipping the script—of surprising her, overpowering her and turning the tables.

You could grab her, kiss her long and hard—get rid of that ludicrously oversized sweatshirt and tear off those dangerously short sweatpants. Part those lithe, never-ending legs, feel the warmth of her bare skin against yours, mark your territory on her perfect, toned thighs and each individual abdominal muscle.

But the way she's looking at you, her cheeks flushed from the exertion, her eyes sparkling with playful triumph, she's so adorable that the thought of manhandling her right now seems almost...sacrilegious.

And, let's face it, it's seeing this side of her that you love—the Chaewon that's free from the glitz and glamour of the stage, the choreography, the smiles that are painted on for the cameras. The Chaewon that is not wearing the mask of someone enjoying herself, that is actually, genuinely having a good time.

Here, in your apartment, with the curtains drawn and the outside world blocked out, she's just yours—Kim Chaewon, your girlfriend. The one who laughs at your terrible dad jokes and makes fun of your outdated sense of style, the one who can tell whether you've had a good day or not just by how heavy your feet are when you walk through the front door, the one who knows all the perfect ways to make you relax after a tough day at—

Fuck.

Work.

The word sneaks into your mind like a ninja in the night—silent, swift, and really fucking inconvenient.

Fucking work.

A bullshit spreadsheet you're supposed to be updating and a deck that needs to be finished by tomorrow morning, even though you know it won't be looked at for another month.

You don't have to say anything, Chaewon's already reading the frown lines on your face. "Oh—no-no-no. That's your—'fun time is over I have work to do'—face. I hate that face."

"There's these slides..." you know you’re fighting a losing battle, your voice trailing off as you try to hold onto the last remnants of what was once a very pleasant afternoon.

"No way—not happening," Chaewon insists, emphasising her point with a firm squeeze of your wrists. "I only just came back from Japan, and it’s been weeks. There is no way you're going to ditch the beautiful love of your life for that laptop. I'm literally on top of you right now!"

"Come on, Chae, I was almost done when you came in—"

"—when I defeated you in combat and forced you to surrender— "

"At least let me do a quick review then I swear I'm all yours," you negotiate, trying to maintain eye contact with her but failing as your gaze falls to the laptop atop your desk, the open tabs taunting you. "Five minutes, tops."

"Nope, not moving, not going anywhere, you're just going to have stay under me like this forever." Chaewon's being petulant now—this is more your fault than anything, you've been spoiling her like a princess—and while she is acting like a brat, it's a brat of your own creation.

"Chae—come on—let me up, please."

"If I let you up, you'll get into one of your 'zones' and then it'll be hours before you’re done and you’ll completely ignore me," Chaewon pouts, her nose scrunching up in a way that's both endearing and exasperating. "And I've missed you too much for that."

"I promise I won't—”

Chaewon rolls her eyes at that.

“I'm serious—just let me up."

"Oh, you're serious now, how scary."

"Five minutes, Chae—"

“Bullshit.”

“Come on, let me up.”

"Or what, what are you going to—wait—what the—wait!"

It doesn't take much effort at all—face it, she's at best a hundred pounds soaking wet—but you're already on your feet, wrists free of her dainty fingers, holding her up with just one arm and a single hand palming an ample ass cheek.

You catch your breath as you stand, and she’s still reeling as the sudden balance shifts. She’s forced to cling to you, wrapping those long, toned legs around your waist, and looping her arms around your neck, her hands grasping at the back of your head as if she's afraid you're going to drop her.

"H-how the—how did you—I had you pinned!" Chaewon squeaks out, pure disbelief colouring her voice as she clings onto you.

You leave her to work through the logic on her own, returning to your desk, righting your fallen chair, all the while still holding Chaewon like a prize you've just won at an arcade.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Chaewon protests, but it's too late. You've already set her down on your desk, the laptop between the two of you like a barricade. She tries to keep her limbs wrapped around you, legs around your waist—do anything she can to stop you—but you gently, quite easily, peel her off—earning another scowl from your girlfriend.

You can feel Chaewon's eyes boring into you as you sit down at your desk, her legs swinging back and forth from the edge of the desk in frustration. The work itself doesn't take long—you were being honest—just a minor grammar check here, fixing some formatting there and—

"What was that? How did you just—”

It's the first time you've ever seen Kim Chaewon—usually so composed and untouchable on stage—so completely, utterly flustered.

"I don't get it. I mean did you just get this strong?" Chaewon's voice is small, barely heard over the sound of your keystrokes—trying to process what just happened. She's shifted on the desk, leaning back now on her palms, looking at you like you're a puzzle piece that doesn't fit anywhere at all. "Or have you always been—you were just—were you letting me win? Hey—why are you laughing?"

You hit a final 'enter', saving your work with a performative flair, and spin the chair around to face Chaewon so you can give her your full, undivided attention.

But she's not looking at you—no, she's still trying to make sense of it, her gaze flitting from the chair, to the floor, to the laptop, to your hands that are now folded neatly in your lap. You're expecting a comeback, something witty and biting, something that'll make you laugh, but she's just sitting there—pouting. Adorably so.

"Chae, come on."

"What?" She snaps out of her daze, the hardware in her head overclocking. "I just—I exercise way more than you—I run, I dance everyday, I go to the gym, I do pilates—you can't be that much stronger than me."

"I'm like twice your size, Chae." You chuckle, reaching for the water bottle on your desk and taking a well-earned swig. "And I do manage to sneak in some workouts when you're not around to tickle me to death."

"But... this whole time?" Chaewon asks, there’s an accusation in her voice as she crosses her arms over her chest, inadvertently distracting you with the way it makes her sweatshirt pull tightly across her breasts. It's too fucking cute, and you can't help but lean in for a kiss, but she turns her head away at the last second. "Every time, you've been taking it easy on me? Kiddie gloves?"

You sigh.  "More or less."

"Why?"

"I guess I thought you knew," you say with a sheepish smile, "but even then, I didn't want to spoil the fun for you." You take another sip of water, watching her carefully. "You're so competitive, Chae. And when we’re playing like this and you win, you're so... happy. I just like seeing that."

"But that's..." Chaewon stammers. "Even when we're... You know... You're so... Gentle with me."

"Of course, I never want to—I'm just afraid that—"

"Afraid of what? That you'll break me? Okay, Bruce Banner." Chaewon teases, seemingly having made some decision in her own mind, as she hops off the desk to face you. "So, you've been holding back? You really think you’re that much stronger than me?”

You give her a very cautious shrug.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"If you’re really as strong as you think. Show me. Here—take my wrists—" Chaewon says, holding them out to you, "—and I bet I'll still be able to break free like I always do."

“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,” you say, setting your bottle aside and standing up to face her.

“Why? Chicken?” She answers, and you try not to facepalm, reminding yourself that it is easier to just give her what she wants—most of the time, anyway.

"Alright, if that's what you want," you reply, gently placing your hands on her shoulders and guiding her so her back is flat against the nearest wall. She's staring up at you the whole time, watching you intensely as you take both her wrists in one hand, holding it against the wall and above her head.

"Really, only one hand? This will be real easy to get out of—" Chaewon starts to taunt, but she never gets to finish her sentence, because your grip tightens around her wrists and she feels the full weight of your body pressing into hers. She tries to pull away, expecting the same give she's felt countless times before, but your hand is like a vice—firm and unyielding—and it dawns on her that she's not going anywhere.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she tries to hide her surprise—because she's still in the game, still playing along. She tries to push off from the wall with her legs, but you anticipate it, placing a hand on her waist and keeping her in place.

Even you're surprised at how little effort it is to keep her still—a small push here, a slight change in weight there—Chaewon is at your mercy and it feels... different.

"Wait—I can't—" Chaewon still hasn’t given up, squirming and wiggling, doing little to help her escape but a lot to make you want to keep her against you.

She's trapped, every move she makes only making it worse for her—better for you—moulding her body closer into yours, aligning the softness of her curves with the hard lines of your chest.

But still, she struggles, tries every way she can think of to break free—twisting, turning, pushing with her legs, even trying to bite you at one point—but her best efforts only make you chuckle, and press her harder into the wall, press yourself harder into her.

You can feel her heart racing beneath her sweatshirt, and there's something there—you both feel it—a sudden tension in her helplessness, a thrill in your newfound power over her. "Damn it—this is so—argh!"

Chaewon’s eyes meet yours, and there’s your confirmation—that spark of something new, something unspoken. It's not anger or fear—no, she's never looked at you with fear—it's something else entirely. It's excitement, curiosity, a hint of arousal.

And so, you lean in, closing the last gap between you, and kiss her—right there against the wall.

It's not the gentle peck she's used to, it's not the sweet, loving kiss she’s grown to expect—it's more. You don’t even understand it yourself—it's raw, it's passionate, it's the kind of kiss that could start a war—or end one—the kind of kiss that sucks all the air from the room.

Her body tenses up, and for a moment you fear that maybe this is too much, too far, and you ready to let her go.

But she melts into it—into you. You let go of her wrists to cradle her face, and her arms fall to your shoulders, wrapping around your neck as she kisses you back—kisses you like she doesn't want you to ever stop, like she knows she couldn't stop you even if she tried. Her nails dig into your skin, not painfully, but with enough pressure to remind you that she's here, that she's alive and real and in this moment with you.

You push her into the wall, the plaster giving a gentle protest, and she’s lifting her legs up—she’s straddling you again, gravity doing its job and keeping her affixed to your torso.

Chaewon adapts, her ankles lock behind your back, pressing herself against you, her thighs tightening around your waist, and she’s hips grinding down over your sweatpants.

It’s almost too much, too fast—zero to a hundred in record time. You break the kiss, panting, breathless, but Chaewon's eyes stay closed, her chest heaving, as if she's afraid that if she opens them, this moment will evaporate like a mirage.

"Enough proof for you?"

"Yeah," is all Chaewon can muster, and she opens her eyes, dazed, like you’ve just woken her up from a particularly good dream.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words coming out in a rush, "I didn't mean to lie to you, I just didn't want to ruin your fun. Are you upset?"

"Upset?" Chaewon repeats, letting the word roll around her lips. "Maybe a little bit," she's biting her lip—so endearingly—and you can see the wheels turning in her head—recalculating, reassessing. "But now I'm just..." she pauses, looking down and rolling her hips against you once more, "I'm just really, really turned on."

Her admission hangs in the air between the two of you, and the air in your apartment begins to feel hotter, thicker, laced with something new.

"I love how you take care of me, how you make me feel safe..." Chaewon continues, "But this... the way you're holding me up like this... So easily, it's just so..." Another shifting of weight, another grind of her hips, and she’s slowly discovering what your sweatpants is making very little to hide. "Hot."

"Is that right?" You can't take your eyes off her lips, the way they form those delicious words. Maybe you've been wrong to treat her like she's fragile, like you could hurt her if you're not careful enough. Maybe what she’s really been craving is to prove herself to you, to prove to you that she can handle you—all of you. "Tell me what you like about it."

"I like how—ah—" Her voice hitches as you let go of her waist with your hand, sliding it under her sweatshirt, running your fingers over her toned stomach, feeling it cave in a sharp inhale. "How in control you are. How strong you feel."

Even without your hand at her waist she doesn't fall—her legs simply tighten around your waist, her grip on your neck becoming more secure, more possessive. You trace her belly button with your fingertip—her breath catches, her eyes flutter shut.

"How it feels like you could do—mmm—" she continues, her words getting lost as your hand rises higher up her body, reaching the swell of her breasts. Chaewon arches her back, pushing her chest out for more, a soft mewl escaping her lips. “—could do anything to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you."

You slip your fingers under her bra, the fabric stretching to accommodate your touch, press your thumb against her nipple, feeling it pebble under your touch. You pinch and roll them lightly, basking in her reactions, the way her eyebrows furrow, the way her mouth forms a perfect 'O'.

"I can do anything I want to you."

Chaewon's eyes open, and she’s looking at you like she’s seeing someone entirely different in place of her usual, doting boyfriend. She's panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks a glowing shade of red that seems to spread down her neck and into the fabric of her sweatshirt. She opens her mouth, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps, and she whispers—"Will you?"

Two simple words. Two simple words that unlock something deep inside you. Something primal. The thing inside each man since the dawn of time that drives them to hunt, kill, fuck like their lives depend on it.

Two simple words that have you leaning in and kissing her again, not just her lips—your mouth traces a fiery path along her jawline, the tender spot behind her ear, down her neck. Each kiss is a promise of what's to come, each nip of your teeth makes her shiver.

Chaewon gasps, her body writhing under your touch, her legs tightening around your waist, desperate and afraid you'll pull away. You don't. Instead, you press into her, feeling the wetness spreading through her shorts, and it takes all your self-control to not rip them off her right there.  

"Bedroom," she manages to get out, a soft, fleeting whimper between kisses, "take me to the—"

You never find out the end of her sentence—twisting her body around, your hands cupping the firm, round globes of her ass, and in a single, swift motion, you lift her higher, throwing her up and over your shoulder.

"Wai—" Chaewon squeals as you hoist her up, her legs dangling in the air, has ass pointing to the sky.

She's giggling again, the sound muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt, her laughter vibrating through your back as you carry her across the apartment.

"I can't believe you're actually doing this—" she's still giggling, managing to separate herself from your back to chide you,

"—you're so strong it's unfair—",

"—treating me like I weigh nothing—" ,

"—like a caveman—",

"—I'm going to have to tell the others about this—",

"—they won't believe it—",

"—I don't even believe it—",

"—my what a big, strong boyfriend I ha—"

But she's cut off again as you kick open the already ajar bedroom door, the wood slamming against the wall. Before she can realise what's happening you're throwing her onto the bed, her body bouncing once before she lands in a sprawled mess of limbs and exclamations.

"Are you ever going to let me finish a full sen—"

"Chae," her name comes out deeper and gruffer—far more demanding than you intended, cutting off her playful protests in an instant.

For once, Chaewon is paying full attention—no quips, no sarcasm, no laughter to lighten the mood—the room completely quiet except for the sound of her breathing, and even that seems to hush in anticipation of what's to come.

You stand over her, her legs still in the air, her body open and exposed for you—her sweatshirt riding up, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach, the little mole you've kissed a thousand times just above her navel, her shorts stretched so tightly over her thighs.

It's in the way she's looking at you too—the way she squirms under your gaze, the way she can't help but make her body arch up towards you, pushing out those beautiful, perfect breasts, slightly parting her legs as if inviting you to dive in—wanting you to take her (to fuck her) in all the ways you wanted to but were too afraid to try before—it's all so different, all too much, all so fucking intoxicating.

"You want me to do whatever I want to you?"

Chaewon swallows hard, and nods.

"You want me to take you however I want?"

Another nod, another submission.

You step closer to the bed, your mind completely made up. "Then say it."

Her voice comes out hoarse, a strained whisper. "Take me."

"Again."

She repeats it, this time her words clearer, urgent. "Please—take me."

And with that—her shorts—those tight, far too tiny shorts—become your first victim. There's no time for slow, teasing unbuttoning or the gentle tug of fabric over skin. You're too far gone for that.

So, you rip.

The button pops off with a satisfying ping, and the material gives way, revealing her panties beneath. The sound makes Chaewon gasp, her body shiver.

Hooking your thumbs in the waistband, you drag the shorts down her legs, bringing them gliding over the soft skin of her ass, catching briefly on her thighs before you toss them to the floor.

Her panties are next—white, cotton, and oh-so-innocent looking—the kind tailor-made to be ripped off and left in shreds. But just as your hand reaches the waistband, something holds you back.

A thought—a flicker of doubt—crosses your mind. What if she doesn't like this? What if you're getting caught up and taking things too far? What if she regrets what she's about to let you do to her?

But then, "I'm okay," Chaewon says, reading your hesitation. "Stop thinking like that." Her voice is firm, almost commanding. "I want this."

"Chae—"

"I. Want. This." Chaewon repeats, her voice stronger. “I want it all.”

You trust her—you always will—and so, you nod, understanding the gravity of her words. You lean over her, capturing her gaze, making sure she sees you, really sees you. "Alright, but we need a safe word."

"A safe word." Chaewon echoes, a smile rising on her face, as she realises what a safe word means—what it enables you to do to her.

"If you want me to stop," you say, slowly, like a professor and his star pupil. "Just say..."

"Blueberry," Chaewon interjects, the corner of her mouth curling up into a mischievous smile.

"Blueberry?" It's so unfitting, so fucking adorable, so Chae. "Fine then, if you want me to stop," you begin to explain the rules of the game that you're already starting—kissing down her calf, over her knee, down that gorgeous curve of her inner thigh, until your lips are meeting cotton— "you just say 'blueberry'. As loud as you can, the second you want me to stop. Otherwise, we keep going until I'm satisfied. Got it?"

Chaewon nods eagerly, a little too eagerly, but you don't miss the glint of excitement in her eyes. She's so ready for you, so ready for what's to come next, her body vibrating with anticipation.

"Good."

The single word hangs in the air, a declaration of intent. With it, your hand moves to her panties, the cotton material damp with her arousal. You don't hesitate, you don't play it slow, again—all it takes is your thumb in her waistband and you rip. What were once her panties gives way easily, tearing with a sound that's halfway might as well be a starting pistol, revealing her bare, already glistening, already so wet pussy to the coolness of the room.

But Chaewon's not just lying there waiting for you to make your next move. No, she's not that kind of girl. She's sitting up now, her sweatshirt coming off with a flick of her wrists, the heavy garment flying through the air to land somewhere in the room, forgotten.

Her bra follows suit—quick, efficient, like she couldn't wait another second to be naked for you. Chaewon's breasts bounce free, full and firm and so fucking perfect, rosy tips hard from the cold air or maybe just from the way you're looking at her.

Fuck, the sight of her alone is almost too much. You take a moment, just to breathe her in—to admire the way the light from the bedside lamp casts shadows on her skin, highlighting the curves and valleys of her body. She's a work of art, a masterpiece, and now, she's all yours—every line, every freckle, every goosebump that pops up as the cool air kisses her heated skin.

But you're not here to admire, not now. You're here to give her exactly what she wants, to treat her exactly how she deserves.

You push her back into the bed, your hands on her shoulders, the mattress sinking under your joint weight, and you're kissing her again—no, not kissing, consuming. You kiss her like you're trying to claim her, like you're trying to brand her with your mouth, and she's kissing you back with matched desperation, her nails digging into your skin like she's trying to climb you, to get closer, closer still.

