#but in a reasonable time frame for once lol

[vityaposting]

WRITING REQUEST HIII

what about reader going to viktor to get augmented for a non physical reason - like maybe mental illness or addiction or something (idk dealers choice) and viktor slowly getting to know them over time. eventually reader overcomes their problem, and viktor realises that he likes reader just the way they are - unaugmented or not.

don't feel obligated to do this lol just saw that your requests where open

HI!!!! i love this request so much i decided it needs to be a multi chapter thing (4 or 5 probably?) i got broken up with yesterday so i ATE this prompt up lol

how to heal a rusted heart - mh!viktor x gn!reader - part 1

wc: 2100

You approach Emberflit Alley with no small amount of trepidation. The house is smaller than you expected, shoddier on the outside; shutters hang from foggy, cracked windows, and ivy like claw-scratches makes its way up the worn brick walls. You know—as does every Zaunite you’ve ever met—that there is more to the Machine Herald’s residence than meets the eye. You don’t know exactly how—somewhere, some way, there is a massive laboratory tucked behind the house’s unassuming facade. Maybe a separate underground sector, or even a pocket dimension supplied by the Herald’s knowledge of thinning the barrier between tech and magic. All these speculations are, of course, rumors—you’ve never had a reason to solve the mystery yourself. Until today. Today, you’d snapped.

Your chest still burns with the fury of it all. Betrayal. And to think they’d claimed to love you. Sickly-sweet self-satisfaction rises like bile to the back of your throat, putting a little more power behind your knock on the door. You’d been right. Paranoia, your doctor had proclaimed years ago—a not-uncommon symptom of your particular ailment. Well, was it true paranoia if you were always proven right in the end?

It doesn’t matter. After tonight, you won’t care.

A thickly-accented voice cuts through the speaker above the knocker: “You may enter.”

Ominous. You push away your trepidation, another instinct you’d be free of sooner rather than later. The door is heavy steel—you have to use your shoulder to pry it open, but once you’ve managed its weight, it swings inward for you on well-oiled hinges.

You emerge into a wide space thick with the stenches of metal and oil, cast under an ambient glow in various shades of orange. Lights flicker at you from lanterns on the walls, from faint bulbs hung across the ceiling. A lab bench spans the entire length of the room, which seems impossibly large compared to the house’s outer facade. A pocket dimension it is, then. Maybe. You still can’t be sure. The equipment littered across the bench is foreign and complex-looking.

The whistle of steam and clicking of gears greets you before the Herald himself can.

He’s tinkering with something. Something sharp. He sets it down, turns on his stool, lowers his hood and pushes his goggles onto his forehead. You aren’t quite sure what you expected the Machine Herald to look like under his armor and mask. If he even takes them off at all. Whatever you expected, this isn’t it.

“Good evening,” he says levelly. His voice rumbles in his throat, his accent lending the greeting a soft, alluring quality. He tilts his head, an oddly innocent gesture, considering his reputation. “With what can I be of service?”

The words you’ve been rehearsing for hours lodge themself in your throat, and even a heavy swallow can’t force them out. The Herald is unblinking. Molten orange pupils burn into yours, piercing against his dark scleras. His face is pale and his features sharp—he’s beautiful, you note, not completely willingly—and his frame is thin and willowy beneath his cloak.

“Well?” he prompts, and shame floods you, reminding you why you decided to take measures this drastic in the first place. “Nobody comes this deep into the Lanes just to visit me. Not to say I mind the solitude.”

He doesn’t want you here.

You’re here for a service, scolds the rational side of your mind, a side which seems to grow more and more powerless with every passing week, with every friend you lose, with every burst of rage and every bridge you burn. A service he openly advertises. He allowed you to open the door. He could have… have death-rayed you.

“Mister… Machine Herald,” you begin, horrendously embarrassed at how your voice quavers. The air in the lab is muggy. You wrap your arms around your middle anyway. “I’ve heard of the… the services you provide, and I—”

“Viktor,” he interrupts. “Viktor will suffice.”

You cough. His eyes narrow.

“Go on. You seek augmentation.”

“Of the… unconventional variety, I guess you could say. Less of a physical augmentation and more of a…”

“You are at war with your own mind,” he observes. “I can see it in your eyes. Come closer.”

And you do, because there’s something in the rumble of his voice—which is so close to a growl you feel weak in the knees—and the sharp glow of his eyes that draws you in like a moth to a lantern. He gestures to the second stool at his side. You wonder who it’s normally reserved for. Patients? Experimental subjects? A partner, perhaps—or has he always only worked alone?

“You’re tense. Relax.” He speaks with such calm authority that it’s impossible not to listen. “I will not touch you without explicit permission. If it’s only emotional suppression you seek, I may be able to offer a solution that does not require me to lay hands on you.”

You don’t know why this disappoints you.

He tilts his head as he gazes at you, one gloved hand fidgeting with a trinket on his workbench. “Tell me. In detail. What is it you want out of this? What causes you such pain?”

“Everything,” you say. It’s almost a whimper. He raises an eyebrow. Clearing the embarrassment from your throat, you try again. “Everything is… is so much. I’m scared. All the time. I can’t love anyone anymore, I… I’m afraid they’ll all leave me.” Oftentimes, they do, you neglect to add. This won’t concern Viktor. He has no reason to care. “And it can change on a coin. It’s like you said. It’s like being at war.” A war between your body and your brain, you’ve realized, would never be one worth fighting. This, however, seems to be the only way to put an end to things. You look at Viktor plaintively, hoping he isn’t judging. If the rumors are true, he removed his ability to judge long ago.

“Ah,” he said after a silence that seemed to stretch for eons. “I understand.”

“My doctor says it’s an… ailment.”

“That may be,” he says. “As such, you have a right to want to heal it. Procedures with the intent to alter emotions are harder and riskier than procedures focused on the physical. I am happy to give you what you ask for, but you must be aware of the potential consequences. Do you intend to eliminate all emotions, or… only their extremities?”

“Only the extremities.” Life will be much easier, you think, if you never have to love another person again. Amicable acquaintanceship, however, hurts nobody.

“Good,” he hums. “Complete removal is difficult. If I weren’t so stubborn I’d nearly say it was impossible.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried,” he says plainly.

“And you failed?” You don’t know what emboldens you to say it.

“I simply have not yet succeeded.”

You look at him, then, really look at him. And behind those beautiful eyes that glow with the light of a hundred fires, shine with the darkness of a hundred polluted Zaun nights, you almost swear you see your own loneliness staring back at you.

“It’s risky,” he continues. “In the case that something goes awry, do not say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course,” you whisper.

“May I take a closer look? I’d like to get a feel for the incision site.”

You nod a silent confirmation and bow your head, gripping the sides of the stool. He wheels himself closer. Lifts his hand. You hold your breath.

The Herald’s hands are gentle when they card through your hair, pushing a few strands away from your forehead. His demeanor now is a far cry from the terrifying villain you know him to be—the chaos-wreaking force of evil most of Zaun insists he is. You wonder, as your breathing calms, exactly how many of the tales are wild fantasy, because this soft touch is the realest thing you've felt in a long, long time.

“All I can promise you is that I will be careful,” he murmurs, tracing a line from the center of your forehead to the crown of your hair. “This particular procedure is immensely detail-oriented, even in comparison to the others I’ve performed. To dampen your emotions, I will be altering your limbic system, in the simplest of terms. However, if I am not meticulous, I risk damaging other functions, such as reasoning or memory.”

Truth be told, waking up without any memory of the hurt you’ve endured doesn’t sound too awful.

But, you realize as a shiver runs down your spine—you want to remember this.

“There is another option,” Viktor goes on. You’re forced to draw your attention away from his soft, prodding touches. “Implants in the form of pills. Those, however, I’ve not yet managed to make permanent. They’re finicky, and they don’t last long. You’d have to take them twice a day—one separate medication for each emotion you wish to suppress. I imagine it would all be a hassle. This, however… if you consent, I can perform the entire procedure in one process, and your desired results will be immediate.” He draws his hand back, lightly scratching your scalp—it’s enough to relax, but not enough to hurt. “You don’t have to decide today.”

“No, no. That’s alright. I’ll take the… the surgery.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Finality settles over you like a chilly breeze as he pulls away. You’ll finally be free. Free of heartbreak, of fury, of flaws. There’s something in his mechanical gaze that unnerves you and enthralls you simultaneously. Something human.

“Being that this is a complicated procedure,” he says, “I will have to schedule it in advance. I will reserve an entire day for you and I cannot free the time for a week. A week from today. Is that alright with you? I can give you the medication to temporarily curb your symptoms in the meantime, if you like. It’s experimental, but I am relatively sure of its safety.”

He looks so hopeful. You know the joy etched in the lines of his sharp face is nothing more than the joy of scientific innovation, but it’s endearing all the same. The Machine Herald of Zaun’s urban legends is a completely different person. You find it hard to believe that the cackling, murderous tyrant rumored to haunt the Lanes even shares a name with the man in front of you. There’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and a few locks of hair sticking up haphazardly from beneath his goggles. You find yourself cracking a grin for the first time in days.

“No,” you say. Your chest feels lighter. Just a bit. Enough to be noticeable, enough to instill the certainty that trusting your life to the Herald is the right decision—malicious cackle, terrifying armor, death laser, and all. “No, I’ll be alright.”

He crosses his arms over his lap. “You don’t have to tell me what happened,” he says softly. “But the ache in your heart… someone put it there. I know the feeling. You are not the first to be driven away from loving altogether. I once thought I had a simple fix. I… do not know if it was the foolproof solution I thought it was. I will perform any procedure on you that you wish. But you should know this. Metal is perfection, yes, but love… love can rust the strongest steel.” He swallows, fiery eyes flickering. “I thought I’d warn you. However, I do my best for all my patients, and you are no exception.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. You’re grateful for the lab’s low lighting—it’s unlikely Viktor can see the blush crawling up your neck. “I—thank you.”

“Do you still want this? Even considering the risk?”

He looks at you so softly. He must look at everyone that softly, you realize, but the knowledge doesn’t make you feel any less warm. “Yeah.”

He gives you a businesslike nod, and you can see the Machine Herald’s persona sliding back into place. Cold. Unfeeling. For a moment, though, you saw the truth. “Thank you. I will see you one week from today—be here as early in the morning as you please. I’ll walk you out. Be safe out there. I can only complete the procedure if you return to me in one piece.”

What a gentleman, you think, but you say nothing. You accept with a small smile.

His hand brushes your shoulder as you reach for the handle of the door. Your whole body sparks, as if you’re a machine already.

“Goodbye,” he says. “And best of luck. I will pray that the next week treats you kindly.”

You almost want to hug him goodbye—out of thanks if nothing else. You hold yourself back. “I’ll see you then.”

The last thing you see before the door shuts behind you are his eyes. Two pinpricks of light in the darkness of the Lanes. Mechanical though they are, you realize they still crinkle at the corners when he smiles.

[deathricedrawn]

big wide open galaxy

here's my thought process on this drawing... i wrote this in google docs... I hope this is coherent lol:

I am very normal about Andromeda (the song, the constellation, the galaxy, the myth…), if you haven’t noticed already. My love for Andromeda is why I’m doing a bachelor in physics and astronomy (my course is kicking my ass but we stay balling)

I think Andromeda as a concept fits Anya very well. As the myth, Andromeda is chained to a rock as a sacrifice to save her parents’ kingdom. However, it is Perseus who comes along and unchains Andromeda and takes her as his wife. A common critique of the myth is that it’s very much centered around the male gaze: Andromeda is basically a submissive trophy wife for Perseus as a symbol of his bravery. Really, Andromeda has no say in the matter. I feel like there’s a lot of ways you can tie this to Jimmy and Anya, though I’m struggling to come up with the words for it.

Later on, Andromeda is put into the stars as the constellation by Athena. There’s a lot of different reasons as to why this is, but a commonly accepted one is that it’s to commemorate Perseus’s brave deeds. Once again, Andromeda is reduced to Perseus’s acts, even in her death/eternal life in the stars. This, I feel, is fitting: Anya died as a result of what Jimmy did to her. Her death is, in part, defined by Jimmy, similar to how Andromeda is defined by Perseus. Aside from that, just like Andromeda, once Anya dies, she too is put into the stars but in a much more literal sense. Her final resting place is literally in space. 

This also ties in as to why I think Andromeda (the galaxy) fits Anya. Currently, the Andromeda Galaxy is set to collide with our Milky Way Galaxy in 4-5 billion years. This can be tied to the crashing of the Tulpar, but, obviously, in a much smaller time frame. Jimmy’s reason for crashing the Tulpar is, ultimately, because of Anya. He feared the repercussions of what he did to Anya once they returned home, so he chose to crash the ship and take everyone else on board down with him.

A deeper dive into my art: Anya’s pose is reminiscent of the pose the Andromeda constellation is in. Furthermore, she’s held by the wrists and ankles with red chains that resemble the centipede version of Polle. This aspect is meant to touch on the idea of Andromeda being dubbed ‘The Chained Woman’, but also as to why she (Anya, in this case) feels tied down. She feels chained by what Jimmy did to her, what she’s forced to live with, and the fact she can’t feasibly escape through any means other than death. She’s chained by her pregnancy too, which explains the Polle motif.

I depicted her skin as pale and glowing. This is to mimic the brightness of a star (tying her to both the Andromeda constellation and Galaxy). Her expression is mostly neutral, though it bears traces of sadness and acceptance (you can make of that what you wish). In the background, the space is filled with eyeballs reminiscent of Curly’s. These are meant to be stand-ins for space debris, or planets. It’s meant to represent how Curly, even as she neared death, was a big part of Anya’s life on the Tulpar. She took care of him after the crash and she died next to him. The space background behind her was also meant to be similar to a womb with Anya taking the place of a fetus, next to just being there for framing and contrast purposes.

[xxcxelum]

MOURN NOT FOR ICARUS~

ABOUT: very long, 8562 words

STORY: retelling of the greek myth with an addition to the end

WARNINGS: i mean i guess he dies lol

A/N: i wrote this almost a year ago but i've mentioned it a few times and people said i should post it so im posting it on my writing blog instead of my main.

There was a bird out the window. Icarus could not identify it, for he had never received formal education. However it was small. Each feather on its wings varied in different shades of brown, and it had a black face. Icarus watched as it flapped its beautiful wings, so gracefully flying across the view outside, and delicately landed atop a tall mountainside tree. The small bird did not have a nest in the tree. It only landed on a shaky branch and looked out at the scene below.

Icarus understood why the gentle creature simply perched itself there. He himself was perched at the windowsill, staring out at the ocean below. He found the rhythm of the waves mesmerizing. But more interesting than the movements of the water was what laid below. The tower in which Icarus and his father were trapped in was, though an unfortunate circumstance, built at the edge of a mountain. He could see the sea lapping onto the bottom of the cliff. It was hard not to appreciate the natural beauty of the sight. 

Ahead, at the horizon, were more rocks and mountains, more islands. King Minos has imprisoned both Icarus and Daedalus on the island of Crete. After what his father had done, Icarus didn’t see the punishment fit, especially as he had nothing to do with it. Yet there he was, sitting in the tower, admiring the cities from behind a window that would mean certain death if he leaned only a little closer.

“Icarus,” his father’s voice spoke from behind him. The young boy turned around quickly at the call of his name. He was met with the sight of Daedalus working with a collection of feathers and wax, an already agreed upon method to get themselves out of there. “Help me with these wings.”

He was quick to do as he was told, glancing back at the view and the bird only once more before retreating from the windowsill. “Yes, father.” Icarus took those few steps closer to the center of the room, though it wasn’t far since the room was small. 

The surrounding walls were old and adorned with nothing but dust and the slight growing of moss between the stones. Even the floor was empty, for there was no reason for King Minos to provide the prisoners with anything other than what was needed to fulfill basic needs, which he classified as food and water. Even those were given sparingly. 

Daedalus sat on the ground leaning over the incomplete wings. The frame was already completed, made of materials that Icarus couldn’t quite recognize. He had never been much of an inventor like his father, but although he never took interest in it, he always found it fascinating to watch. His eyes followed his Daedalus’ weathered hands as they bent the wire frame, preparing the wax and feathers. There were leather straps on either side, presumably for their arms when they wore the wings. 

Icarus stepped closer and kneeled next to his father. Daedalus said nothing at first, holding the frame out in front of him and assessing his work. Then, with a nod of self-confirmation, he turned to Icarus. “No,” he told the boy when he tried to touch the wire. “Stand up, son. And put your arms out. I must add the feathers, but I cannot do so with the wings on the floor.” 

That statement made Icarus’ eyes brighten. He was already excited to fly; he’d been looking forward to it since his father first introduced the idea of it to him months ago. He knew that was the day that it was finally going to happen, the day they were finally going to free themselves from their prison, but now it was becoming more real. Once he had his wings on, all Daedalus had to do was put on his own and they would be able to jump from the window without falling to their deaths. 

So, doing as he was told, Icarus stood up and opened his arms. He watched in awe as Daedalus carefully slid the straps of the wings over his arms, the leather cool and smooth against his skin. Icarus hadn’t noticed another strap that was placed upon his torso, attaching the frame to his back. 

He could not tell Daedalus’ emotions as he did this, for his face was expressionless, focused solely on not breaking the wings. However once he finished, Daedalus stepped a few steps back as if to admire his creation. 

Icarus turned his neck to look at either arm, which were weighed down only slightly by the metal frame attached to them. Though the feathers weren’t done being added, he still smiled. He was only getting closer to the moment of inevitable freedom. 

The boy smiled at the thought, and at the wings themselves. Even if they were not finished, and even if he was not one to build such things, he did admire them almost as much as his father did. They were carefully constructed, delicate but strong so that it would be able to support his weight. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, one of genuine joy and excitement. 

“I look like a bird, father,” Icarus laughed. It was a small observation, a comparison that made him smile wider. Daedalus’ face had been more critical as he had been examining the wings and how they looked on his son, trying to figure out the best way to attach the feathers, but his gaze softened at the childlike curiosity that came from Icarus. Daedalus’ eyes moved from the frame on the boy’s small body and met Icarus’ eyes, a small smile of his own growing on his face. 

“Yes, I suppose you do.” With a nod of approval, Daedalus then decided to begin with the feathers. Icarus continued to admire the wings on his back, waving his arms up and down until his father told him to stop before they broke. Then, Daedalus started working. 

