#but I think their relationship will remain pretty solid

[welcometoteyvat]

read baizhu’s stories. he wins for most balanced character of all time

[hyuckiefluff]

may i request a jaemin x femreader where he’s just fucking her dumb and she’s trying to say that her family is downstairs or in the living room? if you’re comfortable with it ofc !!

a/n: first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH for requesting! i would’ve probably disappeared for another two months if it weren’t for this lol! i didn’t know if you wanted something short and sweet or for me to go all out but hopefully you like this! i had fun writing it and it made me revisit my jaemin brain rot so yeaa

for a bit of context, i decided to write this as if jaem and fem!reader are already in a relationship and jaem is the picture of charm and good manners and he could never do anything wrong in his in-laws' eyes but he’s secretly a freak lol (also didn’t wanna make it too long so things move a bit fast)

wc: 1.7k ish

content: just pure smut tbh

warnings: cursing, oral sex and fingering (fem receiving), creampie, loud sex, marking, usage of pet names like princess and pretty girl, boob grabbing

m list

When Jaemin walked into your place your parents welcomed him grinning like they hit the jackpot with their son in law. Your mom invited him to stay for dinner, and your dad gave him a solid friendly pat on the back. But his mind was upstairs, where you remained clueless about his arrival, thinking he was off to visit some relatives.

When he walks into your room, you’re lying on your stomach with your headphones on and wearing nothing but your panties and one of his oversized shirts. The whole scene feels like the start of one of his wet dreams, and he's seriously struggling not to pounce on you. Instead, he sneaks up from behind and gently slips the headphones off. You're not the jumpy type, so you casually turn your head, half-expecting it was your mom barging in. But when you see Jaemin smiling at you, your whole demeanor changes. You don't waste a second, practically wrapping yourself around your boyfriend. He lets out a deep, rumbling laugh that vibrates through you. 

“Missed me, princess?” you responded by kissing his lips, you only meant to give him a soft peck, but he couldn’t contain himself any longer so in no time he had you flush against the mattress and his warm body.

His hands immediately found their way inside your shirt, a delicious moan coming out of him when he felt you weren’t wearing a bra. He would go crazy if he didn’t have you right now, but he also wanted to make you feel good. He pulled away from you slowly, biting your lower lip in the process. Then he started crawling down your body, not missing the way you tensed up as he positioned his face right in front of your sensitive area.

You knew where this was going but you had to remind yourself that you two weren’t alone.

“Jaem… my parents are-…” your words were interrupted as his mouth attached to your core over your panties. The smell and taste of you was driving him feral and he couldn’t bother to even remove the thin piece of clothing. All you could do was gasp and pull his hair.

“Be good for your boyfriend that missed you so much…” he coaxed, his nose nuzzling against you. Your thighs instinctively closed around his head “Don’t hold back, let me hear how pretty you sound”  his warm breath sent shivers racing across your skin. He continued sucking and kitten-licking your pussy, the insistent way in which his tongue was pushing against your entrance in a teasing manner threatening to push you over the edge. He groaned when he felt you weakly push his head away.

In one fluid motion, he discarded your panties, a low whistle escaping him as he saw how they clung to your slickness. His dick twitched uncomfortably in his sweatpants. "Fucking mine," he growled softly before diving between your folds. His tongue and lips latched on your clit like a magnet, producing a chorus of wet sounds that were nothing short of vulgar. 

Despite your efforts to restrain yourself and keep quiet, as soon as he added a finger you were reduced to a whimpering mess. You brought a hand to your mouth, teeth sinking in to stifle the noises, but Jaemin didn’t like that. He pulled away and the sight of his glistening lips coated with your essence caused you to involuntarily tighten around nothing.

"I said..." His voice dipped several tones and his pupils dilated, darkening his eyes in an almost eerie manner "Let me hear you," he demanded. 

"Please… Jaem, my parents are downstairs," you gasped, breathless. He looked unamused by your pleas but still seemed to be contemplating something. 

Then suddenly, he withdrew from you entirely. You thought he would listen to you, so it took you by surprise when instead he discarded his sweatpants and boxers. His erection sprung free in a somewhat comical way. The tip was flushed with urgency, the veins and girth caused you to whimper. Your mouth watered with the desire to take him into your mouth, but Jaemin had different intentions.

"Then let's give 'em a show, princess," he grinned, planting a kiss on your inner thigh before pulling your legs up and positioning himself between them.

He entered you slowly and you couldn't help but whimper at the stretch. His lips curled up at the sounds you were making, knowing it took this little to make you lose all restraint was amusing him more than he cared to admit. He bottomed out right away, giving you no time to adjust. Though he was trying to keep it together, he couldn’t help but let out a string of guttural moans whenever you clenched around his dick. Desperation drove his hips to meet yours with sharp, urgent movements.

"So good for me," he murmured, gaze fixed on the way your pussy took him so well. Biting his lip, he looked up at your face contorted with pleasure. Your flushed appearance, eyes nearly shut, and lips subject to the mercy of your teeth. This is how you looked prettiest to him.

He hiked up your shirt, granting himself an unobstructed view of your boobs. He reached his hand to your right breast and caressed the soft skin there, his fingers toying with your hardened nipple. He relished your reactions to his every touch, loving the way you tried so hard not to be loud.

“Jaem-…fuck-… me," you moaned, his name coming out as a blur amidst a string of curses and cries.

"I am, baby," he quipped, though the strain in his voice betrayed the struggle to keep his composure. The way your walls clenched around him was driving him wild. The grip of his other hand tightened on your hips, urgency escalating as he thrust into you with an almost feral rhythm.

The sound of your skins slapping was obscene and it resonated throughout your room. If your parents walked by your door they would definitely hear and know what you two were up to. You wondered what would happen if they did, would they stop allowing Jaemin to come into your room. Would their trust for him vanish? Those questions made you anxious but the boy didn’t seem to care. And you were soon to follow him, because the way he was fucking you right now was too good.

He lifted your leg higher, adjusting his hips to hit that sweet spot he knew you liked. Your eyes involuntarily rolled back as he plunged deeper into you like this. He was so familiar with your body, knowing exactly where to touch to unravel you. A smirk played on his lips as he tenderly caressed your hips, a stark contrast to the rough way he was thrusting into you.

"You drive me so fucking crazy," he groaned, his rhythm faltering slightly as he leaned in for a messy kiss. Your mouths met in a fervent dance, his tongue swirling around yours, teeth grazing against each other's lips. He devoured every sound that escaped your lips.

Just as you were catching your breath, he abruptly increased his pace, catching you off guard and causing a loud moan to erupt from you, the sudden change overwhelming your senses.

“There we go, that’s my pretty girl” he murmured against your jaw, leaving a wet trail from there to your neck where he started sucking and marking you. Only in places that he knew you would be able to cover. After all, he knew you had to keep up the innocent facade with your parents.

Oh, if only they knew you let your boyfriend fuck you every day under their roof.

“Jaemin! Fuck!” He sneaked a hand down to where your bodies were connected and focused on your neglected clit. His fingers and the insistent thrusts of his hips obliterated any caution you had, leaving you too overstimulated to care about your parents overhearing.

But then a call from downstairs brought reality crashing back in “Dinner’s ready, kids! Come down!”

Jaemin's movements halted mid thrust, his eyes flashing with a mixture of surprise and panic, mirroring the same emotions that played across your face. You gave his arm a quick slap, the unspoken message in your eyes was clear: pull out, now. Yet, your body had other plans, clenching involuntarily around him as if begging for more, and he shut his eyes tight. You felt way too good to stop now.

“We’ll be right down!” He yelled, and instead of pulling out he picked you up, and switched positions. He knew riding him would make you come fast.

From his seated position, he looked up at you through his long lashes, a silent plea in his gaze. It didn't take much for your resolve to crumble. Your hands settled on his shoulders, grasping onto the firm sinews of his muscles as he wrapped his arms around you. As soon as you started moving, you saw him slowly lose his composure. This angle made each thrust reach deeper within you, “How the fuck do you… feel so good, hm-.... every time,” your eyes fluttered open and you caught a glimpse of the tension etching his brow and the way his teeth clamped onto his lower lip. He was getting closer to his limit, just as much as you were.

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” you breathe out, fingers tracing along his cheek. All he can manage is a throaty moan, too lost in the sensation of being this deep inside you to form coherent words.

“I’m-…I’m close”” he whimpered, half lidded eyes locking onto yours. Your rhythm starts to stumble a bit, your pace getting uneven as you get close to your orgasm too. He caught onto this quickly grabbing your hips to guide your moves, and every time your hips met, the sounds resonated through the whole room.

A couple more thrusts, and you're there– caught in the riptide of an orgasm that slams into you so hard that tears gather at the corners of your eyes. Jaemin's not far behind, a few more sloppy thrusts and he's right there with you. The feeling of his cum filling you and your walls clenching around as he emptied himself inside you, it was a sticky mess, but he fucking loved it.

“C’mon, let’s not make your mom wait.” He said after catching his breath, giving your hips a slight pat.

“Jaemin… I swear if they heard…” 

“Yeah, yeah… You know they love me too much to think I would ever soil their pretty daughter like that.” He winked and kissed you one more time.

ps: feel free to request more!

[luveline]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

spencer comforts you with facts and affection alike when you worry you aren't as pretty as the girls on his team. requested here. fem!reader, 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Photographs can't accurately capture how beautiful Emily Prentiss is. JJ and Penelope are both gorgeous too, but it's Emily who startles you. Her hair a cool black colour and curled around her demure face, the line of her nose and her deep, dark eyes. Her lips, picture perfect and painted a soft pink.

The prettier you find her, the more your heart sinks. 

Spencer squeezes your shoulder. It's bold for him to do so in front of his friends (his family, really), he can barely show you affection in the grocery store without turning rosy. You preen at the touch, but the feeling of insecurity remains like an irksome gnat zipping around your head. 

"We didn't think we'd ever get to meet you!" Derek is saying, a casual arm thrown around Penelope's shoulders, a drink in hand. 

Rossi couldn't attend and JJ felt too pregnant, bringing your party to a solid six. It still feels like a lot of people to meet at once. 

You hold the flute of your glass in a nervous hand, fingers stickied by condensation. You have a feeling that you're in trouble, all these profilers assessing your behaviour, nowhere to hide. "No, I'm," —you raise your voice to hide the funny tremor that's taken hold— "so happy to meet you all, I promise I've been trying!" 

"Whenever she gets time off, we're on a case," Spencer says. 

Emily smiles widely at your statement. It's such an open, friendly look, it floors you. You look down at your drink and blink. 

You don't know it, but the team exchanges glances at your behaviour. 

"So, do you enjoy your work?" Emily asks. "Or hate it, like us?"

Hotch laughs and moves his pint glass onto a coaster. "I think it's safe to say that none of us hate our jobs." 

"I wouldn't blame you if you did. I can't imagine how hard it is, how hard you all work," you say. Spencer's hand drifts down your back. "But you have each other."

Emily does this thing with her eyes and if you weren't in a happy relationship, you'd probably be a puddle at her feet. "Too much of each other," she says jokingly.

She's gorgeous, and Spencer sees her every single day? You're nothing compared to her. Not smart, not strong, and nowhere near as pretty. You could never measure up. 

"Would you, um, excuse me?" you ask, moving your purse from your lap and onto the table. 

"You okay?" Spencer asks, looking up as you stand. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just gonna use the bathroom," you say quietly. You aren't, but if you were, you wouldn't really want to broadcast that anyhow. 

You try not to wobble on the way to the bathroom. The weight of five pairs of eyes follows you as you leave, four of which are trained in the art of spotting lies. Everything isn't okay, and they know that, and by extension —all the effort you made tonight? Getting your hair done, your nicest clothes, your makeup and your perfume? It might as well be a huge blinking neon sign that says you're trying really hard, and it doesn't make a lick of difference. 