"Mmmm..." Chaewon presses herself up against you—her taut, stiff nipples pushing into your chest, perfect buds squashing themselves against your body, her bare skin gliding over your shirt, her pussy, hot and wet and slippery, working its way over the swell of your sweatpants.

Her hands are everywhere—fumbling with your shirt, running up and down your back, grabbing fistfuls of your hair—and her lips follow, peppering kisses across your cheeks, your jaw, your neck. Her teeth graze the sensitive skin just below your ear, her tongue tracing the shell, her lips whispers sweet—filthy—nothings into your ear.

She dares to move a hand lower, squeezing in some tiny gap between your two bodies, reaching for the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers teasing the skin just above the elastic.

But you're quicker, catching her wrist, pulling it away with a firm, yet gentle grip.

"No."

You collect her other wrist in the same hand, stretching her arms out and over her head, pushing her down—with your grip, your weight, your hips—keeping her in place, keeping her where you want, paying her back in kind for her earlier “victory”.

"I know what you want," you murmur against her neck. You lean more of your weight into her, your hips pressing down, grinding against her—a slow, deliberate movement, that stains your sweatpants with the juices leaking from her pink, puffy lips.

"Yes," she purrs, "I need you."

"I know," you taunt—another grind, another groan, a deepening stain, "but I need you to want me more."

"I do," she's pleading, begging, "please, I need your cock."

"Not yet," you say, a light chuckle at the whine that escapes her lips. "Not yet."

"But—"

"I am going to fuck you," you say. "Not how you're used to." Her breath hitches, throat swallows—apprehension, arousal, adrenaline—it's all there, playing out on her face like a silent movie. "I'm going to fuck you in every way that I've ever wanted to, in every way I thought you could never handle."

You snake a hand from her waist, drawing a path with your fingertips, running them over her soft, unblemished skin, the ridges of her abs, as you move your hand down, down, until you're right at the juncture of her thighs.

"Ah!" It's the sweetest sound, a high-pitched gasp that turns into a full-throated groan as your index finger breaches her wetness, sliding into the slick, dripping opening of her cleanly shaved cunt—so, so wet—until it's buried knuckle-deep inside her.

Chaewon's back lifts off the bed, her body curving as you slide your finger in and out of her, settling into a steady rhythm. Every movement earns a different, delightful reaction—you trigger your finger: her body shakes, you kiss her neck: she echoes back your name, you add your middle, then your ring finger into her tightness: she falls apart.

"God—gah—" she chokes on whatever noise her mouth is trying to make, her legs spreading wider, hips bucking up to meet your hand, your rhythm. She's beyond soaked; her thighs, her lips, your palm—all drenched in hot, insatiable wetness. "You're so—so fucking good at this."

You add your thumb to the mix, brushing the hood of her clit with the pad; you curl your fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her crumble.

Her eyes start to close, she’s lost to the sensation, her face contorting in beautiful agony as her walls close around your digits, before you snap her out of it—tightening your grip around her wrists, a slight jolt of pain to force her eyes to meet yours.

"Look at me," you grunt. "Look at me while I fuck you."

Chaewon doesn't dare even blink—she’s so obedient—and the way she's looking up at you now—so willing, so wanting to please, so eager for more—it's bordering on complete worship.

So, you give it to her. You plunge your fingers deeper, twisting and turning, feeling her tighten around you, her wetness coating your hand, the walls of her pussy fluttering with each stroke. You can see it in the redness of her cheeks, the trembling of her thighs, the way her stomach muscles tighten and release—she's close, she’s been so close for far too long.

"Good girl." You kiss her forehead, her nose, her dimples, something sweet amongst the depravity.

"Am I?" Chaewon's question is hopeful, so disastrously erotic, her voice a breathy whisper. There's the beginnings of a storm in her eyes, the first hints painting her features in a way that's so vulnerable, that tells you the only thing holding her back from collapsing is your explicit approval.

"Yes, Chae," you murmur against her ear, nibbling gently, your fingers melting inside her folds. "You're being such a good girl for me."

"Th-thank you," she manages shaky words, barely keeping it together, at the mercy of the quickening of your fingers, the circling of your thumb, the movements of your hand, helping her climb towards that wonderful peak. "Oh my God—how are you—how is this—so—fuck—fuck—"

"Good girls deserve a reward." You're roughly kissing into her collarbone, feeling her pulse hammering under your lips—you want to leave a mark on her body, something for her to remember this by—something to remind her how completely she came apart for you. "Cum for me—cum now—cum on my fingers. Show me how much you want it—how much you love it."

"Please," Chaewon's desperate, so desperate, trying to do something, anything, everything that she can to convince you to let her fall apart. "I love how you touch me—just—please—I’m so close—"

She’s on fire, there’s too much pressure—your fingers work inside her, undoing a knot of their own making—unravelling that slutty ache inside your girlfriend—your good girl—fucking her and stretching her, making her eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth to drop open in a silent scream.

"So good—so fucking good—just like that—mmmm-MMMPH!"

You breathe it in—your mouth on hers, her cries dying in your throat—feeling her tighten, tense, release around your hand as her small, tight frame—her whole, amazing body—overwhelmed by just three fingers and a thumb.

It takes her like an eruption, a natural disaster—dancing along her skin, to her hips, her thighs, her ribs, her breasts—turning her into a shivering mess, leaving her limp beneath you.

"Fuh—"

You release her lips, watching her pant and quiver, her chest heave, her body spasm from the aftershocks of her climax.

Your hand is drowned in her heat, her juices sticking to your skin as you slowly draw your fingers out of her, glistening in the soft light of the room.

"Here, have a taste." You lift your hand to her face, tracing your sticky fingers along the seam of her mouth, smearing her juices over her soft, parted lips.

Chaewon's tongue darts out, welcoming your digits as you push inside her mouth. She sucks greedily, her tongue lapping your fingertips—she can't get enough of the taste of herself on you.

"Good girl," you say again, and again—she shivers.

The tremors of her orgasm start to fade, and you pull your fingers from her mouth—no longer lathered in her cum, but shiny with her spit.

You straighten, leaning back so you're on your knees, between Chaewon's spread legs. Her eyes follow your hand as it leaves her wrist, traveling up to the neck of your shirt, pulling it off your head and reuniting it with the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Her gaze wanders down, down your body, landing at your waist, at your pants, painfully stretching over your erection.

"Take it out for me, Chae," you instruct, unnecessarily—she's already there, licking her lips, quick at work. Practiced fingers pull down your sweatpants and set your cock free, letting it spring into view, hard and heavy, landing directly on her lips.

But she doesn't get the chance to take it in her mouth, to swirl her tongue around the tip and suck you like she's so clearly been dying to—you have her by the hair before she can dive on your cock, to take it down her throat. It's harsh, it's sudden, it elicits a startled groan from her throat—but it makes it clear that this is not going to be the usual 'good little girl' kind of night.

"No," is all you have for her. You're on the edge—you've been on the edge ever since she pleaded for you—you’re done with the foreplay; you're done with the teasing. Fucking Chaewon senseless. That’s all there is now—fucking her hard and fast.

You pull her up by her hair and your mouth is back on hers, pushing and pulling, tongue in her throat, tasting her—tasting her nectar on her lips—dominating her, her own tongue dancing and wrapping around yours, her teeth grazing your bottom lip.

Your other hand finds its way to her chest, squeezing her breast in your palm, feeling the weight of it, the softness of her skin, the hardened peak of her nipple against your palm. There's not enough time—you want to shove your face between them, taste her nipples, feel them roll between your teeth, give them the attention they deserve.

But instead, you're pulling back on her hair again, gritting your teeth. "Turn around. Bend over."

There's no hesitation, no protest from her—Chaewon's a good girl, and good girls do as they’re told. She rolls onto her hands and knees, her ass in the air—she's presenting herself to you: an offering, a prize, a fucking goddess on a platter. Her spine arches as she looks back at you over her shoulder, the soft curve of her cheeks begging for you to take it.

You startle her, taking her by the hips, pulling her back to you so that when you lean in, your mouth is pressed to her ear, and your cock is twitching against the waiting, wanting, folds of her lower lips. "I'm going to make you feel it," you whisper. "Every part of you, understand?"

Chaewon nods, but it's not enough—not for what you have in store.

"I don't just want a nod, I want to hear you say it. I want you to tell me how good it feels while I'm fucking you—I want to hear it all."

"O-Okay.” She’s tense, you can see it, like a coil winded up in her body, but she's eager, so fucking eager, been waiting for this for far too long—"make me scream for you—FUCK!"

Chaewon's true to her word—she shrieks as you bury yourself deep inside her, is undone by your cock—as ready and wet as she is for you, she's still so incredibly tight, needing you to stretch her, fill her, own her.

But it's not enough—you’re not going to ease her into this, to the pleasure ripping through your bodies, not going to let this moment breathe.

As soon as you've sunk into her, given her every inch that her needy little pussy could take, you're backing up, sliding your stained shaft right out of her cunt before slamming back forward.

She's crying out, making barely intelligible sounds, as you’re digging your fingers into that tiny waist, holding her by her hips as you crash into her, feeling it all—the unfathomable heat, the tightness, the wetness, the way she clenches around you with each thrust—again and again and again.

"Words, Chae," you remind her, needing more from than just the sounds of her sweet, sweet agony, and the slapping of your hips against her ass cheeks. "I want words."

"Y-yes—fuh—fuck—YES!" One-syllable noises are all that Chaewon can manage to start—all you can fuck out of her—but with each thrust, she's getting better, getting bolder. "It feels so good, so hard, so big—God, so deep—you've never—I've never been fucked like this…"

"More." It's addictive, hearing her talk like this, knowing every word that comes out of her mouth is the absolute fucking truth—the proof is in how she's shaking beneath you, how she drips around you, how her fingers claw into the sheets, trying her best to hold on. “Tell me more.”

"Y-you're going so fast—so fucking hard!" Mindless, stream-of-consciousness, fuck-drunk ramblings spill from her lips—she's begging, cooing, whimpering as you mercilessly fuck her, making her divine tits swing below her, her ass ripple with each collision. "Making me so wet—making me so fucking wet—I can't even—can't think straight—just your cock—your fucking cock!"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it Chae?" You hiss, over the sounds of the headboard slamming against the wall, the bed creaking beneath you, and her moans—oh those moans. "This is how I'm going to fuck you from now on—however I want, wherever I want, whenever I want."

"Yes-yes—this is what I want—what I fucking need. To be fucked like this—pounded—broken—so fucking sensitive." The words come so easily from her lips, straight from the pleasure centres of her brains and to your ears. "I deserve this—I've been so good—haven't I? Aren't I your good girl—please tell me I'm your good girl—please?"

"You're my good girl, Chae, you’re my perfect little slut," you acquiesce, and she cries out in relief, her body shaking under the weight of your words—she leans into your touch, your control, your cock. "And good girls get what they fucking deserve."

Another thrust has Chaewon bowing her head down to offer more of herself to you, to give you a better angle to pump her harder, deeper, laying her cheek on the bed and turning her face so you can see that blissful grin on her face, see her lips mouth your name like a prayer.

It's so perfect—she's so fucking perfect—so impossibly tight, a ridiculously wet dream of a cunt—"all yours, all yours"—so aching for you to fuck her straight into the mattress—"I can't take it"—so needy for you—"use me"—so hungry for you—"more—please—I need it."

You're giving in—giving long, intense strokes—you're consumed by it, by her, by how every lovely curve and tensed muscle of her immaculate body is doing its best to take you, to please you, to give you a fraction of the ecstasy that’s breaking her into a million tiny, euphoric pieces.

"God, I love it—love your cock—pounding me—fucking me—hurting me—I can't even think—GOD!" She's doing her best to form coherent sentences, but it's futile, she's slipping—you're not even sure if she's aware of what she's even saying anymore—it's just raw, unfiltered need.

This is going to be a problem—you're never going to be able to go back. Not when she's so needy for you—so needy to be filled by you, so needy to hear your praise as she takes your cock, so full of nothing but words of thanks for how roughly you're treating her, how you're completely ruining her—"thank you—thank you—thank you for fucking me so good."

And then you're falling, a deep, sharp thrust and you’ve sent her forward—her knees give in first, her elbows buckle. She's taking you with her, pulling you by the cock still lodged deep in her cunt. You catch yourself before your face hits the bed, one hand on the mattress, the other still wrapped around her waist.

It does little to slow you down—just gives you a better vantage point to fuck her deeper into the mattress—"yes—yes—fuck—fuck—" —to run your hand up her body and seize her by her tits, so ripe and full and yours to squeeze and twist and tease— "touch me—hurt me—it's all yours—all fucking yours."

And you do—oh, you do—you take her by the tits, feeling the soft flesh of her breasts give way to your grip, roll her nipple between your thumb and forefinger—so sensitive, so responsive. She's lost in it, so happy in the pain and pleasure of your touch—you're leaving another mark—and she cries, she curses, she clenches around you, she joins her hand over yours and pushes you for more, needing more of the loving sting you're giving her.

She’s pulsing on your shaft—walls tightening and quivering—she's so close, so fucking close to cumming—and your body responds, your cock thickens, your strokes powerful, purposeful. "I can't—I can't—baby, please—please—please—"

"You're going to cum for me now, aren't you?" You ask, like it's a question, like you can't see the tension building in her body, can’t see how she's holding her breath and gritting her teeth—it's so fucking obvious she's about to explode.

"Yes—yes—I'm about to—about to—FUCK! I can't fucking take this anymore!"

You take her by the throat—twisting her face so you can see it—you need to see it—need to see the moment she breaks for you. "Look at me," you demand—her eyes rolling up to meet yours, all teary and flawless and beautiful— "look at me when I make you cum."

"God yesssss," Chaewon gurgles, shivers, quakes, "please—please—I'm cumming—I'm cumming— I'm cumming on your fucking cock—OH FUCK!"

Your name leaves her lips in a long, symphonic, slurred cry—and she cums—not in that lovely, beautiful way you've seen her orgasm dozens of times before—this is overpowering, consuming, violent—a million tiny deaths—one magnum opus—sculpted by the Gods and utterly ruined in all ways possible, reduced once again to nothing but a mess of quivers and mewls and moans—pushed over the edge by your cock, forcing her to gush down her thighs.

She's clenching and wringing and doing everything she can to bring you with her—"God—so fucking good—I’m cumming so hard—GOD! I just need—I want it—please give it—give me your cum—fill me with it—do whatever you want to me just give it to me!"

Her eyes are open again—she's inflicted with the same curse as you—she needs to see it, see the look in your eyes as you fill her, finally claim her in her entirety as yours, finally join and become undone in the same preciously brutal ways.

"Keeeep going—cum in me—cum in me—" It’s becoming a mantra now—three short words—as if there was any other option, as if she had any choice. As much as you want to hold on, to drag this out, to savour every second of this chaos—fucking her silly, viciously, tight pussy choking your cock, she won't stop, refuses to— "cum in me—cum in me—cum in me -"

"You want it? You need it? Does your cunt need my cum?"

"Y-yes, please—fuck—fill me up—fuck me up—fill—me—fucking—PLEASE!"

She's a vision, a goddess, she's yours, she's—"Fuck, Chae, god-fucking-take-it!"—she's taking your cum like the fucking slut she is.

God, it feels dizzying, a high so perfect it must be illegal, making your vision dark and your ears ring—the only thing tethering you to the Earth itself is the feeling of her burning hot cunt, the cunt you're fucking like its only purpose in this world is to make your cock feel good.

You’re speeding towards the final stretch now—hard and rough and somehow lasting forever but ending far too soon. Nothing matters except for her exceptionally tight hole, taking you—all of you, everything you have—and you’re clinging onto her—her tits, her throat—you’re bruising and choking her, your body crushing her into the bed, and she's still screaming your fucking name like she's so damn grateful to you for treating her like she deserves.

And then, you let go.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, oh my fucking God," Chaewon groans, "It's so much—you're filling me up— oh, fuck, oh, fuck, OH FUCK!"

It’s a car crash, a pressure valve opening, it’s too fucking much—you can’t hold back—she can’t possibly take anymore.

It burns through you both—the first, the second, the third—rope after rope after rope of cum firing into her sore, well-fucked cunt, filling it completely to the brim. All the lust, all the tension, everything, all at once, released at once in a tidal wave of white into Chaewon's swollen, sopping wet pussy.

“SO GOOD—SO FUCKING FULL!”

One final thrust—one shared cry—like nothing you’ve ever felt before—like you’re being torn apart and reassembled, piece by piece—and you collapse into her, your bodies melting into one— boneless and shaking in the aftermath of it all.

Chaewon’s cumdump of a pussy is still twitching around you—still begging for more, milking your cock even though it’s already given everything it can, every drop it has—making it impossible for you to pull out without feeling like you're leaving a part of yourself behind.

Eventually—when the numbness subsides and you're able to move again—you slide off her, onto your side, slipping your spent cock out of her well-fucked pussy. It's an image that you burn into core of your brain—her ass in the air, your cum dripping from her, the puddle of you leaking from her glistening folds and pooling on your ruined bedsheets.

"So good... so good..." Chaewon's slurring, drifting—fucked out of consciousness—already lost in some blissful, post-orgasmic dream.

That's where you follow her, exhaustion seeping into every bone in your body, and you're slipping down, down and away into that heavenly oblivion.

-

When you awake, Chaewon's curled into you—your chest is her pillow, your arms her blanket. She's still (thankfully) naked—your cum drying on her thighs, and she's awake, lazily drawing circles with her finger around your heartbeat.

"Hey," you say, kissing the top of her head, getting her attention.

She looks up at you—God, she's so fucking beautiful—a soft smile on her lips. "Hi."

"That was..." You dare to start, but the words catch in your throat.

"Perfect," Chaewon finishes for you, "so fucking perfect."

"Are you sure? I got lost in the moment there, Chae, I—" The ghost of an apology is on your lips, but Chaewon's eyes widen, and she slaps a hand over your mouth.

"Don't," Chaewon stops you, "don't ruin it with an apology. I wanted that. Needed it. More than I thought, I guess. It was amazing."

You look down at her, so small in your arms, searching her face for any hint of doubt or regret, but all you can find is perfect contentment.

And she's smiling, so sweetly, so happily. So Chaewon. The slutty cum dumpster, the adorable princess—the woman of your dreams.