He had planned this for a while, but had to be careful as he worked to make sure that everything was done exactly and precisely as it should. He developed a technique of dipping the feathers into wax and carefully placing them on the wired frame of the wings. It took much patience and standing still, which was not easy for a young Icarus. Icarus had been standing there with his arms out for too long, and he was getting restless. Daedalus noticed this and decided to talk to his son in order to distract him from moving too much. 

“Do you remember what I’ve told you about flying?” Daedalus asked softly as he worked. He was standing behind him, so Icarus stared out the window as he answered. Icarus noticed the bird was still there. 

“Yes, you said that we must be careful,” Icarus replied. “You said that the wings are strong, but not perfect.” Daedalus nodded as he placed another feather on the wings. He was getting closer to finishing. 

“And what must we do to be careful?” He pushed, wanting to ensure that Icarus knew what was needed to be safe while flying. Icarus sighed, as he had been warned many times of what to do, even before that day. Daedalus had the idea for so long that he had been explaining the dangers to Icarus far before the wings were close to being constructed. 

“Do not fly too high or too low,” the boy spoke, echoing what he’d heard time and time before.

“That’s right. Because too high and the sun will melt the wax, and too low and the water from the sea will dampen the feathers. We do not wish for the wings to break.” 

Icarus knew this. He’d been told this plenty of times. Daedalus also understood that the repetition of these rules were most likely an annoyance to Icarus, but he still felt the need to reiterate them. Icarus had always had a sense of curiosity, a look of awe at everything his eyes perceived. He was inquisitive. Sure, Daedalus admired that; he was glad that his son had at least inherited something from him, if not his interest in inventing. But he knew how Icarus could be, and knew that no matter how many times he reminded him, a small part of Icarus would still want to explore the sky. Daedalus had to do his best to emphasize the danger to his son. 

However the boy only found it irritating. Icarus knew what to do and knew that if he went too high or too low then the wings would break. It was obvious to him that he wouldn’t be so reckless as to put himself in danger like that, so he didn’t appreciate Daedalus saying the same thing over and over. Yet deep down, Icarus knew that his father only cared for him and wanted him to be safe. So he tried not to let it bother him too much, and to appreciate the love from his father. 

Daedalus continued for what was a little under half an hour until he finally finished the wings. When he told him that he was completed, Icarus practically jumped up, though he was already standing. Icarus’ smile only grew wider as he spread his arms out and looked at the wings. 

He didn’t know where Daedalus had gotten the feathers, he only knew that he had been collecting them for a while. So Icarus didn’t know which bird they belonged to, however they were a light tan color, almost an off white. Though they weren’t the right shade of brown, he couldn’t help but compare the wings to those of the bird out the window. It was a bird that he had been seeing a lot, though he wasn’t sure if it was the same one each time or simply the same species. Either way, his mind kept returning to the bird as he thought himself to be similar. 

Icarus’ excitement was palpable. He laughed as he lifted his arms up and down, mimicking a flapping motion. They were a bit heavier now, though not by much. The feathers were beautiful when they were all pressed together by wax, and he couldn’t even see the frame anymore. 

Daedalus looked pleased, not only to see the wings completed, but also to see his son so eager to fly. But of course before they could fly, he had to get his wings on and make them. Daedalus had started a bit on his own before, just to see if it was possible to do while someone wasn’t wearing them, but decided it might be best if someone else were to do it. However he couldn’t let Icarus put them on as he attached the feathers because Icarus was already wearing his pair. So Daedalus had to ever so carefully use the wax, like before, to put the feathers on his own wings. 

But that wouldn’t work forever. Eventually, he got to a point where the wings wouldn’t balance somewhere on their own, so he had to put them on and asked Icarus to help him with the last few feathers. 

Of course Icarus was more than willing to help. He wanted to be able to feel important, to feel like he was actually doing something useful and aiding their escape rather than just standing there and waiting impatiently for his father to have his wings ready to fly. 

Icarus quickly went to stand behind his father, who had already put the almost-done wings on his back, and did as he was directed to finish them. He tried to imitate the movements of Daedalus in the way that he had been using wax to attach the feathers to the wings’ frame. As he spoke he worked, rambling mostly out of anticipation. 

“You know, father, when we escape, the first thing I want to do is eat a proper meal. It’s been far too long since we’ve had that opportunity. Actually, maybe I will drink cleaner water first. That is a smarter decision.” Daedalus only listened with an amused smile on his face as his son spoke. “Perhaps the first thing I will eat is an olive.” 

That made his father chuckle. “An olive? Is that so?” 

Icarus nodded, placing another wax-dipped feather on the wings. “Yes, an olive. I like olives. I haven’t had one since we’ve been imprisoned.”

“Yes, well, the olive tree is the sacred plant of goddess Athena,” he explained, wording things carefully so as to not upset the deity. “And I will tell you, humbly of course, that my genius for inventing and such was a blessing from the goddess of wisdom herself.” That made Icarus’ eyes widen. He hadn’t known that. “So, as my son, perhaps she will favor you and give you the best olive.” 

The young boy grinned. It was new information to him that his father was blessed by a goddess, let alone one as powerful as Athena. And the idea that she would favor him as well was exhilarating, even if it only resulted in a single, well-tasting olive. 

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime to the impatient Icarus, but couldn’t have been more than an hour, they were finished. Icarus placed the last feather on his father’s wings, and Daedalus checked his own and his son’s to make sure they were intact and in the right condition to fly. Icarus, though not saying anything about it, was proud of himself for managing to finish Daedalus’ wings for him, even if the job had been relatively small. Just as he wanted, he felt important, he felt useful.

And now the time had finally come for the wings themselves to be useful.

The moment he decided they were finished, Daedalus got straight to the point. “We must be quick, Icarus,” he told his son. “I do not know how much time we have.” They both knew that he didn’t mean time left in the day; the sun, shining in all its glory, was still directly above them in the sky. However it was King Minos, their captor, who they feared. He did not enter their prison often, almost no one did, but those who were meant to feed them or check on them would come at arbitrary intervals. At any second could someone enter and discover their plan for escape. If that happened, there would certainly be punishments- punishments that Daedalus did not want Icarus to have to live through.

Icarus only nodded, understanding what his father was thinking. He waited for further instruction, but already knew that their next move was going to be: fly.

Daedalus stepped closer to the window starting by simply looking out and assessing the view, noting the height at which they were at and how if the wings were to break or malfunction, they would not be able to survive the fall. Especially not if they landed in the water. He took a deep breath and turned back to Icarus, who had also been looking out the window eagerly. 

“I know I have told you countless times before,” Daedalus began once more, wanting to stress as much as possible the dangers to his son. “But you will stay by me. When we jump out this window, give yourself a couple of seconds for the wings to begin gliding; do not panic if you feel you are to fall because you will not fall.” Icarus let out a sigh of irritation, but Daedalus continued. “And you will stay behind me as we fly. As I’ve said, do not go too high, as the sun will melt the wax, and do not go too low, as the water will dampen the feathers. Do you understand?” 

Daedalus knew that Icarus understood. He knew how much the boy cared about himself. He knew that he would never do something so reckless as to risk his life, he knew that. Icarus had so much to look forward to in his life; he was young and had much potential. Even if he wasn’t aware of it himself, Daedalus knew that the young boy had so much of his life ahead of him. He would never do something to lose that. 

“Yes, father.” 

For a few moments, their eyes were met. They both were aware of the risk they were about to take, of how much danger they were putting themselves in. Even if Icarus did as he was told, and even if Daedalus was so sure of his wings, there was always a chance that things would go wrong. Not just the possibility of a flaw in the making of the wings, but also the looming possibility that the gods themselves would interfere. 

Zeus was the god of the sky. If he wasn’t happy with them in his domain, he could easily strike them down before they even made it to the next island. Daedalus knew this. That was a risk he was willing to take. 

He nodded, and then broke eye contact with his son. 

One last time, Icarus looked around the small room that had been their unwelcome home for too long. The cold stone walls and floor. The furnishings, or lack thereof. The damp scent. He was relieved to be leaving, to have the smell of moss overgrowth replaced by that of the ocean. Not only relieved but, of course, excited. He took a deep breath and turned back to the window. The bird was still there, sitting out on the tree. But when it suddenly got up and flew away, Icarus no longer watched it in jealousy, for he knew that at last he would get to do the same. 

 Daedalus took the final moment before their escape to say a prayer. He prayed to Zeus, wishing for the king of the gods to grant them safe passing over his skies. They were not out of Zeus’ favor, the father and son, but not necessarily within it, either. And since the gods didn’t simply reply to favors like that so quickly, there was nothing more they could do in that moment than pray and hope he was in a good mood that day. 

Then, that was it. There was nothing else. No more wings to finish, no more rules to reiterate, no more prayers to be said. They had done everything part of their plan but one. There was only one thing for them to do, and it was jump out that window and finally, finally, be free. 

No words were exchanged between the two of them, only another small nod of acknowledgment, as Daedalus took the initiative to step up to the windowsill first. If the wings wouldn’t work, he told himself, he wanted to be the one to find out. Not Icarus. 

Icarus watched, his impatience only growing, as his father carefully climbed into the small window. He had to be careful in how he fit himself in it, so that the wings would fit as well and not be squished in the cramped space. Icarus let himself take a few steps closer, too. Because the moment Daedalus took off, it was only a matter of seconds until he would have to follow. 

The man did not look back to see Icarus’ reaction. He didn’t want the boy to realize the fear in his eyes. He didn’t want him to notice the shaking in his hands as he got so close to the edge, closer than he ever would, because normally that close would mean death. But this was not normal. They had wings, and they would fly.

“Go.”

That was the only warning Icarus had that his father had jumped. It took him longer than it should have for him to actually process what he’d just watched: his father jumping out of a window. Yes, there were wings, but for a few seconds, it simply appeared that he had fallen. He was now alone in the tower. There really was no turning back.

When he snapped back to the present, Icarus rushed over to the window and tried not to focus on how high up he was, how he couldn’t find Daedalus in the sky at first glance, how small everything was below. He forced himself to take a deep breath, climbed into the windowsill, and closed his eyes, holding his breath as he jumped.

Icarus was falling. 

That was the first and only thing he could register. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t grant himself the horror of seeing how fast he was falling towards the ground. He knew the wings would work, Daedalus had warned him that it would take a few seconds before they actually began to glide. But those few seconds were terrifying. 

Icarus could hear his heartbeat in his ears, almost drowned out by the wind rushing past him. He could also feel that wind, through his hair, through his entire body. He felt the disorientation of tumbling, his stomach turning, heart pounding, breath taken from the shock of the moment. Panic settled in- why wasn’t he flying? He was supposed to fly. The wings clung to him, feeling more like dead weight than anything else. They weren’t working, he thought. They weren’t working, they weren’t working, they weren’t-

As he fell, Icarus suddenly felt a change. A subtle resistance to the pull of gravity. The wind slowly stopped rushing past him, and as it slowed down he reminded himself to spread his arms out even more. His eyes were still squeezed shut, but he forced himself to open them once the falling had slowed.

Icarus was flying.

He was flying like the bird he’d been watching enviously for far too long. He could no longer feel the wind rushing past him, but as the breeze picked up, he felt he was part of the wind. With his eyes open now, Icarus allowed himself to look down with no fear. He was not scared anymore. He was thrilled.

The view below was even better from the sky itself than from the window. He could actually see the rest of the town to his right, which he hadn’t been able to see from the tower. There were homes, buildings, the little ants below he realized were people, and trees- olive trees. He smiled at that. Not only at that but the fact that he was flying. He was doing it, he was finally doing it! This was the most amazing moment of his life. 

Directly below him was the sea. It was a beautiful combination of green and blue and even white with the foam from the waves. Above him was the sky, the clear sky. There were no clouds, only the bright, brilliant sun against the blue above. 

But, of course, he could never get too close to either of them.

Icarus shifted his focus. He had to find his father and follow him, as he’d been instructed. He lifted his head from admiring the sights to looking about the sky around him, letting out a breathless sigh of relief when he saw Daedalus several feet ahead of him. The man was facing him, too, as if they’d been searching for each other.

It was a strange sight, seeing Daedalus flying. The wings on his back looked so gentle, and he knew how delicate they were. They were strong, however, clearly enough to carry the large man. They looked like they didn’t quite belong on Daedalus. In a way, they almost made him look like an angel.

Icarus chuckled to himself at that thought, though it was probably a bit more animated than usual since he was already experiencing so much joy. He wondered if he, too, looked like an angel.

The father and son were far apart, but the moment their eyes met there was an unspoken understanding. Even if they couldn’t quite make out the other’s expression, even if there was no way they’d be able to hear the other if they actually spoke, they could tell how the other felt. Daedalus let himself smile at the complete, genuine joy his son was exuding. Then, making sure that Icarus was still going the right direction with him, he turned away and focused himself on flying towards the nearest island that was not the one they’d just escaped from. He could see it in the distance, not much further. They’d just have to keep going on the straight path, and they’d be there soon enough.

Icarus knew that this was the goal, to get to another island and be free. Drink fresh water, eat an olive, whatever they wanted to do. And seeing the island, so close yet so far, was only making it more exciting. 

For a long while, they simply flew. It only took Icarus a couple minutes to get the reins of the wings and figure them out. He quickly taught himself how to turn either direction, how to angle himself upwards or downwards. But he didn’t use that, of course, other than where he had to in order to direct himself in the right direction after Daedalus. He stayed close behind his father as they flew together, feeling the wind beneath his arms and breathing in the air, salty from the ocean below. 

It was then, in experimenting with the mechanics and controls of the wings, that Icarus made his mistake.

He began carefully, still heeding the warnings that Daedalus had given him. Icarus let himself glide lower, closer and closer to the water’s surface. It was gradual and considerate, not to put himself in danger. He knew the risks of getting too close, he knew that he should just stay directly behind his father. But he could still see Daedalus from where he was, a little below him now, and Daedalus was not looking back anymore. So as long as he continued to be careful, he could test the limits of the wings without them breaking. Or so he thought. 

Icarus slowly descended lower. It was almost that same feeling of free falling before, but this time much more controlled. There was not a single ounce of panic in him as he got closer to the water. The wind was rushing past him again, making it all the more exhilarating. Icarus was careful to spread the wings out as much as he could and use them the right way as to not lose control. 

When he got close enough, he could feel the water on himself. He was just low enough so that he wasn’t touching the ocean, but he could see it right there, right in front of him. The greens, the blues, the whites, the shining reflection of the sun. He could feel the cool droplets of water against his bare arms, too caught up in the pure delight of the moment to realize that the wings were being wet by the water, too.

Icarus was laughing. He was smiling. He was happier in that moment than he had ever been in his whole life. After so long being imprisoned, he felt free. This moment, being by the water, was more freedom than he could have ever imagined. He didn’t want it to end; he wanted that moment to last forever. He wished he could be suspended in time, always feeling such liberation and elation. 

Since that wish was impossible, he decided to take it a step further. 

He was already taking a major risk by allowing himself to get so close to the sea. He’d been told exactly not to do that. Icarus respected his father, loved his father, and would never intentionally go against him. But the lure of it all was too big. The feeling he got from it all was indescribable. He felt invincible. So far, Zeus had accepted their prayer for mercy in his realm and was allowing them safe passage. Maybe, Icarus dared to hope, Zeus was allowing him this moment. Maybe he was letting him risk the dangers because he understood. 

The king of Olympus was not an understanding god. But Icarus didn’t know that.

Icarus allowed himself another deep breath, breathing in the salt from the ocean, taking in the reality of the moment, before swooping back up to meet the same level as his father in the sky. Daedalus seemed not to have noticed that Icarus had done such an unsafe thing, and was continuing to fly. 

Once he was back where he was supposed to have been all along, Icarus only flew straight ahead for a minute or so until he just couldn’t resist the temptation of something different this time- not the sea, but the sun. 

Icarus looked up. If he had already gone too low without the wings being ruined, he could go a bit higher, right? Perhaps Daedalus had just been underestimating the strength of his wings. If he really had been blessed by Athena, surely they would be able to withstand a little heat from the sun. They’d survived the water, so he was certain that they’d survive the sun, too. 

So he took that risk and flew up. By this point, he had so much control over the wings, had figured out the small details with such perfection in such little time, that he knew how to raise himself higher and higher, steadily moving himself up into the sky. 

Daedalus still did not notice. He had made the mistake of trusting that his son would never be so reckless, would never be so ignorant to his own warnings. He did not look back and see that Icarus was no longer behind him. He did not know that Icarus was in fact getting so distracted and off-path that he could not even see Daedalus in the sky anymore. He did not realize that Icarus had been blinded in the most literal sense by his desires. If he had noticed, maybe he would have been able to do something to save him from himself.

Icarus, on the other hand, was relieved that his father did not realize. He knew that it would only anger him. So he could not say why he was doing it, why he was getting higher, why he was allowing himself the pleasure of attempting to reach the sun itself. It was not that he wanted to disobey his father. He did not want to go against his orders. He only wanted to have fun, and fun did he have. 

He was carried away by the moment, not realizing what he was really doing. Icarus just kept getting higher and higher, closer and closer to the sun, farther and farther from Daedalus, who remained oblivious. Icarus’ laughing had restarted again, the smiling on his face growing impossibly wider. He thought he had felt good close to the water; this was even better. The bigger the clouds and sun looked above him, the smaller everything else looked below him. He was soon able to actually feel the heat of the sun on his skin, more than one did on the ground. He could feel it on his face, like that of the flame of a candle. Warm and inviting, friendly, egging him on to get closer, convincing him that no harm could be done. He was having too much fun, being too foolish that he actually believed it. 

It stayed that way, all fun and entertaining. The pull of the sun was so incicing. The thrill of the flying itself was too great. The feeling of it all was the best thing he had ever experienced, the best high--to the most exact meaning--that he knew could ever be achieved. Icarus was, in that moment, the closest any mortal had ever been to the sun, the highest anyone had ever been in the sky. 

Icarus was the closest any mortal had been to the gods.

And he felt like a god. He felt invincible, infallible, strong, powerful, he felt unstoppable. He felt like he had become that bird that he had admired. He felt like he could fly anywhere, do anything, touch the sky. That was exactly what his mind was set on doing. 

