#constant thoughts of its pointless and no one cares

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a

[holybibly]

ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕫𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕞 | 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: smut, idol!Au, s2l, fragment of life

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 12,9k

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Seven times you've been lucky, on the eighth Song Mingi from Ateez shows you a side of himself that his fans will probably never get to know.

𝕎𝔸ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾: Pervert Idol! Mingi, Unprotected sex, stomach bulge, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, face fucking, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, somnophilia, multiple orgasms, сreampie, sexual audio recording, rough sex, praise kink and more.

𝔸/ℕ: Wrote this overnight, it's really crazy. Gosh, I am so excited to show you the handsome Mingi who has become a favourite for an overnight train ride poll. I hope it lives up to your expectations. This is one of the 4 pieces I've been working on. It brings us closer to a tender and sensual smut with Seonghwa (I'm still suffering from the idea).

I'll make a masterlist this weekend.

Comments, reblogs and questions are always welcome. I'm completely open to communication, so don't be shy bunnies. We have a safe space here.

Lots of love to you all. Have fun on your night train ride with Mingi.

dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

"Take care, darling; you never know what may happen. Especially in the night." Asa's voice was soft, but with a note of insistence.

"Asa, you don't have to worry so much. It's just a night train; I've done it a thousand times." You sigh tiredly, knowing it was pointless to argue with Asa, and yet, in a way, she was right. You never know what might happen at any given moment in your life.

"There's always a first time, Y/N. Take care, and be sure to text me when you get on the train."

"Sure, I will see you soon." You pull the sleeves of your shortened jumper tighter as you press the call disconnect button.

The night air is cool and fresh, dancing on your skin like a light breeze, crawling under the hem of your short skirt, tickling the soft, milky skin of your bare thighs. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you begin to regret your choice of clothing. It's too open and too revealing, both for the time of day and for the situation.

But it doesn't matter; the train is warm and cosy in its own way, and soon you'll be relaxing on the soft seats of the dark compartment under the peaceful rhythmic rocking, but most importantly, you'll be alone without the noise and bustle. Travelling to Tokyo is great, and you enjoy every second, but the crowds get tiring and the incessant noise starts to stress you out.

That is why an overnight train journey is a nice and relaxing change of pace.

It's a spontaneous trip to another city, just for a few days—a place quieter and more secluded than the never-sleeping Tokyo. Asa is waiting for you to finally join her, having travelled there the day before yesterday. Rumour has it that this is also the town where you're most likely to find the most Korean idols, who have come to relax in the luxurious hot springs.

They always come here to spend their long-awaited holidays without the constant camera surveillance and screaming fans. You didn't care if you met any of the celebrities there. Seeing a pretty face here and there was a nice bonus, but the main purpose of your trip was the hot springs and a few gourmet restaurants with high user ratings.

It's not that you were totally ignorant of idols; you were aware of many groups thanks to Asa and her crush on pretty boys, but you were a realist, and it was just stupid to have rosy dreams for a guy who had never seen you in his life, and if he had, he probably wouldn't remember you. That's why it didn't matter to you at all whether or not you met any of the pretty idols along the way.

You always thought night trains were the best way to travel. Travelling during the day is too hectic, too noisy, and too impractical. Instead of sitting in a stuffy metal box on wheels and wasting precious time, you could be doing something useful. There's always the chance of a night's rest, even if it's just for a few hours, and the next morning you'll be somewhere else, full of energy and good humour.

This was the seventh time you'd travelled by overnight train, and so far you'd considered yourself lucky. You were so grateful that you'd never had to share the confined space of your compartment with anyone else. The prospect of sleeping next to a stranger wasn't the most appealing one, and it would no doubt make you very nervous.

You cross your fingers in the hope that your luck will hold this time around. As you walk down the aisle of the train, you shift your gaze from your ticket to the small numbers on the tightly closed compartment doors. You try to find your seat. When you finally find it, you exhale with relief and push open the heavy sliding door. You are glad to be able to sit down and stretch your legs, taking off the most uncomfortable shoes in the world. It's first-class. The door opens silently and smoothly, allowing a thin strip of light from the narrow corridor into the secluded compartment, illuminating it with a bright yellow glow.

You've never thought about sharing your space with anyone else because you're so used to being alone. Except for a few passengers who seem to share your point of view, most people prefer to travel during the day, so the night trains are usually almost empty. Once your eyes get used to the changing light, you can't help but gasp at what you see.

"Oh!"

You're not alone. There's someone else in the semi-darkness of your compartment.

Someone from whom it seems impossible to take your eyes off, no matter how rude it might be of you to do so. There's a man sitting on the seat directly in front of you, with his legs spread wide open and his mobile phone held loosely in one hand. He is an incredibly attractive guy. You quickly look away, embarrassed that you're openly checking him out, as your eyes slide down his body. He's dressed in a black suit that hugs his thick thighs. God, this is embarrassing. His jacket is folded beside him, leaving him wearing a single black shirt and a few buttons undone on his chest, contrasting beautifully with his smooth golden skin.