She’s giggling still, tracing wider patterns on your chest, her breath warm against your skin. "You were incredible," she presses her nose into your neck and inhales deeply. "I never knew you had that in you."

"I didn't either," you admit, stroking her hair, looping strands between your fingers. "I had no idea how much I'd like it—how good it would feel. I mean I love getting to hold you like this—hugging you and kissing you, but—"

"It's nice to not have to treat me like I'm made of glass, isn't it?" She finishes. A beat passes, before Chaewon tables her final request. "You know, that thing you called me, while we were..."

Her voice trails off, and she's blushing now—the kind of blush that makes you want to kiss her, kiss it off her cheeks, kiss her until she's blushing all over again. "I think I called you a lot of things that probably shouldn't be repeated outside of this room." You say, and she’s laughing, slapping your chest lightly.

"You know what I'm talking about," she says. "Call me it again. Please? Can you?"

You laugh, bending down so you can steal a kiss—as light and sweet as she is—but it’s still far, far shorter than you'd like.

She's pouting, doe-eyes wide and hopeful—so Goddamn adorable—and you can't resist, after all—it's always best to give your girlfriend exactly what she wants.

"My good girl," you murmur into her ear, "my perfect little slut."

[biscuitdolly]

୨ৎ absolute necessities .ᐟ

if you're trying to glow up, get healthier, etc, these are the very basics that you absolutely NEED to follow!

01, WATER .ᐟ

Staying hydrated is crucial for your health and wellbeing. While the recommended daily intake is 8 cups of water, you can gradually increase your consumption over a few weeks if that seems too overwhelming. Drinking enough water provides numerous benefits, from clearing skin and flushing out waste, to boosting exercise performance and supporting weight loss. Despite being the very essence that sustains life, water is often underappreciated.

02, FOOD .ᐟ

I used to skip breakfast, thinking it would help me lose weight. However, studies show that those who eat breakfast tend to lose more weight and keep it off longer. The truth is, food is incredibly important. It's best to regulate your eating habits by consuming at least 3 meals per day, even if they're only small portions. Some food is better than no food. If you want to go on a diet, that's fine! but make sure you research healthy dieting methods. At a minimum, eat one serving of fruits and vegetables daily, and try to increase that to five servings per day if possible. Proper nutrition is key for your overall health.

03, HOBBIES .ᐟ

i have this previous post regarding hobbies you could try! It's so important to find fun activities that you genuinely enjoy and look forward to doing. Hobbies add fun to your life and pose as a nice break from technology and the stress of work and school. They also greatly improve symptoms of depression and anxiety. You could do some physical activity, such as a sport you like, or something more calm and creative, like painting or writing.

04, SLEEP .ᐟ

a lot of people struggle to fall asleep at a decent time. Try getting ready for bed early. Personally, I tend to take off my make up and do my skincare immediately after i come home for school/work so i don't have to worry about it before bed.

Technology is probably your sleeping schedule's worst enemy, as the blue light from the screen keeps your brain awake, so try to pause screen-related activities at least an hour before bed. Also, try not to snack 2 - 4 hours before you go to sleep. This is because lying down makes it harder for your body to digest food, which can result in sleeplessness.

Forcing yourself to go to bed super early isn't helpful either. Like I've mentioned in my other points, take things slow and gradual!

05, SOCIALIZATION .ᐟ

Engaging in simple social interactions, such as conversing with family, seeing friends, or greeting people on the street, is incredibly important. Isolating yourself in your room all day accomplishes nothing.

There was a time when I dreaded spending time with friends, convinced I lacked the energy or mood. However, once I forced myself to make plans, I realized how much I genuinely enjoyed their company. Other people are what make life truly worthwhile. So why not reach out to a friend right now and invite them to hang out tomorrow?

06, ACTIVITY .ᐟ

you don't need an exercise routine if you don't want one, but simple physical activity is still a daily necessity! At least 30 minutes is recommended. Personally, i most enjoy plugging in my headphones and going on a walk around my neighbourhood for an hour or two.

07, SELF TALK .ᐟ

Arguably one of my most important points, quit the self-deprecating talk. You never realize how much it affects you until you quit it. Yes, you can absolutely get that assessment done. Yes, you are a likable and amazing person. Just keep affirming and reminding yourself that you are worthy, and you will attract so many good things. Trust me, it will help you so much in the long run.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ɪ ɴ ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴅ ᴀ ʀ ᴋ ⸻

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Bruce Wayne is a man shaped by tragedy, a billionaire with an iron will and an unrelenting sense of justice. But beneath the stoic façade lies a broken soul. When Bruce becomes obsessed, it isn’t violent outbursts or chaotic behavior—it’s cold, calculated, and methodical. He doesn’t lose himself to obsession; he leans into it, weaponizing his resources and intelligence to keep you close. After all, what is Batman if not a man who cannot let go?

Maybe you’re someone he met at a gala—a rare individual who caught his attention without trying. Maybe you’re an employee at Wayne Enterprises, someone who treated him like a person rather than the playboy billionaire. Or maybe you stumbled into Gotham’s darker corners, and he saved you as Batman. Whatever the case, Bruce finds himself drawn to you in a way he hasn’t been to anyone else in years.

At first, he tells himself it’s curiosity. You’re intriguing, sure, but nothing more. Yet he can’t stop thinking about you. Every word you said, every look you gave him, replays in his mind like a song stuck on repeat. And Bruce, has to understand why.

Bruce doesn’t approach you immediately; instead, he observes. He justifies it as caution. After all, he’s Batman—he needs to know everything about you to protect you.

He learns everything there is to know: your name, your routines, your friends, your secrets. He watches you through security cameras, listens to your conversations through bugs he discreetly plants, and even monitors your online activity.

But to Bruce, this isn’t invasive—it’s necessary. How else can he ensure your safety in a city as dangerous as Gotham?

As Bruce Wayne, he’s charming, attentive, and subtly magnetic. He uses his wealth and influence to insert himself into your life. Invitations to exclusive events? Job offers at Wayne Enterprises? He makes it impossible for you to say no without coming across as ungrateful.

As Batman, he’s your silent protector, always one step ahead. If you’re ever in trouble, he’s there—appearing out of the shadows to save you. He doesn’t speak much when he’s Batman, but the way his gaze lingers on you feels almost suffocating.

You’d never suspect that the billionaire who’s so eager to help you and the vigilante who seems to always be around are one and the same.

Bruce’s obsession manifests in his need for control. He doesn’t see himself as possessive—he sees himself as protective. You don’t need to worry about toxic friends, late-night walks, or bad decisions because Bruce will take care of everything.

If someone gets too close to you, Bruce doesn’t lose his temper. Instead, he uses his resources to quietly remove them from your life. A coworker who flirts too much? Suddenly transferred. A friend who badmouths Bruce? Their secrets mysteriously come to light.

“It’s for your own good,” he tells himself. After all, Bruce believes he knows what’s best for you better than you do.

Bruce is painfully self-aware. He knows his feelings for you aren’t healthy, and he hates himself for it. But his guilt doesn’t stop him; it fuels him. He rationalizes his actions by convincing himself that you’re safer with him watching over you.

“I’ve already lost so much,” he whispers to himself late at night in the Batcave, your face flickering on the monitor in front of him. “I can’t lose her too.”

In his mind, his obsession is just another sacrifice he makes for the people he loves. He can bear the weight of being a monster as long as it means keeping you safe.

Bruce rarely shows his jealousy outright—it’s subtle, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. If you mention another man, his jaw tightens imperceptibly. If someone touches you, his eyes darken, and his hand lingers a little too long on your shoulder as he pulls you away.

Behind the scenes, though, he’s ruthless. The man who asked for your number? He’ll find himself the target of a police investigation. That friend who keeps trying to set you up on dates? Suddenly, they’re avoiding you without explanation.

“I’m just looking out for you,” he says when you start to notice how people in your life seem to vanish. “Gotham is dangerous. You can never be too careful.”

Bruce’s obsession remains controlled until you try to distance yourself. Maybe you’ve started to feel smothered, or maybe you’ve realized that the people disappearing from your life aren’t coincidences. When you confront him—whether as Bruce or Batman—he’s calm, almost unnervingly so.

“I only want what’s best for you,” he says, his voice steady. “Do you have any idea how much danger you’re in without me?”

If you try to leave, that calm facade shatters. He won’t hurt you—never you—but he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you stay. He’ll cut off your options, isolate you, and remind you that no one else can protect you the way he can.

“You think you’re safer without me?” he says, his voice laced with desperation and anger. “You’re wrong. Gotham will chew you up and spit you out. I’m the only thing standing between you and harm.”

Despite his obsession, Bruce’s love for you is genuine in its own twisted way. He wants you to be happy, even if he doesn’t understand that his actions are suffocating you.

There are moments when the mask slips—when Bruce is just a broken man trying to hold onto the one good thing in his life. Late at night, he’ll hold you close, his voice trembling as he whispers, “You’re everything to me. I can’t lose you. Not after everything I’ve already lost.”

In those moments, it’s hard to tell where Bruce Wayne ends and Batman begins. To him, they’re both the same—a man who would do anything to protect the one person he can’t live without.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[smuttysabina]

Mamamoo's Fuck-Fitness Program

(Male Reader x Hwasa & Solar, 5k Words) Tags: Workout sex; Sex while working out; Someone grows a GirlCock (Blame Dreamcatcher); Vagina, Oral, Anal, and Exterior Sex; Double penetration; Multiple cocks in one hole; Sweaty messy sex; Only Hwasa and Solar are there though, sorry; Sloppy Seconds; Lots of calories were burned during this smut; Can recommend this exercise for weight-loss; Thigh-fucking

Sex, is a messy activity. The grunting and exhalations, the sordid stench of sweat and hormones, the noisy slap of flesh, the taste of another person upon your tongue, the sticky fluids that invariably end up leaking everywhere... Sex was an exercise drenched in shared shamelessness, the thrill of ignoring your innate disgusts to focus solely upon the pursuit of pleasure; and of course, breeding. Which only made threesomes all the nastier. Now there was a third body squishing itself against the others, adding its own sensual heat to the mix, spicing the intercourse with its uneven dynamic that only ever encouraged more perversion. It was simply too easy to toss away your inhibitions and give in to the unnatural deviancy of the situation, spurring yourself as you seek your climax. Which, all in all, meant that you burned a lot more calories in a threesome, which was why the Mamamoo Workout Program always made sure its clients were paired with two of their ladies at once!

Fans would obviously plumb the depths of their reserves when with one of their idols, but with two of them... why, the weight would practically melt away!

It cost quite a bit to secure a session at the Mamamoo Fitness Center, but it was well known that the health benefits were worth every penny. There were only four open slots per day, and competition was fierce to obtain one, it was said that the ladies were fully booked for the year within minutes of opening; it was something of a miracle you had managed to secure yourself one. The modest office itself was tastefully decorated, pure white walls covered in informational posters and awards, and the plush chairs in the waiting room were of the highest quality. The assistants behind the front desk were equally as beautiful as the room itself, and went about their business with the quiet diligence of any medical office. A smiling secretary had given you a clipboard of forms and waivers to fill out, full of disclaimers carefully worded to avoid any explicit mention of what went on. The form had blandly informed you that your upcoming session would consist of a "personalized workout session", guided by two randomized members of Mamamoo, who would lead your "workout" until you had reached your "fitness goals". What it really meant of course, was that you would be vigorously fucked until you were on the edge of exhaustion.

The Mamamoo Workout experience had been carefully tuned to maximize the amount of calories burned during the intercourse. The controversial decision to randomize the members chosen had been done on purpose, since it had been noted that clients often burned as many calories with their least favorite member as they would have with their bias. One particularly celebrated patient had spent five hours rutting atop Wheein, and had managed to lose 20 pounds in the process. The eight hour long slots had also been chosen as the most optimal amount of time, past that and most patients were on the verge of death via excessive fluids loss. And of course, the decision to include two of the members instead of just one was to send their clients into a sexual frenzy; though it was also because the members enjoyed having sex with one another too much. On average, most patients lost around ten pounds over the several hours of intensive intercourse, their excess fat burning away as they pushed themselves to the limit to continue fucking half of Mamamoo. It was an extremely efficient method of losing weight, with the added benefit of being the best sex of your entire life.

The demure secretary returns to collect you, and your documents, checking to make sure everything had been filled out properly before guiding you to the front desk to record your temperature and weight. Nodding with satisfaction, she leads you out of the waiting room and through the doorway in the back, into a plain corridor adorned only with four brown doors. Colorful placards on the doors indicate whether the rooms were in use or not, and as you pass by the single occupied suite, you hear muffled squeals and moans emanating from it; evidently the sound-proofing here was high-quality. The assistant takes you to the room two doors down from the one currently in use, politely knocking on the door before opening it and motioning you inside. Your heart pounds and your palms grow sweaty as the reality of your situation hits you, you had been anticipating this for so long it had become almost mundane, but now that you were on the threshold... The secretary gives you an encouraging slap on the ass, and smiling kindly, assures you that you would be up for the grueling workout ahead of you; everyone gets cold feet before this! Mustering your courage, you return the favor, much to her amusement, before entering the "fitness room"; the door shuts, and locks, behind you.

Twin goddesses await you within, hands on their hips as they appraise their newest customer, their bodies sheathed in clinging tights that accentuated their plush lower lips, and sports bras that pushed out their chests. Solar seemed as bright as her namesake, cheerfully eyeing your crotch with open intent, while Hwasa glares thoughtfully at your face, her own sultry expression hinting of her love for vigorous copulation. Solar steps forward to greet you, her lithe body swaying as takes your hand and leads you further into the exercise room; which was severely lacking in conventional exercise equipment. The floor was completely covered in firm mats, with beanbags and exercise balls strewn about, there were several curiously-shaped benches, and the pull-up stand had a few too many straps than usual. Full-length mirrors covered the two sidewalls, while the furthest had various cabinets and a door that presumably led to the bathroom; and there was a tallyboard that marked the gender of every customer, it seems that women were here as often as men. Hwasa saunters up and takes your other hand, smirking slightly as she senses your nervousness, and you stammer as you introduce yourself to the two idols. The pair smile at your awkwardness, before explaining today's schedule to you once more; a mild stretching session, followed by a series of intensive workouts interspersed with breaks for hydration and restroom use, with a shower at the end to clean you all off.

Contrary to your assumptions, your time with Hwasa and Solar began with the utmost banality, the pair guiding you through some basic standing stretches before moving onto some sitting ones. If the police had burst into the room under suspicion of illegal sexual acts, they would have found a normal guy in sweats and a baggy tshirt, grunting as he strained to touch his toes, while two attractive fitness instructors watched with amusement. Now if said police returned half an hour later, well... The first sign that this was anything other than a regular weight-loss session was when Hwasa moved in front of you while your legs were spread, and smoothly slid her ass back between them. A position that left you quite conscious about the size of her posterior, now that it was nuzzling against your crotch, the pair's chests might have been similar, but Hwasa's rear was far thicker. A moment later Solar presses herself against your back, squishing her breasts against you as she slowly leans forward, stretching you out while ensuring you would be unable to escape. If Hwasa is at all troubled by the now obvious poking her cheeks, she does not show it, and placidly starts to grind against your loins; your penis obviously required stretching out as well. What started as slow teasing gradually turns into something more, as your excitement builds you find yourself moving as well, until what started as a suspicious stretch has degenerated into desperate dry-humping.

You groan as you rub yourself against Hwasa's thick ass, boldly grasping her waist so as to force her back against you all the harder, before long you are leaking through your sweatpants and onto her tights. She slowly hikes her ass up, and you eagerly follow, until it looks as if you were plowing her doggy-style, only with more clothes than usual on. Speaking of which, now that you have the room, you eagerly pull down your pants, and are surprised to discover your shirt getting yanked up as well, before Solar meshes herself against your back once more. Her hands roam your bare chest, toying with your nipples while she kisses and sucks your neck, whispering encouragement into your ear before nibbling up on it. You shudder as you hotdog Hwasa's plump butt, the fabric of her tights smooth enough to allow for easy movement, the sticky evidence of your virility smearing itself against it. With her amused face staring back at you in the mirror, the idol suddenly pulls forward, using her hand to press your cock downward before pushing back against you; and you find your cock sandwiched between her meaty thighs. Now it truly looked as if you were having sex, as you furiously fuck Hwasa's thighs, your crotch slapping loudly against her constrained ass as she squishes her legs together in imitation of her tight pussy.

With Solar pressing her supple body against you from behind, and with your cock buried between Hwasa's thighs, you feel your climax building unstoppably. The pair of idols were not blind to this, and they eagerly brought about its fruition. Solar smiles wickedly at you in the mirror, "Finishing so soon, dear?" she purrs, "we haven't even completed our stretches yet," before returning to giving your neck purple hickeys. Hwasa simply looks back at you and commands, "Cum, now," and you moaningly obey, picking up the pace as she clenches around your manhood. You had not even lasted long enough to put your first load inside one of the members of Mamamoo, and it is with some embarrassment that you empty yourself against Hwasa's stomach. You groan as you paint her tummy with your seed, your cock fooled into thinking that it was draining itself inside of her fertile pussy, when instead your sperm was wasted upon her tanned skin. Shaking from the force of your orgasm, you lean on Hwasa for support as your strength pours from your dick, as the idols loudly praise your climax.

Solar pulls you upright onto your feet, murmuring encouragingly as she massages your crotch and thighs, while Hwasa idly cleans your semen off of her stomach with her fingers, licking each in turn while staring bemusedly at you. The girls share a glance before Hwasa gets up and stalks over to a cabinet, while Solar occupies you with kisses and touches, now that the warmup was finished, it was time to pick up the pace. And of course, the pair knew the best way to encourage their clients to do just that. Mamamoo, like most Third-Generation idols, may have looked on with contempt at the alchemical aphrodisiac brews churned out by Twice, but that did not mean they were opposed to all such potions. Hwasa removes an ornate, maroon-colored flask from a drawer, tossing it to Solar before sauntering back and shamelessly stripping in front of you. Your eyes boggle as you drink in the sight of Hwasa's naked body, her fertile curves framing a massively puffy pussy that is already slick with arousal; and her swaying breasts were practically begging to be groped. Meanwhile, Solar takes advantage of your distraction and chugs a portion of the bottle, licking her lips as the cherry-flavored drink pours into her stomach and its effects take hold.