Things didn’t change when Icarus began to smell something off. It wasn’t the smell of the ocean- no, that was long gone. He’d gone far too high for that. It was a smell that was accompanied by the sensation of something hot against his skin. Something other than the heat of the sun itself. He was so intoxicated by the pure feeling of euphoria that it took him longer than it should have for him to realize that the feeling of heat and the scent that he couldn’t put his finger on was actually coming from the wings. 

The sun was melting the wax, just as Daedalus had warned. 

Icarus didn’t stop when he felt this. He was still consumed by that sense of power and god-likeness. He didn’t want to stop, regardless of the wings melting.

Perhaps he realized that it was too late for him by then. Perhaps he realized that he was too far from the island to make it, he was flying over the middle of the ocean, not close enough to any to manage to glide himself to safety. Perhaps he realized that once the wings had begun to melt, there was nothing he could do about it. Perhaps he realized that he was going to die. 

So there Icarus was, flying like a bird for the first and last time. He didn’t let himself come to terms with the fact that he was not going to get that one olive, the fact that he was not going to have any of the hopeful future that had been promised to him. He did not want to be overwhelmed by the reality that he was not going to get to apologize to Daedalus for disobeying. He only wanted to continue feeling the hot sun, not the hot wax. To feel that freedom one last time. 

In what he realized to be his final moments, he let himself close his eyes. He once again did not want to see how quick he may have been falling to the ground once the wax completely melted from the wings. 

Icarus imagined himself to be the stick of a candle, the wings to be the wick, and the sun to be the flame. For a small time, the wick would burn. The candle would be alight, shining brilliantly, lighting up the space for as long as the wick could last. Until inevitably, the wick reached its end, the candle burning out. Until the wick finally died, reaching the stick of the candle and engulfing that, too, in flames. 

His laughter was the only sound echoing through the skies as he fell, the only thing alerting Daedalus that his son had flown too close to the sun and paid the price. 

***

His mind was still swimming. He could barely remember what happened, and didn't know where he was. He sat up but kept his eyes closed. But wait, he thought, that was wrong. He shouldn’t have been able to sit up. He was supposed to be dead. He shouldn’t even have a body anymore, he shouldn’t be anywhere other than the Underworld. But light was seeping through his closed eyelids, and he knew with absolute certainty that he was not in the dark depths of the Underworld. 

But then again, he’d also been certain that the wings would not melt under the sun.

Icarus reached a hand up to his forehead to try to stop it from pounding, almost losing his balance in the process. He took a deep breath, surprised that he had the capability to breathe. This was all wrong;  he had died. He remembered the wings breaking entirely and sending him crashing into the ocean below. He remembered death; he remembered the moments before it, too, when he’d accepted his fate. Where was he now, and why did he feel alive again? “Icarus.” The voice that spoke his name was one of power. It was deep, serious, demanding respect. It made his name no longer just a name, but a command. He forced himself to look up and open his eyes, squinting them at the figure before him.

It was a man, a man who somehow carried youthful features yet an expression weighed down by years upon years. A man who was completely ageless, both extremely old and extremely young. The man had blonde hair and wore a perfectly white toga that managed to still look bright white against his pale skin. He was muscular and had a strong jawline. Everything about the man was… perfect. It took Icarus a few moments to realize that the man was watching him emotionlessly with glowing golden eyes. Then he realized that all of him was glowing, he was shining like the sun.

Icarus realized that the man before him was no man at all. He was a god.

When the realization set in, Icarus forced himself to stand up, ignoring the dizziness. Maybe it was a bad decision of him to try to stand up in front of someone so powerful, he should probably have kneeled, but being sprawled across the ground half sat up was probably not very respectful, either. When Icarus stood, he let himself look around and noticed that their surroundings were essentially all white. They must have been in the sky somewhere, in the clouds. 

Icarus was so overwhelmed by the situation, not comprehending it all. He didn’t really think when he pointed his finger at the god--something he immediately regretted--and blurted the obvious:

“You’re Apollo.”

Then he quickly realized his error and tried to correct it with a sloppy bow. No one had ever taught the young Icarus how to act in front of a god. Thankfully, Apollo was not upset or insulted by the boy’s actions, though his expression remained blank. Icarus could not tell what he was thinking, and for some reason it made him anxious.

Apollo only nodded. “Indeed I am.” He watched as Icarus straightened up from his bow. Icarus felt like he was being scrutinized under the god’s divine eyes, and didn’t know whether to meet them or to look away. He was completely unprepared for this moment. “Take off those wings.”

Icarus hadn’t realized that the wings were still attached to him. They’d somehow stayed to his form into the afterlife- or at least he assumed this was the afterlife. He had no idea what was happening. Though now, the wings were mutilated. The wax had melted not entirely, but enough so they could not fly any longer. An entire part of the back was waxless, and everywhere else was either half-melted or had feathers missing. The sad remnants were clinging desperately to the now weakened frame. He obeyed Apollo’s order immediately and began fumbling to slide the leather straps off of him.

The wings fell soundlessly to the floor, which Icarus still didn’t know what that floor was. He then looked back up at Apollo, who still only stared at him. Icarus stood there uncomfortably for a few seconds, and then took the silent stare as his cue to step away. Once he did, Apollo stepped forward, leaned down, and picked up the wings, examining them with a certain detached interest. 

“Fine craftsmanship,” the god noted, looking at the slightly-terrified Icarus again. “I assume your father made them?” The boy nodded quickly. 

“Yes, he did. And I helped. Well, not with this pair but with his.” He then decided he should have left the answer at yes and not given unnecessary explanation. 

He really was a mess. 

Apollo nodded. He seemed to still not have been offended by Icarus’ unrehearsed nature. He simply spoke to him as if he were any other man, rather than a child who was both in awe and fear of the powerful being before him. Apollo turned his attention back to the wings, plucking a single feather off of them before dropping them back to the ground. Icarus cringed as he dropped them so carelessly but was afraid to say anything about it. 

“Do you know why you are here, Icarus?” The speaking of his name once again made him nervous, as Icarus felt so minor and insignificant in the presence of a god. His name didn’t deserve to be said by Apollo’s mouth; he didn’t deserve to be speaking with him. 

Icarus hesitated before answering. “Because… I died. But, forgive me if I am wrong, but this is not the Underworld.” Apollo waved his hand dismissively. 

“No, no, of course not. I would never go down there. It’s quite the opposite of my realm.”

His realm. It took Icarus a few moments to think about that. Apollo was the god of many things, he knew that. Medicine, prophecy, music, archery, the sun-

Oh. 

Icarus suddenly knew why he was there. His heart dropped to his stomach. He had been trying to do the impossible, to touch the sun. Daedalus had only been considering the god of the sky when deciding to pray for safe passage while flying. They hadn’t thought about the other gods who ruled the above, too. Had he upset Apollo with his recklessness?

“No, Icarus, you are not in the Underworld,” Apollo continued. “I stopped you on your path to Hades; I wanted to speak with you. Mortals die every minute, you see, but it’s not everyday I find one like you.” 

Icarus swallowed hard. The way Apollo spoke, he still couldn’t tell what he was thinking about this whole situation. He couldn’t tell if he really had offended him or not, and it was nerve-wracking. 

“I- I apologize if I insulted you, Lord Apollo,” he began carefully, the title sounding too formal for his young mouth. “I had no intention to.” Apollo shook his head. 

“Do not apologize. To me, at least. I am not insulted. If anything I am flattered, really. Most mortals fear the sun; they fear me. You, however, seem to have no such opinion. It was quite entertaining to watch, I will admit. Such courage you have for such a young boy. I must ask, Icarus, why do you not fear me?”

Icarus was taken aback by that statement. He had flattered the god? By being an idiot. It didn’t make any sense. Apollo should have been offended, he should have wanted to torture or hurt Icarus in his afterlife after he attempted to go beyond the mortal realm. But… he didn’t. Icarus didn’t know how to react. 

And the mention of his father, the reminder that he had gone directly against what Daedalus had instructed, hit Icarus like a punch to the gut. A reminder that he had disobeyed and gotten himself killed for it. He didn’t want to think about Daedalus just then; he wanted to figure out why and how he’d managed to flatter the god of the sun. Icarus took a deep breath. 

“I do fear you,” he admitted plainly. He didn’t know what more to say. 

Apollo was responding so casually that it made Icarus uncomfortable. He chuckled at his response, which didn’t make him feel any better- though Icarus had to admit that the sound of godly laughter was beautiful. “As you should, I suppose. But if you fear me, and I assume you must also fear death, why would you make such a rash decision and attempt to reach my sun?”

Icarus still was struggling to find the right words. He didn’t know how to explain his curiosity, it really had been an indescribable experience. The joy he’d felt in that moment was too much to ignore, he’d simply wanted to continue to go higher and higher. The skies had felt so limitless, the sun had felt so close. The consequences were unimportant as he flew, but now he was faced directly with them. 

“Because I wished to feel free.” That was the only explanation that Icarus could manage. Apollo raised an eyebrow.

“Free? You would have had more freedom if you hadn’t died, would you not? You gave up the rest of your life for a small taste of freedom?” 

Icarus only nodded. He was still at a loss for words, still trying to comprehend the entire interaction with someone so powerful. Apollo sighed, looking down at the small feather in his hand that he had taken from the wings. 

“Mortals are interesting creatures,” he explained. “They are born, live for so little, then die. But they find so much more to their lives. They’re born nobody, yet believe that they can become something great. It’s almost saddening to watch this endless cycle of life and death. To see the excitement in their eyes as they embark on a journey that will inevitably lead to their end. I don’t understand how you do it, how you keep yourselves so optimistic when you know that in half a century, more or less, you will be nothing more than a memory to the rest of the world.

“Mortals value their lives, no matter how insignificant. So that is why you interest me. You want to live long, you want to be important, yet you let yourself come to an early end for the sake of something as small and temporary as a fleeting feeling.” 

The god took a deep breath, running a finger down the soft feather, and looked back up at Icarus. The boy was only watching him, listening to an immortal’s perspective of mortality. If Icarus hadn’t been able to find the right words before, he was completely lost then. 

Icarus met Apollo’s gaze. The immortal was looking at him with something in his golden eyes that was noticeable now: a look of sympathy. Compassion. Perhaps even pity. 

He didn’t think a god to be capable of such human emotions. 

“I mean… I just…” Icarus tried to provide the god some explanation to his unexplainable actions. Apollo was watching him with interest as he spoke, the emotion in his expression barely there yet still noticeable. Icarus spoke slowly, his mind still turning as he explained. “I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t thinking. I had been trapped for so long… I got carried away by it all. I- I felt free, like I wanted, and I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to make that feeling last forever.” 

Apollo studied the boy before him. He took note of his imperfections, his mortality. Even in death, Icarus’ hair had been ruffled from flight. His arms were red, presumably as a result of the wax melting off the wings and onto his skin. His clothes were tattered. The look on his face was one of fear and vulnerability. Apollo was used to mortals looking at him with that sense of terror, but this was somehow different. Something about Icarus’ youth and innocence. Apollo still didn’t understand how humans worked, how they managed to make such careless decisions, how they grappled with their inescapable death. But watching this young man try to explain himself, he thought that maybe once he could at least understand. 

“You are a fascinating mortal, Icarus. That is a compliment coming from me.”

Icarus swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

This entire conversation was unnerving, but he sensed a slight change in the god’s demeanor, perhaps a tinge of compassion. And he’d just been complimented by Apollo himself. He never thought that flying too close to the sun and doing exactly the opposite of what his father told him to do would lead to a compliment from one of the most powerful beings in the universe. But of the many things he was still unsure of in that moment, there was one question that came to mind:

“What will happen to me now?” He was almost afraid to ask. 

“Well,” Apollo began. “You will go to the Underworld and be judged, as all mortals are. That will determine where you spend the rest of eternity. You are not receiving any special treatment in your afterlife; I simply wanted to speak with you. And spoken with you I have.” Icarus was silent for a few moments, but then nodded slowly. But before he could give a verbal response, Apollo spoke. “Your father will mourn you greatly.”

Icarus was once again taken aback by that. He couldn’t quite tell if that was simply the god stating the obvious, or if it was some sort of order or curse, and he was too afraid to ask. “Yes, I am aware.” But Apollo’s next words surprised him yet again.

“Do you wish for him to?” 

Icarus froze. He didn’t want Daedalus to be saddened by his death, but of course he would be. His son had died, after all. It only made sense for him to mourn the loss of his own blood, the boy he had so carefully raised and loved. The child who’d become his closest partner in life. He didn’t want his father to be in grief. 

“I wish for my father to be happy.” 

Apollo nodded thoughtfully. “Happiness. That is what you felt when you fell, correct? Daedalus will know that. He will know that you were happy.”

 Icarus’ eyes lit up. “You can do that?” He didn’t know if he would end up happy in the afterlife, or if he would receive punishment for being reckless. But at least in that moment, that small moment with Apollo, he was happy again. And Icarus knew that if Daedalus knew that, it would make him happy, too. Happiness was something neither of them had felt in so long. It was another feeling that had made the flight so intoxicating for Icarus.

“Yes,” Apollo said. “I can do many things.”

Then, before Icarus could express his gratitude, before he could say or do anything more, the entire moment shattered. Apollo disappeared, everything around them was gone. 

His conversation with the god was done. He was no longer in the in-between of life and death. Icarus was dead and would have to face the consequences of his actions. He would have to be judged, his eternal fate decided once and for all. 

But he would do all this with the knowledge that his father would know how he felt in those final moments. He would go to the Underworld knowing that he was happy then and now. He would enter the beginning of his afterlife knowing that eventually, Daedalus would get over the loss of his son. 

Icarus didn’t know what Apollo gained from that conversation. He didn’t understand why the god had taken such interest in him. But he did know one thing for certain:

He had died, yes, but he had felt freedom. He had found that feeling of happiness that had been missing for so long. Perhaps he had a small sense of remorse for his actions. If he hadn’t died, he would have been free with Daedalus, and they could have lived long lives together out of the tower that had confined them for so long. But in the end, he accepted his fate. He really was happy.

Because even if it killed him, he had touched the sun.

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 xxcxelum

[onlyoneofsideblogtrashheep]

Thanks for the tag @hyuck-xix <3

MARCH RECEIPTIFY!

Don't have a lot to say I listen to txt whenever I am on the bus and I did a lot of long distance bus trips this month. Also Wave (overture) is number 1 in my heart

If you want to do this @shadowetienne @toxicrevolver @freshlybakedgarlic @27vampyresinhermind @strayingtogether

[celtrist]

Why does Vassago already have merch, we haven't even met him yet

[curioscurio]

Yooooo you worked at Michaels too?

(Ex-Framing department employee here)

YEA LETS GO EX-FRAMING DEPARTMENT they never even got around to teaching me production it was all wrapping and taking orders :/ Idk how it is at other shops but we only had 3 people working the whole frame shop. One person did ALL the frame assembly and us other two handled everything else. Was absolutely not worth $11/hr. man fuck retail. FUCK Design Hub too, if I may

[redtsundere-writes]

sukuna and servant!reader is so good!! looking forward to rescue more of them <33

Eyes On Me | Sukuna Ryomen

king!sukuna ryomen x femservant!reader

Sypnosis: Uraume can't play chess with the king right now, you must step up. Contents: Obsession, pining, kinda fluffy, mentions of blood and body parts. Uraume uses they/them pronouns. Word Count: 2404 words. Author's Note: I love writing this ship. People have been asking me to make this a series. I'll try my best lol I think you can still read them individually, but there's a preferred order.

Beginning. ← Previous |

AO3/WATTPAD VERSION

Sukuna hates humans. It's a fact of life. The sky is blue, roses are red and Sukuna hates the disgusting creatures that humans are. He has so many reasons to hate them that he doesn't even know where to begin. Humans are annoying, weak, clumsy, but most of all, stupid. They make decisions without thinking through the consequences. They prefer to spend their money on temporary pleasures and end up bankrupt by not prioritizing their survival. They worry about unimportant things such as social status, religion, and traditions. Sukuna hates humans, but boy, are they entertaining. 

Sukuna tends to study his servants very carefully. Even though they only clean, cook and obey his orders to a tee, it was fun to watch them interact with each other. He finds it fascinating how the servants gossip in whispers, how the gardeners concentrate to prune the bushes well despite their hands shaking, or how the cooks taste the food several times so that it’s up to their majesty's standards. It was like watching dozens of filthy lab rats in the middle of a social experiment. Although… There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what they were doing. 

You had finished all the chores for the day and decided to help the cooks prepare dinner because you had nothing better to do. Your muscles were exhausted from having spent all morning cleaning the porcelain sculptures, the large frames of the paintings in the great hall, and the king's jewelry so they could sparkle in all their glory. You had been assigned the task of peeling potatoes, so there you were. Sitting at a table with a small knife, peeling potatoes while listening to the chaos going on in the kitchen. Uraume was busy preparing a special passion fruit tea for the king. The special coming from the water that was inked with human blood. Sometimes you wondered if Uraume had always agreed to cook with humans or was it something they got used to because of Sukuna's orders, but since they never talked about themselves, you never asked. 

“Fuck!” A cook yelled when the frying pan caught fire. 

Your eyes widened at the flashy flare. Uraume put the tea set aside to attend to the emergency. With some ice from their magic hands, they put out the fire in a jiffy, but left the kitchen a mess. They began to berate the cook with smacks in the head and curses for his ineptitude. The cook just apologized over and over again, but that wasn't enough for the head chef. 

“You!” Uraume called. You put your task aside to attend to their orders. “Take the tea to our king and tell him I will be with him when I settle this situation.” You nodded and took the tray carefully to go in search of him. 

After Sukuna gave you permission, you entered the library with the golden tray in your hands. The library was the coziest room in the entire castle. Its high walls were covered with huge bookcases filled with books, maps, and scrolls. There were long desks of works and hundreds of candleholders everywhere to enjoy reading during the evenings. He was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the game table, a small wooden table with a chessboard on top. The king was surprised to see you there despite having specified Uraume's presence. 

“I didn't ask you to come,” Sukuna said chidingly as you served him tea at a small table next to him. 

“Uraume had to attend to an emergency in the kitchen. They'll be here once everything is under control,” you replied as you set down the fragile cup of blood tea, adorned with small pieces of eyeball floating on the red surface to give it texture. 