For the second time that night, your eyes met his, and you gasped. You somehow know who those eyes belong to, and who doesn't? Two puddles of melted milk chocolate, the soft, sugary look of puppy dog eyes—Song Mingi, a gorgeous, cheeky rapper from Ateez. Oh, boy.

You swallow loudly at the realisation that your eyes aren't the only ones analysing the stranger in front of you.

"Good evening." You bow and lower your head as you realise that you've clearly been staring at the idol all this time. Suddenly, you feel so ashamed that you can't even imagine meeting his gaze again. In return, you get a small hum of approval from him and a polite nod of the head from him.

You finally decide to go inside and close the door behind you after a few seconds of awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. The lights inside are rather dim, a bit of a nuisance despite the fact that they hardly illuminate your compartment at all, and you wonder if he would mind if you asked him to turn them off completely at some point. Eventually, it starts to make your sensitive eyes ache, but you don't want to make Mingi feel uncomfortable by asking for it.

The atmosphere was already awkward and strange, and you didn't want to make it worse. He must have decided to take the night train for the same reasons you did. And here you are, the two of you, strangers, although can you really call a guy the whole world knows a stranger? In the semi-darkness of a night compartment, without prying eyes or cameras.

The situation seemed to be stressful, and that's why you were so grateful that up until now you hadn't had to share your space with anyone else on overnight journeys. Even so, there was something strangely intoxicating and exhilarating about the whole thing.

Does it look like your luck has run out, or have you managed to grab it by the tail?

You take your bag off your shoulder and tiptoe up to put it on the luggage rack with your back to him. Unfortunately for you, you can't get to it. Right now you're cursing your short stature for looking utterly ridiculous in front of a good-looking guy, and not just any guy, but Song Mingi himself. You can feel the muscles in your legs tense up in pain as you try to stretch yourself up, and you have the feeling that the bag in your hands is getting heavier and heavier the more you try to put it on the shelf. It's so embarrassing that you let out a muffled, awkward laugh.

"I'll give you a hand with that." The unexpected touch of the palm of your hand against your lower back upsets your balance, and your body jerks.

Your head jumps up, goose bumps running up your arms and creeping down your back as you realise that Mingi is now standing next to you, too close to be considered decent. The scent of his woody, tart perfume fills the small space between you, and you long to bury your face in his broad, muscular chest and take a deep breath of him.

He easily takes the bag from you and sets it on top of the top compartment, the touch of his other hand still palpable—hot, confident, and somehow possessive—as it slides down, almost to the curve of your butt. 

You look down and suddenly realise how far your skirt has been pulled up. It now exposes most of your milky thighs and barely covers your bottom. Trying to look as decent as possible, you pull down the hem of your skirt with a soft squeak to get your clothes back in place. Your cheeks are flushed with shame and embarrassment. Looking up again, you realise that Mingi is watching you intently, watching every move of yours.

"You're so tiny." He says this, tilting his head to one side and letting the corner of his soft, plump pink lips curve up in a smirk.

Your heart flutters at the thought, perhaps a little more than it should be doing. You would never have thought that you would feel a strange mixture of emotions—something between excitement and extreme embarrassment—over something so trivial, perhaps even offensive.

"Maybe you're the one that's too tall." You realise this and immediately feel sorry for yourself, desperately wanting to put your hand over your mouth. God, can't you just make yourself look even stupider in his eyes? You shouldn't have said that aloud.

In response to your words, Mingi hums and raises an eyebrow. There is a gleam of amusement in his beautiful brown eyes; your comment seems to amuse him. Your cheeks heat up from the blush that is spreading over them, but you're grateful for the playful reaction; it makes the situation a little less weird and awkward.

You really should sit back in your seat and shut up so you don't say too much, something along the lines of, "You look absolutely stunning in that suit; can I sit on your lap?".

Eventually, you turn your attention to the hand still on your hip, and the sight of his long fingers adorned with massive rings makes your knees tremble more than you'd like to admit.

When he pulls away, you find that the loss of his touch is making you feel as cold as ice. You quickly come to your senses and sit down on the opposite side of the idol, who follows your lead and settles down in his own seat.

You take out your phone and text Asa, as promised. God, you'll have so much to talk about when you meet. Awkwardly crumpling the hem of your skirt, you wait for the train to depart. For a long minute, there is silence in the compartment—an utterly awkward, embarrassing silence.

Every time you cast a quick glance towards Mingi, you notice that his eyes don't seem to leave you for a second. He presses the tip of his tongue lightly against the corner of his plump, beautiful lips, as if analysing your every move.