You sidle into a stall, pulling the lid of the toilet down with a tissue and sitting on it heavily. Elbows on your knees, you hunch your back and hide your face in your hands, breathing in the smell of bleach through quick breaths. Water drips somewhere near the sinks, the cacophony of the restaurant hushed. 

You've never felt naturally pretty. With Spencer, it hasn't ever mattered. He's never given any indication that he cares. But… 

"Loser," you mutter to yourself. 

"Hey, Y/N?" Spencer asks, his voice bouncing off of the tile. 

You freeze. "Two seconds!" 

"You're not really using the bathroom," he says incredulously. 

"Says who?"

Spencer laughs, his tone wry, "I know you really well, you realise? Like, better than I know anyone else on the planet."

"Then you know I'm having an authentic pee and need my privacy." 

"Come on out." 

The ringing of the lock slotting free is like an announcement of your embarrassment. Spencer's standing a half a foot from the doorway, keeping his distance from the no man's land that is the ladies room. You're going to use it to your advantage, only he holds out his hand expectantly. When you take it, he pulls you out of the bathroom and firmly into the restaurant hallway. 

You can't escape his concern, nor his hands as they cup your face unexpectedly. 

They feel as nice as they look, deft fingers pressed to your skin like you're one of his puzzles to decipher. 

"What upset you?" he asks. 

"Nothing your friends did, I promise." 

"But something." He smooths a hand down to your shoulders. He's not quite frenetic but certainly close to it, searching for a problem he won't find on the surface. "You're insecure about something," he deduces. 

You cringe bodily. "I'm not." 

"What is it? Is it your necklace? It really is nice, the colour goes with your skin. It's understated." 

"It's not my necklace, Spence." 

"Then what is it?" 

"I just…" You pull his hands from your neck and collar to hold them, looking up into his melty brown eyes wishing he weren't so hard to say no to. "Feel like you could do better." 

He frowns. It's a pout, and endearing, but not what you want to see. 

"I love being with you, I just think, you know, you're so handsome, and you have all these pretty friends," you say.  

"You think you're not pretty?" he asks. He sounds gutted, if a little confused. 

"Not like her." Your voice quivers. 

The first time you got upset in front of Spencer, he wasn't sure what to do. He ended up putting an arm around your shoulder, your brand new boyfriend out of his depth. You've both had some practice at comforting one another now, and any hesitance Spencer held is gone. He wraps his arms around you like he's afraid you'll fall over, the crease of his stressed brow smushing against the side of your face. 

"Don't think that. Why would you think that?" he asks quietly. 

"I know I'm not pretty like some girls," you say, surprised by the ferocity of his reaction. 

"You don't know that, because it's not true. You're beautiful." He squeezes your side between his fingers, something contemplative about the way his thumb curls upward. "Do you know how many books I've read?" 

"Thousands." 

He hums. A hand grasps at the back of your neck. "Thousands of books. I know so much, especially about the human body. I know that falling in love can make some people feel the same effects as cocaine. Staring into their eyes can synchronise your heartbeats." He encourages your head back. "Butterflies are adrenaline and when I look at you I can't get them to stop, even if I know it's chemical." Spencer's eyes are lit with something you don't often see directed at you, a furious conviction. "What we think we know isn't always fact, so if you think you're not pretty…" He nods his head gently to the left. "There's only really one thing left to do." 

Your heart feels like it's being juiced. "What's that?" you ask. 

He grabs your hand and puts it on his chest. Fingertips to his breastbone, he holds it flat. Sure enough, even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, you can feel the rapid capering of his pulse. 

"It's like that pretty much any time I look at you." 

"Spence…" 

"I know it's bad," he says.

"Are you messing with me?"

"Yeah, I did a lap before I came to find you– No!" He laughs, giving you an admonishing look. "Why would I mess with you? How could I?" 

"I don't know." 

He dips in to kiss your frown. "You're so pretty," he whispers. "So, so pretty. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen, no matter what you think." 

You don't believe that you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, but you believe that he believes it. He has no reason to lie to you, nothing to gain. He could've said, Hey, you're pretty, and left it at that. He could've been angry with you for leaving the table for something some people would say was superficial. But Spencer's your sweetheart. 

"Do you want to go home, angel?" he asks, looking at you worriedly. 

"No." You don't even have to think about it —you've done enough thinking. "I don't want to go home. Sorry, Spencer. I feel better." And you'll stay out all night if he's going to call you angel again. 

"Well, let me know if you need me to tell you again." 

The chances of you surviving such an ardent speech a second time are low. "I won't be doing that." 

Spencer shrugs. "You'll let me know, even if you don't think so. You have a tell when you're upset." 

You spend the rest of the night making up for your disruption (which Spencer's friends immediately dismiss without questioning), shepherding the crisper curly fries on to Spencer's plate because he likes them that way, and begging him to tell you what your tell is with subtle pleading glances and a hand on his knee. Nothing inappropriate, but affectionate nonetheless. 

He doesn't tell you no matter how much you ask, and maybe it's the drinks or the way the scone light kisses his cheeks in a warm buttery light, you can't find it in you to be mad. 

"Keep your secrets," you say, chin tilted upward. You're failing to glare at him, too much love in your eyes for it to be believable. 

"You're beautiful," he says back, mirroring your expression playfully, before leaning down for a chaste kiss. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!! if you did, please consider reblogging, it makes a big difference to me<3 have a good day!

[acis-arts]

Hello everyoneee, I got super busy recently, but I was still able to do some art and writing in the meantime! Here's all my Cult Leader Designs as well as mentions of the AUs I have!!

Some of these will probably change over time, if I feel like it. I just wanna info dump on my AUs and I also think it's good to post how they currently look instead of waiting for too long.

Down below is the info dump on my AUs:

(Before you start reading: "Kali" is the name of my Lamb)

Lost Crowns AU (/Forgotten Lands of the Old Faith):

This AU was called "Forgotten Lands of the Old Faith" at first, but I refer to it as "Lost Crowns AU" mostly because that name fits too and is shorter.

This is my main AU! In it, the entire story of the game is pretty much unchanged, this AU focuses more on what happens after the events in the game. I haven't finished the game yet and I'm assuming after getting all Bishops, the game is pretty much done. (update because I wrote these notes some days ago: I got Shamura in my cult today so I finished the main story at last)

"A few days after freeing all the Bishops, Kali wakes up and something is missing. The Red Crown is gone, all Crowns are gone. They run to find Narinder and the Bishops, but none of them are behind it. Together, all 6 of them try to confront the Mystic Seller next, but upon arriving at the gate they were always situated in, they find nothing."

The Mystic Seller left the Lands of the Old Faith for good and took everything supernatural with them. I haven't thought about a solid reason for that yet, because my main idea behind this is that Kali and the others are now forced to live without all their supernatural powers. They can't perform Rituals, they can't resurrect, they can't summon weapons and none of the Follower necklaces work anymore. The only thing that was left is the immortality of Kali, Narinder and the Bishops. They won't age but the risk of dying permanently is there.

I have no idea if I want to keep this idea or if I want to scrap this, but I also thought about Kali finding a gateway into the lands of the Gods and together with Narinder, they try to find the Mystic Seller to get answers. The reason Narinder comes along is because he's more familiar with that place and Kali would need someone like that. The second reason obviously being that I want to pair them up and have them develop their relationship over this adventure (with a proposal at the end of it perhaps). Third reason: it's fun to have the Bishops take care of the Cult without Kali and Narinder around.

I have so much more stuff for this AU, but this is already so much text. Let's hope I get to post more in the future!

Swap AU:

This is pretty self explanatory and the majority of what I posted on here so far. As a short summary: Narinder is now the Last Cat remaining, becoming the Vessel of Kali as The One Who Waits

No Mercy AU:

This is based on the second save file I have in COTL, on which I'm trying to do an "evil route". In this AU, Kali isn't kind and optimistic, instead becoming a callous, cruel cult leader after receiving the Red Crown. Up until that moment, they were at the bottom of the food chain and upon receiving the power of a God, they were finally the one in control for the first time in their life. They decided to never let go of the Crown and their Powers.

Orange Crown AU:

This AU is pretty much just my close circle and me inserted into Cult of the Lamb. So far my partner and me are inserted as NariLamb and my brother is the Mystic Seller because he looks like them. This one is probably uninteresting to most of you, as you don't know any of us. I won't be posting that much about this and keep it private mostly, but maybe some of you are still interested in the art, so let's see.

As always, Thank you so much for reading up until this point!! I hope you all had a good week!

[changbinsboobs]

Who is more into commoners vs idols/celebs?

Skz limiting beliefs

Can you do these in between husband series?

Ugh those guys just can't give a straight answer🙄💀

Who in Skz is more into celebs/commoners?

Chan: not a definitive answer, rather he says when the chemistry's there its there, doesn't really matter what the person is. Although i believe thats what he would say but how it actually is, is that he prefers having someone thats equal to him in the sense that they're both are on the same mental&emotional level. So thats a pretty big indicator for me that for serious stuff he probably leans towards celebs cuz they share a similar lifestyle and understanding of that life.

Lee know: bro just said none💀😂 although when i look past that there's a heavy commoner energy. It just feels simple. Theres no better word to describe the feeling. So i guess he's someone that appreciates simplicity in relationships especially and by logic commoners are simpler than idols or celebs.

Changbin: my guy tells me he likes people who reject him🥲🤡 he likes chasing after something he can't have. I had to pull 3 cards for him cuz bro kept repeating the same thing in each one. Idk guys, i guess he doesn't have a preference or if he does his need to chase and be rejected and wallow in his own tears and despair is way higher on his priority list when looking for a partner than if the person is famous or not🙃

Hyunjin: ehm so...he has had a pretty bad experience with someone so he's shaken in his preference. Idk which one it is tho. Once ahain clarification cards aren't of any help🥲 after long, long, long shuffling i finally got a card which gives me groups & peers vibe so maybe he tried something with a person from his circles and it wasn't good at all so now he's confused as to if he should remain open to idols or not. That being said, my guess is that for now he's keeping it low and kind of in the middle. Maybe not dating complete commoners, but also not celebs, maybe he's oriented himself towards influencers or something of that sort.

Han: Def commoners. He needs to be the star, to be admired, to get lots of attention and having many hypemans. Among other celebs he would be just one among many, but among commoners he's a star. And he lives that. So his choice in partners also def reflects that.

Felix: he likes a good variety. A bit of everything. So i think he may not habe a solid preference but rather be in the mood for this today, and net week in the mood for the other. Yk. For now his new "mood" is wise people. I think he's really into that - people who see through others shit, who cant be fooled easily, who can teach him a lot and have a "godly aura".

Seungmin: he likes celebs, well mannared and pretty. Also may not necessarily be entertainment celebs like idols. Could be actors, ceos, owners of something, just affluent people with status, means, manners and just overall are a "good, valueable contribution to society".

I.N: so either he's saying he likes heartbreakers or that he's a heartbreaker. Boy what?! Ok i think a commoner may have broken his heart so now he's gotten cold towards them or something. Maybe he wants to repay now in ignoring "them" and focusing and considering only options that are more affluent.

[dude-ew-gross]

Happy Birthday, Victor

2k words and some change

@void-my-warranty @simplynerdilicious-blog

Thanks for the brainrot. Had a lot of fun writing this. I'm going out for a gyro now.

It was nice to do regular girlfriend things with Victor. It was easy. All you had to do was be there, and what a relief it was not to walk on eggshells for once. The history of your relationships was a list of long, sordid affairs. A few flings here and there that never went beyond the bedroom paired with one miserable marriage and a divorce under your belt, you never thought that you would be where you were now, and where you are now is using your boyfriend as a pillow while he uses you as a blanket. An equal trade, laissez-faire and all that jargon.