Your gaze traveled to the chessboard, it had been a long time since you had seen the king playing. You knew from the other servants that he was a good player and only plays with Uraume or some brave guest. This was no ordinary board. You could see that each piece was handmade and had luxurious detail. The pieces were made of white quartz, the eyes of the horses were rubies and the crowns of the kings were made of jade. It was the most beautiful board game you ever saw. 

“Do you know how to play?” Sukuna asked out of curiosity. 

Being a servant, you surely had not received the same education as he did. Well, almost no one was on his level when it came to education. Sukuna was a master mathematician, a skilled debater and could threaten his enemies in 5 different languages. You hadn't been as lucky. You're good at cleaning, cooking and taking orders, but what else can you do? 

“Yes,” you answered with a smile. 

That answer surprised him quite a bit. Although chess was a game that was rapidly gaining popularity among the middle class, it was not a game for women. It was a game that required intellect, always thinking two moves ahead and knowing how to read your opponent. You didn't look like a girl who could do all that. 

“Sit down,” Sukuna ordered you. 

“I warn you that it may be a short game. It's been a long time since I've played,” you warned him as you sat down. 

Sukuna watched you with great attention. Your eyes scanned the board as if it was the first time you had ever seen one, your hands rested gently on your thighs and you smiled nervously. You may have known the rules of the game, but you didn't know how to play. The king took your word for it. 

“Ladies first,” he asked you to start.

“My pleasure,” you said as your dominant hand moved over the pieces to decide what your first move would be. 

Your father had taught you how to play. He always wanted a son to inherit the family business, but your mother only kept giving birth to women, so he had to resign himself to you. Your mother taught you how to be a lady so you could get married as soon as possible and your father taught you about the business so that your future husband wouldn’t take advantage of the family money. You used to sit in front of the wooden board and talk for hours after dinner. Your father may not have been the wisest or the most astute man, but he had left you a very important lesson: Always look people in the eye to know their true intentions. 

This was one of the few times you came face to face with Sukuna. Because of his title as king and the great difference in height, you were always beneath him, physically and psychologically speaking. You were a simple human, while he was a king with the power to get rid of whomever he wanted with a simple movement of his fingers. Although his presence made you feel vulnerable, you didn't resent him. You had a relatively comfortable life serving him, but sometimes there was a need for you to show him that you were more than a servant. This was a good opportunity to do so. 

Sukuna's eyes were not on you, they were on the board. His gaze denoted boredom. He was waiting patiently for you to make the first move. If you waited a little longer, maybe he would yawn. He overestimated you, you had to use that feeling against him. You moved a pawn to the C4 square, a common move among beginners.

“Finally…” He said in a monotone voice before quickly moving the knight to the F6 square. 

Each of you took turns to move the pieces quietly as time went by. You took your time with each move, while the king only needed to look at the board from time to time to know what to do next. You could take all the time in the world, but he would still eat all your pieces. Even though it didn't seem to be an interesting game, you could at least keep up with him. Sukuna's queen advanced towards yours, standing face to face. One false move and your king was in trouble. 

“Check,” you said as the queen retreated two squares diagonally, leaving her free to begin the attack on the king. 

At that announcement, Sukuna woke up from the trance he was in to concentrate on what he was doing. He smiled with satisfaction as he noticed the change in your body. Your hands had relaxed, your back was straight, and your eyes were glued to his. You knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't need to tell him verbally that you would destroy him at his own game, your eyes told him clearly. It was as if you were dissecting his soul bit by bit until you left him completely naked.

Your hands were interleaved with each turn. You moved quickly as you realized that Sukuna had already noticed your active presence on the board. Sukuna returned the queen to his side. An interesting move. It was wise to know when to back away, but you noticed one thing in his eyes. He had no plan, he just acted based on his understanding of the game. He moved like in real life, using only his killer instincts. 

“Check,” you announced again by moving a knight up. 

“Not so fast,” Sukuna told you before taking the horse that was threatening his king using a queen. You smiled as you saw that his majesty had fallen into the trap. By moving his pieces like that, Sukuna had fully exposed his king. 

“Checkmate,” you announced the end of the game as soon as you moved the white queen close to the black king. And only then, the poor maid defeated the almighty king. 

“Well, well...” Sukuna sighed in awe as he looked at the board with extreme curiosity. He couldn't be mad at you. He had let his guard down. You were playing even before the game started. 

There was someone special he loved to watch, no matter what you were doing. Sukuna would always hyper fixate on you whenever he noticed your presence around him. You could be cleaning, chatting with your companions or eating some dried fruit in the garden, and he would still only notice you as if nothing else in the world existed. You were the most interesting human he had ever seen. Sukuna tried to look for a logical reason for his obsession with you, but he couldn't do it. You looked like a simple being with clear goals, but he was sure you were hiding something behind your perfect facade. 

Someone knocked at the door. Sukuna sighed, he wanted to be alone with you longer, but now was not the time. Uraume entered the room and was surprised to see you sitting with his majesty. Something strange had been going on between the two of you for months. They had even debated the idea of asking the king directly about you, but hadn't worked up the courage to do so.  

“There was an inconvenience in the kitchen. Sorry to keep you waiting, your majesty,” Uraume bowed in apology. 

“Lucky for you, you sent a good replacement,” Sukuna said before smiling at you in satisfaction. 

Uraume instantly understood just by glancing at the board. You had beaten the king, something even they could not easily accomplish. They could tell that he was looking at you like no one else. It wasn't a look of disgust or boredom, it was a curious look. Like that of a child looking at a group of kids playing in the playground, wondering if he could come over to play with them. 

“If you'll excuse me, I have to go,” you said as you got up to give the seat to Uraume. “Good game. It was a pleasure to play against you, my king,” you bowed. 

“Good game,” Sukuna whispered so you could leave the room. 

Sukuna and Uraume started a new game as soon as you returned to the kitchen to peel potatoes. They quickly noticed that something was occupying her majesty's mind. Their white pieces were eating his black pieces easily and his moves were slow compared to previous games. Uraume could tell that the game against you had changed the way he played.

“What do you see in her?” Uraume asked him after a move. 

“Am I too obvious?” Sukuna asked them before getting up from his seat to start prowling around the library to clear his mind. “What do you think of her?” He asked her as he stopped in front of the window to admire the land. The large green lawn stretched all the way to the intimidating entrance of his wonderful castle. 

“She is a dedicated servant and a perfectionist. She does all the chores in a timely manner. She is as good a servant as any other. The real question is: What do you think of her?” Uraume asked as they watched him from their seat. 

“She has potential.” 

“Potential? Potential for what?” Uraume arched their eyebrow at the confusing statement. 

“She has the potential to become a queen,” Sukuna replied confidently. 

Sukuna Ryomen was known among the kingdoms for being an unorthodox king. Not only because he took kingdoms left and right as if it were nothing, but because he has a strange way of ruling his people. He did not care about social classes, behavioral labels or unwritten codes of human coexistence. Everyone was inferior to him regardless of gender, race, or religion. He was the god of this new world and everyone had to obey him, just like that. 

The fact that he wanted to have a queen went far beyond just following the established patterns of classical monarchy. Sukuna must have a reason why he wants to have a queen other than just because, but there was a more important question on the table. 

“Your majesty, you can get any woman you want. You can get a beautiful woman, with more training and presence, why would you settle for a servant?” Uraume asked in confusion. Sukuna smiled. It was a good question. 

“She has something much better than that,” he answered before continuing the game as if nothing happened. Uraume looked down to see that Sukuna had checkmated them.

Author's Note: I poured my poor knowledge on chess for this lol I hope it makes sense.

Order your own fanfic!

Masterlist.

[thebluester2020]

[RE4] Kinktober Day 11: "In Heat"

Summary: Livestock guardians were rare enough, and training them was no easy feat either. But...being in a bind, you decided to take your chances and adopt one! Only, you weren't warned that his heats would be so...intense.

Warning(s): Perv!Reader (She watches Leon fuck his pillow), Yearning(Leon wishes to fuck the reader but doesn't), Dog!Hyrbid Leon, Whiny! Leon, Begging, Masturbation (Both on the reader's and Leon's side obv), Thigh-fucking, Leon low-key being a horn dog.

Side Note(s): Lol I was going to do Lycaon (again) from ZZZ but— the fact I haven't dedicated any Kinktober days to my favorite baddie Leon Kennedy yet is blasphemous, so here I am <33

Searching for a good livestock guardian dog was hard.

Costs aside, training them and getting them used to the farm animals was no easy task. It took a lot of patience and practice over the years and even then? The dog wasn't promised to be absolutely perfect! In hindsight though, you knew you should've been on the lookout the second you had begun buying the necessary resources for your farm. After all, it seemed like just yesterday when you were still waiting for your house to be built, and now? You were only a month away from moving!

The clock was ticking, you needed a guardian dog and you needed one now. No training required.

Which was how you ended up where you are today, at a dog hybrid adoption center, located in the center of your small town. It was a homey place, plenty of space for the hybrids to wander around, and even a dedicated meeting area for them and their potential owners to get to know one another. At first, you felt almost...strange, for considering a hybrid for your farm.

They were called "hybrids" for a reason. They were human but...with animal features and some tendencies here and there, you probably wouldn't even have been here today if your friend hadn't convinced you to at least check it out and so far? You were having no more luck than you were shopping the market for a traditional dog.

"Do you have any hybrids that are good with livestock? Guarding, maybe?" You asked the front desk worker after another conversation with a hybrid cut short.

You weren't searching for a puppy, they had too much energy and you were certain that wouldn't bode well with the animals! An older dog would have been preferable. "Still no luck?" The woman said with an apologetic smile as she searched through the system.

You shook your head with a sigh. "I'm moving in a month, I want to hopefully find a dog today and bring him home soon so I can get him or her used to me."

The woman didn't respond for a beat or two, her eyes narrowed in focus as she searched and searched...until her eyes brightened and she turned the computer screen towards you. "Leon may be a good fit for you! His background is in government, very calm and dependable." As you looked at the picture, you were shocked that no one had picked him yet. good traits aside, he was handsome and you knew that there was a market for people who preferred to use their hybrids for lovers rather than pets.

Not that you planned to use him in that way of course.

"Is he available to talk now?" You asked.

"He will be tomorrow! We try to give our shyer residents more time to know when they want to be spoken to."

You nodded your head in understanding as the worker passed you a few documents to sign as well as choosing a time when you wanted to talk. You suddenly felt nervous, intimidated even! When you looked at Leon Kennedy's profile, he appeared dangerous and you weren't just talking about the deadly scowl on his face nor the fact that he was a Malinois hybrid. His eyes were a deep baby blue, combined with his dirty blonde hair and his hardened features as well as his muscular frame.

You weren't able to deny that he was handsome.

But...you could worry about keeping your mind out of the gutter once you talked with him.

. . .

The next day came by quick. The second you woke up, you were already getting ready to meet with your potential hybrid and you wanted to make a good first impression! You donned a cute but professional style and even took the time to bring gifts as well as had photos of your current apartment and new home already saved to your phone. You wanted to make sure all your cards lined up to having Leon accept you as his owner.

And...you thought you were doing good so far, hopefully. As you currently sat in front of him, his expression was unreadable as his eyes flicked from the photos of your home that you had given him as well as the treat basket you brought along with you.

"You want me as a livestock guardian?" He questioned.

"Yes!" You chirped. "The animals aren't there yet but they will be pretty soon, about a week or two after I move in."

When he didn't respond, you added on a question. "Are you...good with livestock?"

He slowly nodded his head. "I can learn, it can't be any harder than guarding people."

"Your profile mentioned you were in the government. What did you do?"

"Classified missions." He curtly responded.

"...Like?"

He scoffed at your pushiness. "The word classified is there for a reason."

"Seeing as you're still so loyal, you must've been a good one." You complimented. You tried to withhold a chuckle at the sound of Leon's tail thumping against his chair. "Why did you leave?"

"I—" You tilted your head when he paused, the sight of his cheeks beginning to tint pink a little also making your suspicions go up before his shoulders eventually slumped and he sighed. "It's not important, I was simply no longer fit for the missions they were assigning me." His ears flattened at the memory of him being dismissed. For the last few years since that day, he tried to convince himself that it was for the best but...he was used to being active, constantly on the move and doing things. Trading that lifestyle for a quiet and inactive one here in the shelter?

Although the place was nice, it wasn't for him!

Life on a farm could give him some movement, some purpose again.

"Well, I think you'll be a perfect fit for my farm! If you want to actually come with me that is."

Leon looked you up and down, you appeared hard-working and stern. But kind and gentle, it also helped that you were a pretty thing to look at. After being in the government for so long, so many missions where he'd seen the most unimaginable horrors that no normal person should ever see...it was nice to know that he'd be able to look at you all day, working for you.

So, he nodded his head, his tail once again beginning to wag at the sight of your smile.

You grinned. "We'll get along just fine, you and me!"

. . .

And get along fine, the both of you did.

It turns out that there was a reason why Leon wasn't adopted. His ruts were insatiable.

A week after adopting him, you and he had spent the entire time decorating the room you had dedicated to him! You had learned that before he worked for the government, he used to be a guard cop (the puppy photos he had shown you were absolutely adorable might you add) and he was a fan of old-school music groups. You had struck gold with him, you thought. He was a hard worker and was relatively quiet! Although his jokes were a little dry and he had so many cop one-liners that you couldn't even begin to count them all.

You liked Leon.

And that like towards him...you wouldn't deny that it began to inch towards a more romantic direction, especially after what you were currently witnessing tonight.

"F-Fuck..." Through the crack of Leon's door, he was currently rutting against his pillow feverishly. It was bunched up underneath him, his claws threatening to tear the sheets underneath him with how hard he was rutting his dick back and forth on the pillow.

You should've turned away, you should've ignored that ache that started to build up in the pit of your stomach. It was inappropriate of you to watch him like some type of pervert! And you almost did until...you heard your name. "Y-Y/N..." Leon panted out, you could see the light of the moon shine on the hint of drool that began to dribble out the side of his mouth. He sucked in his bottom lip as he threw his head back with a low growl. "Fucking cute owner..." He whined. "I-If only you would help me..." His words were so whispered that you almost missed it.

The ache in your panties was growing near unbearable, and even as every rational part of your brain told you to keep your hand away from your throbbing clit, to go back to bed and act like you hadn't seen or heard anything. You continued to stay, soon clasping a hand around your mouth in order to withhold the moan that threatened to escape from your lips. Especially as your fingers began to circle around your clit, the aching growing more and more by the second as you continued to listen in on Leon's moans.

"Fucking hell—" Suddenly Leon pushed the pillow away from him before he sat on the bed, his hand quickly rushing to his cock as he started to fist his length, the slick sounds of his hand moving along his cock aiding in your own masturbation as you began to finger yourself to the pace of his hand movements.

And in the process, you imagined what his cock would feel like inside your sex. You imagined the veins along his cock rubbing against your inner walls, the sound of his rough growls against your ear whilst the lewd sounds of his pelvis meeting your ass rang throughout the air. "Y' like that owner?" You heard Leon mutter to himself before his curses steadily turned into moans.

You could tell he was close by the way he began to buck into his own hand, causing you to speed up your own ministrations as it quickly became a struggle to withhold your moans. Until a squeak accidentally escaped your lips, and Leon's ear flicked to the door before his pants began to slowly come to a stop.

Yet his hand didn't. "Naughty girl..." Leon said in your direction.

You quickly tore your hand from your underwear with a gasp, but before you could walk away. Leon stopped you with a sharp growl. "Leaving so soon after watching me fuck my own hand? And while you were flicking your clit." He snapped. "Get in here and help me out!" He ordered.

You hesitated for another moment or two before you slowly inched the door open with an embarrassed blush on your face. However, your hybrid had little concern for your embarrassment at the moment before he suddenly rose to his feet and grabbed ahold of your arm, and forced you to sit on the bed. His eyes were trained on you as he then pushed you gently to lay on your back whilst he lifted your legs.

You softly moaned at the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your ass briefly before he took your chin into his hand. "...Can I?"

You heard the desperation in his voice and how hard he was trying to reel it in. "I just wanna fuck your thighs, promise. Nothing else, just that." He assured you, his hips unconsciously bucking against the back of your thighs. And the second you nodded your head "yes", he let out a deep moan when he finally pushed himself between your plush thighs. "Been thinkin' 'bout this for a week..." He began to babble.

"You and this sexy body," He moaned. "Made my rut come early..." You whined when his hand began to feel up and down your body, all before his hand began to rub at your clit. "Clearly you've been thinkin' about me too, huh?"

You nodded shamelessly. "T-Tried not to..." You admitted with a whisper. "Didn't—oh...—want to make you uncomfortable..."

"With having a slutty owner who likes the idea of her personal dog fucking her needy cunt? Oh no baby, quite the opposite..." Then he leaned down to press his soft lips against your own, the feeling of your lips on his own after so many previous nights of imagining them on his cock...he couldn't help but begin to fuck your thighs with more fervor. "Couldn't get you out of my mind." He mumbled against your lips.

Leon's other large hand then left your waist to begin fondling your breasts, taking more care to give one of them more attention than the other as he began to flick your nipple. Leon's body was practically molding with your own body as he continued to kiss you, his technique becoming more sloppy along with his thrusts. "C-Close..." He whispered, tearing his lips from your own when you lightly smacked him for air.

You moaned. "M-Me too." You responded, a needy whine leaving your lips when he began to speed up his rapid flicking of your clit. Your increased moans and whines were going straight to his cock, nothing but lust and adoration for you as both his owner and the woman he now wanted to breed coursing through his veins as he felt your pussy twitch as his cock rubbed against it. "Cumming!" You just barely managed to get out before your eyes slammed shut and your mouth opened in a silent scream.

Leon wasn't too far behind as a string of curses fell from his lips, his hips bucking against your ass a few more times before he stilled and you felt strings of his hot cum shoot out and onto your stomach and chest. The two of you breathed heavily, the lust in the air hot and unignorable as you both came down from your highs. With a shakey moan, however, Leon slipped from your thighs as he looked over you.

Already he could feel himself getting hard. Something that you quickly took notice of. "A-Already...?" You said tiredly.

He nodded his head, his tail beginning to wag eagerly as he gently began to part your legs. "You're the reason why my rut started early...take responsibility."