It makes you nervous to be in your own skin.

"I'm Mingi." Your ears perk up in an instant as soon as he starts to speak again.

When he says his name, his voice sounds so soft, soothing, and confident. You can't remember the last time you've been so attracted to another man's voice. It makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter, and maybe, just maybe, it makes you squeeze your thighs a little harder than you should.

 

This is messed up.

"I know." You answer quietly. This is a fucking embarrassment. You decide you've humiliated yourself enough in front of him, so after a moment, you add. "Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Ah, so you know, eh?" He smiles brightly, and you somehow melt. "And here I was thinking' we were just strangers to each other. That's not a problem for you, Y/N, is it?" The way he says your name takes your breath away from you. It's something in his nature—a hidden but imposing dominance, so deep with a quiet note of authority. There were darker layers lurking beneath that image of sweet charm.

You have no idea why he has such an effect on you, but it's safe to say the overwhelming feeling is not entirely unwelcome.

"No, no, it's fine." You wave your hands in an awkward manner. "It should have been my turn to ask if it was OK. At a time like this, I guess you didn't expect anyone else to be using the train." Your cheeks flushed, and you nervously bit your lower lip.

"How cute."

You bring your hand up to your face and press it against your hot cheeks, trying to cool them down a little. Cute! It's a real miracle that you manage to stop yourself from squealing enthusiastically.

"Are you going travelling, Y/N?" He tilts his head to the side in an interested way, like a curious puppy, and you can't help but smile in response to that.

.

"Yes, to the hot springs." Looking anywhere but at Mingi, you reply humbly.

"Ah, I see. Takayu Onsen?"

"Tamagawa Onsen, actually."

At your words, the idol nods understandingly, and a dazzling smile appears on his lips. God, can he get any more handsome?

"Of course it's Tamagawa. Somehow I can't imagine you anywhere else; this place is your kind of place. Then you're stuck with me. I'm going there too; the boys and I have to spend a few days there before the concerts." He says it in such an easy and casual way. As if you've known each other for a long time.

"Um, it's quite a long trip. Are you sure you'll be comfortable?" You ask Mingi, vaguely hoping that you'll be able to sneak away from him and find yourself comfortably alone again. For some reason, his presence makes you feel very uncomfortable and makes you tingle. There's something special about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"It's fine. Really, don't worry." Mingi settled himself more comfortably in his seat and spread his long legs a little further apart, causing the tight fabric of his suit trousers to stretch and outline the contours of his gorgeous, muscular thighs. His whole posture seemed to say, "You're not getting rid of me that easily." "Actually, I'm the one who should be asking if your boyfriend is upset that you will spent the night with another man." There is something about the way he says it that makes you tense up inside, but you ignore it completely and answer quietly instead, crossing your legs shyly.

"I've no boyfriend." And without knowing it, you give him exactly the answer that Mingi wanted. "I'm just on a road trip with a friend." Shying away from making full eye contact with him, his gaze so intense and focused, your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as you speak.

When he speaks again, you can almost hear the smile in Mingi's deep voice.

"Then I hope you'll enjoy it fully."

Silence falls over you once more. You keep looking at your shoes, desperately wanting to take them off and curl up on the soft seat. But Mingi's presence prevents you from relaxing completely. As the train sets in motion, you give a slight jerk. Midnight, it's now. It will take about eight hours to get to Tamagawa, and you should arrive at the station in the morning.

You let your eyes slide down from your shoes to Mingi's legs in stealth. His thighs are so muscular and strong that he could probably squeeze you between them, and you wouldn't be able to move an inch, trapped as you were under his tall, strong body. You feel warm between your legs, and you bite your lower lip, hoping Mingi is too busy phoning to notice you're staring at his thighs. And you have to push away the thought of how nice it would be to ride one of those beautiful, thick thighs and rub your pussy against it.

"This is a beautiful pendant. It looks good on you." The sound of Mingi's voice makes you jerk, and you raise your eyes to him fearfully.

Instinctively, you press your fingers against the gleaming heart of crystal that sits on your chest. It's massive—heavy on your chest, glimmering cold, hard to miss.

"Thanks; it's my favourite too." The compliment takes you completely by surprise, but at the same time, it brings a slight, sweet pout to your lips.

Mingi can't help but think about what that pendant is going to look like between your naked tits while you're being scolded like there's no tomorrow. He can bet that it's going to be fucking amazing. His plump lips curl up in a smirk.

"Do you always wear it?" Contextual question: When you get fucked, do you take it off?

"Yes. It's my lucky charm." As if to warm it up, your fingers wrap around the large crystal, rubbing it a little. "It always brings me good luck."

"How appropriate." Mingi observes, chuckling grimly.