Solar lets out a moan of pure pleasure as a bulge appears in her tights, spreading upwards until it nearly pushes fully from beneath the fabric. She shudders as she gingerly reveals the results of the potion, a girl-cock of average size, twitching and tender from its recent birth, with a pair of heavy balls throbbing in their hairless sack. Mamamoo know very well that to inspire a client, it is best to set the pace yourself, and let men's natural jealousies do the rest; plus, the women tend to be rather invigorated by having their favorite idol's cock in one or more of their holes. So Hwasa wastes no time in getting on her knees in front of Solar, and enthusiastically starting to suck her off. You are admittedly shocked by this sudden development, you had not expected for one of Mamamoo to sprout a cock, but you are not entirely opposed to this... To your own surprise, you find yourself oddly aroused by the scene taking place in front of you, and soon are shoving your own stiffening cock into Hwasa's face. The idol expertly gives oral to both of you, one hand on either cock, sucking one then the other, rubbing the tips together as her tongue lathers both with warm spit. You and Solar both moan from Hwasa's efforts, kissing and groping one another as your dicks are devoured, precum dribbling steadily all over her pert lips. After what seems like an age of endless pleasure, Hwasa smoothly rises before bending over, her face still bobbing in front of your crotches, but now offering an alternative.

You are too busy enjoying the stimulation of getting a blowjob from an idol like Hwasa, and so Solar is the first to take her pussy, slipping inside of her groupmate with practiced ease. While Solar has her sloppy way with Hwasa's lower lips, you use her upper lips with equal messiness, using her head's positioning to force your cock down her throat. Hwasa gags as you fuck her face like a pussy, slobber coating your balls with every thrust as you struggle to not unload your seed directly into her stomach. You and Solar hold hands and make-out while you spit-roast Hwasa, who squirms as both of you shove yourselves as deep as possible into her, united in your eagerness to use Hwasa's body. But before you can impregnate Hwasa's guts, Solar does just that inside of her friend's cunt, moaning loudly and spasming wildly as she empties herself into Hwasa, her eyes rolling back as pleasure washes through her body. Panting, her tongue still connected to yours be streamers of spit, Solar pulls out of Hwasa, slapping her thick ass in thanks before wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at you; now its your turn... Hwasa solidly plants herself against one of the wall mirrors in preparation for the pounding she was about to receive, looking back smugly at you as she spreads one cheek open in welcome. You shudder as you press your cockhead into the sticky mess leaking from Hwasa's plump pussy, your passage into her dripping hole made even easier by Solar's seed.

The cacophony of flesh slapping together reverberates through the exercise room as you violently take Hwasa against the wall. A surprising vigor fills you, turning every thrust into a hammer-blow as you break yourself against her massive ass-cheeks, your cock churning her pussy as Solar's seed pours out of it. Her sloppy cunt constricts tightly around your shaft with every thrust, gripping you tightly even while taking a ferocious pounding; idol pussy truly was superior. Hwasa growls hungrily as you plow her, licking the mirror lustfully to spur you on, her cunt gushing as she climaxes from the intensity of your coupling. With your hands around her hips, you hold her steady as you go into a frenzy, thrusting wildly as your own orgasm approaches, gasping her name with every breath while your balls throb with effort. Sweat is pouring down your skin when you finally let out a groan and force yourself deep inside of Hwasa, your semen erupting into her in a flood of jizz. Who looks back at you with satisfaction, licking her luscious lips while you plaster her pussy with your seed; relishing in every drop coating her insides. When you are finished, you stagger backwards, exhausted by your sex, and a laughing Solar passes you a water bottle as she guides you to the bathroom for a little break.

You were perplexed by your energetic coupling with Hwasa, you had not intended to be so rough with her, even though she had evidently enjoyed it, and you ponder this while you piss in one of the two toilets with Solar. Hwasa soon joins you two, squatting on the free seat and voiding her bladder as well; the pair of idol's did not need to ruminate on your sudden vigor, they knew exactly where it came from. Like most idols, Mamamoo knew full well that when fucking a cum-filled hole, men naturally grew more forceful and energetic, their bodies automatically adapting its rhythm to better scoop the semen out with its thrusts; which of course, burned more calories. So, the girls made sure to have as many holes filled with their own girlcocks and cum as soon as possible, not that it was very hard considering how good those holes were; and jealousy was a truly powerful motivator. Thus, when you three exit the bathroom, Hwasa almost immediately is laying down on padded bench, and opening her legs for Solar, who happily starts fucking your sloppy seconds out of Hwasa. You meanwhile rest on an exercise ball, idly rubbing your still slick yet flaccid cock, while the two idols make passionate love without you; a situation that makes you surprisingly aroused as you watch them fucking. Eventually, the squeals and moans are enough to get you hard once more, and you hasten to join the pair of idols once more, already knowing which hole you wanted to fill.

Solar starts with surprise when your hands grasp her waist, stopping mid-thrust to glance back at your touch, bemusement written on her features, "Oh, would you like a turn?" she asks with a knowing smile, before her eyebrows raise as you apply pressure to guide her down onto Hwasa, "Oh, wait, are you lubed up enough...?" Solar's question is answered as you press your glistening cock against her exposed asshole, and force yourself inside of her. Solar groans as she is impaled from behind, pushing herself deeply into Hwasa as you gradually fill her ass; until you are both balls-deep in your respective holes. Solar squirms as she is pleasured from both sides, her girl-cock getting massaged by Hwasa's sultry cunt, while your dick pokes at her innards; and you had not even started thrusting yet. Solar's guts probably had subtle differences compared to Hwasa's experienced pussy, but by now you were on your third load, and all your cock cared about was that it was inside of a warm hole; so it does what any dick inside of a warm hole would do, and starts moving. After an awkward start, all three of you eventually fall into a steady rhythm, allowing both you and Solar to get deep strokes in, while Hwasa simply lays there and takes it, naughtily urging you both on while you do all the work. Solar's perky butt meshes perfectly against your crotch with every thrust, and you have to contain yourself to not simply pin her against her groupmate and pound her soggy guts out of shape. Solar though, sounds like she is in heaven, gasping and moaning, becoming overstimulated and giving into her own pleasure, frantically humping away between Hwasa's thick thighs until she reaches her climax. When she pushes deep inside of her fellow idol, you follow suit, pressing yourself against her sweaty back as your weight presses Solar's girl-cock even further into Hwasa's pussy. Shuddering, Solar collapses onto her and unloads the contents of her balls into Hwasa, who groans as the warmth spreads through her belly, squished beneath both of your weight.

A glistening streamer of semen connects the tip of Solar's cock with the mess leaking out of Hwasa's cunt as she delicately maneuvers out from between you two; leaving you yet another sticky mess to unclog. But Hwasa has other ideas; obviously tired of being passive, instead she cranks the back of the bench upwards and seats you on it, sperm and sweat streaking down her thighs as she gazes down at you. She squats down in front of your upraised dick and takes it in her mouth, slobbering on your smelly meat until it is thoroughly doused in spittle, her eyebrows furrowed intensely as your tip stabs at her throat. Hwasa wears a seductive smirk when she finishes lubricating your manhood, rising back up to straddle you, placing one hand on your chest to hold you down, she uses the other to guide your cock inside of her as she sits on it. Your eyes widen in surprise when instead of slipping easily into her slimy cunt, Hwasa angles you a little further back, and forces your dick inside of her unused asshole. She lets out a satisfied grunt as she hilts you, your member twitching inside of her belly, her lips quirking upwards when she notices your expression, "What, did you think I disliked having my ass filled as well?", she brings a finger to your lips to hush you, "No, just shut up and let me enjoy myself." So you do, and she does, though it was not as if you were not savoring the feeling of Hwasa's tight anus sliding up and down your shaft as much as she was.

Hwasa's powerful thighs piston her up and down your length, a sneer of pleasure twisting her lips as your cock grinds against her insides, making you shudder with every squat. If anything, she looked smug at being able to exert some control once more, leaning down to forcefully kiss you on whim, her cunt leaking her juices steadily onto your belly. Moaning, you grope her swaying breasts as Hwasa rides you, holding onto them for support as her asshole clamps tightly around your cock. Only when you approach the edge of your orgasm does she pause, waiting until your dick finishes pulsing before resuming her sensual movements, her hips writhing atop your lap as she works you deep inside of her. After Hwasa has successfully edged you for a third time, Solar reappears behind her, no doubt painfully erect once more, running her hands down her friend's back to attract her attention. But Hwasa is teasingly aloof, "Sorry dear, this hole is already taken," she purrs, grinding meaningfully upon you for emphasis, curling her mouth into a haughty yet knowing smile. Solar simply beams though, and scoots herself onto the small open portion of the seat slipping her legs up yours until her cock and balls are squished against your own. Rolling her eyes, Hwasa stands up enough until only your head is inside of her, and you twist to try and see what is going on as you feel something hard pressing against the base of your tip. The pressure builds, and only when another rigid object surges in alongside your cock do you realize that Solar has forced her dick into the idol's ass as well. Hwasa lets out a true groan as she sits on both of your cocks, clenching tightly around both of your shafts as precum leaks out from the gaps between your cocks. With frightening flexibility, she lifts one leg up over you and turns, so that her side is now facing you, and you can see Solar smiling reassuringly from across Hwasa's swollen breasts; Hwasa's ass felt so snug with someone else in it...

With a hand on either shoulder, Hwasa bounces lustfully on both of your cocks, leaving both you and Solar moaning plaintively. Effectively pinned by each other's weigh, Hwasa has free reign to fuck you as she liked, turning what should have been in intense anal pounding into a languidly intimate ride. With your shafts squishing and slipping against one another, Hwasa's guts massage your dicks until they are the edge of bursting, then she pauses, allowing your precum to slop out over your congealed cockheads, before resuming her exquisite torture. All you and Solar can do is grab at her curvaceous body as it pumps up and and down your members, and your mind starts to melt under the unending pleasure. Hwasa's asshole makes disgusting squelching noises as precum slops out of it and onto your balls, soon your lower bodies are splattered with the evidence of your weakness. Even an experienced slut like Solar looks to be in heaven, her tongue lolling as she glares lustfully back at you, grinding herself against you in her desperation to climax. You start asking for it, pleading with Hwasa for release, which of course only makes her leak all the more, until eventually she lets out a grunt a paints the matting with a wash of gooey squirt, shuddering with ecstasy as her asshole clamps tightly around your members. Her face flushed with arousal, her hands slip onto your throats as she snarls, "Beg for it! Beg. For. It!" and with your brains sloshing with hormones, you and Solar easily comply. You beg for release as Hwasa slams herself against you, her thick ass cheeks slapping loudly as fluids spray, the two of you now humping wildly upwards while Hwasa hammers you flat again and again. Solar is the first to finish, moaning sweetly, her eyes roll back as she fills Hwasa's guts, her pulsating cock slobbering cum all over your dick as much as her coils. The stimulation is enough to make you explode soon after, drowning Hwasa's innards in semen as she squirts messily once more as her ass gets turned into a jizz-filled slurry.

Hwasa unmounts you both with a groan, Solar nearly toppling backwards off the seat as all three of you are weak and trembling from your intensive exertions. Hwasa gingerly kneels next to you, and without hesitation starts cleaning off the filthy mess coating your sensitive cocks with her mouth. Now you are truly writhing in the seat, your skin painfully stuck to the black leather by sweat, clutching her hair as her warm saliva is slathered all over your manhood. Hwasa skillfully rubs your tips together, her tongue slipping between and around them, before taking you both in her mouth, trying to fit both of your cocks into her throat and sometimes succeeding. By the end of it, both you and Solar are gasping, but your cocks are both bulging once more. Hwasa stands back up before sashaying to an uncluttered area of mat and bending over, spreading her cheeks for your enjoyment. She smirks coyly as her asshole belches a ream of semen down her leg, her gaping pussy still awash with sperms, "Who is getting which hole?", she asks, her smile growing wider, "Or are you going to share again...?" Hwasa seductively licks her lips as Solar untangles herself from you and staggers over, with you a step behind, wiggling her butt enticingly as you approach. Solar glances at you and gives you a kiss, before grinning, "Well? We have five hours left, so take your pick, or do you want me...?"

The next four hours pass in a blur of pounding flesh and spewing fluids, an unending tide of hedonism that sees you plumbing the depths of your depravity. You violate Hwasa's asshole, you plow her pussy, you fill her throat, while Solar gleefully does the same. You balls slap together in an endless cacophony, and more often than not your shafts slip and squelch against each other as you both ravage the same hole at once. Not that Solar's orifices are spared either, pumping away at her butt while Hwasa pleasures you both, or forces you to pleasure her; and Solar's face is almost as covered with both her cum and your own as Hwasa's is. All of you guzzle down vast amounts of water, only stopping when your bodies can take it no more and you have to make a break to the bathroom, often returning to find the other two fucking as intensely as before. Sweat pours down your skin like a waterfall, and the mats are covered with puddles of sexual fluids (and the occasional pond of piss from when someone was unable to reach the toilet in time), it feels like your brain has devolved until your only thoughts are for slaking your desires upon the two idols of Mamamoo. Eventually though, your exhaustion catches up to you, and when you pull out of Hwasa's sloppy cunt for what seems like the hundredth time that day you find yourself collapsing from utter fatigue.

Hwasa and Solar carefully tend to you over the next twenty minutes, pouring fluids down your throat to rehydrate you and massaging your cramped and aching muscles. When they are satisfied you can walk, they haul you to your feet, chattering amiably and complimenting you on your love-making skills; of course they barely showed even a hint of tiredness. They haul you into the bathroom, where they crudely hose the worst of the filth off of you with a shower head before frog-marching you to the exit. A smiling assistant greets you at the door, and your half of Mamamoo wave you goodbye as she leads you out, covered head to toe in cum, squirt, and other unmentionable fluids. As the girl leads you down the corridor, you idly notice that the idols had stuffed you back into your clothes, though you knew you must absolutely reek. The other occupied door cracks open as you approach, and a lady staggers out of it, her belly distended and her holes leaking so much cum it is slicking through her yoga pants in a reeking stream. She barely even glances at you as you are dragged by her, though through the closing door you notice a rather well-endowed Moonbyul and Wheein blowing kisses to their retreating client. Humming cheerfully, the assistant takes your weight at the scale, before depositing you in front of the kindly secretary from before. Who beams knowingly, before slyly enquiring if you would like to make an appointment for next year? Nodding tiredly, you flick through your calendar to look up the date, while the lady behind you noisily vomits what sounds like gallons of semen into a trashcan.

Of course you would like to make another appointment, though you are sure to ask if there have been any last minute cancellations... Another few more sessions like this, and you would be hitting your weight-loss target in no time!

[generalsmemories]

sensitive

✧ sunday x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: the wings by his ears are far too sensitive for what you're both about to do to them.

✧ contents: just a lil scenario for the piercings on sunday's wings. and the hc (that has probs become every writers canon take) that his wings are oh so sensitive. established relationship, mildly suggestive cause why not, uhh, mentions of blood? sunday being utterly weak against his lover. ooc sunday cause goddamn i have NOTHING on this man.

✧ a/n: breathes in. listen i don't believe in any god but good lord i would start praying for this man if he asked me to.

jing yuan wips still in order, i just want to be on my best self mentally when writing for my eepy general so have this brainrot so i can function this week at my work and hopefully i'll write something more <3 thank you once again for your patience!

NOT BETA-READ THIS WAS WRITTEN WITHIN AN HOUR CAUSE THIS BRAINROT HAS BEEN BREWING INSIDE THE MIND FOR A MONTH, IM SORRY FOR THE ALL OVER THE PLACE WORDS - I HAVEN'T WRITTEN SINCE THE LAST JING YUAN ANGST PIECE.

Your fingertips have barely grazed the very edges of the feathers when the distinguished leader beneath you flinches in surprise. The fingers that grip your hips tightening further which causes your body that was previously hovering above him to settle down on Sunday's leg. You can hear a tiny sigh leaving his lips before you feel his head rest against your shoulder, the action causing you to chuckle.

"The longer you delay this, the more nervous you'll get, you know?" you muse, threading your fingers through his hair in an effort to coax him to lay back in the same position he previously was in. You're barely able to touch his right wing again before a gloved hand shoots up from his side and you feel a sharp nip at your neck in warning - causing you to immediately halt all of your actions.

"It would've gone a lot faster have you decided to not do it in such an orthodox method, dear." Sunday retaliates with a sigh, pecking the bite mark as some sort of apology, an apology that you knew was not sincere in the slightest.

You giggle once again, settling down comfortably on his legs whilst slightly leaning back to fully look at your lover. Your arms loop over his neck while cocking your head to the side in slight confusion, although said confusion doesn't reach your mischievous eyes or the huge grin on your face. "Why I thought this would help calm you? It was your idea to pierce these wings of yours after all," you remind him, tapping the piercing gun that you're currently holding onto on his shoulder.

The man before you sighs, seemingly in exasperation over your usual antics whilst shrugging away the piercing gun that you're continuously tapping him with. You can however clearly see the slight reddening on top of his ears, while his wings tuck a bit behind his ears - clearly a signal that he's feeling a bit embarrassed.

"You're well aware of the effect you have on me, my love." he admits, the hand on your hip moving from its spot to instead rest against your neck. "Hmm? Then I suggest that you hurry along to let me pierce your wings before said effect makes you lose your patience," you tease with a quiet laugh. "I do have a lot of experience with this lil' gun of ours after all." you cheekily say - causing Sunday to direct his gaze towards your own ears, which have a few more piercings than your average person.

"... I'm well aware." Sunday replies.

Well aware of how sensitive your own ears are, almost as sensitive as his own wings that have yet to be pierced. He could let out a breath beside them which causes you to tremble, a small peck would make you gasp softly, but if he were to use his tongue-

"You're thinking of inappropriate things again, dear." you mutter into his ears before unlooping your arms from his neck to rest against your sides, your whole weight supported by the singular hand Sunday has on your hip.

"Hardly."

For someone not of Halovian descent, you're somehow able to discern his thoughts immediately - quite a hassle to be honst.

"Well then, my dear? Why don't you relax so we can get this over with so you can return to your duties?" you whisper, moving your body to sit between his legs so that you can get a closer look on his right wing, where he preferred the piercing to be on.

"... Just- don't say anything when you're about to do- Ah!"

The single clicking noise of the needle piercing his wing before retracting back to it's original spot makes Sunday jolt in surprise, the grip on your hip increasing in pressure, but you're too busy looking at the placement in glee to care for your distraught lover right now.