It seemed you were in for an even longer night further taking care of your new hybrid...

[hyuckiefluff]

𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 | na jaemin

pairing: roommate!na jaemin x fem reader

genre: smut

wc: 1.6k

summary: jaemin notices how innocent you are and he can’t help but take advantage of this.

content warning: loss of virginity, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, missionary, reader is very inexperienced, jaemin is pretty manipulative, usage of pet names (good girl, princess, angel)

a/n : this is not what i was planning to post next but oh well it’s here now! hope u enjoy it! feedback is greatly appreciated as always and happy new year! my new year’s resolution as a writer is to stop trying to write a million stories at once and then not posting any of them lol. also just realized this is my second time writing roommate jaemin hehe idk i’m kinda obsessed with him and this trope

pss: would you guys like me to post drabbles? i’ve been thinking about it but can’t decide, lemme know in the comments or my req/ask box :))

masterlist

Jaemin was so glad that you were clueless.

When he first moved in as your roommate, he immediately noticed you were too trusting… Letting a stranger like him move in with you without asking many questions. But the rent was good and the prospect of living with someone as pretty as yourself kept him from saying anything about it.

As he discovered the extent of your innocence, Jaemin found himself unable to resist taking advantage of it. He wanted to know just how much he could get away with.

So, on a particularly chilly winter night, Jaemin seized the opportunity and knocked on your door while you were cozily tucked into bed.

"Can I sleep here, princess? I think the heating broke down in my room," Jaemin asked, his head peeking through the door.

Even he knew that was a weak excuse. The apartment had centralized heating, so if it worked in your room, it definitely worked in his. But surprisingly, you fell for it.

"Oh, of course, Jaem," you replied with the softest tone, the nickname you’d given him already making him semi-hard.

He joined you in bed, keeping some initial distance. However, as soon as he noticed you in the skimpiest pajama dress, he felt himself growing harder in his sweatpants. You lay facing him, a sleepy smile on your face, your eyes glowing in the night light, completely oblivious to the thoughts racing through his mind and down to his dick.

"Are you okay, Jaem?" you asked softly, noticing him wince and shift a bit.

"Uhm... yeah, just... uncomfortable," he said absentmindedly.

"Are you uncomfortable with me?" you asked, your big eyes staring up at him.

"Oh no no, princess, it's not you. It's just..." he sighed, "Sometimes it hurts down there, and it will keep hurting until I do something about it."

It's amusing how he tried so hard to explain it, treating you like a kid despite you being his age, and ironically, the reason he was like this in the first place.

"Why does it hurt?" you asked, genuine worry in your eyes.

Contemplating whether to use your innocence to his advantage, he decided to take the risk. "Well, you see... whenever I'm with you, it kind of just hurts. It gets so hard, and I can’t handle it," he said, hoping you bought his act.

"Because of me?" you brought your hands to your cheeks, the action pushing your boobs together and making them practically spill out of your pjs "And c-can I make it better somehow? I feel so bad..."

Oh, clueless pretty thing.

"Of course, you can make it better, princess... you're the only one who can," he said, getting closer to your smaller frame. You didn't move away and simply let him grab your hand.

He placed it on top of his erection, "See how swollen it is? It hurts," you pouted, feeling terrible that this was your fault. "Will you help me fix it then?" You nodded at once, and Jaemin smiled. "Good girl."

He took off his shirt, and you were momentarily stunned by how toned his chest and abs were. You'd seen him shirtless before but never from this close.

"Princess, you're drooling," he teased, softly grabbing your chin so you would look at him.

"I'm not," you whined but still attempted to clean the imaginary drool off your face.

"So cute," he laughed, "will you take this off for me?" He pointed to his sweatpants.

"M-me? Uhm... okay," you said, and with shaky hands, you slid his pants down his legs. It was a bit hard pushing them past his bulge, and he noticed how this made you blush.

"Thank you, pretty girl," he pulled you back up, and now you were straddling him, only the thin fabric of your panties and his boxers separating your cores.

He experimentally rutted against you to gauge your reaction, and it was entirely worth it. Your face contorting, the way you gasped and made an "O" with your pretty plump lips. He never saw anything better.

"You trust me, right, princess?" he asked, his eyes heavy on you.

"Y-yes... I trust you."

He smiled and switched your positions, now hovering over your body. He caressed your cheeks, and then his hand went down until he reached the border of your PJ dress. He pulled it up until it was pooling right below your chest.

"So pretty," he said, his lips ghosting over your stomach.

"Jaem, that tickles!" you laughed, pushing his head.

"Princess, before you can help me, I gotta prepare you, okay?" He suddenly got serious again, his eyes with that dark glow you saw earlier. You nodded, your heart picking up pace when he suddenly hovered over your clothed core.

Then, locking eyes with you, he pulled your panties to the side. The abrupt shift from the cool air hitting you to his warm breath so close to your most private part gave you goosebumps all over.

Out of the blue, he licked a streak along your core. You gasped, nudging his head away. No one had ever touched you there, let alone licked you.

"You gotta relax, baby," he said, his voice so growly it almost had a purr to it.

Though he didn’t really give you a chance to relax. He latched his mouth directly to your cunt, sucking viciously, and the sensation was almost overwhelming.

"Oh my g-.. Jaemin," you moaned, the intensity taking you by surprise.

After a few minutes of relentlessly eating you out, he pulled away, his nose, mouth, and chin glossy with your juices. The knot in your stomach was so tight it could explode. But just when you thought he was finished, he inserted a finger. He explored your insides with vigor until he found that sweet spot, causing you to release a string of curses and curl your toes.

That was your first orgasm.

"You're ready for me now, beautiful," he said, planting one last kiss on your inner thigh before crawling until he was directly on top of you.

“… m’ so tired, Jaem..." you mewled.

"I know, I know... just hang on a bit more. You wanna help me, right?" he asked, gently moving some stray hairs away from your forehead.

You nodded, and he rewarded you with a chaste kiss on your lips. With a playful grin, he pulled down his boxers and even though you were spent, curiosity got the best of you so you peeked down. He was so big and thick; it startled you for a moment.

"Now, angel... tell me if you feel uncomfortable."

Jaemin was trying so hard to be gentle, but seeing you like that, all pliant and open for him, made him want nothing more than to fuck you hard into next week.

He pulled down your panties, amused by the way they stuck to you from how wet you were. Tossing them aside, he wasted no time positioning himself at your entrance. The tip was barely in, and you already felt overwhelmed. "I don't think it'll fit..." you said, but he seemed not to have heard, leaning in to kiss all over your neck and collarbone.

This distraction allowed him to go in more, and you held onto his shoulders for support.

"You're doing so good for me," Jaemin whispered against your skin.

When he bottomed out, he already felt like he would cum fast from how tightly you were squeezing him. He kept whispering for you to relax, and only when you did did he start moving at a somewhat slow pace.

"You feel so fucking good," he whimpered, his thrusts picking up pace and turning you into a moaning, writhing mess.

"J-j-Jaem..." you were unable to form a coherent sentence with how hard he was fucking you now.

"Fuck… I… should've… done… this… sooner," he grunted, his eyes locked on the mesmerizing bounce of your boobs.

"I'm… I feel so…" you whimpered, tears forming in your eyes as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He could tell you were getting there from how your walls were pulsating around him. So, he grabbed your legs, hoisting them up on his shoulders for some deeper access. This new angle had him hitting just the right spot, and in no time, you turned into a moaning, sobbing mess. He eased into a slower rhythm, helping you ride out your second orgasm.

"That's it, good girl," he moaned looking at the scene between your bodies as your release dripped down from your pretty cunt.

After you came, he didn't pull out. He was the one wanting to get a little more out of this, after all.

So, once your breathing had calmed down a bit, he resumed thrusting into you, each one driving deeper than the last.

"Jae… I- I can't…" you whined, too sensitive down there.

"You said… you would help me, princess..."

And so he kept fucking you hard. It didn't take long for your third orgasm to creep up, your walls squeezing the life out of him again. Relentless, he kept going even after you'd cummed again, pushing until he felt his own orgasm approach. That’s when he pulled out right away, his release spilling generously over your lower stomach.

He collapsed next to you, both of you panting.

"Does it still hurt, Jaem?" you asked innocently, looking at him.

He smiled softly at you and gently caressed your cheek.

"No, princess. You made me all better."

Jaemin loved how clueless you were.

btw i’m not ignoring requests it’s just taking me forever to finish the other stories i’m writing so requests are on hold for a little bit, you can still send but it’ll take me a minute to get to them :(

[kisseobie]

240711 jongseob ❤︎ ིུ͠*:·.

pairings: jongseob x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni)

tags: dom!seob, sub!reader, jongseob is cocky, reader is going insane over his compression shirt and baggy jeans (i am reader), nipple play, blowjob, face fucking, hair pulling, no prep, unprotected sex lol wrap it before you tap it guys, reader is nasty and grinds against his shoes, pussy slapping, rough sex, touchy in a taxi (kind of?) in the first bit, light body worship, reader is an actual whore for her boyfriend .. i think that’s it

a/n: yeah so i had to start writing this as soon as the pictures dropped sorry (i’m not) and a special dt to @lijeons because we both feel insane over him rn

“you listening?” are the only words that leave your boyfriend’s lips that you can successfully say you’ve comprehended in the painfully slow 10 minutes you’ve occupied this drive with him, and yet you are still too dazed to answer with a proper reply, merely nodding along to the question. sitting in this close proximity with jongseob, and nearly falling onto his lap at times due to the taxi driver’s reckless driving, is not an occurrence that you’d ever expect to dread, but today is different. today, jongseob decided to wordlessly proclaim “i hate my girlfriend!”, you suppose, and he might as well lower the backseat windows, stick his head out, and bellow that very phrase out to the streets, because he clearly is unaware of how embarrassingly wet you’ve been rendered in the mere minutes you’ve been in his presence.

you’re being ridiculous, the reason for your sudden dramatics being jongseob’s outfit, if you could even consider it as one rather than a feature from a slutty mens fashion magazine from the 90’s. your boyfriend, although fashionable, isn’t typically the type to pair his usual baggy pants with the tightest compression shirt you’ve ever seen, but once again, apparently today had to be different. you’re choosing to blame it on the boy spending too much time shopping with intak, making a mental note to send an unfriendly text to his hyung later. your boyfriend, bless his heart, is clueless to your internal panic, and is currently flicking through recent photos he took on his digicam whilst explaining his thought process behind each shot to you. you’re trying, you really are, to focus and bask in his excitement, but how can you be expected to pay attention when each click on his camera causes his boyish arms to shift ever so slightly, especially when the shape of his upper body is accentuated with the tight white longsleeve top that adorns his frame? are you just supposed to go on with your day and pretend that his newly found love for thin compression shirts doesn’t send heat flooding to your core?

“..and this one! i took this one in thailand because the colors reminded me of the dress you wore on our date last month.” jongseob relays to you with a toothy grin, looking at you expectedly for your reaction to his cute confession. you smile at him genuinely, temporarily tossing your arousal to the back of your mind and leaning over to place a peck on his cheek, which only makes his smile grow. “i missed you a lot seob.”

“yeah?” he asks, with an annoyingly cocky smirk already making its way on his lips.

“mhm”

he doesn’t waste any more time, grabbing at your waist to pull you into a long overdue kiss, ignoring the fact that you both are in the company of a very annoyed taxi man. you kiss back with just as much, if not more, fervor, pawing at his recently dyed two-toned shag. your hands drop to stroke and knead at his toned arms, freshly manicured nails slowly descending and scratching down jongseob’s clothed chest. he shifts his kisses to the nape of your neck, biting at your skin and pulling you in impossibly closer. you both are interrupted and awkwardly squirm away from each other as the driver’s grunt of frustration reaches your ears, and you look up to lock eyes with the man, glaring at the pair of you from the rearview mirror. you’re giggle nervously, but halt your amusement at the situation when realizing that the impromptu makeout session with your boyfriend has only made your panties even stickier than before, and you curse yourself for being so easily affected by a few of his kisses.

unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend is not as oblivious to your current fixation on his attire as you may think. jongseob resists the urge to coo out loud at how you pivot your thighs against each other to feel some friction, and at how your eyes shamelessly find purchase on his upper body every few minutes. he shimmies closer to you after a while of silence, laying his head atop your shoulder as you try to ignore how good he smells when he’s so up close, how the mixed scent of rich cologne, wood, tangerines, and boyhood makes you dizzier by the second.

he’s lifting his head now, so his lips hover dangerously close to your left ear, smiling knowingly and whispering “i take it you like my outfit?”, and jongseob doesn’t even give you a moment to react, retreating back to his side of the backseat, but not before shooting you a shit-eating grin that makes you want to sock him, albeit lovingly, in the face.

𓂃ᡴꪫ ⋆ ੈ ࣪   𓏲ּ ❤︎

the familiar rigidness of jongseob’s wooden floors poke and prod at your jelly knees, and you can already feel the soreness starting to seep into the muscle. regardless, you’d never dare to get up, not when your boyfriend has his pretty, leaking cock out, with his pants bunched up at his feet. he clicks his tongue as you wrap a manicured palm against the heavy girth, silently signaling to you to “get on with it”. you can’t even blame him for smirking and at your pathetic quickness to lap your pink tongue against his tip, not when you look like a stray cat being fed milk for the first time in weeks.

you’re maneuvering your tongue to lick long, tantalizing stripes against the prominent vein running along his length, hand still wrapped around the base that you know you won’t be able to reach with your mouth. his hisses and groans only push you further, taking his cock all the way down your mouth and suctioning your lips just how you know jongseob likes it. apparently your slow speed is not your boyfriend’s forte, evident in the way he forcefully grabs at your hair and pushes you inwards to take even more of his dick in your mouth. tears are already streaming down your face, but you love when he uses you like this, love the feeling of being suffocated by him so carelessly. you make the mistake of looking up to jongseob’s face, met with the view of the boy who’s brows are furrowed in ecstasy. he peers down at you, maintaining eye contact as he pushes your mouth off of him, giving you a brief chance to breathe.

jongseob looks heavenly, bangs dampened with his own sweat, body still clad in the white compression shirt that clings to every ripple and divot on his lean body. you can’t take your eyes off of him, almost like a moth drifting towards a flickering porch light. you beam up your boyfriend with the prettiest smile you can muster, batting your eyelashes while your fingers creep back up to find home on his thighs. he’s giggling at your sly actions in disbelief, but does nothing to stop you from licking at his fat cockhead once more. “you’re having lots of fun with this, aren’t you?” comes out of jongseob’s mouth, followed by a shaky sigh. when you don’t respond, he’s babbling again. “wan’ you to answer me y/n. couldn’t even get inside my apartment, fuck, without you jumping my bones. bet that cunt is dripping all over my floor.”

to prove his theory, jongseob lifts his shoe to push upwards against your cloth panties, your decision on wearing a mini dress today making the access easier. jongseob groans out loud when he spots the giant wet patch soaking through your underwear. despite your boyfriend examining your clothed cunt with a scoff, you aren’t embarrassed in the slightest, and can already feel yourself getting delirious from pleasure despite remaining untouched. you love when he gets like this, so cocky and dominant that it makes your cunt clench on air, weeping for some stimulation. jongseob is about to pull his shoe away from your core, but you beat him to doing so by shamelessly rocking your panty-clad cunny back and forth over the hard material. you’ve rendered the boy absolutely speechless, gyrating your hips against his shoe like a whore as your juices seep through your panties and on top of the leather material. your eyes are on his the entire time, finding amusement in his disbelief of your desperateness. you make sure to increase in volume with every rock of your hips, letting out pornographic moans as you fuck yourself on your boyfriend’s shoes.

“get up.”

it takes everything in you to not ignore his command, putting a brief pause on your pleasure as you hold onto his thighs for leverage, pushing your wobbly body up with some effort. jongseob doesn’t give you a moment to collect yourself before grabbing at your face for the nth time tonight, kissing you with teeth and tongue before pushing you onto his bedsheets behind you. he doesn’t say a word to you as he begins to lift your dress up and over your head, his silence somehow making the situation hotter. your tits are on full display, nipples hardening as they hit the cool air of jongseob’s ac unit. your boyfriend scoffs, once again, at your lack of a bra but remains silent, taking his time with kneading your boobs and kissing at the surrounding skin. he can sense your impatience, and ever the sweet boyfriend, begins to lift the hem of his own top, but is stopped by your shaky hands as you plead, “nononono, keep it on please.”

he complies to your pathetic request with a snort, refocusing to fully pull off his dirtied shoes, pants, and boxers, now only left in that damn compression shirt, accompanied with a dangly silver chain around his neck. jongseob smiles at your wandering eyes, catching you off guard by hooking his hands under your knees and pulling you towards the edge of the bed. you begin to anticipate the feeling of his slender fingers discarding your sodden panties, but it never comes. instead, jongseob circles your covered clit with his thumb, clearly enjoying teasing you. fat tears start to cascade down your cheeks once more, and you can’t stop yourself from whimpering out in both ecstasy and frustration. you know you would look ridiculous to an outsider, but right now it’s just you and jongseob, so you don’t feel embarrassed in the slightest. your begs come out rushed and wanton, the words scratching the depths of your throat.

“please seobie, touch me already! stop teasing!”

he smirks at your impatience, getting off at your very obvious desperation as he slows the pace of his thumb prodding at your puffy clit, the thin material of your underwear still clinging to your cunt.

“i am touching you.”

just as you begin to sob, jongseob wraps his delicate fingers around the straps of your panties, pulling them down in one swift motion. he leans his face in to nudge the tip of his nose against your button, inhaling deeply as to memorize your scent. you were relieved to finally be bare in front of him, but the lack of touch has you squirming against his sheets in annoyance. you know you’re acting ungrateful, with jongseob treating you so delicately, but you can’t help but want more.

a sudden smack! pulls you out of your head, the combined pain and pleasure of your boyfriend spanking your bare cunt causing you to gasp at the sudden change of demeanor. he hits your cunny again, laughing at the way you subtly push your hips forward to meet the power of his slaps. he repeats the motion a few more times, until your wetness leaves a glimmering sheen on his palm, and your pussy is an angry shade of red.

he gives you another brief moment to breathe, watching how your cunt rises and falls like a second heartbeat. he’s fisting his neglected cock to the sight of you, hair splayed out messily on his sheets, flushed cheeks with tear steaks running across them, nipples hard and vulnerable to his touch. without warning, which seems to be a running theme with jongseob tonight, he begins to slide his mushroom cockhead between your folds, hissings and cursing at the wet feeling.