For an idol, Mingi seems inordinately interested in learning more about you, but you naively chalk it up to a trivial lack of social contact and a limited opportunity to see the world without the constant scrutiny of managers and the attention of cameras.

You're too enamoured with his sweet, playful personality, reminiscent of a big, soft puppy. You'll fancy yourself under his scrutiny and answer all his questions, even the ones that make you blink in confusion or blush hotly. Mingi is a real sweetheart, and you can totally agree with his fans: He's such a nice, nice guy. Little do you know about him...

He does it almost mechanically, moving his hands so you can't take your eyes off them, twirling the massive silver rings on his long phalanges, touching his plush, juicy lips with his fingertips, and noticing the beautiful gel on his nails. Your body reacts to his every move; your lower abdomen feels pleasantly tight, and you can feel a faint throbbing between your legs every time he smiles at you, making you squeeze your thighs together and squirm nervously in your seat.

"Sorry for asking so many questions. You know it's not always easy to talk to someone." He lowers his eyes shyly and bites his plump lip. You immediately try to put his concern at ease.

"I get it; being an idol must be hard, having to be in control all the time."

Damn, you were so right; you'd run away from him as soon as you opened the door to the compartment if you only knew what dirty, lustful thoughts he's having about you and how his sweet smile hides a passionate desire to push you into the padded seat and fuck you so hard you can't think or walk.

But Mingi was good at it. He could control his face and body very well, thanks to Seonghwa's great example. He had taught him only the best.

"You must be tired; if you want, we can turn off the light and you can go to bed." Mingi said, noticing that you were rubbing your eyes more and more, stumbling over your own words, and yawning all the time. "You can trust me; I'll take care of you, Y/N." The tone is so sweet, too sweet, to hide the true meaning of what he's saying: Sweetheart, I want to jerk off to your sleepy, pretty face as you relax in my presence—so seductive and vulnerable.

That deep, honeyed tone inevitably makes your thighs clench, but with it comes a flood of guilt as you feel your panties get wet, and dirty thoughts put you in such an uncomfortable position that you have to fidget awkwardly on the seat, praying by all that is holy that your embarrassing arousal goes unnoticed and you don't leave a wet spot on the seat.

"Are you sure?" You're terribly tired from the day. The offer is so tempting, and Mingi is so charming and respectful. A real gentleman.

Mingi smiles softly, but it is a smile that looks a little predatory at the edges as his big, hot palm comes down on your bare knee. It sends a shiver down the length of your skin.

"Sure, go to bed, doll."

You feel yourself blushing again, but you can't tell why—the heavy, hot touch of his hand against your skin or the caressing nickname. God, this guy is a threat. You give a slow nod and turn your gaze to the dimly lit wall sconce on the wall. Mingi follows your eyes and reaches up to turn it off, plunging the entire compartment into a pleasant darkness. The faint, diffused light of the moon through the window is the only source of light that allows you to see each other's faces. A smile of gratitude is on your face in response to his actions.

"Thanks, I had no idea how much my eyes were hurting."

"You're welcome, doll."

You try to ignore the way his voice seems to sink lower. It takes on such a velvety, dark tone that it makes you even wetter between your legs. You pull back. Mingi has been so sweet and polite to you all this time; you should be ashamed of these feelings.

As you lean back in the empty seat beside you and close your heavy eyelids, the touch of his hand fades. You feel a strange comfort in Mingi's company, despite your earlier apprehension at being so vulnerable in the company of a stranger. Despite being a world-famous star and just a damn gorgeous man, he really is so kind and attentive to you. You do not dare to doubt what he says. Mingi has promised to take care of you, and you are strangely comforted by the thought. In fact, he really is a very caring man. You begin to suspect that this is true for all of them.

Before you close your eyes again, you look at Mingi. His dark gaze is fixed on you, and there is something raw in the depths of those chocolate-coloured irises of his. The moonlight falling on him makes his chiselled face look sharper and sexier, and there is no longer the sweet smile and adorable puppy-dog expression on his handsome features. It makes you take a sharp breath before your fluttering eyelids stay closed, weighed down by sleep. Your whole body relaxes, and you let yourself drift off to sleep, lulled by the peaceful rocking of the train and the calm presence of Mingi.

Mingi just can't take his eyes off you. You look so tiny, so soft and juicy with your plump arse and the most delicious pair of tits he's ever seen. They're perfect to hold in his hands and his hands are just itching to squeeze them into his palms, feel their weight, pull on those pink nipples until you start wriggling and sobbing. Oh, how he wants to hear the sweet sounds you make as he fills you with his cock, or even better, as you moan out his name.

For tonight at least, he just wants to have you. Mingi isn't at all picky about where he wants to get laid; a night train isn't the worst option. He's been fucked in more uncomfortable places than this. But that wouldn't be very nice of him. Would it? He said he'd look after you while you slept so innocently in front of him in that seductive little skirt. He wonders if you're wearing lace or silk knickers. It's probably silk, because you look as if you're enjoying the light and soft touch of the silk fabric against your sweet pussy. You must also be very sensitive.