You had to admit it was pretty damn nice to have someone around who matches your love of physical affection. The fact that he just so happened to be a walking furnace was merely a coincidental bonus, and if you were being completely honest, cuddling into him was probably your number one source of therapy. Victor never once rejected your advances, much less affection, gladly opening up his enormous arms and adjusting himself to make room for you in his lap to your incoming attack.

There you are, late in the morning on a random sunny Tuesday, so late in fact that most people would be taking their lunch break right now, you are now gleefully loving Victor up on the living room couch, nuzzling into his neck the way he does to you, snuggling into your boyfriend with all your might. You feel him plant a kiss on the top of your head as he hugs you to him just tight enough.

Laying your head on his shirtless chest, you listen to his heart pump his blood through his body with every beat and relax into him with each breath he takes with those strong lungs. You can't help but feel quite pleased when it doesn't take long for him to begin, for lack of a better word, purring. That familiar rumbling starts up and the solid torso underneath you begins to vibrate as he runs a large hand up and down the length of your back, the greatest indicator of “Hell Yeah” there ever was.

“There's that motor,” you giggle, burying your face into a furry pec as if trying to sink into the sensation. His chest hair scratches your face wonderfully. You inhale his scent, taking a deep breath of him and letting it out long and slow. For a moment you two lay there, basking in the warm compassionate touch of a lover. You know you could fall asleep on him right now but something snaps you awake just enough to ask a question that's been drifting in and out of the forefront of your cortex.

“Victor,” you begin. “How old are you?”

“Old.” He answers matter-of-factly. You take it that he didn't take offense to the question on account he didn't immediately stop purring, a good sign.

You continue. “How old?”

He's silent for a moment as he considers what to say. You knew he'd been around the sun a few times more than the average person and had been trying to guess his age for a while but didn't know how to bring it up until now.

“I was a grown man when I saw a light bulb for the first time,” he says.

The absurdity of that statement makes you lift your head up to quirk an eyebrow at him. He's stretched out beneath you, one arm wrapped around you, the other he's using to rest his head. The muscles of the arm that cradles his neck are handsomely flexed under his skin but you are not paying attention to that. He looks completely relaxed at the moment, unbothered. His eyes remain closed and his face doesn't change when the only response you can provide is a blunt “What?” because while you know he's old, there is absolutely no way he's that... old.

Victor makes an affirmative noise, refusing to elaborate any further. Well, if the motor underneath you is still going, that's a good indicator as any that it'd be ok to ask a few more questions. You think for a little bit, attempting to do the math but since the official year of whenever the lightbulb became patented then commercially available escapes you at the moment so instead you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“So you're older than indoor plumbing?”

This makes him chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Cars?”

He nods. “Yep.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Did you ever have to tell time by looking at a sundial?”

His immediate response was to laugh. “Once or twice,” he grins, finding your questions amusing. His fangs are on full display. “Used to get around by horse, if you could afford one. I remember riding in the back of a sled pulled by a single mule led by my father. My mother rode next to him with a shotgun,” he begins to fiddle with a strand of your hair, finding a small knot to loosely work his fingers through. “My brother was next to me. Suddenly, he's pointing up at something in the trees.”

The tangle is smoothed out and he resumes brushing his fingers through your hair with just a little bit of claw, careful not to give you an accidental trim.

“I look up, and there's this barn owl staring down at us. Takes off and flies above us without a sound.”

You blink at him. That was a core memory of his, a little piece of something long ago. Before he figured out he was a mutant, before he and his brother were locked away in that cellar. The paradox in the shape of a man that is Victor Creed who used candlelight and horses as a main resource during most of his formative years, yet he looks like some guy around your age, in the prime of life forever stuck at his physical peak until time itself remembers that he has to age, but that probably won't happen for quite some time. He's older than social security, older than the wars that shaped this continent (probably participated in a few from what you could gather) and was probably older than dirt, and you make an attempt to bite that comment back because he may not find that funny as you, but you say it anyway.

“Heh,” he snorts. “Good way of putting it.”

He probably doesn't even have an official birth certificate if he's as old as you think he is, and he's telling you all this as if his entire backstory is nothing more than just idle chit-chat. You think of how many centuries turned over for him to get here. He sees your expression.

“C'mon, let me hear it,” he goads, a soft smile gracing his face.

You adjust yourself a little to lace your fingers together and tuck your hands under your chin and look him straight in the eye and with all seriousness, you ask “When was the last time you celebrated your birthday?”

This makes him pause. The prolonged silence carries on a bit too long for your liking as his brow furrows, as if he never really considered his birthday before, much less celebrated it. His eyes drift away from yours and his eyebrows knit together even tighter as he takes a moment to think about the last time someone thought about his birthday, and that makes your heart ache.

Finally, he opens his mouth. “A while.” He lifts the hand that was in your hair and brings it to his face to scratch his scruffy chin. “Pretty sure the year started with “eighteen.””

You blink. “You're shittin’ me.”

The look he gives you has no indication that he's being facetious in the slightest. He stops scratching his chin and returns to using you as an armrest, draping the long limb around your upper back. His hand comes to rest on your upper arm, running his thumb back and forth on the flesh of your delt.

“Oh my god,” you begin, laying your head back down on his chest. You listen to his heart for three beats. “You really are older than dirt.”

He laughs at this, and you lift up and down with each laugh. It's nice to hear, it's deep and warm, and you can't help but laugh with him.

It takes a while to calm down. “Do you have any idea when it is?” you ask when you finally regain control of your breathing. He hums and you feel his arm constrict you ever so slightly as he squeezes you to him. His other arm comes out from under his head to completely cage you in, not that you mind. You feel him press his lips to your hairline as he takes a deep breath in, chest expanding with the volume of air he could breathe in, then slowly exhales.

“Sometime in the fall,” he finally says. “I don't remember the date.”

You “hmm” at this. “We're totally celebrating your birthday as soon as I see a leaf turn yellow.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nostrils and you feel his chest shudder with a silent laugh and he relaxes underneath you. Time passes and you end up spending the rest of the morning on the sofa with your legs tangled together. You're pretty sure you fall asleep on him once or twice or more, but he doesn't mind. You're pretty sure he falls asleep, too, and you're both content to let the world pass by as you nap together on a sunny weekday afternoon.

….

Months pass, and you decided you weren't kidding when you said you were celebrating his birthday. Seasons change, summer gives way to Autumn, the days are getting shorter and cooler, trees turned from the supple verdant green to the brilliant hues of Fall. Your backyard is a blended masterpiece of reds, oranges, yellows, and on a particularly chilly October day Victor decides to take your dog on a long walk on the trails in the woods behind your home.

You take advantage of his absence, preheating the oven and bust out the ingredients needed for a cake recipe you found in one of your mother's old cookbooks that you think Victor would like. You remember to separate the wet ingredients from the dry until you're ready to combine the two parts in one large bowl. You pour the batter into two equal size round pans, eyeballing the level to make sure they are even, then place them in the hot oven to bake.

You set a timer on your phone and place a kettle to boil on the stove for tea. Soon enough, the kettle is whistling and you pour the boiling water into your favorite mug with your favorite tea. You pocket your device and decide to pass the remaining time by spending it outside, parked in the big rocking chair with a steaming mug of tea keeping your hands warm and a small blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

It's a perfect Autumn day. The sky is overcast, the wind brings a chilly breeze, and the wonderful colors of the trees as the leaves lose their chlorophyll and fall to the ground has you beaming. You sip your tea and think about the present you didn't get your boyfriend. That's been bugging you for a while; what do you get a man who can buy everything in the world and still have spare change? Oh well, you hope the cake and the card you made are enough.

You're still outside and Victor has yet to return when the timer goes off in your pocket. You head back inside, locate your oven mitts, and carefully slide the rack out of the oven and transfer the pans onto a cooling rack. You poke the cake with a toothpick to check that it has baked all the way through and can't help but pump your fist in victory when it comes out clean. You keep the oven on to toast the coconut flakes you bought specifically for this and set to work making the frosting. The kitchen is smelling nice and toasty as you run a knife along the sides of the cakes, separating the layers from their pans. Both layers come out clean when you flip them over (another victory). You apply a liberal coat of frosting to the cooled layers and stack them, then add the toasted coconut to the sides and top.

You take a step back to appreciate your work, pride swelling your chest. You grab the pack of candles you bought specifically for the occasion and stick one right in the center of the cake and retrieve the card you made, placing the envelope right next to the cake. Just in the nick of time, too, because right on cue, the back door opens and Victor returns with your dog. Once inside, he immediately turns his head in your direction to see you standing behind the kitchen island with a freshly baked cake and an envelope, looking expectantly at him. Both eyebrows are raised in pleasant surprise.

You greet him with a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoes, stooping to unleash the dog. “What's this?”

You shrug. “I've decided it's your birthday. Happy Birthday!”

The leash comes off with a click and your dog rushes to greet you, nails clacking on the kitchen floor, tail wagging as he gives your hand excited kisses. You kneel to give him a few scratches and ask how the walk was, and your dog takes this opportunity to lick your face.

Victor huffs. “Little guy decided to take a swim, that's why we were gone so long.” He gives your dog an accusatory look, to which is blissfully ignored as the accused attacks your face with wet kisses. Your dog's fur is completely dry. You stand to get away from the barrage and your dog trots away to go lay on his bed.

You hand the homemade card to Victor. He considers it for a moment before opening it to read the little message you scrawled out for him in what you tried not to look like your regular chicken-scratch. While he's distracted you get two little plates out from the cabinet and the necessary silverware out from the drawer. He doesn't look up until he hears the flick of the lighter you're using to light the single candle on the cake. You return the lighter to your pocket.

You take a deep breath in. “Ha-”

“Don't.” Victor stops you from subjecting him to the mortifying experience of being serenaded with your acapella rendition of “Happy Birthday”. You're thankful for that.

You giggle and he smiles, and he's looking at you with those peculiar eyes of his with so much warmth and love you feel like you could fly.

“Alright,” you say with a grin. “Blow out the candle and make a wish, birthday boy.”

With a roll of his eyes he does as he's told. His lips form an “o” as he lets out a puff of air, immediately snuffing the candle out. A small plume of smoke rolls up to the ceiling and you can't help but clap in delight.

“Yay! Don't tell me what you wished for, it won't come true if you do.” You warn. You cut the cake and serve him a large slice, then you cut yourself a slice and you both decide to take this into the living room. The first bite he takes has him making an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. That's the only criticism you receive because he's silent as he eats the rest of his slice. The cake is supple and moist and the frosting melts on your tongue as the rich flavors of vanilla and coconut play together on your palette. You're barely halfway through your portion when he gets up and goes back to the kitchen, returning with another slice of cake.

“This is really good,” he tells you, gesturing with his fork. He takes another bite and voices his delight, making you smile as you take another bite. Excellent. He could eat the entire cake and you would not feel bad about it. It's his cake, he deserves to eat it, too.

When you're both finished he grabs your plate and you're about to protest that people don't wash dishes on their birthday when he sets them aside and stacks them on the coffee table. He turns to you and suddenly you find yourself wrapped up in a strong hug and a sweet tasting kiss is planted on your lips as he pulls you onto his lap. “Thank you,” he whispers, kissing you again.

It's not quite the birthday bash you think he deserves, but you did what you could, and he's enjoying himself and that's all that matters. You cup his face with both hands and kiss him back.

“Happy birthday, baby,” you tell him in between kisses.

[asofspades]

I'm making a list of my favourite Four HC

- He has a necklace made from a shard of the dark mirror to remember Shadow and a strand of his hair is dyed purple in his honour.

- I like to count Four swords and Four swords adventures as separate adventures, so he's been on 3 adventures.

- Four Swords personally would be literally Link and 3 copies of him, I like to consider this as if the clones you can make in Minish Cap just had a solid body and thinking ability but Link does go back to being the same at the end of the adventure

- Obviously I like to incorporate the FS manga to his last adventure and this time Link splits into four different beings each a main part of his personality but over the course of the adventure they sort of become their own person

- That's why I headcanon that Four isn't really link as he was before his last adventure, for me all of the colours went back together into one body but remained separate, they usually work together and that would be Four as we know him.