You notice the edges of the piercing reddening a bit, extending your finger to gather the tiny bits of blood that had escaped from the wound. Glancing at Sunday, you notice his slightly glossy eyes that immediately diverts from your gaze.

The quiet laugh you let out makes Sunday glare at you, but his eyes widen slightly when you lick his blood away from your fingertips with closed eyes. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" you ask, opening your eyes again to lock eyes with Sunday, diverting your gaze slightly to his right wing.

You decide not to comment on his glossy eyes, deciding to instead scoot closer to peck the corner of his eyes, "Sorry that I surprised you, but as you said - Doing it this way is far more convenient for the both of us," you explain, lips pressing against Sunday's to coax him into relaxation.

"Mhm, thank you for indulging me, dove." he whispers, arms wrapping around your waist, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving.

"Although..." you murmur in between various pecks against Sunday's lips, your lover raising an eyebrow up in confusion and imploring you to continue speaking.

"I think you said you would go for 2 of the same piercings if the first one looked nice, no?" you say before pressing your lips against his once again. Sunday was barely able to understand the meaning behind your words before he could feel the same pain of the needle shoot through his already overly-sensitive wing.

The loud gasp he lets out is swallowed by your lips, his open mouth letting your tongue slip inside while the piercing gun in your hand slips away from your lips now that you've done your part of the deal. Your hands settle themselves against Sunday's cheeks now- wiping away the few tears that have now slipped down from his glossy eyes with your thumb.

There's a certain desperation in Sunday's hands by your waist. He had first bunched the material of your clothes upwards by surprise, but now he's slipping his gloved hands beneath them and quickly traveling further up - he moves in a way that you don't know if he's trying to push you away to scold you, or press you closer to him to feel your warmth.

He eventually decides to push you away. His cheeks are reddened and he's heaving for breaths while he's glaring down at you in mild disappointment and a hint of excitement - and yet the hands that's dragging the buttons of your shirt from inside to snap them open tells another desire from the esteemed leader of Penacony.

The same mischievous smile is present on your lips when you part ways, your lips are a bit swollen but it doesn't stop their journey from grazing against his now incredibly sensitive right wing, the jerk of his entire body not bothering you in the slightest as your lips glide over his feathers, your lover shuddering a bit when you let out a breath right over his newly pierced wings.

"All done now, my love," you mutter into his ear, shrugging off your now ruined shirt off of one shoulder, "Do I get any reward for doing this so smoothly and quickly?"

Sunday lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes at your triumphant expression before shoving you down onto the couch the two of you were previously resting on. "I'm thinking a punishment is more fitting for how you didn't warn me of your actions twice, no?"

[blissfullyecho]

how to create a leveling up/dream girl/rebranding plan 🤍🍸🖤

establish your aesthetic

first thing’s first, you need to know where you want to go in life and what is your “aesthetic”? do you want to be giving “classy, businesswoman”? what about “nyc socialite”? of course these are just examples, but you should know what type of girl you want to embody. remember, you don’t have to fit a narrative, but you should have a general “aesthetic” that you want to be associated with. even if it’s 50 million different aesthetics, it’s whatever makes you, you.

visualize yourself/life

get inspired by making a vision board (physical or digital) and add to your board (if digital) daily. i find that this helps you stay in alignment with where you want to be in the future. you have to stay in that frequency and remind yourself of what’s next to come… because this new life is what’s next to come.

start with habits

please refer to my “starting your leveling up journey” post, but basically— you should create 1-3 habits for each of your goals and work on them until they become second nature. then when you’re ready, start implementing more habits that are aligned with your goals.

create routines with your habits

can you incorporate some of these new habits into a morning or evening routine? we all know that routines are important— they almost become our personalities and they set the tone for the day and night, and even the next day. for me, i know i’m only inspired to exercise in the morning around 10am, so exercise is part of my morning routine.

create daily + weekly goals

let’s say part of your journey is learning a new language. a daily goal could be learning one new vocabulary word in that language. your weekly goal could be knowing the alphabet in that language. use this method for all of your goals.

don’t overwhelm yourself with goals, routines, and habits

start slow; don’t overwhelm yourself. if you want to work on one goal at a time, then work on that one goal. burnout is real and it’s very hard to get back into the swing of things afterwards. i understand most of us are impatient when we just want to be a different version of ourselves, but it’s going to take some adjusting. i suggest not working on more than 3 things at once, but if you can work on more, go ahead

be a part of a community to keep you accountable

tumblr and facebook groups in my opinion are the best ways you can connect with other women who are working on the same thing. you can inspire one another, bounce ideas off of one another, and it’s super fun. you might want to even document your journey online.

set milestones and have a reward system

let’s say you would like to lose or gain weight, no matter the number, focus on 5-10 pound increments. when each milestone is successfully completed, reward yourself with something nice. maybe it’s getting your nails done, or splurging on a product that everyone on tiktok keeps talking about. apply this to any of your goals where there are milestones to get to.

don’t waste the day

you should not have any “zero days” meaning… you should be doing at least one thing everyday to reach a goal(s) you have. it doesn’t matter if one goal was to maintain a more organized, clean environment— do your dishes, set the trash out, clean up the hair from the bathroom sink, etc.

[rogersideup]

One shot request: the reader from nice to be kneaded and Steve have a baby. Creative control is all yours. I just need a baby in that man’s arms.

Nice to be Kneaded

More Fun Stuff

Just Between Us

Can be read as a one shot, or in conjunction with Nice to be Kneaded.

Series Masterlist More Fun Stuff Masterlist

Post Endgame Steve x Baker reader

Word Count: 1,564

Some things are best kept a secret <3

Getting home from a long day at work at the bakery felt like a billion pounds falling off your shoulders. It had been a long, chaotic day of fulfilling unusually large orders all while trying to appease the masses that never slowed down since the blip.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside, the view in the living room immediately put a smile on your face, and took the weight of the world off your back.

"Dada" Steve spoke to the now almost one year old.

He was splayed out on the living room rug, your little daughter in front of him, belly laughing right in his face.

"Mama!" She responded, laughing even harder at Steve's immediate response.

"No, Dada!" He shook his head, smiling at the sound of her giggles.

Your smile widened as you kicked off your shoes and put your bag down.

"Say dada!" Steve encouraged. "Da-Da"

"Mama!" She responded.

"Dada" He tried again.

"Mama."

The closer you got to the adorable scene, the more you could tell Steve was exhausted and probably losing his mind a bit. He was wearing no pants and a shirt, and he had yet to even brush his hair. But, your daughter looked freshly bathed, fed, dressed, and happy as a clam.

Moments like these always warmed your heart, and you were endlessly thankful to have a husband who was so supportive of not only you, but his own daughter.

You could've never been running two bakeries and raising a kid if it weren't for his wild blonde hair and lack of pants.

"Okay, sound it out." He changed methods. "Start with D. Duh duh duh."

"Duh" She babbled back.

"Now dah! Dah dah dah."

"Dah dah dah"

"Now Dada!" Steve was so hopeful.

"Mama!" Her cheeky smile widened and pointed to you, putting her arms in the air hopeful you would pick her up.

"Hi baby! I missed you!" You enthused, happy to scoop up your little cinnamon roll off the plush rug. "Oh my goodness, did Dada put you in this cute little outfit?! What a cutie!"

"Dada also gave her a bath, because she was a bit stinky." Steve told you, the superhero nearly struggling to get up off the floor, a testament to how tightly she has him wrapped around her teeny baby fingers.

"Do you have the best Dad in the whole world?!" You asked her, she smiled and giggled in response. "Say Yes! Yeessss"

"Yes!" She responded with ease.

"Yay!!" You celebrated.

Teaching a baby how to talk meant every conversation was now grounds for teaching, and you would happily teach her that Steve, was in fact, the best dad in the world.

Steve finally made it up off the floor, which excited her even more.

"Mama!" She squeaked happily, pointing to Steve.

"No, Dada." You pointed to him, trying to help Steve out.

He's been trying for three days now to get her to call her anything close to Dad. She's had Mama down for a week now and you were starting to feel Steve's pain.

"Hi, Captain Underpants" You smiled at him, it was impossible to not be happy and completely enchanted by the sight of him. "I missed you."

He gave you a kiss, and you wrapped your free arm around him to hug him the best you could.

"Hi, Sweetheart. I missed you too" He happily snuggled up to you. "How was work?"

"Chaotic." You stated simply. "How was your morning?"

"It was good, we went on a nice long walk, had breakfast, lots of snacks, a bath, but no nap yet." He told you.

"You look like you could use a nap." You grinned sympathetically, reaching your arm up and running your fingers through his hair a few times. "I've got her, you go get some sleep, baby."

"You just got home, I think you should nap first." He denied.

You shook your head. "I'm not tired, and you do a lot for us. You got up with her like three times last night. I know you didn't sleep well."

"I think I need a shower more than sleep, much like her, I'm also I bit stinky" Steve stated.

"Go take a shower and a nap." You sympathized.

"You're sure?" He questioned.

"Positive." You nodded, giving him another kiss. "Because even the best dad ever needs sleep, too. Huh, Cinny?"

The two of you have been calling her Cinny more than her real name, short for Cinnamon Roll of course.

"Yes!" She used the new word she learned a whole minute ago.

"Best dad ever?" You asked her, pointing to Steve. He raised his eyebrow in anticipation.

"Yes!"

"Who's this?" You asked her, still pointing to Steve.

"Mama!" She stated proudly.

Steve's shoulders deflated. "She'll get it soon." You comforted him. "Go relax, I love you."

"I love you too." Steve told you before playfully and gently smacking your butt and waking off.

You brought Cinny into her room and sat down with her on the glider chair. There was a lot of one sided conversation about how much you missed her and how much you loved her before reading her some books to get her to wind down for her nap.

It took about 45 minutes, but she eventually knocked out snuggled into your chest and neck. You took a very selfish 20 minutes to appreciate the baby cuddles and get your fix since you really did miss her at work today.

After a successful transfer into her crib, you turned the baby monitor on and quickly went upstairs to change out of your work clothes and into something far more comfortable.

Then you were right back downstairs to the other not-so-little human you missed all day too. Steve was asleep on the couch, but this time he had sweatpants on and no shirt.

Maybe one day he could find it within himself to be fully clothed, but for now, you definitely weren't complaining.

You leaned over and gave him a kiss to his temple before sitting next to his head and massaging it.

Being a stay home Dad looked really good on him. You'll admit, after his retirement he seemed a bit lost for a while. Like he had gone so long being Captain America or on the run from the government that he didn't even know who Steve was anymore. But the second he became a Dad, it was like he immediately knew exactly who he was supposed to be.

You thought that having kids would change things. Through your whole life you heard stories of exhausted mothers not having time for life anymore, slightly miserable, never talking fondly of their husbands, or even how their husbands found them less attractive after having their kids. There was a lot of silent fear that maybe that would happen to you, maybe the two of you would be under so much stress you'd start to resent each other, or maybe you'd be less attractive to Steve after your body changed in the process of growing baby Cinny.

But that couldn't be further from the truth. You'd never been more attracted to or in love than you were right now with a happy sleepy baby, and a happy sleeping husband. He took such amazing care of you and in turn, all you ever wanted to do was take care of him.

Even if he was sleeping, you wanted him to know how much you loved and appreciated him, and his crazy blonde hair. In true Steve fashion, even in his sleep he snuggled into you.

He dug his face into your stomach, and his arm held you close. Cuddles from Steve lasted a solid hour before you were nearly dosing off to sleep yourself.

Not all things could be a fairytale, and you knew that because you could hear Cinny start to fuss on the monitor. Small little cries let you know she was awake and ready to be done with nap time.

So you carefully slipped out underneath Steve, and he was so exhausted that you managed to stand up again without waking him.

"Mama" Your daughter pouted and wiped small tears off her face when she saw you enter her room.

"Good morning, honey." You said quietly matching her tiny pout, and cradling her in your arms. "It's okay, baby, you're okay."

You snuggled her and swayed her as her tears slowly came to an end with quiet promises of playtime and more snacks, you even asked her very politely if she could keep her babbles and voice to a reasonable level as to not wake up Dad.

Did she understand? No. Did you try anyways? Absolutely.

Once she was fully awake and a lot less grumpy, you tip toed back into the living room to set her up with her favorite little aquarium toy.

When she spotted Steve dead asleep on the couch, her whole face lit up with yet another cheeky smile.

She pointed at him. "Dada!"

Your eyes squeezed shut and your head lulled back, so immensely disappointed that Steve missed that moment. But, you were proud of her.

"Yes! That's Dada!" You confirmed enthusiastically but quietly. "This stays between us, kid."

You were now fully prepared to pretend like the next time she called him Dad was her first, because really, you loved Steve that much.

[charmedreincarnation]

Hey angels! I’m still on break but I wanted to show you guys how powerful the law is, and how it’s in effect with everything even when we don’t notice!

Here’s everything I’ve manifested in this year alone !

🌸70,000$ in school scholarships. My tuition does not even cost that much so most of it will be coming back to my credit card shortly

🌸an older sister. I’m the oldest child in my household, and as any older sibling knows it’s so hard. You have to lead, yet have no one to look up to for advice yourself. Anyways my dad got in touch with his old wife, and my mom who was once reluctant to let my half siblings in my life, now encouraged it! My older half sister is literally just like me. We now FaceTime, she defends me when I’m scared, she buys me stuff all the time because she has hella money, and I go to her apartment for sleep overs. I am very lucky and happy to finally have the older sister I’ve always wanted.

🌸an old friendship! I remember in 2020 I was friends with this girl and we were both super depressed, had similar circumstances, and were into manifesting+astrology. I’m sure she’s one my twin flame, and the friendship ended over the dumbest thing ever. Anyways for a year I used dumb methods like the 333 method, sp methods to get her to text me, stuff like that. I ended up giving up but earlier this year I was thinking about her, yanno just wondering where she is. She sent me a heart felt apology the next day. I manifested her without even trying!

🌸All As in school without trying.

🌸losing weight the more I eat. Y’all I’m 5’5 and 112 pounds, yet I eat like an Olympic gold medalists. I don’t even eat healthy and knowing myself.. well that’s something that’s not going to change lol. Anytime I would eat a lot, I would just say the more I eat, the more I lose and the healthier I am…and I never gained a single pound. Only lost! Don’t worry I’m still healthy and my doctors say I’m in a healthy range still, so as long as that continues healthily I’m fine.

🌸my family winning the lottery through the void state. I won’t say specific numbers but it’s in the 7 figure range, and was my first void success! I’m going to keep manifesting and exploring the void to have more stuff in the future!

🌸(dumb) but clearing my name in the unique situation. i remember just affirming the truth always comes out and she got exposed a few hours later. aside from the hate from her anons, I left the situation unscathed for the most part 😮‍💨

🌸not having seasonal depression this year. I did not manifest my depression or anxiety away for personal reasons, before anyone starts! But due to the combination of manifesting and just having a better overall life, it honestly did not affect me much this year.

🌸getting results from subliminals without even listening to them. I left my subliminal era a couple of years ago, and I don’t really use them anymore. But sometimes I come across a really cool one with dope benefits, and I want to use it bc.. why not lol. But I don’t really like listening to them, so I just wrote down that I can listen to it once and after that my brain memorizes the sequence and it works it out repeatedly even when it’s not playing and I’ve definitely noticed results.

🌸manifesting my best friend’s cancer away! I already made a post about this, but this was my favorite manifestation of this year.

🌸every single one of my shifts

🌸so many free things!

🌸and so much more, but these are my favorites!

[wintersoldiersoul]

A House is Not a Home

Warnings: Emotional and physical abuse from parents, mention of eating disorder and past suicide attempt. This fic covers a lot of heavy topics please do not read if any of this will upset or trigger you

Word count: 2.5k

A firm metal metal hand was placed on your leg the entire two hour drive. His fingers methodically rubbed over your leg, trying to keep you calm. 

You hadn’t wanted to go home for thanksgiving but you did wanna see your little sister. Even if it meant having to face your parents. 

All that you had told Bucky was that you had a complicated relationship with your parents. That was enough for him. He didn’t wanna pry or push you to tell him more until you were ready to tell him.

You were tense in the days leading up to going home, snapping at just about everyone, stressing over what you were going to wear for hours on end, and even making Bucky try on a dozen things before deciding what was right. You may not have told him all of the details about your family, but he knew that he had to support you through the visit.

You took a deep breath as you pulled into the driveway. Even just looking at the house made you feel sick. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, turning your face to him. “It’s not too late to turn around. We can back out of this driveway and go right back home.”

“I know, I know.” You sounded out of breath like you were trying to keep a panic attack at bay, which you were. “But I have to do this. If I give up now, I’ll just be mad at myself. Plus, my sister asked me to be here. I have to do this for her.”

He kissed you passionately before getting out of the car and running around to open your door for you.

You played with your dress when you got out of the car. “Do I look okay? Is my hair fine? Any wrinkles in my dress?” You turned around, waiting for Bucky to inspect you and make sure you looked perfect. 

“Honey, you look beautiful. Absolutely stunning.” He placed a supportive hand on your back as you walked to the door.

“Y/N!” Your mother said with a sickly smile as she opened the door. That was her front. The fake smiles and niceness. You winced as she pulled you into a hug. “Have you been eating healthy?” She grabbed your shoulders, analyzing your body. “You look like you’ve gained weight. I’m worried about you.” 

Of course she had already made a comment on your weight before you had even made it five steps in the door. “Nice to see you too, Mom,” you huffed, not acknowledging her comment. “This is Bucky.”

“I’m impressed,” your mom said, looking him up and down. “Who’s paying you to be with her, huh?”

“Wow, thanks mom,” you said harshly. Great, you were already losing it and it had been about 30 seconds.

“Oh, honey, I’m just kidding!” She laughed at her own “joke” as she walked away.

“Oh, wow,” Bucky said to you, eyes wide. “That’s your mother.”

You nodded slowly. “That was my mother being nice.” He took his hand in yours. “Come on, I want you to meet my sister.”

You lead him through the house in search of your younger sister, Charlotte. After being unable to find her downstairs, you went upstairs and knocked on her door. When you opened it, she was sat on her bed scrolling on her phone. 

“Y/N!” She ran over when she saw you. You laughed, pulling her into a tight embrace. Even though she was 17, she was your best friend.

“What are you doing up here, Char?” You asked, already somewhat knowing the answer.

She looked at you, expression growing serious. “He started drinking at 5am.”