Y/N. He is absolutely mesmerised by you. Everything about you is so enticing. The way your round cheeks blush, the beautiful way you smile, and especially the way you squeeze your thighs together every time he turns to you. You are a little slut. Mingi is absolutely delighted with how he's making you feel. He makes you nervous. He wants nothing more than to get under your skin even more.

But if Mingi has learned anything by now, it's that despite your best efforts, you're not a very subtle person. In fact, you're easy to read. Your petite body gives you away all the time. Your teeth bite your plump lower lip until it's swollen and red. Your eyes never leave his hands as he deliberately plays with his rings, causing you to lose your train of thought. You're probably thinking about him using his fingers to stretch your tight hole or using his fingers to fuck your soft, wet mouth. Mingi's sure he'll have to spend enough time getting you to take three fingers in your cunt before lowering you on his cock, and maybe you'll even let him play with your virgin arse. Hell, he'll beg you if he must. Fuck his pride at the prospect of being the first to fuck your plump arse. He's going to have to make a video of himself fucking you so stupid and so deep. San is going to go mad when he sees your juicy arse blushing under the palms of his hands and and jiggling seductively every time he enters you up to your balls.

You are definitely something special.

That's what Mingi tells himself over and over and over again. He's just reaching out to you. Nothing more than that.

Just like he promised, he'll take care of you. You'll feel good, and getting his dick wet will be a nice bonus for him.

He takes another good look at your beautiful face as he leans forward in his seat. Your lips are wet, plump and parted, and he can't help but imagine how beautiful they would look stretched around his big cock. You're going to have to practise getting yourself to swallow his dick whole, you probably won't get more than a quarter of him the first time. The thought of it is the cause of the salivation in his mouth. 

Your eyelashes are touching the top of your cheeks, your soft dark hair is beautifully curled up in ringlets, and Mingi wants to mess it up and pull it out. You look absolutely angelic. A real doll. Mingi has never seen an angel before. He can't be blamed for his desire to have a touch and to defile.

Idol or not, Mingi is just a man. 

It all begins with a small movement of his fingers over the kneecap of his knee to the top of his thigh. He can feel how his touch raises the goose bumps on your skin. Mingi feels bolder and lowers his palm all the way down to your thigh, letting it rest gently on your body, and then gently reaches up to the inside of your thigh, making you shiver. At the sight, Mingi licks his lips. It would be easier if he came closer. Would it?

As he kneels down, he places his other hand on your leg, now touching both of your thighs. Your skirt rises with each touch of Mingi's eager hands, lifting the fabric higher and higher each time. He glances over your voluptuous body, his gaze lingering on the spot where your sweater has risen, exposing the soft skin of your stomach and the peeking lower half of your bra. Fuck. He can't quite make out what it is in the dark, but he knows it must be the creamy silk that covers your full breasts. That makes him dig his fingertips harder into your skin.

You move in your sleep, shifting until you're on your back, giving Mingy full access without even wanting it. It's as if you want to make it even easier for his dirty hands to touch your chaste, tantalised body. When he sees an opportunity, Mingy never says no. Carefully, he slides one hand under your skirt while the other continues to massage your thigh in a soothing way. Confirming his earlier thought, his fingers are impatient and run briefly over your panties. They're silk, and they're wet as hell. You're soaked through, and he's already decided that he's definitely taking your panties with him. He'll be sure to jerk off in them when he has a bit of free time later.

"Oh, dolly, you're so damn wet." Mingi moans hoarsely as his fingers slowly slide over the wet material, rubbing it. The furrowed brow quickly disappeared, and the doll's lips parted in a perfect 'o', a short sob escaping from them. "Precious little one."

Your legs twitch in an attempt to squeeze Mingi's forearm, but he quickly calms you, spreading your thighs with his free hand and smiling carnivorously at the soft squeal that escapes your lips as you feel long fingers play with your plump clit through your underwear. If the fans knew what their adored idol was doing, they'd be going crazy. But they probably already knew. Considering the number of female fans they've fucked over the years, the information has leaked out somewhere in the tight circle of their fandom.

Mingi decides he doesn't like the silk barrier. He slides his hand under the silk of your panties and touches the wet warmth of your cunt, making his trousers suddenly feel too tight around his crotch.

As if he'd just discovered a new toy that he wanted to touch and explore before playing with it, he let himself explore the wetness. You are soaking wet, and Mingi can feel that he is gradually losing all self-control and all control over himself. He wants to taste you; he wants to feel you on his tongue; he doesn't even mind rubbing his face against you like a dog. The pressure of his thumb against your throbbing clit finally seems to wake you up. You gasp and begin to open your sleepy eyes. You look around in confusion. Then you let out a startled cry as you noticed Mingi crouching beside you, one hand between your thighs.