- Obviously I love the HC that we have seemed to collectively agree on that Four's eyes change colour depending on who's more dominant at certain points.

- I do think that sometimes not all of them are driving the wheel together and that might be because they just went through a moment that required a lot of one of the specific colours or they're in disagreement

-That leads me to the HC that Four gets migraines when the colours are not in sync, which is another one most of the fandom seems to share.

- I'm also a fan of the "dark portals scramble the colours and thus Four" collective HC

- particularly I like to think that Four is both distrustful of dark magic because of the whole Vaati resurrecting and Ganon thing, and the soldiers and his father being controlled by that magic but also it makes him sad because it reminds him of Shadow's magic

- Also, while I HC that Vio was the closest to Shadow for obvious reasons I think when they merged into Four their memories and feelings were instantly registered by each other and now the other colours also appreciate Shadow for more than just sacrificing himself for them and Hyrule.

-I like to HC that he was almost the same age as Time was in OOT for his first adventure, as a bonus I like to think his bday is on the Picori Festival day which adds an extra layer of depth to both the beginning of his first adventure and his relationship with the Minish

- Following that logic I like to HC him as being freshly 8 y.o for his first adventure, around 11 for the second and almost 14 for the 3rd, and as such I love the idea that Vio and Shadow kind of developed crushes on each other.

- On that same note, since we can see Link as a soldier in the FS manga, but obviously there's only his Grandpa in MC, I like to HC that his father was deployed somewhere far away from Hyrule for diplomatic reasons (he's the captain of the royal guard after all) and he comes back after the first adventure. He gets told about what his child did and decides him joining the Royal Guard would be a good idea

- Following the previous HC, I like to think Link is not really enthusiastic about joining the Royal Guard because my boy got raised by his very cool blacksmith Grandpa who loves him very much and he's a little blacksmith at heart. Which kind of explains why he looks a bit done about being part of the royal guard, aside from the fact that he's literally saved Hyrule on his own before. That is also the reason he's so proud to be a blacksmith but never talks about having been in the Royal Guard.

- This is a more niche HC but since Four's era is way before OOT and way after SS I like to think the legal age changes a lot and so I HC that in Four's Hyrule you're considered an adult at around 14 so he's already working an paying taxes and is of marring age by the time he joins the chain.

- That brings me to another point and it's that I HC Four to be 16 in linked universe (I think that one's also pretty much shared by the fandom) but since legally he's been an adult for 2 years he gets thrown off by people calling him "kid" despite technically being the second youngest, he's a kid in basically everyone's time but his and I find that idea hilarious.

- Another commonly shared HC, four hasn't grown or has barely grown a cm since his first adventure because he overused minish magic, I like to add a twist and since you also turn into a minish in FS I like to think he grew a tiny bit between his first and second adventures but the overuse during the 2nd one was what did him in.

- Another HC is that four can in fact use the minish magic by himself, making him one of the Links with innate magic ability. Going a step further I think both Hyrule and Time can detect some Fae magic emanating out of him due to his entrenchment with the minish and his earring and sword (after all the four sword was forged form the remains of the Picori blade), Legend can sense some light magic coming off of him (he can canonically use innate magic and is attuned to magic artifacts) and Twilight can sense something similar to Midna's magic and the twilight mirror due to the dark mirror shard necklace Four carries.

Technically Wind can use light magic just because but I like to think he senses magic but really doesn't know what he's sensing at all because nobody bothered to explain magic to him even though he uses it a lot and often.

- okay, the shield think, we know the Shield in WW and MC are quite literally the same shield. And while I support people who have the whole "wind is Four's descendant" HC, for me personally I think people just knew it belonged to a hero and the people who found it after the great flood decided to keep it and it ended up becoming a family heirloom. Particularly they just mention that it belonged to a hero, and it's the first and only time that they don't mention that hero being the Hero of Time like they do in every other instance.

- the Palace of the Four Swords is a tricky one because me personally, I like to think that Four's soul is tied to his sword not only because he forged it but because of his second and particularly his 3rd adventure. Thus, when he dies he turns into a sword spirit and in the downfall timeline the sacred realm becomes the dark world and all inside it becomes corrupt and the sword that has been resting there for eras along with it's spirit gets corrupted as well prompting the events that happen at the FS palace in ALTTP.

- personally I like to think that since the Sacred Realm gate never opens in the child timeline the sword just rests in it's palace (built out of the elemental sanctuary that became the four sword sanctuary) along with it's spirit. And for the adult timeline it just rests underwater along with the rest of the old Hyrule forever undisturbed.

I find it really tricky that the splitting of the timeline ends up affecting previous heroes in the long run but it makes sense.

-Also, because SS takes place way way before MC I like to think the story of Sky is barely known outside of the Royal Family who might know a bit just because it's tied to their very existence. However I find that I like the idea that the people of the sky do know a version of said story and are descendants of the skyloftians who never took to the surface and that's why after living on the surface for a while by themselves they decided to go back to the skies and build a city on the cloud tops. Coincidentally since the Minish did come form the sky as well they might know about those stories. I think the molemits found in the wind ruins might be a version of the mogma mits from SS and the gust jar might have been inspired by the gust bellows from SS.

- Take I like, the blue ocarina in OOT that seems to be an heirloom of the Royal Family is in fact the Ocarina of Wind from MC, timeline wise it is the earliest apparition of that ocarina. My personal HC is Four gives it to Zelda either as a parting gift before parting on a trip where he ends up dying or he simply has it on his will to give Zelda that ocarina when he dies. With time the Royal Family unknowingly or knowingly infuse it with the power of the Goddess giving it the abilities we see in OOt and then in MM but, by the time it gets found by Legend in ALTTP is has basically lost all abilities except for the one to call a bird to bring you places. Personally I like to think that in the fallen timeline since the ocarina is in Link's hands when he fails it gets lost after being used to open the sacred realm and a regular someone ends up finding it prompting the side quest you do in ALTTP to get it.

- I also think that Four's relationship with his father is a bit rocky since he left the Royal Guard to become a full time blacksmith.

Some Colour headcanons

- Red enjoys using the fire rod but he doesn't like when people mess around too much with fire in forest because it reminds him of the third adventure

- Blue hates the cold because of the time he was encased in ice during the 3rd adventure

-Green has a need to save everyone because he still feels like he failed people during his 3rd adventure

- Vio likes to act all smug about his traitor act but he actually feels very bad about having tricked and betrayed shadow and he feels guilty that Shadow sacrificed himself after having been betrayed.

- Green also blames himself for Shadow and he finds it hard to be around their father because of the whole 3rd adventure.

[lunarfleur]

My I Love You ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @gloomyluvr @hiyaitssans

Warnings: None except for slight cursing!

A/N:I got this wonderful idea from @/gloomyluvr. I just love this sm

This is x gender neutral reader!

Miles was so warm.

That’s the only thing you could think about. He generated heat like the sun, his skin a firey blanket you knew he would only let you enjoy. It was soothing you, but you didn’t even know you needed soothing.

Miles was a different kind of gentle with you, a sweet kind of soft you hadn’t even known possible. You’d seen him be kind to his mom-who he loved so dearly-but even with her you would find his typical teenage pride held off his affection. He didn’t seem as ashamed with you.

You sat in his room quietly, his arm keeping you tucked closely against his body. Even through his clothes, his warmth spread over your skin like a disease. His cheek sat gently on the top of your head, his free hand sitting behind his own. His door was cracked open, leaving a single sliver of light sitting against his otherwise dark room, at the request of his mother.

Footloose played in front of you, his laptop sitting on his thighs, covered in his comfiest black sweatpants. His fingers played with the hem of your t-shirt sleeve. The fabric pushed and pulled against your skin.

Looking at him, you hummed. He was pretty. Very pretty. The light that came from the hallway made his rich skin shine. The specks of green in his eyes glowed. His nose sat so nicely against his face. His jaw, even when slacked or relaxed, was tight and firm.

Noticing your eyes, Miles glanced at you. A small smirk grew on his lips.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked. You shook your head. His fingers danced across the skin of your arm softly.

But even when you forced your attention back to the movie in front of you, Miles’s eyes didn’t leave you. It was a solid 2 minutes before he realized he was even doing it.

He tapped you gently on the shoulder, sitting up straight. You expected him to pause the movie, to get up to use the restroom. But he instead slid his hands up from your neck to the sides of your face.

“Tell me to stop?” He whispered. But it wasn’t a demand, nor was it a threat. It was suggestion, an invitation.

You shook your head, and Miles leaned in slowly. His lips only ghosted yours until you moved into his touch. You felt him tense, his shoulders straightening, then his whole body relaxed altogether.

Once you pulled away, eyes opening, he sat in front of you. His eyes remained closed. His lips pressed tightly into a firm line. They opened slowly.

“Everything okay?” You asked. He nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I just,” Miles hesitated. “I just really…love you.”

Fuck. That was new.

You had said it a few times before, as a goodbye when hanging up the phone or parting for the night. He’d leave you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth, but always resorted to avoiding the phrase altogether. It was out of fear on his part.

A part of Miles told him that those three words were a jinx, that if you said them it automatically meant things weren’t going to last; that something would go wrong. Every relationship his uncle ever had ended quickly and his father had died. His mother was left heartbroken. That was proof enough, right?

‘Our family doesn’t run from things, mijo,’ his mother had always said.

So he sat before you, watching the way your eyebrows raised. He could have sworn your eyes were glowing.

You leaned forward, fingers intertwining with his. You leaned back against the pillows, pulling him back with you.

“I love you, too.”

He released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding and leaned back. His arm snaked back around your shoulder, this time your hand grabbed onto his. His weight pressed against you, heavier this time. His eyes stared at the side of your face.

Looking over at him, you were quick to give him a reassuring smile. You knew it was hard for him, but God did it make you feel good.

He smiled back at you, a sight you knew he’d only let you enjoy, before firmly pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

[cybsoo2]

heated red

╰┈➤ synopsis — Min Yoongi is a man of duality. Familiar with the sugary sweet side, you can’t help but be shocked at what hides behind closed doors.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!suga x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.5k

╰┈➤ content warning — murder, … DETAILED murder, gore, violence, strong language, yandere behavior, angst

Everything about Yoongi is sugary sweet. From head to toe, Min Yoongi is the sun of your universe. Every action and every gesture proves that he’s the world’s best boyfriend. 

You two have been dating for just over 2 years now, and it’s nothing short of perfection. At the beginning of your relationship, Yoongi could be mistaken as cold and uncaring; but his shy and thoughtful feelings are what brought you two together. It took some time for you both to become familiar with each other. Yet, Yoongi was determined in his attempts to get to know you. A rough relationship, still fresh and sensitive, bloomed into one of trust and time. Each touch that whispers against your skin says, “I know you, I understand you, I love you.” What Yoongi can't convey with the words that tongue-tie him, he settles to portray in his body language. 

His hands always feel so solid from the way they sink into your skin, assuring you of his presence and affection for you. Candy-coated words slide down your throat while he kisses you, mumbling confessions between breaths; “God, I’m so in love with you,” a breathless kiss in between, “I’d do anything for you.” No word he speaks is dishonest and each letter weighs with the seriousness of his admission. His eyes blind you in a heated red with how much fire burns beneath them. Burnt brown eyes, almost burdensome, frequently border on urgent. As if no matter how many times he says the words, it’ll never be enough for you to understand his devotion to you. 

Yoongi is loyal, kind, sweet, and everything else in between. You have no doubt that Yoongi will always continue to remain a constant comfort in your life. Although, no matter what way your brain has interpreted his presence, everyone else seems to think otherwise.