“you ready?”

you nod, biting down on your bottom lip as you prop your weight onto your elbows, mentally preparing yourself for the stretch of jongseob’s cock. he leans down from where he stands to place a peck on each of your pink cheeks, drinking in your salty tears before capturing your lips into a deep kiss. when your boyfriend pulls back, he rests your smooth legs on top of his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on your left ankle, and the intimacy of it all has you falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

after what feels like eons, jongseob starts to push his girth into your tight hole, letting out a hushed “fuck” in the process. god you missed the feeling of him filling you up to the brim, missed how perfectly the pair of you fit together, creating your own sinful symphony of sloshes and grunts. once you’ve taken him in all the way, he tests the waters by thrusting slowly, making you both moan out at the familiar feeling that will never quite dull despite the countless of times you’ve felt it before. you’re staring at your boyfriend, who’s currently preoccupied with pounding into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, the view making you throw your head back with a whine. your greedy pussy wraps around him so well, obscenely suctioning his cock every time the boy pulls outwards.

you watch how jongseob’s shirt continues to flex and cling onto his muscles with every motion, can feel the sweat peeking through the material as your legs stay glued to his damp shoulders. he’s breathing heavily now, little whines and whimpers giving away how much he’s missed having you like this; splayed out like a princess on his bed as he works you towards your climax. one particular thrust of his hips hits home so well that you’re seeing stars, fingers fisting his silk sheets as your cunny clenches down on him. jongseob notices the shift, and hits that particular spot over and over, quickening his pace with every thrust of his hips.

“mmm yeah, right there! right there!” comes out of your mouth so loud you’re almost afraid his neighbors will write a complaint. he only speeds up at your loud request, fucking into your gummy walls so heavenly, whispering praises and “i got you” ’s into the air. at a certain point, he’s leaned so close to your body that he lies right on top of you, the weight of his clothed chest meeting your bare one, making both of you dizzy. your perky tits press up against the smooth material of his shirt, creating a type of friction that has you toppling over, cumming around his cock with a loud cry.

jongseob isn’t holding up any better, thrusts becoming messy and irregular as your orgasm spurs him on to chase his own, and with a few more shifts of his hips he’s shooting his release into your walls, filling you up to the brim with his milky seed. he lazily strokes into you one, two, three more times before pulling out. the loss of contact, paired with the feeling of his cum leaking out of your hole, makes you whine in displeasure, already missing how nice he feels inside of you. jongseob carefully flips his body over to lay next to you, panting heavily as you extend an arm out to play with his hair.

𓂃ᡴꪫ ⋆ ੈ ࣪   𓏲ּ ❤︎

the scent of him suffocates you senses in the most heavenly way, and you tuck your face deeper into his now bare chest, shirt tossed aside somewhere on his floors. you inhale the notes of tangerine coming from the boy that you’ve become so accustomed to. sleepy and dazed, you almost miss jongseob’s husky “who knew that me wearing a tight shirt would lead to the best sex of my life?”

you make a noise of discontent and lightly shove him by the shoulder, rolling your eyes at his teasing and he just giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the world. jongseob pulls you back into him despite your whines, wrapping his arms around your naked frame and placing light pecks into your hair.

“i bought it in 3 different colors, by the way.”

you groan into his chest, causing your boyfriend to laugh out loud at your cuteness. you choose to let sleep take over instead of imagining your very hot boyfriend wear another one of those damn compression shirts in whatever fucking shades he bought them in, telling yourself that you’ll rip him a new one in the morning. or jump his bones. whichever comes first.

𓂃ᡴꪫ ⋆ ੈ ࣪   𓏲ּ ❤︎

new chat

you

[12:58 pm] hey! consider killing yourself. 😊

intak 😒

[1:03pm] ??? tf i do?? ☹️

— you disliked a message

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie @asianpenguin04

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

❤︎ ིུ͠*:·.

[jibunbosh]

Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

[inthelibrarybtw]

you're gonna go far | one - the boneyard

SERIES MASTERLIST pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: where rafe who hates pogues has a soft spot for a pogue girl, who couldn't care less about him, it's too independent and too focused on graduating college and making it out of the cut to pay attention to him or where they say they don't like each other yet for a reason they are always at the same place at the same time, him making time for her and her never pushing away but again they don't like each other. word count: 3.1k content: rafe being an asshole, angst, cursing, pogue/kook talk, inaccurate weather facts lol authors note: this is my first official fic and series, please be kind english is my second language so excuse any grammar errors. not only am i excited but im also nervous this is the first time im letting people read anything i've ever written, i really hope you guys like it. reblogs, comments and like are always appreciated ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。• *₊°。 ❀°。

He made his way to the Boneyard once again. Ever since Sarah had started dating John B he heard a lot more about these parties, he loved to party and he was not going to miss one. Also he needed to keep an eye on his sister, sister who he never really saw at the parties unless there was a fight between his friends and her pogue friends. That was the only reasonable reason, the only thing that made sense to him and he was trying to convince himself it was the only one.

But the real reason would actually make  him lose his mind, he doesn’t get it, Rafe used to hate all pogues, but that one party Sarah invited her and her pogue friends and he almost lost it when she saw her, he had never seen her before and after that he never stopped looking for her and at her, usually she was mad at him for annoying her friends and he got pissed at her for calling him on his shit and didn’t want anything to do with him. Yet he wanted to know her, too much for his liking. 

So there he was again at another Boneyard party, he wasn’t really in the mood but anything to see you. He really doesn’t get it, as much as he wants to hate you and despise you, he can't and that’s how he ended up going back to his car to grab his jacket and making his way to you. The party was in full blast but you had needed a break so you were sitting alone on a blanket over the sand looking at the ocean, hugging yourself. For a mid June night it was cold, too cold, probably a storm was coming soon. 

As if it was heaven sent a puffy jacket wrapped you up “you’ll get sick” you looked up to be met with Rafe’s stoic face as if what he just did was nothing “it’s freezing” he said sitting next to you. 

“I'm gonna be fine” you said, as much as you would want to take the jacket your pride was bigger so you started taking it off to give it back but he stopped you by putting it back. 

He scoffs before answering “right, like you’re not trembling, just take it” you didn’t hesitate, it felt good but you weren’t going to admit it to his face.

“What about you?” you turned to look at him, he didn’t look cold but still.

“I’m fine, you need it more than me” his eyes darted over at your body, a weird feeling forming in his stomach at seeing you with something of his enveloping your frame. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you looked at him, putting your arms in the jacket, it looked like his jacket had swallowed you up and he smirked at the sight.

 “Nothing, just you were shaking and I’m not” he rolled his eyes

“Right…” Rafe being nice to you wasn’t new but you were still a bit on edge around him “Thanks” you said softly, as you looked around, everyone was enjoying the party, it was one of those moments where you would think why were you there, you could be doing anything else. You were already thinking about going back to college, community college wasn’t the plan but you were more than grateful for getting a scholarship, as much as community college wasn’t that expensive, for a pogue it was a lot. 

Rafe interrupted your thoughts when he cleared his throat “You’re not going to go back to everyone?” as much as he had attempted to make it sound as a question it sounded more like a demand and order even. 

“Not right now, why?” you turned to look at him, with a confused look. You wanted to go home but if you didn’t stick around a while longer your friends would ask and you liked to avoid the questions. 

“I don't think they want to hang out with a pogue” of course he would say something like that, he was an asshole and yet you didn’t go away. You rolled your eyes. 

“Well you are hanging out with said pogue” touché he thought 

“Well I'm different” he said as if it was the most obvious answer ever

You scrunched up your face “oh and why’s that?” Rafe was the perfect example of why you hated kooks, they thought they were better than everyone, maybe not everyone but most of them were like him, he was so infuriating and you wanted to scream at him sometimes and you had done it on occasion,  but everytime that feeling would be different. 

“Because I’m me and I can do whatever I want” this man you thought, you just hummed in annoyance, he was so unbelievable. “Just do go near them” he had to be joking 

“I will if I want to” he turned his head quickly as if you had said the worst thing ever, Rafe had a thing of struggling to show his true feelings and of course he would rather choke than admit he wanted you to stay there with him talking, he wanted to get to know you but he was clearly terrible at showing it.  

“Does it look like I care? just don’t go, got it?” you were stoic, how the hell were you supposed to react to that. “Rafe…” “Don’t Rafe me, I don’t want you to be near them” them who? And why the hell did he care what you did or not. 

“I’m not yours to control, I don’t even listen to my mother, what makes you think I will listen to you?” his face contorted in annoyance, sassy pogue he thought before speaking.

“I’m just trying to look out for you pogue” the way he said pogue with such disdain, you knew he hated pogues, you hated him albeit you were there still sitting with his jacket over your shoulders but you hated him.

“You hate pogues” she can’t let one go he huffs almost as if it's amusing to see you mad  

“Usually i do, all of them are annoying, but…” he pauses for a second thinking as if it’s a good idea to continue talking “you just… you’re different” 

“Whatever that means” was that a good thing? who knew it was Rafe Cameron after all.

“It means you don’t piss me off as much as the rest and I don’t want to see you getting hurt or dragged into something in between the pogues or kooks” he paused then continued “why are you even friends with them?” 

not see me get hurt? most of the times you had been the one yelling at him or his friends to back away but in that moment you rather not fight with him about it “they just get me, we grew up together” 

“How on earth can they get you, they are them and you’re…” he trailed off “I just don’t get how you can just hang out with them” his irritation was growing, you noticed but you didn’t care.

“You have no right to talk about them when you’re the one who doesn’t get it!” you huff

“What I don't get huh? that you love hanging around them in the Cut” you sighed, stupid kook

“I'm Pogue! The Cut is my home” and you would do anything to change that, Pope was the only one who knew how much you hated living there… “That's my life!” 

“That's what I don’t get, you’re better than that! that’s a hellhole” as much as you don't like it there, it was still your home and you could call it a hellhole, you lived there, he had barely set foot in it, so what would he know? he didn’t have the right  “living there doesn’t mean you have to hang out with them” 

“They are my friends, they truly get it, they know how hard life can be and unfair it can get” his chest feels tight all of a sudden he doesn't get it, he never feels like that. He studies your face trying to think what he can say next. 

“You could do better, find new friends, kooks, pogues will keep dragging you down” You stare at him looking for a trace of it being a joke and he is being serious, you laugh bitterly. 

“Why would I want to be with the kooks? they look down at us as if we're trash,  and we're people!” Rafe goes silent, his jaw clenching annoyed, he knew he treated your friends like that most of the time and he hated that you were right about it. 

“I don’t think you're trash” he groans in frustration “What aren’t you getting pogue? they are assholes, you don’t deserve being around assholes who pull you back” 

“You're not understanding Kook, they are my friends, my family even, they are important to me, I care for them, we stick by each other and we actually push each other to do things better because we want out, we do not want to stay in The Cut forever” You didn’t, a part of you knew that JJ and John B didn’t really care, yes they wanted better but that didn’t necessarily mean get out of the Cut. Then there was Kie who was born a kook and liked more the pogue life. A part of you was angry at Kie, she had the privileges you would kill for and she took them all for granted, you loved her but still it frustrated you. 

He scoffs, he hates the tone you’re going for, yes it’s the same he’s giving you but he doesn’t like it when it’s aimed at him and coming from you. If it had been by any chance any other pogue he would’ve either fought them or ignored them but it was you… “Oh and how are you supposed to do that? work your ass off for minimum wage? Pogues don’t make it out that easily” 

“And you think I'm not aware? still doesn’t mean I can’t make it” You were trying to keep your calm, he was getting on your nerves, you had heard that a thousand times but coming from him right there felt somehow even worse, not even a few minutes ago he had given you his jacket, that had been nice but apparently he was allergic to it and had to go back to his usual asshole self. 

“Then why even try? The Cut is like a black hole that swallows people and you can never escape” You had enough, he had the nerve to say all that when his own father came from the Cut and made it out. You didn’t really like Ward Cameron, granted not a lot of people did but you did have to give him that, he made it out and he wasn’t the best person but he was all the proof you needed to know it was possible. 

“Because it is not impossible, your dad did” you saw him tense up at the mention of his father, well know you knew how to piss him off. You regretted using his dad since it was clearly a sensitive topic for him but he deserved it you tried to convince yourself. You didn’t really like confrontation but with him every word flew out of your mouth without hesitancy it made you feel good, like you were brave enough and in the eyes of a lot of people you were, it was Rafe Cameron who you would usually stand up against and he could be an asshole but at the same time he respected that you would run your mouth at him even if it made you a pain in his ass from time to time. 

“My dad was different, it was a rare thing, like winning the lottery you know?” you muttered a small right looking at the sand, of course he was going to be an asshole about it. He saw your reaction and felt like he needed to comfort you. “What I’m saying is…” he didn’t really know if he was going to say the right thing, he sucked at comforting people “you’re gonna have a hard time getting out of there, maybe you’re gonna be better… like better off staying there, just accepting the reality” 

You looked at him, if you could strangle him with a look you would’ve done it, you scoff biting the inside of your cheek “You know what Rafe, fuck you, you don’t get it!” You stand up and take his jacket off and throw it at him before walking away. 

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” he stands up calling you out, grabbing his jacket but you’re already walking as fast as you could to get away from him “this girl…” he sighed, you annoyed him so much yet he felt bad, the look on your face before leaving, the words it had affected him more than he liked to admit. And watching you go directly to JJ after it just made it worse. You had heard him but you ignored him, what had made him think that any of what he said was okay? 

—

When you finally made your way back to your friends you regretted throwing him his jacket back, you were cold again. “Ah she 's back! where were you?” JJ piped in first as he watched you sitting near the bonfire. 

Just like Rafe you would rather choke than admit you liked talking to him and that’s where you were “Just taking a break from all this” you nodded hugging yourself, and if i go back? just for the jacket… 

“You’re cold? there’s a hoodie on the Twinkie you can grab it” JJ said as he walked to grab another beer, you nodded and decided to go grab it, maybe even stay there. You made your way to where the Twinkie was parked. 

—

Rafe didn’t leave the party even after the little fight, he was keeping an eye on you from a distance, he did that way more often than he liked to admit. He decided to follow you to wherever you were going. You were about to close the Twinkie with the hoodie on hand when Rafe showed up “You know you can always have this back” he lifted his hand where he had his jacket. You rolled your eyes while you put on the less warm hoodie. 

I huffed, closing the door of the Twinkie  “I don’t need or want your help, maybe you should accept that reality too” you said bitterly making reference to what he had said to you earlier. 

He rolled his eyes, he felt guilty for saying what he said but it was done and was trying to make it better without even saying sorry “You don’t let one go huh?” 

“You’re an asshole with me and then you want me to be okay with it? things don’t work that way, at least acknowledge that what you said was wrong” you crossed your arms, staring at him. He knew he was wrong, he felt bad about it but he wasn’t going to apologize or acknowledge it because every word you said spiked up his irritation in a way only you could. 

“If being wrong is stating facts then yeah im wrong” you groaned in frustration, again why did you even indulge him? It was like you were being pulled to him, as much as you knew you could just don’t talk back you never kept quiet with him, it was physically impossible.

“You’re an asshole, you come here saying stuff when you don’t even have a clue what it is to live in a place you hate but it’s still your home” he felt a sudden anger bubbling up, oh he knew about hating the place where he lived a little too much for his liking but you weren’t done talking “you’re so infuriating first you say I'm too much for the pogues, newsflash I’m one! that they hold me down but then when I tell you I want to do better you’re telling me I should give up?” you groaned in frustration and ran your hands through your hair. 

He stared at you, you looked pretty all angry at him, he shook his head, focusing back on his irritation “you’re done with your tantrum?” He knew that was just gonna make you even more mad and maybe he wanted to see how far he could take it, as much as he was different with you, he still was Rafe. The cocky kook asshole who thought everyone should listen to his words. You clenched your jaw from the annoyance. 

“What you didn’t like what I said? sorry I was just stating facts” you lifted a brow testing him back, you weren’t afraid of him, your friends had told you in multiple times to be careful that you didn’t know who you were messing with, but nothing ever happened to you beside the same old pogue comments and you were used to them they did hurt sometimes but nothing worth crying over it. It just fueled you to prove to everyone or him you could do the things he never thought you would. 

“Do you ever know when to shut up?” he huffed and you felt a pang of hurt in your chest. Out of all he had said this is what ends up actually hurting you? You swallowed and looked up at him “oh you do know when to shut up” he smirked, his stupid smug face, why did he have to be like that? 

“Do you ever know when to stop?” you pushed past him, you knew why this had hurt more than the rest of the things but you chose to ignore it, you could deal with that later or never. You turned around to walk back to where the rest of the people were. 

“Wait!” he yanked you back “you don’t get to tell me what to do” you looked at him frustrated, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath to try and calm yourself down but it was useless. 

“Neither do you!” I pulled my arm from his grasp “never touch me again, I don’t want to see you around, stick to the words you have said to my friends a thousand times, stay on your side of the island kook!” you had used the word with the same distaste he used the word pogue, you were done, he had made you feel horrible twice and you allowed it. You stormed off and this time he didn’t stop you, the words kept ringing in his head until Topper called him out. They were ready to leave and at the same time you convinced JJ to take you back to your house, Rafe looked from a distance, anger bubbling up inside him but there was nothing he could do about it. 

He left the party not long after you did, parts of the conversation still replaying in his head.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。• *₊°。 ❀°。

taglist: @starkeyvhs @oxpogues4lifexo @persiar9 @lenasvoid @zyafics if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :)

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[copper-16]

Mascot

Elena's first time getting to be Alexia's mascot.

(a/n: I feel like I'm on such a roll with these lol. Hope you all enjoy! Feel free to send more requests if you have more of Elena you want to see before I settle in to work on my next bigger project I have planned :)

Alexia had gone into the gym to do a few extra exercises after training, just to get a few reps in before the important game the next week. It was El Clásico in Barcelona once again, the day before her birthday in fact. She wanted to be prepared, she wanted to be sharp and focused. She was still coming back from her ACL, she was still yet to get back to the form everyone expected from her. 