"Shhhh." As your legs begin to convulse, Mingi quickly reassures you. "It's all right, doll; it's just me. You can go back to sleeping if you want to. I'll take care of the rest." He whispers it in a velvety, soothing voice, as if he were trying to lure a kitten into his arms.

You still seem to be very disoriented; your eyes are not quite open, and you are whimpering in despair and shame at finding yourself in a situation for which you were totally unprepared. Mingi kneels before you. Song Mingi is kneeling before you with his hand pressed against your pussy. 

It is Mingi's wish that he could do away with all your worries and nerves. He knows he could, if only you would stop squeezing your legs so tightly around his hand.

"M-Mingi, what..." There's a sharp exhale from you at last, as if you're coming to terms with the situation. "What are you doing?"

The idol gives you a seductive smile.

"You looked like you needed help, doll. So needy and restless. Let me help you, huh? Let me take care of you, Y/N." Mingi leans down on your thigh to plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on it. When he lifts his eyes up to you, they're bright and languorous, but with that adorable puppy-dog expression that's so well known to his fans.

"I'm going to take good care of you."

You resist, still stunned by the sight and situation you woke up from, and bring your hands to your chest, unconsciously wrapping your arms around the heart-shaped pendant for reassurance. Mingi allows her fingers to continue doing what they were doing before, slowly circling over your clit, causing you to catch your breath. Your small hand reaches out for Mingi's palm, which is still gripping your thigh tightly, the nails digging into his skin.   "Y-you shouldn't do that. You...you can't act that way; what  if?"You sob in a convulsive manner, your glassy eyes meeting Mingi's. Sexy, gorgeous, and lecherous Mingi, the sweet image of him completely shattered, towers over you even in this position. Despite your words, your body has its own opinion: your lower lip is caught between your teeth, and your breasts are rising and falling rapidly. The way your thighs are still trying to squeeze together and the way more and more moisture is dripping onto Mingi's fingers is a clear sign of approval for his actions to continue.

You're so easy to read. Mingi loves it. He's always liked the more responsive and sensitive type better. For him, what a pleasure it is to fuck them, dumb and docile.

"And why shouldn't I be, huh?" Mingi says as he intertwines his fingers with yours and leans forward to run his nose along your thigh, too close to your pussy. He takes a deep breath. Fuck, you smell delicious and his drool starts to flow. "Because I'm an idol? Is it because I have to be good and obedient? Or is it because you don't want me to, because it seems like that's all you ever think about? Have you had a dirty dream about me? You used to moan so much in your sleep, Y/N."

You hesitate, closing your slanted cat eyes and letting the feel of Mingi's touch envelop you, your lips pressed together to hold back a loud moan. He can already feel you giving in, even though you haven't answered him.

He's good at cajoling. Again, thank Seonghwa for that.

"We shouldn't..." You whine as one of Mingi's long fingers teases at your wet entrance, and the thought of that finger plunging into you makes you shudder. 

"We can do what we want to do, or don't you want to do that? Don't you want me?" He purses his lips, pretending to offend. "You like me. Don't you? I'm your favourite boy, right?"

You nod, feeling more depressed by the second, unable to form a coherent thought. How could that have been the case? You must be dreaming. Dreaming that Mingi of Ateez is kneeling before you.

Oh my God!

"Use your words, doll. Say, "I want you." Speak my name." The idol continues to coax you, and you give in, much to the delight of the Mingi.

"I want you, Mingi." You do your best to keep your eyes on Mingi as you speak, but his gaze is too intense and too strong, and you feel terribly embarrassed. He looks almost predatorily.

Mingi grins fiercely and slowly licks his lips. His finger slides lightly into your wet cunt. In response to this, he hears an intermittent sigh of pleasure from you.

"What a good girl."

You sound so precious as he bends his finger inside you, feeling your velvety walls. Wetness drips down his massive silver rings to the base of his fingers. Mingi wants to record your sweet sounds and include them in the next track so everyone can hear how well he pleases you. He should do it, damned. Hongjoong will be burning with envy when he hears about you. The captain has a weakness for sweet little girls who moan and groan. Fucking pervert.

Mingi lets go of your hand to pick up his forgotten phone from the floor, still finger-fucking you. He quickly opens the audio recording application, hits the 'record' button, and drops the phone on the floor next to him, giving his full attention back to you.

You are so in need of his touch. You can't deny your desire for him. Your body speaks for itself.

"Come on, baby, moan for me. Let everyone hear what a dirty girl you are. Come on. What do you say we put some of your beautiful moans and groans on our new track? Mmm, you're going to hear it all over the place; every time you will remember how good it felt when I fucked your little, tight cunt."