Regardless of who you cross paths with, friends, family, or foe, they plant seeds of doubt into your pretty little head. These troubling thoughts fester with wicked intentions and ideas. In Yoongi’s words, “The filth these people spit at you are just lies. Twisting themselves into your opinions and trying to cut me out. They’re just jealous. Don’t talk about them again.” When Yoongi speaks about the people that spill the blood that corrupts your mind, his face turns sour and his eyes shadow dark slits. This harsh look has played on your mind enough for you to stop bringing up the subject completely.

Yet these off comments and anxious looks continue to devour your mind. Whispers pick up in the wind about how Yoongi is a liar. They talk about the dead eyes that contradict the expressive cat-like ones that follow your motions. His heavy hands on your hips don’t match up to the tight grip he takes to the back of your friend’s necks. A warning, or a friendly gesture; you and those around you seem to have two very different ways of deciphering the deeper design of Yoongi’s actions. 

Today you felt like you were living life in a maze. Chasing demands from not only your boss, but Yoongi too. You spent the day running around the city until the sun set. 

You vividly remember how this morning had gone. Walking in through the elevator, shots of minimalistic grey meet your eye. Stale flowers and sweet perfume waft into the wind. You can’t help but feel small in the presence of such expensive luxury. Girls and guys decorated like dolls in diamonds. Even the blood on their hands shines like rubies. A strike upon the back of your head interrupts your staring.

“What are you doing standing there doing nothing? I’ve got things for you to do.” 

You’ve run yourself down running around like a headless chicken. Searching across town for the products and tasks you’ve been sent to complete. Vain efforts that are impractical and impossible. 

Once the hand hits 5 and your work is done for the day, Yoongi had texted you asking a few favours. No matter how drained you were, you could never refuse a request from him. You dragged your drowsy self into the driver’s seat and prayed the time would go by fast.

It did not. It seemed as if Yoongi was persistent that you stay running into endless walls and dead-ends. Too many things out of stock, nonexistent, or a million miles away. The stars start to shine in the sky, mirroring the way your eyes glisten with galaxies of exhaustion. 

The drive home is a blue blur. Your head mixes up time with tiredness, and your sore eyes paint watercolour tears over your surroundings. This bleary fog blinds you, and once it lifts the slightest bit, you find yourself standing at the front door. 

When you walk through the door, you wish you hadn’t. Yoongi’s kneeled over someone, it would look intimate if it wasn’t for the muffled screams and rageful roars that harmonize in the air. He’s shouting at her, choking and stumbling through laughter that never seizes. She’s trying to scream, but his hand holds a rag that’s shoved halfway down her throat. A dirted knife is held in his other.

You can barely recognize the women beneath her own blood and carnage, but you manage. You’re able to distinguish the bleached blonde hair that he rips from her scalp. The array of hair sprawled out around the two bodies guides your eyes to the bejeweled earrings you set your sights upon only hours earlier. This gore has glossed over the diamonds, leaving them dull and lifeless.

You remember the face that matched the gems, young and confident. That pearly white smile that once had you feeling envious has been knocked off her cocky grin. You’re able to pinpoint her place above you. Her, the idolized icon and you as her dirty dog. 

She’s your manager, or maybe she won’t be when Yoongi’s finished with her. She adopted you to be her pet. A plaything to possess in her position of power. Always replaceable and inevitably desperate, you played along with her game to keep your job. It paid well and the benefits were more than anyone could ever hope for. In a game of pain and promise, you chose the former in order to receive the latter. This tiresome torture laid an ache in your heart, yet Yoongi was there to stitch back the pieces. Giving yourself up to be teased and toyed with by a tyrant allowed you to have a peaceful life with Yoongi, separate from the harm.

Yet sometimes, in the blue afternoon when the world is set to silence, the stinging sadness slips through the cracks. You’ve never been good at keeping things hidden from Yoongi, and you’d like to assume the same for him too. You strained your sore throat through the crying and told Yoongi about everything that happens daily at work. Her taunts that leave you tense and the impossible tasks she’d give only to punish you after you failed to complete them. 

Your rampant rant had left you tired and you leaned up against his chest. The only sound that made sense in your mind was the rushing red flowing through his heart. A serene song that serenades you to sleep. You counted the beats as you drifted off into dreamland. 1, a heart that keeps Yoongi alive. 2, a heartbeat that means he’s here. 3, a heartache that tears him apart.

You couldn’t see it then, off in euphoria while Yoongi laid wide awake. But a bloodshot look with black pupils bled misery down his features. Hot and steady, sorrow fell off his face and the teardrops kissed your skin. Yoongi’s head and heart had been set ablaze into a state of chaos. Hot fury and cold desperation confused him. He’s angry and sad all at once. Although, much like any other time, his rage outweighed the anguish and fiery eyes ignited. 

This was 3 days ago. Yet now you stand amidst an annihilation. The bloodbath soaks every surface of your home. Lost pieces of hair, skin, and claret carnage find their way upon tabletops and splattered across the walls. The sight steals your breath, making you a mute statue in this red revelation. After minutes of struggling with a swollen tongue and stolen speech, you squeak out his name in surprise.

“Yo-Yoongi,” the words leave your lips tainted in tragedy. You can barely make out a single syllable from the flood of nausea that rushes through you. You sound so betrayed, it sends a hot hell-fire burning through Yoongi. The knife clatters to the floor when he whips his head up to face you.

“Y/n!” His gasp is laced with feverish panic that leaves his heart racing. Liquid white agony tangles itself through his veins. 

Once Yoongi directs all his attention to this distraction, the victim on the ground struggles against the dark burden of death. Her shrill scream pierces the silence as she whips her head back and forth in hysteria. Her own mindless panic causes her to smack her head against the wooden floorboards 10 times over. Blood sprays every which way as she mindlessly flails her lost limbs. It’s pathetic to watch her squirm under the inevitable circumstances. Severed stumps replace what was once her arms. Her legs fare no better; mutilated beyond repair, the joints cause their appendages to stick up in an unflattering way. 

The girl’s ear splitting shrieks muddled together with her own blood continue on without stopping. The inhumane noises are both maddening and horrifying to two different people. 

Yoongi feels his irritation rise to a breaking point. The fucked up bitch lying desperate on the floor is trying to ruin his chances of explanation. 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He roughly grabs her head and bashes it into the floor until she stops screaming. She’s left a mangled mess upon the ground. Skin slit in every direction, and cuts ripped apart from the force of his anger. Brain matter spills out the back of her dented cranium. Her whole body twitches before falling into a limp pile amongst the bloodshed. 

Yoongi stands back up from his place knelt over her corpse. He frantically attempts to wipe off the scarlet sins that stain his hands. With a wild fever, Yoongi rubs his hands raw onto his pants and shakes his head in stress. You can see the way the stress sinks into his eyes as well, red-rimmed and tearing up as they stare into you.

“Y/n, y/n please. Please listen.” Each word is slurred together from the tears and terror that take hold of him. He rushes toward you in desperation and you watch as his eyes widen when you step back. “Please, this doesn’t mean anything. I still love you, I LOVE YOU!” His hopelessness destroys his composure as he begins yelling in order to get his message across. Seeing you flinch and fail to hide the fear in your watery eyes leads Yoongi to take a different approach. “I love you, I love you. This is just proving how much you mean to me.” He’s reached you now. Standing six inches away and tugging your figure to fall into him. “I’d do anything for you.” He mumbles his declaration in a low tone. He matches your misty eyes and stares into you. 

He holds half your weight, keeping your knees from giving in and dropping you downwards. He keeps you pushed gently against the wall and pressed into his chest. His hands keep your head cradled gently as he moves to hug you close. 

He lays kisses along your jawline and makes his way up, hoping that if he tries hard enough, he’ll be able to subdue the sadness. He’s counting the crystals as they fall and making sure they don’t double. 

Yoongi hates seeing you cry. His hands shake along with yours as the remorse for his actions flows through him. Although don’t be mistaken, his repentance should not be confused with regret. No, Yoongi doesn’t regret killing that filthy bitch at all. Pride swells in his chest and he chokes back a smile from reminiscing on her screams. Yoongi instead is regretful of not being more careful. He should’ve hidden this better. Shouldn’t have gotten caught up in the rush and been careless with his decisions. He wishes you never would’ve seen that.

Your tears leave tracks in the bloodshed he’s spilled upon you. Your cries have been shushed into small sniffles, but you feel all the same. Shock has taken over your limbs, leaving them heavy for him to carry. All thoughts have been blown out of your head at the drop of this bombshell. 

What were once lipstick marks are now bloodstains. He continues to kiss the pain away. Dragging his lips slowly up your neck and back down lower. These ruby smudges leave raised marks when his caressing begins to hold back an anger. If you could get your mouth to mutter easy words, then you would tell him that his lips sting. His kisses feel like bleach to bare skin. The trails he traces down your body leave shadows of his sins. Each peck he places on your pink cheeks holds the memories of the shouts he yelled only moments prior. 

“Let me get you cleaned up.” His husky whisper is placed at the base of your jaw. He pulls himself away far enough to look in your eyes. Your foreheads almost touching and your warm breath being shared between you. When you don’t resist he places a final kiss to your lips before steadying you against him once more. 

He’s patient and careful in the way he puppeteers your movements. Taking control of each limb as if it’s his own. He towers over you with the way he holds you. Your feet placed atop his, he walks you two, slow and steady, to the bedroom. Placing you down on the bed, he keeps you safe with your head nestled into his neck. He kisses the top of your head and lingers. Grabbing the hem of your shirt, he asks a question that only stills in the quiet.

“Good?” There’s no response. He bends down a tad bit further to try and look into your drowsy eyes. Your head hung so heavy against his collarbone only lets him move so far. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable.” He takes off your top, moving to your pants, and then follows with your underwear. Empathetic emotions sway his movements as every action is taken bit-by-bit. Taking your body’s behavior as a guiding force on what causes your anxiety to jump. Strong, sharp movements cause you to recoil and a voice that resembles even a hint of a shout or gravely tone sends shivers up your spine. Your goosebumps travel across Yoongi’s skin too. 

Now you’re left bare and sensitive under his skin. Yoongi works to avoid your empty eyes. Instead, he makes sure to support your vulnerable soul. You’ll remain in his arms where he’ll keep you warm and safe. He clings to your fading existence as he takes you into the bathroom. He holds a patient pace, wary of the wind that might steal away more pieces of you. 

He tears his clothes off in a blur, focused on attending to you. Sitting you on the edge of the bathtub, he reaches over to turn on the shower. Each minute is counted in Yoongi’s head as he waits for the water to warm up. One hand extended out to feel the heat, and the other rested on the crown of your head. You rest against his stomach, forehead sticking to his stress induced sweat. So limpid and lazy, you don’t even take the chance to outstretch yourself and grasp onto him. His waist is cold without your arms wrapped around it. Your brittle breath against his belly-button only startles the man instead of teasing a lustful heat that such a position would usually bring. You just lay like a dead doll against him. So silent and still you can almost hear the snakes that stir up a storm in his stomach. 

When the water is a tender temperature, Yoongi picks you up from the meat of your thighs and slides you two into the steam. You stay standing under the water for a while; waiting and watching as time continues its cascade. Yoongi tries to take away all the blood smeared across both of you. Slender hands slide across your skin, rubbing at the red until it washes away. 

His actions soon become more aimless as he grows selfishly desperate to feel your soul. His hands laid heavy upon your hips. His grip tightens and he places meaningless pecks anywhere he can find. His fingernails press a little too deep into your pink flesh, yet there’s no reaction to the pain. His hands work in a flurry to fist any piece of skin he can latch onto. Your wet bodies are so close you’re on the verge of blurring into one. So close, yet Yoongi still can’t feel you. There’s no life beneath his fingertips.