The mental load was beginning to take a toll on her, and her birthday wasn’t really helping anything. Yet another reminder that she was getting older, that everything would get more complicated as tried to play whilst she aged. 

She was so focused on her reps that she doesn’t realize that Elena is standing in front of her until there is a tiny tap on her thigh, and she looks down from the weights she is holding to see that the three year old is peering up at her rather shyly. 

“Pequeña! What are you doing here my little love?” Alexia said sweetly, carefully setting the weight down before she sat down, scooping the baby into her arms and smothering her with kisses. The little giggles and laughs that Elena let out relaxed her whole body, and she felt herself smiling more genuinely than she had in days. 

“I…um…uh…I had a….a question!” The little girl explained, leaning back slightly as she reached up to shove some of her hair away from her face. It was sort of braided back, but a lot of the baby hairs that framed her face had gotten free, and now flowed freely in the slight breeze through the gym. Alexia followed her little hand with her larger ones, running it soothingly over the little girl’s forehead. 

Mapi and Ingrid’s daughter seemed nervous for some reason, and the midfielder furrowed her eyebrows a little bit, wondering what was making the usually outgoing and bubbly little girl so anxious. She looked quite concerned for someone who was only three years old.

“What is it Elena? It is okay, you can tell me,” she promised, her voice gentle. This seemed to settle the green eyed girl for a moment, enough for her to ask her question. 

“Walk out with you?” She asked carefully, her words clearly well thought out. Alexia’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline with surprise. Mapi or Ingrid usually never let their daughter walk out with anyone else, and she wasn’t sure if she could say yes. 

She hesitated for a moment, knowing what her heart wanted, while also wanting to respect her friends' boundaries. 

“PSSSST!”

The blonde turned her head to see that Mapi and Ingrid were peering around the corner, the Norwegian’s head over her wife’s as they leaned into the gym while not wanting to go into the room completely. 

Both of the defenders reached their hands up to give thumbs up, citing their clear agreement with the situation. Alexia felt her smile grow as she turned back to Elena, who was looking at her hopefully. 

“Yes! I would love for you to walk out with me!” She agreed easily, picking up the little girl and twirling her around, inciting another round of laughter and squeals as she hugged the toddler. 

Suddenly the game seemed a little bit more exciting, and a little bit less overwhelming. At the very least, she had something to look forward to. 

—

“Where is my baby!” Alexia announced as she all but ran into the changing room, throwing her bag down when she caught sight of Elena. 

“Tia!” She cried, running over on her little legs and running directly into the midfielder. The laugh that came out of the Barcelona captain’s mouth was more natural than anything, as she bent down to peel the toddler off of her legs and to lift her up into her arms, dancing her back and forth. 

Elena clapped along with the bopping the midfielder was doing, horribly out of rhythm but still joyful all the same. 

“Tía, Tía, look at my shirt!” She announced, pulling at the little Barcelona jersey she was wearing. Alexia assumed that it was one of Mapi or Ingrid’s shirts, but when she turned the little girl around it was her name and number plastered on the back. 

“You have my shirt! What, do you love me or something?” She teased in an overly exaggerated attempt to hide the emotion that bubbled up inside of her, and when Elena nodded enthusiastically, she tucked the girl into her to give her a big hug. Little arms wrapped their way around her and held her tightly, and she found that her nerves had dissipated for the most part, at least for now. 

Elena was passed back to Mapi for a while so that Alexia could get ready, and before she knew it they were getting ready to head out. 

Elena was passed back to Alexia, who held her hand very securely as they walked out into the tunnel, preparing to go out onto the field. The little girl was oblivious entirely to Alexia’s nerves, and she babbled about everything and nothing at all to her Tía. 

When Elena looked over at the Real Madrid team, she quickly noticed a familiar face in line, and before anyone could stop her she had turned her body entirely, calling out with a force that was rather surprising from a three year old. 

“HOLA TÍA MISA!” Elena called out as though Misa was not ten meters from her. Mapi and Ingrid were standing further back in the line, and the Norwegian had to hide her laughter in a cough while the Spaniard smacked her forehead with her palm. 

The goalkeeper was known for her focus before matches, and for her stony expressions when she was in the zone, so Alexia looked over almost in panic when Elena called out to her. She wasn’t sure if Misa not responding would make Elena sad or not, and what she was supposed to do with an upset toddler when they walked out for the match. 

But to her surprise, Misa’s expression broke at the sound of her name, and her whole body softened as she turned slightly, offering a small wave to Elena, her gloves strapped securely onto her hands. 

Elena’s whole face lit up in excitement that Misa remembered her, and she turned back to Alexia with a bright smile on her face. 

“That’s Misa!” She explained cheerfully, and Alexia pretended to be surprised, looking up at the Real Madrid goalkeeper, following Elena’s instructions. 

The toddler managed to keep them preoccupied until they were ready to walk out, and Alexia held her hand carefully as they made their way out. She had been sure to inform any photographer she could find that she really wanted pictures of walking out with Elena, and she could hear the snap of the shutter as they walked out to get ready. 

The crowd roared around them, and as Elena took it in while they lined up, she found herself hiding behind Alexia’s leg a little bit. She was clearly a touch nervous, and found safety in the Barcelona captain. 

It was one thing to know her goddaughter and love her, but it felt like another for the little girl to find safety in the midfielder. It had this ability to make her feel such warmth inside, and like suddenly football mattered just a tiny bit less. 

The blonde looked down at the little girl, her forehead creasing in concern. 

“Are you okay pequeña? It is okay to be scared, I know they are loud. But they are just excited for the game!” Alexia whispered loudly, pretending that she was telling the curly haired little girl a big secret. Elena looked up at her, seemingly holding onto every word she said as she watched her godmother, nodding slightly. 

She reached her hands up as soon as Alexia stopped talking, and the Spaniard easily picked her up, popping her onto her hip and adjusting her little jersey down over her stomach with a practiced ease. 

“Do you want to wave to the crowd?” The captain asked, and Elena’s smile spread as she reached her hand out, waving at everyone in the stands. 

There will be a picture for Alexia to frame, of the toddler with a big smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, while the midfielder laughed at her, gazing down at the little one adoringly. 

It’s only after the coin toss, which Elena helps with, that the little girl has to part from Alexia, so that they can play the game. The green eyed girl is passed to Patri, who begins to take her from her fellow midfielder before Elena calls out, causing Alexia’s steps to falter. 

“Tía Ale! Tía come back!” Elena all but wails, and for a second the game becomes obsolete to the Spaniard, who instantly turns back at the sound of the little girl’s clear discontent. 

“What? What is it?” She replies as she jogs over, and the curly haired girl reaches her hand up to her mouth before she runs over to Alexia, exaggerating a kissing motion off of her mouth and then pressing her hand to the Spaniard’s knee. 

“Good luck kiss! Score a goal!” Elena nods her little head at Alexia before she runs after Patri, who scoops her up and jogs them both to the bench so they can start the game. 

The Barcelona captain looks down at her knee for a second. The one the toddler had tapped was her bad knee, and even though Elena couldn’t know that, it felt a little symbolic. Her resolve to win strengthens as she sets up to play the match. 

—

Elena squirmed in Mapi’s hold as the game wound down, the Spaniard’s daughter knowing full well that it was nearly over. She had been subbed off about twenty minutes prior, and had collected her daughter from Patri to sit together on the bench, but all the little girl wanted today was Alexia it seemed. 

“Just one more minute!” Mapi laughed as the little girl let out a big huff, clearly displeased with that answer. She continued to twist and turn until the final whistle blew, and finally the center back released her, allowing the green eyed girl to take off as fast as her little legs would allow it. 

Ingrid was standing in between her and Alexia, and she bent down to receive her daughter, only for the little girl to drive by her completely, clearly not in search of her. Mapi, who had been trailing after her, laughed easily at the semi-annoyed look on her wife’s face. 

“Gosh, when did we become old news?” The Norwegian shook her head with a slight frown on her lips, but the brunette could tell her wife wasn’t really annoyed, not when they turned to see where their daughter was headed. 

Alexia was headed for the little girl just as much as Elena was running to her, and she bent down just as Elena made it to her, so that she could feel the toddler bury herself in her arms as she wound them around her in exchange. 

“You did it!” Elena announced happily, because the captain truly had. 

Alexia had scored a goal in the 79th minute of the game, and with the very leg where she had received a good luck kiss from the curly haired girl right before the match. 

“I did! And it was all thanks to you and your magic kisses, thank you so much!” Alexia gushed happily, pecking kiss after kiss to Elena’s little cheek as she held her tightly. The squeals and giggles released in response were well worth it, and she found herself leaning into the kisses that the curly haired girl offered in response, pressing wet little kisses to her cheek before she nestled herself further into Alexia. 

“Love you Tía,” Elena announced as she fisted one of her little hands in Alexia’s kit, and the midfielder was absolutely positive that her heart doubled in size at the words. 

“I love you too pequeña, always,” she promised as she pressed another kiss to the top of her head, holding the little girl securely to herself, rocking her back and forth.

[randxmthxughts]

Human Stuff - Neteyam x Human! Reader (afab)

summary: the one where a confused na’vi teenager tries to comfort his human friend while she’s on her period 

warnings: menstruation talk, feeding food

wc: 2.3k

a/n: can you tell that i’m on my period and this is all i want rn

also, neteyam not knowing about periods can be canon? i just read that na’vi are non-placental, so they most likely don’t menstruate like primates. eywa be looking out for her girlies lol. but what do i know

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam walks into the science facility confidently, knowing every nook and cranny like the back of his hand. Growing up, he has spent countless hours here with his siblings, and especially lately, he has been here every other day. His eyes search for you through the glass windows of the labs where he knows he is not allowed to step a foot in, ears perked up for a sign of you, even though it’s awfully quiet. The facility is mostly empty, and he assumes that the rest of the group is probably in their avatar bodies, busy with research. But it’s you that he’s looking for. 

Ever since you arrived at Pandora, Neteyam liked you right away. Roughly translated, the two of you were close in age, and had similar humor. Your father was the team lead of entomologists, and since you weren’t an actual scientist like the rest of the group, you had a lot of spare time to spend with Neteyam, exploring the forests. Your weekly meet ups with him became so familiar, that when you don’t show up at your regular meeting spot, Neteyam has to come and fetch you himself.

So here he is, walking through the labs, wondering if you had forgotten about your plans and were out with the others. It takes him some courage to sneak his head into the sleeping area, where he knew humans slept. Neteyam also knew very well that he wasn’t allowed back there because he could accidentally knock over things with his massive frame but he just needs to check. And his gut feeling isn’t wrong. You are laying in your bed, your back turned to him, completely unaware of his presence. Neteyam takes notice of how little you look with your body curled into a ball. 

At first, he assumes you’re asleep. A small smile stretches his lips, as he sneaks up on you planning to scare you awake for abandoning your plans. But as he readies himself for the loud growl, a small whimper escapes from your lips.

Neteyam stops in his tracks, his ears perking up immediately at the sound. He thought he had imagined it, but that theory gets quickly disproven when he hears another whimper. Moving quickly, he rounds your bed to confirm his suspicions. You jerk up at the sight of his big frame looming over you.

“Neteyam, what the hell?” your heart starts racing. 

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, sorry,” he slowly crouches down in front of your bed, with a guilty expression on his face.

You throw an annoyed look at him before wrapping your arms around your middle again, and pressing your face into the pillow. You don’t want him to see your face. Neteyam doesn’t move, watching you.

“Go away,” you mumble, hoping that for once he will just comply. 

“Did you forget about our plans?” he asks, ignoring your previous words, “Are you sleeping?”

“I am not sleeping,” you mutter angrily into the pillow.

Neteyam can’t quite put his finger on it but he knows that something strange is happening to you. Maybe it was the scent? Of course, he was used to your scent, he could sense you from a mile away because it always stood out to him. It wasn’t necessarily bad or good, it’s just the way he recognized you. But right now, for some reason, it was so intense, like somebody gathered it into a perfume bottle and sprayed it right into his nostrils. 

He instinctively sniffs the air, and you cringe out of embarrassment, wishing you were dead right at this moment. Stupid periods, stupid cramps, stupid human bodies. If only you were back home right now, indulging in comfort food and taking your usual painkillers that could soothe the pain. Whatever you had found in the lab's aid kit was clearly not strong enough, and you suspect that the pressure on Pandora is making it even worse.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes as another painful cramp surges through your already sore muscles.

"Y/N, are you hurt?" Neteyam asks, attempting to turn you to your side so he can see your face. You grumble in annoyance, resisting his movements.

"Can you please just leave me alone?" you snap at him.

“But what about our plans?” Neteyam stares at you confused.

“I’m canceling them,” you huff, “I’m going through some human-stuff.”

It feels like your insides are being twisted and squeezed over and over again. You place a hand on your lower belly, hoping to suit the pain, but it only gets worse. Noticing the way your face grimaces, Neteyam stands up.

“You’re in pain,” he states, “I will go for Tsahik.”

“No!” you protest, “No Tsahik!”

“But you look unwell,” he hesitates, unsure of what to do.

“No Tsahik!” you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling another cramp, “It’s a human thing, the pain will pass soon.”

Something about Neteyam standing there and watching you, makes you feel embarrassed. You already felt weak in comparison to him, whenever you tried to keep up with his running through the forest or climbing trees. He loved teasing you about it, and you don’t need another reason for him to poke fun at you. Your hand clutches one of the pillows under your head, and you sit up to shoo him away.

“Go away, you’re not allowed to be here,” you threaten him, raising your pillow in the air.

Neteyam frowns, still not moving. Angry at his sudden stubbornness, you throw the pillow at him with as much force as you can.

“Go!” you shout at him again.

Neteyam easily dodges the pillow but finally backs away from your bed. He knows that when you get angry at him, it’s because you’re embarrassed about something. He just can’t grasp what this “human stuff” is and why is it making you so stressed. Neteyam thought he knew plenty about humans from his dad, but Jake had never mentioned anything like this.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam is so confused on his way out of the facility that he barely notices Norm and almost bumps into him. Fortunately, Norm was in his avatar body and wasn't trampled by the teenage Na'vi. He chuckles at the way Neteyam doesn’t even stop to acknowledge him and keeps walking.

“You okay, kid?” Norm calls out after Neteyam, finally catching his attention.

“Norm, you’re one of the sky people,” Neteyam turns around. 

“I am,” Norm confirms with another chuckle, “Something bothering you?”

“Yeah… Can you tell me what is this ‘human stuff’ that you go through?”

Norm cocks his head, the question sounding so ridiculous, he assumes it’s a joke. But Neteyam looks serious.

“What ‘human stuff’?”

“I’m not sure but it looks like it is painful,” Neteyam shakes his head, “I just saw Y/N, and she was laying in her bed, and crying. It looked like something was hurting her, but she wouldn’t tell me what. Only said it was ‘human stuff’.”

“Maybe she’s just having a stomachache or something?” Norm shrugs.

“That’s what I thought. But when I wanted to get Tsahik for her, she got mad at me. Said that it will pass on its own.”

“I don’t know, man, I don’t understand women sometimes,” Norm replies, then a sudden realization hits him, “Ooooh…”

“What?” Neteyam’s ears perk up, “What is it?”

“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but she might just be on her period.”

“Period?” it was an unfamiliar word.

“Yeah, women get it every month,” Norm explains but it only seems to confuse Neteyam further, “Okay, so I’m probably not the best person for this but sit down.”

After what seems like an hour passes, Neteyam gives up on the human biology lesson with Norm. He sort of gets the idea of menstruation but he can’t imagine what it feels like, no matter how hard he tries. All he gets from this conversation is that Y/N needs to rest to feel better, and that the food she craves can help ease the pain? He is an alien; he has no idea what she wants.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Y/N?” Neteyam’s soft voice catches your attention.

The medicine you took earlier finally seems to work, and you feel slightly better. You prop yourself up on your elbows and see Neteyam walk into the room. A few colorful plastic bags in his hands catch your attention; these were usually hidden away in the very back of the kitchen cabinets for special occasions. Your mouth salivates at the sight of the chips and the cookies. 

“Are you feeling better?” Neteyam asks, now crouching down next to your bed.

You nod, sitting up, feeling a little guilty for shooing him away earlier. 

“I stole these from the secret stash,” he grimaces, laying out the bags on your blanket.

“My father is going to kill you for this,” you chuckle, reaching for the chips.

Neteyam smiles softly, as he watches you open the bag and fetch a few chips into your mouth. With a loud crunch, you munch on those with a giddy smile, then offer him some. Without much hesitation, Neteyam opens his mouth widely, letting you feed him a handful. You can’t help but chuckle at his blissful reaction to the taste; it was always fun for you to introduce Neteyam to human snacks. Your father got mad at you sometimes for it but you liked sneaking some for Neteyam, just to see him try it out. The sweets seemed to be too intense for him, but he liked salty things. 

“Good?” you ask him. Neteyam hums, then opens his mouth again, signaling for more. 

You chuckle before feeding him another handful. Though a teenager, Neteyam still required much more feeding than you did. So if you had a couple of chips at a time, Neteyam had to have a triple to fill his mouth.

“How did you know to bring these?” you ask him, now reaching for the bag of cookies. 

From your previous tastings, you knew that Neteyam didn’t like chocolate chip cookies. Or anything with chocolate, to be fair. You did not hide your disappointment the first time he almost gagged at the chocolate kiss you gave him, offended by the way his eyes teared up.

“Norm told me that your favorite food can help,” he shrugged, watching you bite down on a cookie.

Your eyes closed in satisfaction as you chewed on it, savoring the taste that filled your mouth. You haven’t had those in a long time.

“Help with what?” you open your eyes again.

“Your human thing,” Neteyam gestures at your stomach.

“Did Norm tell you what it means?” 

You feel heat flush to your cheeks, when Neteyam nods his head. You’re not sure why but the thought of Neteyam knowing makes you feel a little embarrassed. Not because there was anything embarrassing about getting a period. You just couldn’t imagine how weird it might be for him to know that you were bleeding out right at this moment, and he could probably smell it.

“Do you want to cuddle?” his voice catches your attention again. Where did he get that from?

You gulp down nervously, confused at how nonchalant he is. Maybe it’s not a big deal to him? He probably just wants to be supportive.

“Cuddle? Like, with you?” you clarify.