"Oh God, that's... You can't say that." You whimper.

"Don't be embarrassed, gorgeous. Let's get you out of those pretty little knickers so you can sing even more sweetly for me." You nod impatiently, breathing heavily as Mingi helps you to lift your hips and pull your knickers off, quickly slipping them into his pocket. He was quite serious when he said that he wanted to take them with him.

Now that your pussy is fully exposed, Mingi takes the liberty of spreading your legs wide open and stares intently at the clear liquid that oozes out of your hole, causing you to whimper and cover your face in shame. He leans down to leave a hot scarlet and purple hickey on the inside of your thigh.

"Look at how wet you are, fuck." Mingi moans in a guttural voice as his fingers push your folds apart so that they are completely covered in your slick, glistening juices. "You've had a dirty dream, haven't you, baby?"

Your eyes are closed, and your long lashes are fluttering. Your plump lower lip is trapped between your front teeth. You're such a spectacle; oh, how he wants to fuck your brains out. In response to his question, you nod your head shyly.

"Y-yes."

Your embarrassment excites Mingi even more as he slaps your pussy, finally giving in to his perverted desires and feeling the moisture splash against his palm. You let out a shrill squeal, your hips shaking uncontrollably.

"Must have been something fucking satisfying, getting your little cunt that wet, huh?" He grins lecherously as he looks at you. You look tasty enough to make him want to eat you alive.

He should really thank the manager for getting him a ticket on that special train.

Your legs twitched, trying to close, but Mingi's hand stiffly stopped them before letting them close around his forearm. You're so overwhelmed by all the sensations, but you're not at all ready for them to stop.

"I... I don't remember. Maybe I was thinking of you. Or maybe someone else." Having heard from Asa about the jealous nature of the group, you say this deliberately. All of the members were very possessive of their fans and very aggressive towards them. Why should they look to anyone else when they are right here, ready to make all their fans' dreams come true?

Mingi bristled. Sinking his teeth into your thigh and forcing his finger into you, making his ring stick to the sensitive rim of your used hole. Fuck. The pain and the pleasure mix together and turn your thoughts into mush.

"With my fingers fucking you like this, don't you fucking dare say that." He growls, the deep sound of it vibrating against your skin. Mingi slides a second finger inside of you, the two of them gliding through the wetness with ease and a loud slurping sound. "You will think only of me all the time. There is no one who can be better than me, doll."

You throw your head back, your chest rising and falling in a quick motion. The velvety walls of your pussy clench around Mingi's fingers. The sound of your moaning rises as the idol runs his fingers along the plush and tantalising walls of your vagina. They seem to just suck him in. You're so tiny all over, and he wonders if you can take all his cock.

"It's only you, Mingi." The way you howl out his name is all the answer that Mingi needs to hear.

The idol can't resist the temptation to lean forward and put his face between your thighs. His lust takes over; the sight is too exciting. All he had to do was find out if you tasted as sweet as you looked. The reaction is immediate: his tongue is licking a flat line from your slit to your clit, which he is circling greedily in between his plump lips. Your soft thighs tremble, your breath gets stuck in your throat along with a long moan, and your little hands cling to his shoulders.

"Oh, oh, God!" You let out a gasp, a barely audible whimper, your nails digging into the hard flesh beneath your tight-fitting shirt. Mingi is hoping that you are going to scratch him to a bloody pulp. Hell, he's in need of it.

You drive him crazy with your cuteness. Your juices are flowing in abundance all over his tongue. It tastes amazing, just the way he imagined it would, and Mingi thinks that he could get drunk on you. Fuck, he'll be bragging about you for days to come, rubbing it in the faces of the members. What a sweet thing he's managed to get his hands on. He could probably sit there and do that for hours, even days, licking that pretty little cunt of yours until his jaw hurts and his whole face is wet. He may have oral fixation, but that's not something he's going to want to put on his profile.

He sucks furiously on your swollen clit as his fingers begin to penetrate your tight hole, the wet, squelching sounds drowning out the sound of a train rumbling down the tracks. You're just perfect—too perfect for Mingi to ignore and not fuck. You literally taste heaven, and your voice sounds like sin—hot moans of uncontrollable pleasure.

"I...will...ahhh...M-Mingi..." You whimper, pressing your hand to your own mouth, and Mingi passionately wants to stop you and tell you that there's no better sound for his ears than your moaning. But the rational part of his brain, which sounds strangely like Seonghwa, tells him that it's for the best and that it's wise not to attract the attention of outsiders. "Please!"