You had been expecting to find your father drunk. He was an alcoholic and he had been your entire life. He had periods where he would be functional, almost being an actual loving father to you. But the holidays were always bad. He was seen with a drink in his hand at all times. He was aggressive and would lash out at any time. Your whole childhood, you walked on eggshells hoping that you wouldn’t be in the wrong place at the wrong time and become his target.

You looked at your sister, noticing a bruise on her arm. “Jesus, Char,” you said, holding her wrist carefully to look closer. “Is this from today?”

She nodded. “It wasn’t that bad. He just grabbed me. I’ve been up here since. He’s probably in the basement drunk off his ass watching football.” 

Bucky silently stood listening to the two of you speak. He didn’t need anyone to spell out for him what was happening. It all made sense now. The way you would flinch when anyone showed a sign of aggression. Why you didn’t drink. Even why you were always concerned about your weight and the way you looked.

“Y/N…” he said quietly. He was in shock. 

“Oh, sorry. Charlotte, this is Bucky.”

Charlotte looked him up and down. “Damn, sis! Do you happen to have a younger brother by any chance?” The comment was just like Charlotte. Able to go from sad and dark to joking and upbeat in seconds. 

Bucky laughed. “I like you already.”

An hour later, you had finally convinced Charlotte to come out of her room and join you downstairs. “I’m not gonna let him touch you, okay?” You reassured her. There was still no sign of your father but occasional yelling could be heard from the basement, causing both you and your sister to flinch each time.

Your aunt came into the living room to tell you that dinner was ready. “Great,” you sighed as the three of you got up. Eating any meal with your mother wasn’t a fun time for you.

Everyone sat down around the large dining room table. You heard heavy footsteps approaching as your father’s face came into view. He was clearly piss drunk. Normally, the sight would make you shudder away like a child but having Bucky next to you made you feel safe. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you. 

“Y/N,” he said sternly. “Nice of you to finally show your face around here. A bitch gets recruited by Tony Stark and she’s suddenly too good for the man who fuckin’ raised her.”

You didn’t say anything in response, just looked at the floor unable to meet his eyes. You always knew your brain would get you out of that house, some way. You never expected your dream to come true, getting to work with Tony as his lab assistant.

“You gonna answer your father, you little bitch?” He snapped. 

“What, you gonna hit me if I don’t?” You snapped, standing up.

Your father lunged at you. “Ungrateful cunt. I gave you everything!” 

The second he stepped towards you, Bucky was up and out of his seat blocking his path. Over his dead body would this man ever lay a hand on you, or your sister, ever again. “Keep your fucking hands off of her!” Your boyfriend said.

Your mother stood up. “I didn’t slave over this meal for two days so it could go cold on the table!”

Your father backed off, sitting down and you and Bucky did the same. Everyone started passing around the food and you put a miniscule amount on your plate. You could eat more later back at the compound if you were hungry.

“Babe, you gotta eat more than that,” Bucky said, putting another scoop of mashed potatoes on your plate.

Your mother watched as the negative space on the dish shrunk. “You really think you should be eating all of that, sweetie?” She noticed the glare you gave her as she spoke. “I’m just looking out for you,” she chimed, placing a hand on yours.

You rushed out of the house within seconds after everyone had finished eating. You tried to convince Charlotte to come stay with you, even just for a couple nights, but she assured you she was fine and she was gonna stay with her best friend for a few days. You told her that if she needed to leave, she could always come to the compound. Temporary, or for good. You just wanted to protect your little sister. Without you even asking, Bucky got in the driver’s seat. It was like he could read your mind that you weren’t in the headspace to operate a vehicle. 

You were quiet as you drove back, unsure of what to even say. You felt bad that you hadn't fully prepared Bucky for what he was walking into. You were naive to think that your family could have one normal holiday.

“I’m sorry,” you finally spoke, 40 minutes into the drive. “I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

“Hey,” he placed his hand back on your thigh, where it had sat the entire drive there. “Do not apologize. I’m sorry. I should have done more to defend you. I just wish I had known. I would have pulled out some old Winter Soldier moves,” he smiled, trying his hardest to make you laugh. 

You flashed him a small smile. “Just you being there with me was more than enough. My family is… complicated.” The things Bucky had seen tonight only scratched the surface of how you had grown up. “My mom, she… she’s always been on me about my weight. The first memory I have of her pointing out what I was eating is from when I was 4. I mean, I couldn’t even read yet but she was scolding me for eating a fucking cookie once in a while!” you laughed dryly, trying to hold back tears. “She put me on a diet plan when I was 11. I was only allowed to eat 800 calories a day. Then when I turned 15, it became 700. I developed a really bad eating disorder, obviously. I’ve gotten it under control but… I don’t know if I’ll ever fully be free of the things she put into my head.”

“Jesus…” Bucky was shocked. “You were just a child. Literally a child. I mean 4 years old? Who does that? And to their own daughter!” 

You went quiet as tears fell from your cheeks. Even the years of therapy that you had done couldn’t erase the pain you had gone through. All of the times that you just needed a mother. 

“I didn’t have anyone, Buck,” you said quietly. “I’m sure you’ve gathered what happened with my dad. He’s a drunk and he a piece of shit who hits his fucking children.”

Bucky’s heart broke for you. No one deserved what you had gone through. “Baby…” he said, softly. “You deserve so much better. Parents who took care of you. Who loved you. I know this doesn’t erase any of the pain but just listen to me for a second. You are incredible. You are a genius who is creating world-changing technology. You are kind and sympathetic and such a genuinely good soul. And you are beautiful. Inside and out. I know that doesn’t take away the things those fuckers did to you,” he took a deep breath, getting angry just from thinking about it. “But you didn’t let that stop you from changing the fucking world. I already admired you every single day, but now I admire you even more. God, baby, I’m so in awe of you. You are so resilient.” 

His words made you cry even more. He didn’t tell you to stop. He just let you cry as he drove, desperate to get home so he could hold you tightly. 

Eventually, he pulled into the compound. He held your hand as he walked you to your room. You were still crying, clearly physically and emotionally exhausted from the day you had. He helped you change out of your dress, slipping one of his sweatshirts on over your head and getting you into pajama pants. He brought you water so you could rehydrate all of the tears you had emitted. And then he curled up beside you and held you as tight as he could.

“I tried to kill myself once,” you spoke after a long time. Your voice was so quiet he thought he had heard you wrong. The words made his heart beat fast. “When I was 16. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I swallowed a bunch of pills and just waited for it all to be over.” You paused, catching your breath before continuing. “Charlotte found me. She was only 9 at the time. I woke up in the hospital and my mom came in. Do you know what she said to me?” You let out another sob. “She told me she wished it had worked. She said she wished Charlotte hadn't known to call 911 in an emergency. My own mother wanted me dead, Bucky,” you cried, burying your face into his chest and staining his shirt with tears.

“Oh my god,” he said, rubbing your back up and down. “God, I don’t know what to say. I’m so happy you’re still here. You’re the love of my life and I-” he felt his own voice breaking. “I don’t know what I would do without you. I’m so thankful to your sister, you have no idea. The thought of never meeting you, the thought of losing you… I wouldn’t know what I’d do, baby. Do you… do you still think about killing yourself ever?” 

“No,” you said quickly, reassuring him. “Not anymore. Not that I’m out of that house. I just… I worry about Charlotte so much. She’s almost 18 and I’ve already told her not to worry about money. I’ll pay for college or a house or whatever she wants to do to get out of there. But still, I feel sick to my stomach every day she’s still in that house. I’ve tried to get her to come here but I think she’s scared of them lashing out.” 

“We’re gonna get her out of there. I promise you that. I’ll make her believe that she has nothing to be afraid of if she comes here. If your parents retaliate, well, she’ll have an entire army of superheros protecting her.”

You sniffled, trying your hardest to slow your crying. You were so exhausted and it was getting difficult for you to stay awake. “Thank you, Bucky. For protecting my sister. For protecting me tonight. Thank you for just…being here.”

He kissed the top of your head as he continued rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I would do anything for you. You’re my entire world, Y/N. I love you so much.” He noticed how exhausted you were. You needed sleep. “Can you try to get some rest for me, baby? I’ll be right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m never leaving.”

“Okay,” you said into his chest, finally allowing your body to succumb to the sleep you desperately needed. 

He held you all night. He held you when you woke up crying from a nightmare. He held you every time you woke up shaking, as the events of your past replayed in your head. Bucky was never going to break his promise to you. As long as he was alive, he would do anything to keep you safe and happy.

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 6

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 7.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent. Graphic deptictions of violence.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

Autumn had come, left its mark on the world, and was swiftly disappearing in Linkon. The trees stood bare, their leaves scattered and decaying on the rapidly freezing ground and the air carried the crisp threat of icy breaths and frozen nights. Tonight marked your first mission using the Hunter’s Association alias - bartending at an underground auction. How you’d managed to land the job was a mystery to you. Sure, you had some experience with mixing drinks, but not nearly enough to justify working the bar at such an exclusive event. During your “interview,” when the organisers had requested a practical demonstration, you’d clammed up and produced the most over-stirred Negroni you’d ever made. You’d apologized and hastily remade it, but even that wasn’t great. Yet somehow, you - or rather, Natalie Moore - had been hired. Natalie, a runaway, desperate and resourceful, blending in among the staff - a role designed to keep you hidden, unnoticed, and, most importantly, far from the action.

You parked the beat-up car, provided by the Hunter’s Association, and hurried to your destination. The building was as gloomy as the weather had been over the past few days, an old building that had once been quite beautiful but years of neglect had turned it into a sad husk of its former glory, but you knew better than to take its appearance at face value. You entered the building and walked down to the bar area. 

The underground auction hummed with activity from the elite patrons scattered around the main hall. The atmosphere thick with the weight of unspoken deals and veiled power. The gathered people toured each display case admiring the rare and even dangerous items. The room itself was a study in contrasts: ornate carvings and velvet drapes disguised the building's grim origins, while the scent of aged whiskey mingled with a faint metallic tang that hinted at hidden weaponry and the musk of the centuries old building. 

You stood behind the bar at the far end of the room, polishing glasses in methodical circles as your eyes scanned the crowd. It was all you had been entrusted to do so far, which was probably for the best as your focus was far away from the menial task in your hand.

Instead, you were watching Sylus Qin take his place among the elite, as effortlessly commanding as ever. His presence filled the space as he entered, capturing everyone’s attention. They couldn’t help their stares, yet no one dared to approach him without an invitation. His tailored black suit hugged his broad shoulders and tapered perfectly down his lean frame. His silver hair framed his sharp features, catching the warm light of the chandeliers and making him look like he’d stepped out of a painting, if paintings could exude danger and power. 

Sylus moved with a predator’s grace, flanked by two men in crow masks, Luke and Kieran you’d discovered from your research. Every step was deliberate and unhurried, as he took note of his surroundings. The unspoken king of the N109 zone. The sight of him was always enough to start your pulse racing, a mix of respect and that simmering desire that haunted you when you were around him. 

You tried to refocus on the bar, on the repetitive motions of your hands as you arranged the bottles and tools, trying to ground yourself. Yet, every few moments, your gaze flickered back to him, taking note of the items he seemed interested in, or who he deemed important enough to give a cursory nod to. He only spoke to his men, their conversation quiet and completely theirs, a faint smirk playing on his lips as the three of them chuckled about something one of them had said. The glint in his crimson eyes was as sharp and calculating as ever - a man who already knew the outcome of the night’s dealings. You felt a twinge of envy for the effortless way he commanded attention, for how he belonged so completely in a world you were only pretending to inhabit.

He was headed right for you, you realised. Well, for the bar that was. His approach left you no room to be caught off guard. You busied yourself arranging glasses, trying to look preoccupied as he closed the distance between you. You looked between the bottles you were fussing with and the other bartender working alongside you as his footsteps came to a halt. He cleared his throat, signalling for attention, completely unnecessarily when he already commanded it so effortlessly. 

His voice, smooth as velvet, broke through the hum of the room. "An old-fashioned," he said. This voice made your stomach turn in somersaults.

“Right away sir,” The other bartender replied, but Sylus cut him off before he could start making his drink. 

“I’d prefer that she be the one to make my drink,” He stated. 

You spun around in shock to find his eyes already firmly locked on you. He was even more handsome up close, if that was even possible. 

“Me?” You said, your words coming out a little more alarmed than you’d intended. 

“Her?” Your colleague exclaimed at the same time, with the same tone of alarm. He must have remembered the negroni you’d made at your interview. “Sir, s-she’s just in training I think it’s b-”

“I don't care what you think,” Sylus snapped, his eyes never leaving your face. “I find my drink always tastes better when it’s been made by someone beautiful.”

You could feel the heat rise in your face. Beautiful. He called you beautiful. Your heart rate raced in your chest, if he was any closer, you were sure he would’ve been able to hear its frantic pumping. Was it too dramatic to pass out?

His smirk deepened further at your reaction, satisfied at having had the chance to throw you off your guard, for being the reason the blood rushed to your face. 

The other bartender sighed before gesturing for you to begin. You nodded at him, then focussed on, keeping your hands steady as you prepared the drink. Each motion felt heightened - the clink of ice against glass, the subtle aroma of bitters and orange peel. You forced yourself to ignore Sylus as you concentrated on your work, pouring your attention into every detail, desperate to make this moment flawless, to impress him. When you slid the finished drink across the counter, your fingers brushed each other on the cool glass as he picked it up. Your hand flexed as you rested it behind you and watched him.

Sylus took a slow sip, his carmine eyes fixed on you. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the drink you had made for him, the movement drawing your eyes in. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension, before he finally spoke. "Impressive," he said, his voice laced with approval. "That’s the best old-fashioned I’ve had in years.” You could’ve passed out right then and there from the praise that fell from his lips. “Such… talent for someone still training, you’re surely wasted with your current employer miss…"

The comment hit you like a lightning strike, leaving your heart pounding the way he said it felt pointed, almost teasing. You managed a polite smile, when you’d finally encouraged your brain to resume its normal functioning. "Natalie," you said softly.

His eyebrow twitched a little as you said your alias’ name, but it was gone as soon as it happened. Instead, a slight smile graced the corners of his lips as he repeated the name. "Natalie," he said, as though tasting it, testing it. The name on his tongue was disarming, yet undeniably frustrating, you wanted to hear him say your real name, for it to be you he was addressing, not some fabricated identity. He placed a hefty tip on the bar in front of you, nodding as a gesture for you to take it. 

“Enjoy your evening, sir” you said, desperately trying to remain as calm as possible as you took the tip. Was that too much eye contact? You should look away. Are you sweating? 

One of his henchmen let out a slight giggle, only to be swiftly kicked by the other masked man. Sylus tipped his drink at you in a salute and walked away to his table, front and centre. 

The lights dimmed in the room as the auctioneer stepped up to the podium and people hurried to take their seats. Your palms were sweaty and shaking as you watched the beginnings of the proceedings. You turned to the bartender and told him you were going to head to the restroom, desperate to find a quiet place to calm your racing heart and mind. He simply glared at you and nodded, still butthurt by the interaction with Sylus. 

You found solace on the upper balcony, where the noise of the auction floor became a distant murmur. The air was cooler here. Its freshness kissing your skin as you leaned against the railing, trying to collect yourself. Your heart raced, not just from the interaction but from the overwhelming mix of emotions swirling inside you. Desire, frustration, and a gnawing sense of inadequacy warred for dominance. The tip burned from its place in your pocket.

What were you even doing here? Captain Jenna had insisted you take this opportunity to meet him in person, but where had it gotten you? Making his drinks and watching him. So, nowhere. You sighed, rubbing your face as you tried to collect yourself. Everything came back to the uselessness of the Hunters Association. 

Unbeknownst to you, Sylus had noticed your sudden departure and was in fact not pleased to have lost sight of his favourite source of entertainment. He remained seated, but his gaze scanned the room carefully. Where had you gone? His interest had been piqued, and now you’d disappeared. The realization left him unsettled, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar sensation he didn’t care to name.

Lucienne chose that exact moment to approach him, gliding across the room in her burgundy slip dress. The fabric clung to her figure, the sheen of the material catching the light with every step. To anyone else, she looked stunning, but to Sylus, it felt calculated and false. Her confidence faltered slightly under his sharp gaze, but she recovered quickly, smiling as she addressed him.

"Sylus," she said warmly, her voice dripping with familiarity. "I was hoping to run into you again tonight."

He stood out of politeness, offering her a cordial smile. "Lucienne," he said smoothly. "What a surprise." He knew he would regret leading her on like that.

She reached out, resting a hand on his arm as she leaned closer, her tone taking on a flirtatious edge. "I thought we might discuss a partnership," she began, clearly indicating something more than just business. 

His face fell into a look of disinterest and he almost rolled his eyes at her attempt to flirt with him. His eyes flickered briefly to the bar, where he’d last seen you, and a flicker of irritation creeping into his otherwise flawless facade.

Lucienne, noticing his distraction, faltered. Her words stumbling slightly . "I mean, if you’re… interested, of course."

Sylus couldn’t stand her touch for much longer. He gently removed her hand from his arm, stepping back just enough to establish a boundary. "Forgive me, Lucienne, but I’m preoccupied tonight." He replied, his tone polite but detached as he sat back down in his chair. 

The conversation was over, there was no question about it and Lucienne knew that. She had been dismissed. She lingered for a moment, her expression faltering before she excused herself. Sylus’ gaze returned to the room, scanning once more for any sign of you.

Your grip tightened on the balcony railing as you watched the scene below. Fucking Lucienne! Your chest tightened with jealousy. Of course, he was interested in her. She was elegant, poised, and clearly belonged in his world. And yet you couldn’t dismiss your own interaction with him. 

Did you imagine it? The way his eyes softened when he looked at you. The way he seemed… interested in you. No. There was no way you were that delusional. He must have taken a liking to you, that was the only explanation for it. At least, it was the one you were going to go with. The one that gave you some hope that he would be accepting of you once you made your move. 

No. He doesn’t belong to her. He doesn’t belong to anyone, yet.

The door clicked closed as you entered the stillness of your apartment, finally shutting out the chaos of the night. Equal parts of exhaustion and excitement thrumming through your system. Your feet ached from the long shift, but that was nothing compared to the way your emotions raged inside you. 