Your despondency startles him. Usually your energetic nature is what he relies on most. A permanent piece of his life that never changes and never falters. Just looking at you now, feeling the cold statue in his arms, he wants to cut himself to shreds attempting to bleed out this displeasure. Even if it is his own doing, he’ll make sure he’s also the one to fix you. 

Yoongi starts by shifting you both so you can sit in the base of the bathtub. He reaches to the shelf above your head and grabs the shampoo. His hands work their way through your hair. He detangles the knots from both your curls, and hopefully your mind. Yoongi has always been so meticulous in everything he does. He takes long, languid movements to assure no soap gets in your eyes. And when a droplet slips past his grasp, he’ll kiss away the escapee while grimacing at the suds his tongue tastes. 

His caring efforts are used to calm himself just as much as they are meant for you. He’s trying to distract himself from his uneven breathing that edges the line of a mental breakdown. His rasping continues as he now reaches for the second bottle above you. 

Once again, Yoongi works to lather the conditioner in his hands before smoothing it through your hair. He’s petting you how someone would comfort a dog, or console a crying child. Each easy touch he makes in order to not startle you any further. When he grabs the soap, he’s diligent with his motions. Efficient at scrubbing you clean, but tender in the way he maneuvers you. 

An hour washes itself down the drain. The water has run cold and the stream has cooled away. Yoongi takes your hands and wraps them around his neck before picking you up. He places you on the bathmat and reaches to grab a towel. You're patted dry before being wrapped in the dirty towel. Lifted up again, the man in front of you takes another dry towel off the rack. Yoongi is shaking from the frigid temperature that creeps around him. This feeling could be the least of his worries and he only pays attention to scaring away the icy droplets from your hair. He smooths your hair in one stroke with the towel then follows up by softening your strands with a brush. This two step process continues until Yoongi has been completely air-dried by the bitter cold. Random but repeated chills bite along his bare back and stir up shivers. 

Atrophy sets in when Yoongi begins to dress you. You're shock-still and there are no signs of it stopping. Unstirring and motionless, set to fall unless Yoongi was there to hold you. It’s significantly more difficult to dress you, so Yoongi only settles for underwear and one of his shirts. He decides to only wear boxers, opting to show you the most humane and vulnerable parts of himself. He leaves himself defenseless, ready to accept anything you give him. You’re pulled and pushed until you settle into the sheets. Both Yoongi and the bed wrap around you. Clinging to every empty space of you, they work to make you warm and soft for sleep. 

Yoongi pushes himself closer against you and tugs at the covers to bring them up higher. His bitten lips lay resting on the nape of your neck. He navigates his hands through the blankets to find your own. He noses the back of your neck and wishes pretty pleas for you to wake up like none of this ever happened

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” His melody of the sincerest apologies sings you to sleep. His hymn echoes off the shadowed walls of the bedroom and settles into background noise. The soft words vibrate against your back, almost resembling a purr. Saccharine sorrys and repeats of “Don’t be afraid, I’d never hurt you,” are mumbled until Yoongi loses his voice. His sore throat stings with a metallic taste. 

Feverish determination ends up sedating his sorrows. He’ll guide you into his good graces once again. He’s patient and gentle. As time tumbles onwards, he’ll be the best boyfriend once again, because everything about Yoongi is sugary sweet.

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[partycatty]

anon dm requested: "The request would be: Relationship hcs with Liu Kang? Can be just fluff, but if you wanna add nsfw *wink wink*. I think after so many years of celibacy his rizz would be lower than sea level, but I'd love to read your take on it!"

liu kang > love again

what it's like dating the god of thunder and fire - and the keeper of time

warnings: pretty angsty ngl, can't write for this lover boy without profound sadness, mentions of sex

masterlist

• promising your love to an immortal god was a huge responsibility - you were uncertain if you promised your forever, or his forever. two vastly different connotations to the word.

• it took a lot of time and effort to get him to see you like that. liu kang made a vow to his existence to never fall in love again, after losing everything. no mortal would be able to stand by his side for as long as he'd like, for one life was merely a grain of sand in his beach of a lifetime.

• but once he's in, he's in all the way - or so, he tries to be. as silly as it may sound, the man is charming but rusty. he has that natural tendency to draw people in with his words and spirit, but when it comes to real flirting you've got him with rusty cogs in his head.

• he warms up to you little by little, his casual praises lacing with compliments to your physique or mental strength, something he admires in a mortal. but then, you'd cloud his mind with your enchanting form while he is tucked away in his personal quarters, meditating. like a frosted screen blocking his vision, your presence started to eat away at him.

• liu kang tried hard to push it away - he can't do it again. love. he can't love again, when he knows just how quickly it can be taken away. he recalls the life being sucked from him by his revenant counterpart, being by thunder god raiden's side after his mortal death, clinging hopelessly onto a backwards moving kitana.

• and yet, when he'd watch you beam with pride after learning a new combo, or hold eye contact for just a moment longer than the other chosen ones, liu kang would force himself to break his usually solid eye contact. you just broke something in him - the side that he thought died when he lost everything he knew.

• even after fighting the urge to confess any sort of attraction, liu kang feels viscerally angry seeing anyone else show interest in you. his fists clench and his tattoos flicker a frustratingly blinding shade as he silently cooks himself in the distance. he partially hates himself for being so jealous, and partially because he know he could just stop being jealous by having you all to himself, something he couldn't bring himself to do.

• so much gentle encouragement gives him the strength to say you're his, and it rolls off of his tongue far too easily. why hadn't he tried it sooner? you were so perfect, and he felt like he couldn't pat himself on the back for it. he created you, but never expected your true colors to shine so vividly.

• most nights are spent comforting your new godly boyfriend. your hands tangle themselves in his hair as you massage his scalp thoroughly. he's very still as he absorbs every touch you give him. he may not need to sleep, but he'd lay there for hours if it meant he was your pillow.

• just as you savor calling him your lord, he savors calling you his. "my love, my dear, my beloved, my flower," any romantic nickname is game if it opens with a "my." once he starts getting comfortable enough to use them, it's never ending.

• sex with him is always tender and passionate, where he is entirely focused on your pleasure rather than his own. he has no need for such release anymore, but he can't deny your warmth encapsulating him as a sign of your devotion to him. you also make a great stress relief toy!

• liu kang remains professional in front of the others, but his glowing eyes are so strikingly obvious, especially when they're transfixed on you. when he is speaking of behalf of earthrealm to the outworld royalty, his hand falls on the small of your back as he speaks, as if to say "i am a god, but she is my equal."

• demands respect for you. isn't usually the type to cause a scene but will actively call anyone out that disrespects your feelings. will call you his lady in public, just as he is your lord. in his effortlessly neutral tone, he'll squeeze his fingers into your side as he suppresses his godly anger.

• you don't carry the burden of the knowledge he possesses with every waking moment, he can't even begin to explain it to you. he withholds plenty of information, calling it a "spoiler" or "surprise." the timeline is his to know, and yours to find out. he doesn't want to give you the same burden of truth.

• the only truth liu kang wants you to hold onto is that he chose you in this timeline. did he choose you in others? no, but what matters is that he sees you this time around.

[suosdisciple-keelmember]

Suo Hayato x Reader — My master, my love

Suo x gn reader

Summary: Suo took you as his disciple and you train often together. However, you admire Suo deeply and have fallen for him.

Warnings: Physical confrontation, power dynamics (master-disciple relationship), light suggestive language

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: I hope you like my first contribution for this fandom! I definitely enjoyed writing this♡

You bow respectfully as a signal for the training fight to start. Moving first, you rush forward, hoping to test his defense, but you are outsmarted.

A simple sidestep destroys your plan as your wrist gets stopped by a determined grip, using your power to spin you around. Stumbling slightly, you notice that the next attack was already coming. With a well-timed jump, you succeed to escape.

Yet, the offensive stance of the person across from you remained. Now was it your turn to defend yourself.

However, in the next moment, drift your thoughts to your opponent and master, Suo Hayato. You had always admired him since you had met.

His brown hair is fluttering in the nightly breeze with his yellow tassel earrings, the two crimson spheres on both sides of them. The moon highlights his features and glistening ruby eyes. His right eye was concealed by a leather eye patch, adding a mysterious but striking touch to his presence.

Suo's fierce concentration during battles was totally different from the warm smiles he gave you, reflecting his gentle and friendly character.

Altogether, his whole being has been out of this world.

Quite often had you found yourself thinking about him. In the beginning, you didn't really consider it of importance at first. Then you were just looking up to your master, his strength and personality. Yet, you know that it wasn't completely like that. With the time you realized it—that you had developed feelings for him.

Abruptly stopped your daydreaming as you got thrown onto the ground. It was a gentle, but firm lead, a direct contrast to the hard and unrelenting earth under your feet.

"Out spacing again? You need to learn to focus more on the current moments during a fight, (Y/N)-san."

Raising up, you meet Suo's stern, assessing face.

"I-I'm sorry Suo-sama." you stutter, clapping your hands together to apologize.

A smile hushes over his face as he reaches his hand out to help you up. Accepting his offer, you feel a comfortable warmth spreading through you as your hands make contact.

Standing again, Suo pats your back and says with his usual friendly and at the same time lecturing tone : "And how often have I told you to just speak to me using '-san' or at least '-sensei'?! You are my disciple and no worshiper. Are you even paying attention to anything?"

"B-But you are my master! There's no other form which would suitable to address you!" you argue and pout.

After that, he let out a small sigh and his lips curve up again. "Okay, I won't mind that for now. Let's… come back to your performance." Nervousness washes over you. His evaluation was always something you looked forward to. Then, through his comments and feedback, could you draw a lesson and polish yourself.

"You've been all in all pretty solid in this session. And your defense has also improved. So… nice work (Y/N)-san! You get steadily better! Still, a thing we definitely have to work on is your concentration and technique." Nodding approvingly, you reply full of motivation at his words: "Okay, I will try to get better, Suo-sama! Thank you for teaching!"

The two of you decide to sit down so you could talk a bit. You did that almost every time during training to take a break and continue afterward. Knees drawn up to your chests with legs bent, the two of you sat next to each other on the soft grass which shined brightly in the moonlight. The cool air added something peaceful to the late hour and the soothing silence, making you feel safer and calmer than anywhere else.

"It's been some months now since we started training together, right?" Suo says while gazing at the sky. "Y-Yeah. And I'm still utterly grateful for our meeting. I wouldn't know where I would stand now in life, if I hadn't met you."

You remember it like it had only happened very recently—he had saved you as some rowdies brought you into a predicament when you were wandering alone through the streets at night. At that time, you weren't strong enough to stand up and fight for yourself. But Suo had helped you and didn't even wanted compensation for that. Also, you got the option to train from him. Once you realized the benevolence and kindness in his offer, it was obvious to you: Suo was one of the nicest persons you had ever encountered, and you were going to devote yourself to him and his training.

Suo shakes his head. "No need to praise me in such a way." says he, his voice sincere and full of modesty. His eyes soften as you make eye-contact. "You have really made progress since then by yourself. I have just given you a few tips and shown some techniques, nothing more. That's why, (Y/N)-san, you can be proud of yourself."

You blush slightly at his compliment. On the one hand, you feel grateful that he acknowledged the achievements you've made over the time, but on the other hand, you are also exasperated by him not recognizing that his assistance itself helped you to become better and change something in yourself.

"I object to that! Humbleness shouldn't be made out of lies! The reason I'm even now capable of defending myself and getting stronger was only due to your decision to take me as a disciple and I will tolerate no dissent, Suo-sama."

A sudden touch on your arm, let your thoughts spin endlessly in flusteredness. Suo had closed the distance between you and laid a hand on your arm. His grip, gentle and full of empathy, conveyed comfort. Knees brushing against each other, the physical contact providing something you just couldn't put into words. "We will see. However, you should always have in mind that it was your determination and will which has shaped you to the person you are now." The color on your cheeks turned into a darker shade of red, sight of field lying on the ground as you turn your head away from him so he can't see your embarrassement.