“Who else?” Neteyam chuckles, standing up.

He doesn’t wait for your response, instead gently nudging you to move to the middle of your bed. He was too big for it, so instead of laying down next to you, Neteyam decides to act like your headboard. You watch in confusion, as he slings his left foot over the bed and sits down, pressing his back against the wall, and setting down pillows on his lap. 

“Come on,” Neteyam pats the pillows, encouraging you to lay down.

You hesitate for a second, before laying down, as Neteyam’s huge frame hangs over you. He smiles at how small you look, gently propping up the pillows under your head to make sure you’re comfortable.

“This is a little weird,” you sigh, looking up at his face. 

Neteyam only chuckles and grabs the bag of cookies. He takes one out and offers it to you, bringing it to your mouth. As you open up to take a bite, Neteyam suddenly moves it out of your reach. You huff.

"Please, do not choke," he warns, before finally letting you bite into the cookie.

Eventually, you find yourself sitting up, leaning against his chest. As you swallow the bite, Neteyam feeds you again, listening to the satisfied sounds you make. 

“Feel better about the human stuff?” he nudges your shoulder.

“Much better, thank you,” you turn a little to look at his face.

While you were spending a lot of time with him, you’ve never found yourself in such close proximity with him. It felt weird but comforting. Like he offered you some sort of protection, a shield. 

“Can I ask what it feels like?” Neteyam breaks the silence, “Norm was sweating trying to explain it to me.”

You laugh at the thought of Norm trying to explain human biology to him. Nestling against Neteyam's chest, you make yourself comfortable and start talking. You both enjoy the snacks he brought, and occasionally he comforts you by rubbing small circles on your shoulders and arms. As the evening wears on, you start to feel tired and eventually doze off in his arms.

[thetrueressii]

ive been cooking up an rw anthro(?) au and i decided to work on arti first since she is a favorite of mine and i have her general storyline and stuff below the cut if you wanna read it lol

i have plans for the others soon

the general gist of this au is that slugcats and scavengers have small settlements, typically just called colonies or villages, that have loose connections

both slugcats and scavengers typically live in multigenerational homes, containing many different families in one shelter

major colonies or cities are usually settled on top of or around iterators, with those colonies taking up the ancients' housing

the timelines also are a lot more compressed with all the base game and downpour slugcats co-existing within close time frame, but still follows spearmaster > arti > hunter > gourmand > etc...

basically arti's story is that after the deaths of her pups, she goes mad from grief and vows to kill anyone who she deems responsible for taking away her pups (and those who get in her way)

she makes her way to five pebbles and eventually metropolis where she has her long-awaited confrontation with the scavenger king, expecting closure that never came

once it was done, she was left with nothing but misery and uncontrollable rage, and unwilling to leave, she became the next chieftain, of whatever was left of the scavengers in metropolis, making them do her bidding

tho over time her anger became mere embers, leaving her tired and miserable and five pebbles increasingly impatient with her

she is forced out of metropolis and leaves five pebbles facility grounds after hunter fights her on behalf of five pebbles along his journey to help moon, where shes going and for what reason is left up for debate (like literally i don't know where shes going and/or for what reason)

dont mind my horrid writing lol i barely write anything, still ironing out what i want and what i don't want so a lot of this is still up for change, but i think honestly this is a good writing and drawing exercise for me

[remlionheart]

Anonymous asked:

PLZZZZ i beg you smoking sesh w megumi

♡‧₊˚ ask and you shall receive ✩࿐࿔ it's been a while since i've done a meg drabble and out of all of the different drugs we've explored on this page, this just made me realize that i've never written about weed lol so thank u for the suggestion this was really fun to write <333 home from college au. heavy we-shouldn't-be-doing-this trope. aged up characters. fem!reader x ((the peoples’ husband)), *⟡toxic!megumi*⟡ 3.2k words. porn with a plot. angst. degradation and praise. stoned sex. lemme know whatcha think, luv u ‎‎♡‧₊˚

❀ MDNI ❀

keep me h i g h ₊⊹

now playing: wet dreams ☾₊˚

⊹₊ ⋆✿

It'd been four months since the last time you'd seen Megumi.

Between college and the city lines that separated you, the two of you had cut almost every tie that once kept you connected. It was strange to think about sometimes - how quickly you'd gone from being the person he spent almost every weekend with to being nothing more than a fly on the wall of his social media, occasionally liking his posts but never getting anything back in return.

You tried to remind yourself that it shouldn't have been a surprise. Your relationship with him had never been easy. All throughout high-school you'd fallen into the same pattern of push and pull with him, his feelings everchanging and impossible to keep up with.

He'd kiss you in private and ignore you in public. Tell you that you were just friends and sneak through your window on the nights he didn't want to be alone. Run his hand along your back until you had fallen asleep and leave without so much as a "goodbye".

As painful as it was, a part of you had almost been relieved when things finally ended. No more pushing, no more pulling - just you and the new town you'd moved to. You and the new friends you'd made. You and your new fresh start. You still wanted the best for him despite everything, but you also wanted the best for yourself too. And deep down, you knew that didn't involve drunken hook-ups and empty words.

You hummed as you stepped out of the shower, the smell of coconut shampoo and lavender body wash dancing around you. It was unexpectedly comforting to be back home, even if it was only for a few days. Your roommates had tried to talk you out of coming back to Tokyo for fall break, but you knew you couldn't do that to your parents. You were certain there would be another time for going out and Halloween house parties.

Your room was still exactly the same as you'd left it - a mess of purple blankets on your bed and off white string-lights decorating the walls. Clothes that you'd left behind still hanging in your closet along with a stack of old journals. Tarot cards and candles and framed pictures of you and your friends sitting atop your dresser. It was nice to know that it still felt like your safe haven despite months of not seeing it.

You continued humming the same song that you'd started in the shower as you slipped on a baby-blue tank top, pairing it with your favorite silk pajama shorts. You lit a couple of candles and cracked the window open, letting crisp October air swirl through your room before turning off the overhead light and crawling into bed.

A cozy sense of nostalgia crept over you as you nestled into your bed and pulled out your phone.

Just like when you lived here, you were the only one still up after a movie had put both of your parents to sleep. You were mid-scroll, debating on what Youtube rabbit hole you wanted to go down for the night when a text popped up that immediately put you in an upright position again.

⋆｡˚ ☁️˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

⋆｡˚ ☁️ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

You called him as soon as his last text came through, but he sent you straight to voicemail. "fushiguro," you texted frantically, "seriously", "you can't do this".

You were out of bed and on your feet before you even knew what you were doing, rushing to lock your door as you quickly realized that there was no such thing as reasoning with him.

Your life had changed in an assortment of ways since you'd left and judging by the way he texted you, he had to know that too. The last picture you posted before coming back was of you and a boy that you'd been seeing for the last month. It was mostly casual, neither one of you quite ready to put a label on what you were doing, but it still made your stomach flutter thinking about seeing Megumi when you were actively sleeping with someone else.

You dialed his number again, only to immediately hang up. Your heart suddenly lodged in your throat when you noticed that you could hear the call ringing from both inside and outside of your room.

You watched his slender fingers loop under the base of your already cracked window, stealthily pushing it up like he'd done so many times before. A sea of memories flooded over you as he pulled himself up, swiftly swooping both of his legs into your room before projecting the rest of his body forward and landing perfectly in place, hardly make a sound.

The low glow of your string-lights grazed his face, the prettiest shade of blue meeting your stare while the two of you took a moment to study the person in front of you.

"Your parents really need to invest in a better security system."

You hated the laugh that escaped you. The slight smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth. The way your blood still danced in your veins at just the sight of him.

So much had changed in the last four months and yet, here you both were.

"Surely you didn't come all the way over here just to critique our home safety." You whispered.

"Seems like someone should." He countered, following behind you as you took a seat on the side of the bed.

He fished a joint and a lighter out of the front pocket of his jacket before tossing it onto the floor, leaving him in a black v-neck that accentuated his arms. He'd always been toned, but it was obvious that he'd been training a lot harder since you left - his shoulders and chest noticeably more defined than the last time you'd seen him. You'd never say it aloud given their relationship, but the older he got the more and more he seemed to resemble his dad.

"Bring your fan over here." He said, breaking your train of thought.

You nodded, staying light on your feet as you brought it over and aimed it at the window before reaching into the back of your dresser to grab an ashtray that you'd had stashed away since sophomore year. It was like no time had passed at all as you took a seat next to him again, setting the ashtray on your nightstand while he twirled the joint between his fingers.

You weren't sure why, but there was something about the way he brought it to his lips and flicked his lighter that created a dull ache at your center. Everything about him was so pretty and so nonchalant, effortlessly detached and infuriatingly nice to look at.

"Does your new boyfriend smoke?"

Your eyes instantly snapped to his, watching a plume of smoke trail felicitously from his mouth as he looked back at you. "Doesn't really look like the type who would." He added with a slight raise of his brow.

You didn't like anything about the question - from that fact that he had the audacity to ask it to his lethargic tone to the emphasis on the word "new", as if he was trying to imply that you'd been dating someone before you left.

You clicked your tongue to your cheek, letting out a huff as you snatched the joint from his lips. "You're insufferable." You repeated, drawing in a deep inhale.

The truth was, the boy you'd been seeing didn't smoke pot and you hadn't either since you'd started college, but there was no way you were admitting that to him. You took another hit, keeping your attention fixated on the window as your fan circulated the smoke out and pushed it into the night sky.

"I'll take that as a no." He whispered, his leg lightly nudging yours as he leaned over and plucked the joint from your fingers this time.

"Why are you here?" You finally asked, a sharp edge growing in your voice. "You were the one that quit talking to me, you know that right? You didn't even bother saying goodbye and then you just show up unannounced like nothing happened and ask me about my life and who I'm seeing and..." The weed was starting to hit you, your body suddenly heavy and your mind dizzy with a confusing mix of intoxication and irritation. "I just... Why? I mean, what's the point of any of this?"

A rare somber expression took over, softening his usual concrete features as he ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I don't know..." His gaze was glossy, his mind equally as hazy as yours. "I didn't know what to say when you left so I didn't say anything. It seemed easier that way, for both of us."

"But it wasn't –"

"I know." His demeanor was unexpectedly gentle despite how firm his tone was. "I'm sorry."

The room felt like it was spinning, his apology making something inside you ache. It was the first time in the three years you'd known him that he'd ever said it. That he'd ever actually admitted or acknowledged to hurting your feelings and even if the bar was in literal hell, it still felt good to hear those words finally leave his mouth.

"What else?" You pressed.

He took a moment to look you over, his eyes tentatively roaming along your face. “I missed you." He said honestly.

You'd never met anyone besides him who was capable of sounding so sincere and so indifferent at the same time.

"Missed your stupid laugh. Missed the way you'd always call me when you were drunk." He leaned in closer, his hand carefully taking the joint from yours as he set it on the ashtray and rested his palm on the back of your neck.

"Missed being in your room like this..." His voice dropped down to a low whisper, fanning lecherously across your skin. “Missed the feeling of you wrapped around me…”

“Megumi… we can’t…”

But you still let him close the already small gap between you anyway, his lips ghosting yours as you breathed him in. The familiar scent of false promises and expensive cologne flooding your senses.

"I know you.” He said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You wouldn’t have texted me back if you didn’t want to.”

"I –" His words were going straight to your center, the dull ache from earlier blossoming into an unignorable throb as his hand gradually trailed up your thigh. "I didn't –"

"Wouldn’t have posted that you were back in town if you didn’t want me to know…" His fingers were toying with the fabric of your shorts, methodically pushing them to the side. "Wouldn’t have left your window open if you wanted to be alone…”

Your ability to hold yourself together was threatening to buckle at any moment between the feeling of his grip tangling into your hair and his lips continuing to tortuously graze yours.

“And you definitely wouldn’t be this fucking wet if you really didn’t want me here…”

Your heart was slamming into your chest so hard you were almost afraid he'd hear it.

He kept his eyes locked with yours, watching the last bit of composure you had vanish entirely as he slipped past the thin barrier of your underwear and gained access to your weakest point.

Your movements betrayed your sentiment, a helpless whimper escaping you while your hips gravitated up towards his hand, practically begging for more.

"Look at you," he breathed, his middle finger drawing soft, heavenly circles between your thighs. "All that time without seeing each other and you still fall apart for me so easily. Why is that?"

Another heady little noise entered into the small space between you as you fought to keep your moans from getting any louder. You hadn't been this high in months. Your insides felt like they were on fire as he dipped down, just barely prodding at your entrance. But the more you tried to get from him, the more he pulled away. Unwilling to comply with your body's demands until you answered his question.

"Tell me." It was venom mixed with honey. Torment mixed with pleasure. He had you right where he wanted you - desperate and pining. Forced to give him what he wanted in exchange for what you needed. "Let me hear you fucking say it."

You grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, doing everything you could not to whine when the tip of his finger gently slid into you and then stopped without warning - gracing you with just enough to finally bring you to your breaking point.

"I wanted to see you." you said breathlessly, your pupils widening as you felt him push slightly deeper.

"What else?" He taunted, using your words against you.

"I wanted you – here." You yelped, your voice splitting as he sank in further.

You were delirious, ready to actually plead if that's what it took to get him to cave. "I want – fuck, Megumi, please just –"

He was half-way in, teetering on the verge of letting you have it as long as you could get the next sentence out.

"Say it."

"I want you inside me." It poured out so fast, it was barely even coherent. "I want you inside of m...e – so fu–cking bad, please."

Your chest pressed against his in an urgent daze, pulling him closer while his lips met yours - neither one of you able to withstand the tension for a second longer. His movements matched your fervency as he added another finger, finally letting your walls swallow him.

He deepened the kiss, trying his best to keep you quiet while your hips rocked rhythmically against him.

"So pretty and pitiful" he whispered, lightly nipping at your collarbone. "You're already almost there. You sure you can handle me being inside you?"

You nodded hopelessly back at him.

"I can... take – it." You struggled, feeling him smirk into your neck as his thumb brushed against your clit, drawing out even poutier noises from you. "Promise."

"Prove it."

His tongue swirled lavishly into the softness of your clavicle, leaving little bruises in the shape of his mouth while his fingers continued to plunge innnn and out of you at the same heavenly pace.

"There you go." He breathed, promptly returning his lips back to yours as he felt your thighs begin to shake. "Just like that, don't fucking stop."

You hated how well he knew you. Hated how easily he was able make you clench and spasm around him. You were soaking his hand, burying your face into his shoulder to stop yourself from waking up the entire house.

"Oh, my fucking... god, Megumi –" Your nails dug into his back, your body nearly vibrating with pleasure as you grinded against him.

“It's okay, I've got you." He whispered, letting you cling onto him as you rode out the waves of your orgasm. You'd always been submissive, but he wasn't sure that he'd ever seen you quite this needy before.

He slowly pulled out of you, guiding you down to the bed before standing up to grab the joint out of the ashtray, lighting it one last time.

He leaned down, locking eyes with you while gently cupping your face. His lips just barely touching yours so that you were forced to share the same breath, allowing you to inhale the smoke he exhaled as he helped you out of your shorts.

"Such a good girl."

Your back arched, immediately wanting him back where he was as he got to his feet and set the spliff on your nightstand. You watched him intently, your core throbbing while he began to unbutton his pants. You were blissfully high, your mind swirling with sleepy infatuation and pent-up lust.

He almost seeming amused, noticing how entranced you were as his stripped out of his boxers. Tauntingly stroking himself while he used his free hand to push your both of your thighs onto the mattress so that you were on your back facing him with your legs folded to the side. You couldn’t help but smile as he rubbed his tip between your folds, letting out a low groan as he wetted himself with your slick.

“Fuck, I forgot how good you feel.”

Your hand tangled into the sheets, your body reeling from the way his tip was already stretching you.

"You gotta stay quiet for me." He reminded you, trying to heed his own advice as he slid in slightly further. “Pretty sure your dad will actually kill me if he catches me here again."

"So you want me to scream?" You smirked, but your sarcasm was quickly stolen from you.

He cocked an eyebrow at you before leaning back down, his voice becoming salacious static against your ear. "Don't make threats you can't keep."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your cunt pulsating as he put a hand over your mouth and thrusted into you.

He returned your smirk. Watching your pupils double in size as he nipped at your neck, muffling your moans with his palm.

"It's not easy for me either." He whispered - one hand still on your mouth, the other reaching for your center. "Being this deep in you and not being able to hear you say my name."

Your knuckles were almost white from how hard you were gripping the bed, your mind and body both completely overwhelmed by fucked-out euphoria.

"To have you wrapped this nice and tight around my cock without getting to hear all the cute little noises you make for me." He slammed into you, his rhythm blissfully unforgiving.

"You think that's what I want?"

You shook your head, his hand catching more carnal whimpers that were trying so hard to spill out of you as your hips bucked up against his.

The feeling of him playing with your clit while having you folded like this was almost too much to handle. You were lost - floating somewhere above cloud 9 with his thrusts only ascending you higher.

"What do you think I want to hear, baby? Hm?" His tone was condescendingly sweet. Mocking in a way that made your heart stutter and your walls contract. "Tell me."

He loosened his grasp on you, nearly bottoming out as his name echoed uncontrollably across the room. "Megumi ~” You whined again, completely forgetting your surroundings. "Megumi, fuck, you're gonna make me –"

Your climax laced through his fingers as his hand swiftly flew back over your mouth. His arms keeping you locked in place while your body writhed beneath his.

“There it is”, He praised, his tip kissing your cervix at just the right angle. “There’s my fucking – girl.” His head lolled back, his release following right behind yours.

He buried his head into your shoulder this time, letting out the most gorgeous, guttural sounds you'd ever heard as he filled you - not stopping until he could see his cum dripping out of you.

He pulled out carefully, taking a moment to admire his work while a mixture of fluids leaked onto your comforter.

“Hey," he said, running a hand through his hair before looking back at you. "Do me a favor when you get back."

You were still catching your breath, dizzy from overstimulation as you met his gaze. "What do you need?” You panted.

"Tell your new boyfriend I said 'thanks'."

You narrowed your eyes at him, watching a stupid smirk cut across his face while he slid his pants back on. “If he would've known how to fuck you right, I might not have gotten the chance to see you."

"You're insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

⋆｡˚ ☁️ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