You took the cash Sylus had given you out of your back pocket, your fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded it. It felt heavier than it should, not because of its physical weight, but because of what it represented. He’d noticed you. The thought sent a dizzying rush through your veins. He hadn’t just noticed you - he’d spoken to you, given you his money, chosen you in that moment. A wild mix of elation and disbelief surged in your chest, leaving you breathless.

The crisp texture of the bills felt surreal under your fingertips, grounding you even as your thoughts spun. Your mind replayed the encounter on an endless loop, picking apart every detail like a cherished relic.

And yet, a thorn of unease pricked at the edges of your joy, the thought of Lucienne tied to him casting a faint shadow. It niggled at the back of your mind, unwelcome and persistent, but it wasn’t enough to pierce through the haze of reverence you felt. The money, his money, sat in your hands like a promise you didn’t fully understand yet.

You’d played the role of Natalie Moore perfectly tonight - dutiful, composed, unremarkable.You leaned back against it for a moment, the cool wood grounding you. His voice, low and deliberate, as he ordered the drink you’d prepared. The faint curve of his lips when he’d complimented your skill. The way his crimson eyes had softened, just for a heartbeat, when they met yours. Your breath hitched at the memory, heat creeping up into your cheeks.

You shrugged off your coat, tossing it onto the back of the couch. Your heels were the next to go, kicked off haphazardly, one landing near the door and the other skidding across the floor to rest beneath the coffee table. The act of discarding them felt almost cathartic, but it did nothing to clear your chaotic thoughts. 

Your apartment was a mess. 

Clothes strewn across furniture; takeout containers littered the room; an enormous pile of dirty dishes. Your eyes swept across the chaos, the clutter pressing down on your chest like a weight that couldn’t be lifted. Each out-of-place object seemed to gnaw at the edges of your mind, a cacophony of silent accusations. You'd let this get out of hand. Your desk - once meticulously organised with your notes and recordings - was now a disheveled mess of papers, empty coffee cups, and half-finished reports.

This wasn’t you. You were methodical, deliberate, and precise. You’d always taken pride in maintaining a perfectly kept space, your cleaning routine serving to clear your mind and set you up for the coming weeks of work, but the last few weeks had been a whirlwind of spiraling thoughts and poorly managed emotions. It showed.

The sheer mess of your life felt like an insult to your obsession with him. How could you imagine yourself by his side when your own space looked like this? Disgusting. 

“God,” you muttered under your breath, the word slicing through the oppressive silence.

Despite the ache in your feet and your exhaustion, you knew you couldn’t leave the mess any longer. Pulling your hair back into a ponytail, you dove in. The rhythmic act of cleaning took over as you scrubbed dishes, tidied up clutter, and vacuumed the floors. Each task felt like a small victory, the chaos slowly giving way to order. Trash bags piled up, requiring three trips to the bins, each one tossed with a satisfying finality. By the time you reached your desk, the rest of the apartment had transformed into the haven it was meant to be. Only a few loads of laundry, your desk and a change of bedding remained before you could finally call it a night.

You started organising your desk. Sorting into piles to be filed, “reports” to be finished and you silently tucked away a few more personal notes. It was there, amidst the organised disarray of your notes and tools, that you spotted something that had your mind pausing its focus. A tracker. Sleek, discreet, and entirely unassuming, it rested on the corner of the desk like a forgotten artifact. Its smooth surface felt cool in your hands as you turned it over to look at it more clearly. The Hunter’s Association had issued it to you as part of the mission - a tool to help you keep tabs on Sylus’ movements. But it had limitations, ones you could no longer afford.

Your mind whirred with the ideas bouncing around but with the state of your exhaustion, you couldn’t properly latch onto any of them. For now, you stored the tracker in one of the draws and decided to reward yourself.

Bath finally drawn, you allowed yourself to strip off the final layers of Natalie, relaxing into the warm, bubble water as just you. The water soothed your sore muscles, overworked from your combined shift and the borderline manic cleaning of your apartment. 

Sinking further down into the bubbles, you sighed as you considered your next moves. You wanted him, wanted him all to yourself, no distractions. How were you going to explain yourself to him? How could you make him understand without scaring him? Your thoughts once again turned to Noah and his rejection of you. Wincing, you tried to push it from your mind, subconsciously cupping the side of your face from the memory of the sting. 

Wait. 

Maybe the problem was that he finally confronted you in public! That’s why Noah was so upset right? He had been caught off guard in public and reacted like that because of how everyone else was staring, right?

So, all you would need to do is get Sylus to someplace private, away from the hustle and bustle of other people. Easy!

Turned out it was not so easy after all. Your first thought had been to bring him here. To your own apartment. The idea had sent a thrill through you until you thought about it for even a little second. Your apartment was out of the question. It was too small, too exposed, and far too close to the Association’s watchful eye. You needed somewhere secure, somewhere they wouldn’t think to look. I mean all of your neighbours were hunters. Having him in your space, would absolutely not work. 

You opened your laptop, setting it on your newly organised desk, and began your search. The listings in Linkon were plentiful, ranging from modest apartments to luxurious penthouses. But each one was vetoed pretty quickly. Too close to the Hunter’s Association. The area was too busy. Near a school? Absolutely not appropriate in your opinion! It all came down to the Association’s jurisdiction covering the entire city. Any property you acquired in Linkon would be far too easily found and traced. Bringing him here would place him in far too much danger. You were not willing to do that. 

Frustration gnawed at you like a relentless itch, leaving you restless in your chair. You sighed, leaning back with a soft thud and dragging your hand through your hair, the strands falling messily back into place. “How do you even find a safe house?” you muttered to the empty room, the edge in your voice sharper than you intended.

The N109 zone. It was your only option now, but finding a property there? That was another beast entirely. There were no real estate agents for the N109 zone - no polished offices with eager professionals offering brochures and coffee. There weren’t even official listings. Just a tangled mess of underground networks, anonymous forums, and shadowy contacts who vanished when pressed for details.

You spent hours scouring message boards and digital scraps of information, each post a breadcrumb promising something useful only to turn to dust when you followed it. Property A? Already occupied by squatters who didn’t just refuse to leave - they sent a heavily veiled warning not to come asking again. Property B? Owned by someone with clear ties to Sylus’ rivals. Even seeing the name had made your pulse quicken, the risk too great to ignore. And Property C? A literal death trap with rotted floors, exposed wiring that sparked in the listing video, and the unsettling promise that it might collapse on you mid-sleep.

You could not embarrass yourself by bringing him to any of those places. 

You closed yet another useless tab, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming. Your patience was fraying like a taut rope, thread by thread. You weren’t naive - you knew the N109 zone wouldn’t just hand you an answer wrapped up in a neat bow. But with every dead end, every link that spiralled into nothing, the reality of it all loomed larger: you were running out of options.

“How does anyone survive in that place?” you muttered bitterly, slumping back in your chair.

The quiet of your apartment enveloped you. That awful kind of stillness that lets thoughts creep in uninvited, pressing against the edges of your already frayed mind.

Your jaw tensed as you fought against the rising doubt, dragging a hand through your hair. The ache in your temples pulsed as your thoughts spiraled, circling the same impossible problem over and over again. 

You wanted to see him. To know where he was right now, but the little menace had been almost going out of his way to lose you recently. There were days when you didn’t get to see him at all and that began to annoy you. What if he was doing it on purpose? 

It would be so much easier if you knew where he was, literally all the time. 

The idea sat there for a moment, harmless and innocent, before unfurling fully in your mind. You sat up straighter, your pulse quickening as it settled in place. Of course. Knowing where Sylus was at all times - his movements, his location - wouldn’t solve everything, but it would give you some form of highground. A sense of control you were sorely lacking right now.

Your fingers tapped against the desk as the thought burrowed deeper. You knew that tracker would come in handy.

It was tucked away in the drawer, exactly where you’d left it the day before, when you cleaned up your workspace. The drawer slid open, and you hesitated briefly before reaching for the sleek, unassuming device. The metal was cool against your fingers, heavier than you remembered.

Staring at the tracker, you placed it carefully on the desk. For a long moment, you just took in your situation, torn between reluctance and temptation. The tracker wasn’t yours - it was theirs, a tool given to you by the Hunter’s Association. Using it felt like crossing another line, breaking yet another rule.

But hadn’t you already done that?

You picked up the tracker, rolling it between your fingers as if testing its weight, its worth. It was a tool from the Association, but it didn’t feel like yours - not yet. That could change. You had the skills to corrupt its programming, to sever its link to their systems and bend it to your own needs. Of course, if they ever caught on, it would be over for you. But the thought of leaving it untouched, of not using it at all, left you feeling even more powerless.

Your chest tightened as you weighed the choice, a part of you thinking this might be too far, but the other part - the louder, hungrier part - had already made up its mind.

You returned your focus to the laptop. The glow of the screen painted your face in cool light as you sat back down, the room filling with the quiet hum of fans and faint clicks of your keyboard. You knew what you had to do. You had to make the tracker yours. 

No links to the Association. Just you, and him. Well, watching him.

You worked with carefully, precisely, your hands steady as you pried the tracker open with a bobby pin. The casing popped apart with a soft snap, revealing a delicate web of circuits inside. A faint hum emanated from its core, and you paused for only a moment before diving in, disconnecting the transmitter. You cut the link that fed its data back to the Association. It was a simple task, but that didn’t stop the thrum of nerves as you severed the tie to their ownership of the tracker.

The next part was trickier. You opened a new program on your laptop, lines of code scrolling and scrolling endlessly, the DNA of the motherboard. Code you, luckily, knew well enough to work with. The Association’s firewalls were formidable, of course they were, you’d helped set them up in your early days as a hunter, but you were better. Where the Association had allowed itself to sit stagnant on advancements in programming, you’d remained informed. Each line of code gave way under your knowledge, firewalls and protections fell as you navigated deeper into their system, ensuring the PCB’s connection was completely severed from the Association, down to the core.When the final line of code executed successfully, a small ping sounded from your laptop. You smiled, feeling very content with yourself. But you weren’t finished. 

You needed to attach your own GPS system, upgrade the transmitter’s coding and finally link all of it to your own personal devices. Each successful execution sent a thrill through you, a mix of relief and triumph. Finally, the tracker’s signal reappeared - this time, on your laptop monitor. A bright dot blinked steadily on the screen, marking its presence in real time. You moved through your apartment with the tracker, seeing the precise location on the screen moving with you. 

You exhaled slowly, a tension you didn’t realise you’d been holding dissipating from your shoulders. You picked up your phone, syncing the device so the dot appeared on the map interface. When you moved the tracker across the desk, the dot followed seamlessly, its connection flawless.

“Perfect,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost reverent.

Another thread of control had slipped neatly into your hands, leaving you with a small, sharp satisfaction curling in your chest.

You sat back, staring at the pulsing dot on your phone screen. Where are you now? The thought came unbidden, edged with curiosity and something darker, something you weren’t ready to name. Knowing you could see him whenever you wanted, that you could follow his movements with just a glance, sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

But the tracker was just the first step. It gave you knowledge - his location, his movements - but that wasn’t enough. What good was knowing where he was when you couldn’t reach him? Couldn’t bring him to you? You needed more.

The words slithered through your mind, making your fingers twitch against the armrest. More control. More certainty. Sylus was untouchable, out of reach in every way that mattered, and the thought gnawed at the edges of your resolve. He wouldn’t come willingly. You’d have to bring him to you - close the distance yourself, force his gaze back to you, where it belonged.

The solution whispered itself to you like a secret: a sedative. That could work.

You pulled your laptop closer, once again motivated enough to solve your problems. Your fingers hesitated for only a moment before typing “effective sedatives” into the search bar. It felt almost ridiculous - wrong, even - and yet the click of the keys was so deliberate, so purposeful. You swallowed hard, watching the results flood the page in long, disjointed lists: blog articles, obscure medical forums, even links to dubious N109 black-market suppliers.

The first few results were absurd: "Ten Sleepy-Time Teas for Your Insomniac Lover!" A soft exhale of a laugh escaped you. As if the Sylus Qin would ever be taken down by a sleepy time tea. You scrolled further, past DIY sleep aids and over-the-counter nonsense, until the real answers started to surface. The research became clinical, factual, with medical terms you had to work hard to decipher. If you could talk to a medical professional, you could probably understand this a lot easier, buuuut you'd also almost certainly end up locked up. So the internet was your only source of information.

Chloroform was an early temptation, of course, you’d seen it used in TV shows and movies for the exact same outcome. Fast-acting, the promise of unconsciousness in only a few minutes - it had an appeal that made your pulse quicken. You clicked through case studies, reading about its use, imagining for just a moment pressing a cloth to his face and holding it there until…

No.

You grimaced, shoving the thought away as quickly as it came. The TV shows had clearly not done their own proper research. The drawbacks were too much: burns from exposure, unpredictable dosage based on weight and metabolism. Could you even reach his face? He was tall - so tall - you’d have to stand on your toes just to hold the rag in place. The mental image was absurd. Worse than that though, it was dangerous. And the thought of leaving a mark, even an unintentional one made you draw back from that line of thinking completely. You’d sooner fail than disfigure him in any way. Sylus was perfect, every sharp edge and flawless line.

With a sigh, you moved on, typing new terms into the search bar. Fast-acting sedatives. Safe sedatives. Substances for unconsciousness with minimal trace.

Pentobarbital caught your eye next. A potent barbiturate with a long and controversial history - it was strong enough to knock him out, yes, but its unpredictability made you hesitate. You skimmed the medical notes, lips pressed into a thin line as the words blurred together. Respiratory depression. Lethal at higher doses. Your pulse skipped at the word lethal. Immediately striking it off the list, that wasn’t an option. You would not hurt him.

The thought came back like a mantra, as if you needed to convince yourself. This isn’t to hurt him. This is to help him. To protect him.

Scrolling further, you found something promising: midazolam. A benzodiazepine with a clean, precise reputation. Fast-acting and reliable, it was commonly used in hospitals to calm patients before procedures. One moment they were awake, and the next… gone. Its effects were temporary, too - enough to ensure that you could get him where you needed to without causing harm. At higher doses, it could completely knock someone out, at lower doses, it could be used to make him easier to manoeuvre into a vehicle or something like that. 

Your eyes traced the screen as you absorbed the information. Minimal taste, odourless in liquid form. Perfect. Your hands trembled slightly as you bookmarked the page, your breathing steadying as the weight of the decision settled over you. You sat back and stared at the text on your screen, imagining it in action.

A drink - just one. He’d tip back the glass, never knowing what you’d slipped into it. It would be easy. He’d close his eyes, his tall frame relaxing as the drug took hold. Then you’d… what? Somehow get him to a safe house. Your thoughts stumbled, and you forced yourself to keep moving forward. The details didn’t matter yet. What mattered was the first step: securing the sedative.

Your search shifted as you began scouring suppliers, looking for underground networks and black-market pharmacies that wouldn’t ask questions. This was the N109 zone’s territory, you realised. There were no rules out there - no ethics, no oversight. Just people like you, willing to pay the price for what they needed. You glanced at your dwindling stack of cash, running numbers in your head. It would be worth it. Every penny, every risk - worth it to have him.

A few days had passed, and the dust had settled. Now in your possession was a small vial of midazolam, a tracker linked to your phone, and a fully formed plan simmering quietly in your mind. The pieces were finally starting to align, each one as dangerous as it was necessary. Yet, the issue of the safe house remained unresolved. 

Slumped at your desk, you opened your laptop with a sigh, half-expecting another fruitless search. Your inbox pinged, startling you slightly. A new message sat there, the subject line calling out to you: Exclusive Properties in the N109 Zone.

Your brow furrowed. Properties? You didn’t remember signing up for anything like this. You frowned, your mind racing. Had you registered your interest in properties accidentally? Maybe you had clicked something in your late-night searches and forgotten. Or maybe someone was tracking your internet history. The thought set you on edge, but you pushed the feeling aside. Your interest had been piqued, you clicked into the email, the sleek formatting and pristine images catching your attention immediately. There were three listings, each stunningly presented with immaculate photos and descriptions. They had flexible term contracts, furnished or unfurnished options; all boasting of being discrete and having excellent security as well.they were, for lack of a better word: perfect.

Number one was sleek and modern, all sharp angles and steel. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling city, though the interior felt cold - almost sterile. It was a fortress, but one without a soul. You could see its appeal to someone with no interest in comfort, just functionality. It would do but it wouldn’t be the most comfortable.

Number two was ostentatious. Crystal chandeliers, plush gold accents, and velvet everything. It reeked of new money trying too hard to be tasteful, every inch designed to be a showpiece rather than a home. It was beautiful, gaudy yes, but still beautiful. 

And then there was, number three. The moment the image loaded, your breath hitched. Dark wood floors, soft amber lighting, and furnishings that struck the perfect balance between luxury and livability. The space was grand yet intimate, the leather sofas arranged around a massive set of windows that let the city lights spill in like a painting. It was elegant without being overdone - rich but warm, like someone had considered every detail carefully.

Your gaze lingered on the images longer than you realized. Something about it felt right. Safe, even. Like a place where you could rest, regroup, and focus - without feeling watched.if you ever had unlimited funds, this is what you would’ve chosen for yourself but alas you did not.

And then you saw the price.

Your heart sank. The numbers glared back at you, cruel and unrelenting. The cheapest penthouse was far beyond your reach, and this one? Laughable. You leaned back, dragging a hand through your hair in frustration.

“What a joke,” you muttered, biting back the sting of disappointment. Closing the tab, you shook your head. It’s just bait. Probably a scam anyway. Still that last property stuck with you, you even went as far as to pin it to your “home inspiration” pinterest board. 

Across the city, Sylus stared at his screen, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched the moment you dismissed the listing. Through Mephisto’s feed, he saw the flicker of disappointment on your face and something deep within him twisted. He was irritated.

You hadn’t chosen any of them. Hadn’t even looked long enough. His jaw clenched as he brought up your file, flicking through to try and understand why on earth you would dismiss the places he picked out for you. Finally a thought struck him. Finances. Specifically, your finances. He rifled through your baking history and what he saw made his lip curl. Your accounts were nearly empty, savings depleted, seemingly all withdrawn over the course of a single week.He scrolled back further, checking your transaction history and almost sneering at what he saw. The total amount that had been withdrawn was less than he made in a single deal, significantly less actually. Your monthly income, a pitiful amount.