"And there's also another point I wanted to talk with you about."

Looking slowly again at him, you ask curious: "W-What do you mean?" Your stomach churned nervously as you saw him smirking full of mischief, assuming that he was up to nothing good for you. His eyes shined full of anticipation towards his only too well-known teasing.

"I noticed that whenever I say something positive about you, there's a tint of red coming up on your face. You could say that my words seem to influence you quite extraordinarily."

"T-That's not right!" you stutter, hugging your knees in an attempt to cover your blushing appearance. "I-I just think that… your comments are too good-hearted for someone like me. I do not deserve that with my skills and personality altogether."

Suo laughs, clearly amused about your flustered answer.

"Well, it shows at least that you are being honest with your feelings. And I like that about you."

Your heart stops for a second at his words and a comfortable warmth spreads in your chest, as you struggle to find the right words. "T-Thank you… Suo-sama" you say, smiling shyly, but full of gratitude.

You clear your throat and ask him then something which had been bugging you for a while now: "I don't want to let it look like I want to change the topic desperately to escape your teasing, but… why do you have even offered to train me? I mean, having a disciple must prevent you from making yourself stronger. So why did you ask me back then?"

Suo scratches the back of his neck, thinking for an answer. A minute of silence follows until he finally breaks it: "To be honest… I thought that you had potential. At first glance it may seem like you didn't had any power to protect yourself, but I deeply believe that, on the second view, there was an undeveloped strength within you, awaiting to shine. And that's why I wanted to help you to develop yourself."

"That was too nice of you, Suo-sama. In my perspective, I was definitely without any talent. I appreciate your thoughts a lot." you say and smile.

"No problem." Suo looks at the clock of his phone and then again up to you. "Shall we resume our training now? It's been a bit since we have begun our break."

You nod and punch the air. "Yes, of course! I'm always ready to continue our sparring!"

As the next battle between you began, you lunged again forward in his direction, pretending to use a strike at him. You know that he would read your actions and prepare some measures against them in order to fight back. However, this time you are determined to improve.

At the moment your distance was close enough for him to conter, you backed away from him. Suo didn't let him bother by that. Even if your movement wasn't anticipated by him, he would surely find a way to turn the situation into his favor.

Straight away he was approaching you, his movements precise and fluid. But this time you tried to catch Suo off guard.

Realizing the perfect moment, you bend down just as he is about to attack your side. As you feel his foot colliding against your body, you sprint forward, turn around and then start another offensive at him. Indeed, your plan had worked out, as you saw him losing his balance. Still, he wasn't completely taken aback by that.

Instead, he fooled you, shifting his body and putting one hand on your upper-arm and another on your shoulder, using your own force to take you down.

And like the last time you were brought down to the ground.

Suo used no rough strength to immobilize you, he pressed his knee firmly on your shoulder and helds your wrist, arm extended.

Looking up at him, you feel how the coldness of the ground is the absolute opposite to the hold of Suo, who was caring and gentle.

"You are already better than before, (Y/N)-san." Suo locked eyes with you, his lips curved slightly upwards.

"Only because of your great tutoring, Suo-sama."

"That's not quite correct, just like my reasoning before about my choice to take you as my disciple."

You tried to catch your breath at his unexpected revelation. "W-What do you mean?"

His eyes lighted up with a playful glint in his eyes. "Besides the skill to become a good fighter, I found something else in you. Your persistance. The way you held on to seek a way out of your situation, even when not having the strength at that moment, was just unique in my eyes and I wanted to help you. However, after some time, my beliefs about that changed a bit."

Still not sure about what to say to him, you ask, curious: "In… which way? Was it because I disappointed you?"

He chuckles and slightly leans down to your ear. You could feel his warm breath tickling your skin and sending a shiver down your spine.

The next words he whispers to you, you would never forget:

"On the contrary, being with you is pleasing. I care about you a lot. You've… become more than just a normal disciple to me."

And with that your cheeks flush again in embarrassment, leaving you dazed and unable to answer.

[circeyoru]

Heyyyy I'm so happy you are back I've needed you so much your post always made my day I loveee collection of souls its amazing 👏 I had a question if you haven't already answered it who was the favorite before alastor joined and how did they react when they realized they weren't the favorite anymore

Again love your post and take care

This is for {Collection of Overlords}, check MASTERLIST for the work

Oh ho~ The former favourite soul before Alastor. Hehehe~~

Now this might be obvious from the stories and trivia posts if you followed. Let’s do it by the process of elimination. Obviously we’re not counting Husk and the Vees because they are after Alastor, naturally that counts Alastor himself too. So the remaining ones are Zestial, Carmilla, Rosie, and Zeezi, there are other Overlords but they aren’t important cause they will be gone later so naturally they aren’t your favourite too.

Zeezi is a definite no no by the interaction she has with you even in the trivia posts. While you do provide seemingly more guidance to her so she stays in the collection, the attention she receives from you is more of a give-and-take basis. Lacking the devotion and trust of the other three.

Zestial is a close one but still no. He is the oldest surviving Overlord and soul in your Elite Collection, but he lacks that engagement to hold your attention. Don’t get me wrong, Zestial’s place in your collection is rock solid cause he collects relevant and reliable information for you, not to mention keeping your souls in line, so he’s nowhere near the thought of being rejected from your collection.

Rosie would be a candidate. IF she even has a soul. While it’s not revealed in canon, in this story, Rosie is said to be from the Gluttony Ring (check part 8). Hellborns don’t have souls. So Rosie’s a unique case, being taken in by you and given an Overlord status in the Pride Ring. She isn’t shown favouritism nor does she asks for it because she knows that it was asking too much. Instead, she returns as much as she can in seritiude to you.

So~ Who’s left? Yup, Carmilla Carmine. She was the second soul to join your collection and the most successful Sinner soul too, being the best weapon dealer in all of Hell. Pretty obvious, right? You hold meetings at her place and you extend your protection to Carmilla’s daughters as well, you didn’t do that to Rosie’s people. Carmilla’s ambition and pride paired with familial bond was what drew your attention, there’s this funny contrast that exist within her that you can’t understand. What’s a mother’s love or affection? Why are her daughters important to her, is it like you with your Cages? But you just use them to further your power. Why is she so prideful yet loving? All these questions.

As for reaction after Carmilla finds out she’s no longer the favourite… Hm… Funny, cause while she is the favourite, it wasn’t obvious to her nor do you make it a show. It’s Alastor’s case that was obvious, so it wasn’t until Alastor came along that the topic of you having a favourite is even possible.

Carmilla thinks Zestial’s the favourite cause his place was unmoving, Zestial thinks Rosie’s the favourite cause she and her town was in your interest, and Rosie thinks (knows) Carmilla’s the favourite cause she was allowed to hold Overlord meetings even without you present. Zeezi doesn’t care for the favourite and aims for staying in the collection.

Basically, there’s this uncertainty of who’s the favourite and no one thinks it’s them. Naturally, that applies to Carmilla not being aware that she’s the favourite. But it does explain their future interactions. So I’ll add that instead.

Zeezi isn’t seen interacting with Alastor in the show, but I view it as more of a neutral relationship between the two. While Zeezi is surprised that you do favourites, she doesn’t aim to fight Alastor for it. She knows her loyalty to you is undesiring when compared to Zestial, Carmilla, and Rosie, so how can she be compared to Alastor’s when he’s your favourite? She makes note of Alastor’s attitude, behaviours, and actions so she can learn and adapt to herself, but it’s only to the level of maintaining her status as an Overlord in your eyes.

Zestial’s interest in Alastor stems from wanting to understand what it is that got your attention and change in the form of your favour. As said, before you were cryptic enough that no one is aware who’s the favourite, but after Alastor it was so obvious to the point of jealousy. Make no mistake, Zestial doesn’t want to fight for the title of favourite, he just wants to know how to better himself so he will remain in your best interest and favour. 

Rosie’s friendship with Alastor is pure friendship. Like her unwavering devotion to you, her friendship and kindness to Alastor has no strings attached after knowing that Alastor sworn loyalty to you in a similar way to hers but even farther. She does offer opportunities for Alastor, like deals as seen in Episode 7, because she can’t make deals so what better way to help you by helping Alastor? She knows you don’t like wasted chances and when Alastor’s the favourite and her friend, he’s the best demon to help and stand by.

Carmilla’s disinterest and subtle passive aggressiveness towards Alastor is cause of the favourites. When it was first made know that you can and do do favourites, she does question if she was one but the thought was quickly pushed back when she remembers she was arrogant in her beginning time with you. There is a certain degree of jealousy that Carmilla has towards Alastor holding your interest and favour, but she thinks she can’t compare with it. All she can do now is be as unaffected as she can while striving to do better in your eyes. She might not be able to match Alastor’s level, but maybe, just maybe, at least she can be a competitor or come close to challenge Alastor’s place.

[buonsai]

I have mixed feelings about Sam and Alice. I can't tell if I'm rooting for them to get back together, "right person wrong time" kind of thing, or if I'd be happier for them to grow as individuals and remain platonic. I also can't tell what other people think! I don't see people talk about them a lot, which is super surprising!

I think the writers did a killer job kind of treading the "Does Alice still have feelings? Is there a taste of jealousy?" type questions and maintaining a pretty solid sense of ambiguity. Is she going to learn to cope with those thoughts/feelings? Is Celia's betrayal going to reignite Sam's lost love for Alice? What was their relationship like before? It seems Alice may have been controlling judging by the very brief mention Sam makes.

I wanna know what people think about them! And other related thoughts and opinions!!

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

We Are

A lot has been said about this show over the last 15 weeks. And despite what some people seem to think, most of it has been positive. I tend not to write much about shows in general, and stick to making pretty gifs of the shows I really like. The fact that I made exactly one set for the entire duration of this show should tell anyone who's reading that this will not be glowing review of the show. I'm not going to be mean, but if you loved the show and don't wanna do read someone with a different opinion, I beg you to stop reading. Also sorry if this is less than coherent but I'm tired so I won't be re-reading this a hundred times like I usually do before posting. Which also explains why I don't write a lot here.

We are - the story

One of the things that have been said about this show is that it lacks a plot. I would agree that the show as whole does not have single plot, but a series of plots. At it's most basic definition a plot is a series of events that shape a larger narrative. In the case of a linear plot there is a major plot line that follows the narrative from beginning to end with changes throughout. I'm not going to go into it, there are several ways this can be done depending on the type of narrative but most commonly it goes, beginning, rising, climax, falling, resolution. Now there's no such thing in this show as a whole. No single plot line. There is however several plots inside it, and these different plots do follow their own lines throughout the show. Every couple has its own plot line. And if we could only watch one couple at a time as if they had their own separate show, it would look just like any other bl, although it would certainly not be all that original. I think the friendships are what ultimately brings it all together but that by itself is not a central plot because it basically remains unchanged throughout. It's the anchor but it's not what moves the narrative forward.

We are - the ships

Once again, if you are a die hard fan of these ships do not read any more. Before I talk about them individually I just wanna say that @italianpersonwithashippersheart made an excellent point here about the fact that since we were familiar with most of the ships here, the show had an easier job in making us care for them. All the couples had their own storyline, with different stages of their development happening at the same time. And for the most part the show didn't have to spend a lot of time selling us on the relationships. It made use of a solid, reliable product that could be repackaged and resold. This is not necessarily a bad thing nor is it a new thing. It's thai bl.

Phum & Peem - The main couple. And in my opinion the least interesting one and the one most wasted here. Look, PondPhuwin are good together, this is their third show as a couple so they are a solid bet. So why not give them something with more depth? Why did I have to watch them exchange longing looks for the better part of this show? Don't get me wrong, they are great at it. Pond specially could teach a class on how to stare lovingly into Phuwin eyes. But lord was I tired of it. I mean, I'm sorry but I was fast forwarding through some of their scenes together because I've seen them all. I didn't count them but the amount of times they fell into each others arms must have been some sort of record. Sure, Phuwin is great at the facial expressions, Pond's hair ir gorgeous and he should be doing shampoo commercials, and yes, they can pull off the 'you're the only person in the universe in this moment and time loses all its meaning when I look into your eyes' thing. But enough is enough.