This is what you were living on? A bitter laugh escaped him, though it was more disbelief than amusement. The numbers on the screen - meager remnants of paychecks from the Hunter’s Association - were laughable. You’d been scraping by, sacrificing comfort, and working for them.  Plus the job of a hunter was incredibly dangerous, not to mention completely essential to Linkon city. And this was your wage? Pennies?

“Unbelievable,” he murmured, a dangerous softness in his tone. She’s worth so much more.

Sylus’ fingers hovered over the keys, and with a few precise strokes, he adjusted the listings. He knocked down the prices to amounts you couldn’t ignore, nudging them closer to affordability. Even so, the thought of you paying at all rankled him. You didn’t owe him anything - he didn’t want your money, he just wanted you. He’d make them free but that would be far too suspicious.

“She’d better pick the one she actually wants,” he said to himself, unable to stop the faintest smirk from tugging at his lips.

The second ping of your inbox drew your attention. Frowning, you opened the message - the same one as before, but now with the subject line Updated Listings - Limited Time Offer.

Your brow furrowed, as you looked at the email suspiciously. “No way.”

But still you clicked back on the listings, your heart pounding. Each property was the same, same pictures, same descriptions, same everything. Except for one thing, the price. They were cheaper - dramatically cheaper. The numbers you’d seen initially were slashed down to something that could possibly be achievable. Still steep, but no longer completely impossible.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, your pulse quickening.

Had the system adjusted after picking up on your interest? Was this some kind of algorithm-driven discount? The whole thing screamed ‘too good to be true’, and every rational bone in your body told you to close the screen.

But what if it isn’t too good to be true?

Your gaze drifted back to the third penthouse -the one you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. It was perfect. Too perfect. Your instincts still screamed caution, but something in your chest clenched at the thought of letting it slip away. Well you know what happens when you want something.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” you muttered to yourself, the words firm. Rationality had, of course, gotten you nowhere. Maybe it was time to take yet another huge risk.

Your cursor hovered for a long moment before you clicked “confirm.” The screen flashed, and your inbox updated with a confirmation and instructions for sending payment. You exhaled sharply, the knot in your chest unraveling into something strange and electric. Relief. Satisfaction. Excitement.

“Finally,” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

The seller told you to deposit the cash in a subway locker and they would exchange it for the key, deed and other papers registering the property as yours. It all felt very official for the N109 zone, you didn’t even know that houses had deeds over there. 

Sylus watched in real time as your smile bloomed - wide and radiant, lighting up your entire face. He froze, his fingers stilling mid-motion as he took you in. The way you bit your bottom lip as you checked the details, the small, victorious clap of your hands as you leaned back in your chair - it was intoxicating. His chest ached with something he didn’t want to name, something far more tender than he’d ever felt before.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice soft, reverent almost. Of course you had picked the one he’d decorated for you - not consciously, perhaps, but with you in mind. The warmth, the comfort, the faint sense of safety it exuded - it was all tailored to what he imagined you would want. And you’d chosen it.

A smirk curled his lips, though there was no malice in it - only pride. It felt like a victory, like you’d stepped closer to where you truly belonged. To him.

“Adorable,” he muttered, watching you scroll through the confirmation screen again, as if afraid it might disappear. He leaned forward, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as if speaking directly to you through the screen.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice rich and dark, “you should know better than to think anyone else would hand you something so easily. I’m the only one you need.”

Mephisto gave a mechanical twitch, a subtle nod of agreement, and Sylus leaned back, his satisfaction curling through him like a slow-burning ember. The sight of you - humming softly to yourself, your fingers tapping the keys as you admired the penthouse - was intoxicating in ways he couldn’t quite name. You were his, even if you didn’t know it yet.

Thinking of you living in that space, beneath the roof of a building he owned, sent a thrum of delight coursing through his veins. Finally. You’d be safe there - so much more under his protection that nothing in this wretched city could touch you. Not the Hunter’s Association, not the chaos of the N109 zone, and certainly not anyone foolish enough to think they could come between you and him. He’d make sure of it.

But beyond the satisfaction of having you tethered so neatly to his world, there was a deeper pleasure - one he hadn’t anticipated. The joy on your face, the smile that lit up your expression when you thought you’d won, lingered in his mind like a warmth he couldn’t shake, no matter how tightly he buried it beneath his usual resolve. He had put that smile there. He’d made you happy, even if you didn’t yet understand why.

Soon enough, you would. You’d see how far he was willing to go - how much of the world he would bend and break to keep you close. Gods, you were perfect for him. Perfect. And now, you were right where you belonged - under his protection, and his control.

“Enjoy it, kitten,” Sylus murmured, his crimson eyes glinting as he stared at the screen. “I’ll enjoy it too.”

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

I feel Sylus is incredibly hot in this chapter to be honest, but let me know your thoughts haha! Thank you so much for reading!

Please let me know what you think  

❥ Like, reblog, comment, message me, ask me something, literally anything - I live for your feedback on this  ❥

[manifestingenius]

Why it's important not to always rely on void and putting your life on hold.

I haven't written posts for a very long time because I decided to focus on my present life. But I wanted to write this specific post.

After knowing about the void state I put my life on hold so much. I stopped doing 85% of the things I was doing before I learned about the void. It's embarrassing how I stopped caring about everything and was hoping and telling myself that I'm gonna enter the void this week anyway. Nothing really matters, right? I didn't answer to any of my seminars and colloquiums and barely studied for exams which lead me to losing my scholarship. I cried so so hard because I was angry at myself. I thought that I would enter the void in the summer so the exams and the results didn't matter to me. But I was so broken afterwards.

I never bought myself the things I wanted because I thought "I'm gonna manifest it all for free in the void anyway, why bother now?". I never went to places I wanted because I thought "I will have a lot of money to afford everything I want so why bother now?". I put all my focus and time on reading about void, reading posts on tumblr, trying all the methods and just hoping.

I planned to put videos on Youtube but was so shy and every day I was improving all the skills that were needed for me to be successful. I read a lot, I watched a lot of self improvement content, I watched lots of law of assumption videos, I took classes, in other words I was passionate. I was living. I put everything aside and became so lazy "Why even waste time doing all of this when I can have it all after the void?".

I stopped even trying to improve myself because I thought that I'm gonna manifest being my best self anyway. I was eating fast food 3-4 times a week and gained a lot of weight which made me insecure even more but I consoled myself that it's only for now, that I'm gonna manifest my dream body and everything will be fine.

I wanted to buy some makeup but didn't. I wanted to get laser hair removal for a long time and didn't. I wanted to hit the gym and didn't. I wanted to draw and make money out of it and didn't. And so much more. I missed out on so much and I regret it.

After I lost my scholarship I realized that I messed up a lot. Now I have some problems with a subject I failed and my mom has to pay money so that I can take the classes again. Now I can't afford anything because I don't have my own money, I can't go to work, my parents give me some money but it's not enough for my needs and wants.

I realized that my life became so miserable. 2023 was so wasted. One day I was asked what did I learn from 2023 and I couldn't answer because I didn't know. In 2023 I have only degraded tbh.

The saddest thing is that I was warned. I was warned by other people on tumblr to not put void on the pedestal and to not put my life on the hold. I ignored them all thinking that I'm not gonna be like them, I'm not gonna struggle as long as them. It's gonna take me much less time and everything will be fine. But turns out they were right and I made many mistakes. Turns out I'm still on my void journey even after 1 year and 2 months. I really thought it's gonna take me 1 month or smth. Funny.

After realizing that I need to change my life, I put void aside and focused on the present. I bought some things I wanted and I don't waste money on fast food anymore, I went to the gym, I finally got laser hair removal, I started eating healthier and lost 3 kg, I returned to watching self improvement videos on youtube and now I plan to draw and sell my drawings to make more money. I worked hard to pass all my exams successfully so that I can get my scholarship back.

From the outside it may seem that I forgot about the void or even lost hope but I didn't and I never will. I believe and know that one day I will become a success story myself. I even have a new upcoming post about my mini success (?) not sure if I can call it success yet 🤭

But anyway if you read all of this thank you. If my situation resonates with you I hope it helps you to not make these mistakes like I did and to not put your life on hold. Enjoy the present as much as you can, don't purposely make your life even more miserable. I love you all🫂💕🫶

[siffrin-enthusiast]

hey chat i’ve been having Thoughts about siffrin again.

tws for heavy discussions of unhealthy coping mechanisms, self-harm & suicide in the game in stars and time, spoilers for the entire game act 6 twohats etc etc. if anyone reads this and thinks of any more tws i should add, send them in and i'll add them to the top of this post.

your last warning of heavy discussions VERY unhealthy coping, the urge to and methods of physical and emotional SELF-HARM, and the weight of SUICIDE. i just want to reiterate that IT IS A LOT. use your best judgement before & while reading this post and PLEASE BE CAREFUL.

last last warning. just to be sure.

siffrin self-harms in the loops. we all know this, right? from the increasingly barbaric means they use to loop back, the glass shard they pick up and use, the bigfrin fight where your only craft skill is "(don't attack.) can't hurt them. attack the only person left" and the party visibly reacts to you using it. it's not exactly subtle.

it makes sense that the pretty popular headcanon is that siffrin doesn't drop the habit of self-harming after coming out of the loops. i agree with that, but i also think that it's not done in the way most people are thinking! let me explain.

siffrin's self-harming behavior in the loops boils down to three major (and very intertwined) truths about their situation.

siffrin does not recognize the value in his life. this has been a thing since before sif joined the party. they happened to cross paths and stepped up to defeat a "particularly strong Sadness" (and for reference, fully leveled storming the house Mirabelle gets nervous about fighting a Sadness. they will freeze you in time. they ripped out siffrin's eye in one blow. they are DANGEROUS.) and siffrin comes along to save this country because "there's nothing else for you to do". and then the loops start. siffrin realizes he can die and. well. holy fuck. we've all played the game. siffrin is literally killing himself, killing himself, for convenience because it's annoying to walk to a tear. and it's his idea!! if you do it enough times, the death text changes from (You killed yourself.) to (You saved yourself some time.) loop has a line about advising siffrin against suicide because they'll see themself as "disposable" and...yeah. yeah. they do.

siffrin will not let physical or emotional harm come to the other members of their party. again, this is something seen before the loops, when siffrin loses his eye defending bonnie from a sadness, and how they still cringe over being 'inconsiderate' to mira months ago during their travels across vaugarde. when the party panics after (just attack), siffrin loops. when the party dies in loop's hangout, siffrin loops. when bonnie is taken by the king, siffrin loops. when isa is taken aback by bad touch, siffrin loops. when odile realizes they're in a time loop in kinda sus, siffrin loops. when the party watches siffrin hurt himself in the bigfrin fight, siffrin attempts to loop. good god, there's a scene where if you try and use the dagger on your family members siffrin blames his intrusive thoughts and stabs themself. because of their intrusive thoughts. his dreams are about the fear of hurting their friends. their worst, most traumatizing moments are about other people getting hurt.

siffrin's actions in the loops are reversible. if something is done, it can be undone. it can be scripted around. their party will not know unless siffrin chooses to tell them. none of their actions have consequences. sif delights in this (until realizing beating the king doesn't free him from the loop). fuck up bonnie's friendquest? loop! miss a key? loop! say the wrong thing? loop! everyone dies horribly? loop! loop! loop!

and after the loops? let's take a moment to reevaluate siffrin's situation:

siffrin does not recognize the value of his life. still.

siffrin will not let physical or emotional harm come to the other members of their party. still.

siffrin's actions are no longer reversible. there is no time loop. what happens now happens--no second chances, no undo button. they are permanent. especially now that they've seen sif try to loop, the smell of burnt sugar that precedes it, and odile figured out how to shut it down. all of their actions have consequences.

immediately after the bigfrin fight, mira asks where sif is going and bonnie LITERALLY says "Yeah, you're stupid if you think we're leaving you to do whatever you want right now." and the party double-checks that siffrin is going to see loop before letting them run off. and then twohats happens. when siffrin gets back, isa comments "We were getting worried." in siffrin's small absence (despite knowing exactly where siffrin was, talking to loop, who the party has a favorable opinion of) and then mira calls them out directly for looking sad.

the party is watching siffrin like fucking hawks.

i fully believe that siffrin would feel the urge to self-harm. i fully believe that the party knows this too. and i think siffrin would at least suspect that the party is going to be looking very, very closely for signs of more physical self-harm.

there's a phenomenon i don't have a name for but that i've seen repeated where someone trying to recover from using an unhealthy coping mechanism can slip into using a different unhealthy coping mechanism instead. in school, perfectionism can lead to avoidance. if a person shuts down for too long, they might start acting out or doing other attention-seeking behaviors as a cry for help. and after we experience continuous trauma, a lot of people will seek out or be more attached to unhealthy relationships (of any time) and find comfort & stability in the abuse endured. obviously this isn't the case every time, and i don't even know if it's a Thing i actually read about in psychology classes or just a pattern i've been noticing! i'm no professional.

for siffrin, actions and their consequences are now permanent. so i really, really don't think he's going to self-harm unless they're 100% sure they're going to get away with it (and i doubt the opportunity will arise for months). because if the party finds out they self-harm, that breaks sif's rule of not letting physical/emotional harm come to the party. they're going to be devastated. we already saw how they acted when siffrin did it in front of them when he was using the dagger to loop, the bigfrin fight. when dagger looping, siffrin was more shaken up about watching their family watch siffrin die than the literally killing himself part. they do it in front of their party and in the bigfrin fight because he thinks he can loop back. but that is no longer siffrin's reality. the party will be devastated if siffrin hurts himself and siffrin cannot undo that hurt.

("Yeah, you're stupid if you think we're leaving you to do whatever you want right now.")

i think that since physical self-harm is banned for siffrin, he's going to subconsciously shift to emotional or at least more subtle self-harm. keeping that unhealthy emotional distance. getting angry and frustrated and bitter. overly helpful. denial and minimizing and suppressing the loops. alcoholism. dissociating from their feelings. keeping their expectations so, so soul-crushingly low. passivity. whatever was left of his self-esteem is going through a woodchipper. self-sabotage his relationships. impulsive behavior. throwing themself into the party's problems to forget his own.

little things, subtle unconscious displays of siffrin's utter loathing of himself that he thinks on some level he can get away with. that their party won't notice, won't be hurt by. there won't be consequences! no one will be hurt (except siffrin, but as previously discussed, siffrin does not value themself). the party is going to be watching; their refusal to let siffrin go to dormont alone says as much. and siffrin is not going to start opening up and becoming the coping mechanisms master; their non-mention of the fight with loop (only saying "i said thanks to loop" instead of "loop is me and also tried to kill me") says as much. there's...a long road ahead, that much is clear.

i think siffrin will eventually get better. isafrin only happened because siffrin reached out for isabeau instead of waiting on isa to do it, which i'm interpreting as a very positive sign of sif learning he has to reach out for help to receive it. it's going to be messy. it's going to take a while. but the time will pass anyways. siffrin will eventually get better.

those are just my thoughts as a non-professional. i'd love to hear other people's thinking about siffrin. if you need it, here's tumblrs official mental health resources post with resources sorted by different countries. stay safe and be well, everyone :)

[brewed-pangolin]

Is Captain MacTavish also a gym rat? If so, please explain...in detail 🫠😉

Captain MacTavish is absolutely a gym rat. But unlike the maniacal menace that is Sgt. Gym Rat Soap, this beast is much more refined, disciplined, and methodical.

And the best damn eye candy you've ever seen while you focus on your own routine.

Just a sprinkle of NSFW at the end...

Pulled a bit from this post by @obligatoryghoststare

--

Wardrobe

First of all, he'd rather be caught dead than wear a pair of high thigh gym shorts. This man is always well put together, even while pumping iron at the local fitness center.

And he is a walking billboard for Under Armor.

Prefers more natural colors for his outfit; black, grey, royal blue, forest green. Nothing eye catching or brighter than an earthy hue. Doesn't need to draw more attention to himself. His sculpted body does that enough.

Compression shorts are a must. Pulls the sweat, keeps him dry, and holds everything in place. (Man's got a healthy Lorne sausage to contend with)

Topped with a fitted muscle shirt, of the same color. The Captain must have synchronization with his wardrobe. Always. (Well put together, like previously stated)

He's always going to wear darker tones with the compression fabric, mainly because he likes to overlay that with something more lose fitting and in a softer hue (think whites, light grays, may dabble in some soft blues or greens)

And while not technically wardrobe, will always have a half gallon steel water bottle within reach. Hydration is key.

Routine

Captain MacTavish is the epitome of methodical routines when it comes to gym. He's like clockwork.

His mid routine will change depending on the week (leg day, arm day, chest, back, weights, you get the idea) but his beginning and end are always the same.

First and foremost, stretching. The most important part of a workout.

Next, treadmill. 30 minutes. No more, no less. And this beast looks majestic while he runs. Perfect strides, breathing heavy yet measured. Just a beautiful sight to behold.

And this mofo sweats. Not an obscene amount, just enough to make him glisten. (Sparkling sexy beast)

Now, bulking up. Weights. Soap uses both free weights and strengthening machines, for obvious reasons. Free weights for compound movements, machines for isolating certain muscle groups.

You'd think he'd be loud during his weight training, but no. He's classy. And he's not rude. He may let out a few heavy breaths and an occasional low growl, but nothing too audible. He's already got countless eyes on him, no reason to bring in more attention.

Enjoys his time on the rowing machine. Prefers it after a his weight training. Aids in recovery, calms his mind. Builds his endurance. (And this man's all about endurance)

Lives for the circuit.

[2min/station, 1min rest b/w, 2 loops]

[Pull ups, planks, tire/sledgehammer, kettle lifts]

Pulled straight from his journal

The Captain is in his natural environment when perfecting and strengthening his mind and body. Goes into a daze. Movement remiscent to a skilled predator. It's a sight every gym enthusiast pushes to achieve, and every casual enjoyed drinks in to the fullest

Recovery

His recovery will change depending on his core routine for the day. Sometimes he finishes with a light jog or brisk walk on the treadmill again.

Perhaps even go another round on the rowing machine. Helps him clear the daze and focus his mind in preparation for the next phase.

But it culminates to a relaxing session of yoga because this man knows the benefits of centering himself post pump and grind.

And this is where you come in. He's more than happy to assist in perfecting your downward dog in the process while he lets his body recover from a rough workout.

Expect to be pulled into a private room once he's all limbered up after his full exercise session. Nothing quite like finishing his routine by emptying himself in your needy little hole. (Post endurance high nut is his favorite, afterall)

Captain MacTavish Masterlist