Q & Toey - It's fine. They're fine. They're actually much better than in My School President. Both of them I think improved a lot in their acting. But their story didn't do much for me. I enjoyed Q's change after they were boyfriends, I thought it was fun, but the drama before that, I thought, was so forced so I was not really all that invested. Also not a fan of the jealousy plan even if it did give us some entertaining moments with the friend group. I don't know, they just didn't click for me.

Tan & Fang - Is Tan one of the most adorable simps we've had in thai bl? YES. Did the boyfriend moments of this couple make me grin like an idiot 80% of the time? YES. Did I believe in the reciprocity of this relationship from the start? NO. Tan was the only reason that this relationship had me invested. His loud and unapologetic love for Fang filled the gaps in this particular love story. But the way it started made me have to work extra hard to believe the rest of it.

Chain & Pun - They were my favourites from the start. I waited 15 weeks for that kiss. Was it worth it? honestly, probably not. But at least they delivered in the end. That scene was everything I could've wanted from those two even if I wish it had happened sooner. The change in casting might've been the reason why it had to be this way so I'm not complain about that because ultimately I really enjoyed their story. Marc delivered as usual. Poon was so endearing to watch and his face is lovely. They remain my favourites and I wish I had a bit more time with them.

We Are - The friendships

This is what kept me going. When the episodes dragged and I found myself a bit bored, there was a big group moment and it brought me back to the show. When this show started, in my monthly breakdown I said I thought that @bengiyo comparing watching this show to watching the actors IG reels was a good way to describe the experience. But for me that wasn't always a bad thing. Just like with the couples, the fact that I knew these actors and they knew each other made me feel more connected to those ensemble moments. They felt very natural and grounded, and ultimately I could relate and be touched by them. I think that it's the show's biggest strength.

Well, this got longer than I expected and I never really know how to end these things so in conclusion. It was good fluff, with good friendship moments and solid acting from the couples. I will however forget most of it by this time next week, specially with the amount of ql's I'm watching at the moment.

If you've made it to the end, thanks for reading. 💜

[rahleeyah]

I do think it's interesting that Rafael was patronizing and insulting to Olivia and it wrecked their friendship, while Liv and El's relationship has survived them both being patronizing and insulting to each other ("a history of violence and a dead marriage" or w/e, "I'm the longest relationship you've ever had with a man" like ok!!!) and it's like. What is that? Ok like practically speaking Raul is booked and the last two seasons just haven't made room for him to come back but on a character level is there a reason for that? I don't think we can even just blame it on Olivia having romantic feelings for Elliot; their nastiest fights are in 1.0, where they are both staunchly refusing to see one another as potential romantic partners, and I do think there's a certain. Shade of romance or sexual desire or possessive inclination to the Liv/Barba relationship (though I think he reads more mlm to me and I think their connection is much, much messier than just "we want to fuck" and I also think their relationship would not have survived them fucking but that is an entirely different post) and I do think she loved Barba in a way. And he's right, when she loves people she loves deep - she let Cassidy crash at her place when he was hiding from the cops bc everyone thought he was a murderer and that was WELL after they broke up - she will forgive the people she loves for pretty much anything, but she didn't give ground to him. And it is, I think, bc she'll forgive the ones she loves for hurting her, but she can't forgive them for hurting others. If Rafael had only insulted her that would've been one thing, but he went after Elliot, too, and that was her bridge too far. Olivia and Elliot are so codependent and enmeshed that even when they're fighting with each other (Rafael told Liv to stand up to Elliot, but she already had; she knows their relationship is not great in that moment, my guy!) she will defend him to the death, will fight anyone, even her best friend, to protect Elliot, and when the dust settles she'll remain wary and on her guard.

But then again, maybe it's not all selfless, maybe it just is that an attack on Elliot is also an attack on her, and she will not forget it. And I do think. IDK Rafael has Elliot all wrong (the idea that Elliot is a bully...💡 really did not understand Elliot's character at all) and I think there's a part of Liv that feels like. Every accusation Barba makes about Elliot, he's making it about Liv, too. And she sees that, even if Rafael doesn't. Rafael is talking about her daddy issues like he thinks that's an excuse for her behavior but he doesn't see that if Elliot is a bully, then Liv is one, too. But she sees it. And she knows. If Rafael doesn't like or respect Elliot, then he doesn't like or respect her, either. It's like. Her realizing Rafael doesn't know her at all, and her being defensive bc she knows he won't like the ugly truth of her when he finally sees it.

Anyway. This a sort of contradictory ramble bc I don't actually have one solid answer in mind; as I'm going I feel like there's multiple arguments to be made and I'm interested in digging around in all of them

[mymreaderlibrary]

Maybe it's just cause I'm replaying Dying Light but with Cod zombies being a thing I'm thinking about the TF141 in an apocalypse type scenario. Just a blurb idk if I’ll do anything with this.

Gonna lean heavily into the story of Dying Light here because I love it. Note that mc/ reader takes a combined role of Bracken, Jade, and Kyle C. That being said there is no Bracken, Jade, or Kyle in this universe and Rahim is reader’s younger brother.

[TF141 x male reader, no relationship (yet), zombies, death and gore, ramblings/ lore skimming]

[Length: 1,480 words]

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The 141 are given a private mission to infiltrate the city of Harran and hunt down a terrorist residing in the area. He's stolen highly sensitive documents and is threatening to have them released through an informant if something happens to him. A standard deal where the task force is concerned however Harran itself is the dangerous part of the mission.

A disease has ravaged the city, being the first documented case of what is now known as the Harran Virus. It is a strain of rabies that zombifies any of those infected, making them instinctively hunt down other warm blooded creatures to spread. The city has been completely quarantined and the virus has not gotten outside of it yet, but this also makes the area a cesspool, concentrated with death and disease. Reports say there are no living (or at least non infected) residents remaining aside from the terrorist group which have holed themselves in an unknown location. Because of this a strike has been permitted to raze Harran in hopes of destroying the virus or at the least any violent infected. A counteractive medicine is in development with its prototype being given to the task force in case of emergency, however there is no solid solution beyond massacring infected. It's not pretty work but the world can't risk this disease breaking out.

The 141 are given specialized equipment, thick gear, loads of medical equipment, and a collection of high end firearms. The team are air dropped into the lower city and instructed to start their search immediately.

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The sun is already beginning to set by the time they land. It would almost be pretty if it weren’t for all the viscera in the streets creating a sour rotten stench. Both Gaz and Soap wretch but do their best to push through, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of life. It doesn’t take long for them to find hostiles except to their surprise it’s not infected. Instead a group of well armed thugs attempt to corner them. They’re all carrying machetes and nail bats, some with masks while others have paint creating three jagged stripes across their face. Ghost notes their lack of firearms as odd but chalks it up to lacking proper equipment (even if their body armor told otherwise).

Regardless it goes about as well as you expect for the thugs against such well trained soldiers, however hell breaks loose when Soap decides to fire his pistol. A banshee like scream is heard from across the street and their attackers scatter without hesitation, even leaving behind their wounded. Quickly a horde of infected begin rushing towards the task force, mouths gaped wide and moaning. The zombies they were told of were slow and bumbling but these were ravenous. They ran, yelled wildly, clawed at the 141 with a fervor, and with each shot of the team's firearms another horde would soon follow. It was clear they were overwhelmed and the fear that the mission was over before it even began quickly hit. A pained hiss sounded from Ghost as a zombie managed to pull off his glove and bite into the calloused flesh of his hand. Another slammed Gaz onto the pavement and began chewing into his shoulder. Price and Soap just barely threw off their friend's attackers but the assault only continued.

As another infected went to claw at Price's face the zombie's head flew clean off. The corpse flopped down to the side, convulsing wildly, but unable to keep attacking. A group of young men and women, wearing uniforms unlike the thugs from before, began dragging the team out from the horde. They threw firecrackers over their shoulders and onto the street, catching the infected's focus and separating their numbers. A man in particular seemed to be leading the 141's saviors, giving quiet orders through hand signals to his comrades.

They got a solid distance before the same man began looking them over for injuries in a building. The lowered visibility from the growing dark made it difficult but not impossible. Gaz and Ghost were the only ones bitten meanwhile Soap and Price were scraped from their scuffle with the thugs. Despite the bites being small they bled heavily and the two men had already broken out into sweats. Shaking violently Gaz’s legs buckled and he began to cry out in pain. Ghost faired no better his eyes looking dazed and unfocused as he could only hiss out panicked breaths. Gaz's pain seemed to recapture the attention of the infected outside as banging began on the door of their refuge. A young woman went to barricade the entry but the vicious sound persisted. A fist broke through the wood and scratched at the woman's eye but she didn't falter, using her back to block the entry.

In the commotion Price recalled the prototype medicine he had been given by their contractor and quickly pulled out two small syringes. Their rescuers gave them an odd look before the leader snatched it out of his hands and injected both men without question. It took a moment for the medicine to take effect but the pair began to go lax, heartbeats slowing to a normal pace. However they were still too weak to stand and the door was beginning to buckle. The woman barricading it was grabbed and dragged out into the dark street by the vicious creatures. The rescue leader tried to pull her out but it was too late.

With a pained look in his eye the leader commanded the remaining men and women to take the 141 back to "The Tower" while he distracted the zombies away from them. He left no room for argument and they were whisked away quickly from the regrowing horde. The now nearly black streets greeting them as they ran, carrying their fallen comrades.

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The journey to this tower, which turned out to be an apartment complex covered in UV lights, took a lot of climbing but eventually they were welcomed through the front gates. Or well, welcomed was an overstatement, it was more like begrudgingly let through after some convincing from their rescuers. The guards at the door glared at the men and Price could hear them scoffing about their missing leader and how “Rahim is gonna be pissed”. Seems that man wasn't just a leader to those runners but to this tower as a whole. And well if that wasn't a way to instantly ruin your reputation.

They were transferred to the medical ward where Gaz and Ghost stayed, far too out of it to get out of their cots. It was honestly quiet odd seeing the two laying dazed and pale. While the medicine seemed to have some sort of effect, there was no saying for how long. It was still only a prototype.

Soap and Price on the other hand could leave after getting bandaged, only suffering superficial wounds. They were instructed to rest, guided to some rooms a floor below where they saw several civilian types. Men, women, children... a mother in the corner cradling her crying baby trying to convince him to go back to sleep. A father sitting beside his two daughters resting on a cot covered by a thin sheet. A teen boy sitting alone, curled up on a chair shaking. Life. Something they were told didn't exist down here outside of terrorists.

One day on and the mission was already a mess, two soldiers down, emergency meds already in use, a whole community of civilians discovered, a possible ally MIA, and they had not an ounce of info to show for it. Sleeping after that just didn't feel right but the two men supposed there was nothing they could do as the tower was locked until morning. If the screams and yowls of dead were anything to go off of, it sounded like the infected were more active in the night. Who knew if this tower’s leader was even alive out there amongst the savage undead.

It took what felt like a year for the sun to rise again but just as daylight cusped the window Price could hear commotion downstairs. Cheers, shouts, panicked calls for a medic. As him and Soap peered onto the floor above they spotted that same leader from before now being dragged in to the medical ward from the stairs. Blood trailed behind him, his arms littered with cuts, bruises, and bites, but he was conscious and attempting to walk. A thick stream of red pooled from his temple down his chin and for a split second his gaze caught Price. His eyes were near unreadable, murky like Ghost's but still alert enough to be aware of what was going on. He seemed almost satisfied seeing the captain alive and well but quickly was taken away to be bandaged.

This mission was already hell.