You beg, and it's beautiful, your words muffled by the small palm of your hand but still clearly audible to him. Your back arched as you pushed your hips forward, forcing Mingi's fingers to dig deeper into you. You squeeze them so hard that the idol can barely move them inside of you at all. You squeeze them so hard that Mingi's chest vibrates with a rather low purr, which only drives you more wildly and adds to the pleasure, finally taking you to an unexpected peak as you cum profusely on Mingi's waiting tongue and fingers. You are flowing everywhere, and Mingi is greedily drinking it all in, insatiable in his quest to bring you to yet another orgasm, to make you so silly and submissive in his hands. He will take it all and more from you.

Mingi is so hungry for you, and you are so juicy and ripe, perfect for eating.

The second orgasm makes your whole body shake, and the stimulation is almost painful. Your hips jerk in Mingi's tight grip as he digs his fingertips into the plush, creamy skin. He simply can't get enough of you. He marvels at how dishevelled you look, lifting his dark gaze. Your head is thrown back, your eyes are closed, your skirt is pulled up high over your hips, and your cropped sweater almost completely exposes your bra. But it is your sweet mouth that beckons him to you completely. Beautiful, plump lips, slick with saliva and bite marks. They have been opened to let out gorgeous moans of his name and heavy, puffed-up sighs. He will crawl up your body like a predator until his face, soaked with your juices, is hanging over you.

Mingi is a big man—tall, strong, and nicely pumped up—his stunning figure completely covering you and trapping you underneath him.

You gasp for breath, still in a hazy post-orgasmic stupor, your glazed eyes meeting Mingi's, and you whimper as big, rough hands slide down your sides. He easily encompasses your boobs with ease, squeezing them with a force that causes them to fall out from under your bra.

"What big, juicy tits you have. Mmm, you can't be a better doll." Your embarrassed squeal is swallowed whole as Mingi kisses you passionately. Your tongues meet in an exchange of saliva and heavy breathing. On his lips, you can taste your own slime. It's rough, but you like it that way.

He slides his hands under your bra and massages your breasts, pinching your nipples with his fingers in a teasing way that makes you moan loudly into his mouth.

"The most beautiful and seductive pair of tits, so soft and heavy in my hands, I could just fuck them, couldn't I? Would you like that doll?" He whispers as he bites down on your lips and sinks his teeth into the soft, tender flesh. To be honest, he'd like to tear your lips into a bloody mess, but that's probably for another time.

Right now, he wants to use you. He wants to finally get his cock inside you and fuck you into a stupor. As if you could read his mind, your trembling hands reach out for his crotch.

"You want my cock, darling?" He moves his hips gently, and you feel his huge, hard cock pressing against you through the fabric of his trousers.

"Yes, yes, I want your cock so badly, Mingy." You're not as shy as you used to be; your desires are overpowering your modesty. And you don't have to ask twice as Mingi leans back and quickly unbuckles his belt, and you reach out for it, drawn to his sensual lips. 

You would never admit it, but his lips were driving you crazy—those gorgeous, plump lips—moist and inviting, making you want to suck on them like a leech and never let go. You wanted to feel them all over your body.

Mingi quickly unbuttoned his trousers. Your tiny hands grabbed his shirt collar, trying to pull him as close as possible, and you licked his neck with your soft tongue. He's never met anyone so desperate to be touched. The way you whimper into his neck, kiss him randomly, and smear saliva over his lips and chin drives him wild. You're definitely his favourite—the best girl he's ever fucked in recent times, if maybe ever. He should tell the members about you; he should let them hear your beautiful, needy moans with the endless repetition of his name; he'll shove your wet panties right in their faces, damn it.

With one firm hand, Mingi holds you by the waist while the other pulls his boxers down until they are low enough for him to pull out his thick, aching cock. Running his thumb over the swollen, wet head, he squeezes the heavy length into his palm. You whimper and look up at him with your eyes wide open as his fingers grab your chin and pull you away from his neck. So perfect you look—dishevelled, tits bulging from your bra, skirt crumpled, and gathered around your hips as you desperately grab his shirt, trying to pull him as close as possible.

Mingi's desire is to destroy you completely.

"On your knees, dolly."

You are so relentless in your desire to please the man who is in front of you. As you obediently lower yourself to the carpeted floor—rough enough for your delicate knees—Mingi's hands run through your hair. You're too mesmerised by the sight in front of you—a gorgeous man, a world-famous idol, by the way—stroking his big cock lazily, looking too amazing to remain indifferent.

"Do you want to try it?" You drool. The only answer you can give is an impatient moan that tells Mingi all he needs to know.   You're so desperate; you've never wanted to take someone's cock in the mouth so much. It would probably be so hard on your tongue because Mingi looks so big.

You're not quite sure if you can take the whole thing or just half of it. You know it'll bulge out of your throat if you do. You're so focused on thinking about it that you only come when the hot head of Mingi's cock begins to circle your smooth, swollen lips. He lets out a deep, low moan and the sound is pure porn. You can bet your bottom dollar that Mingi can make an entire concert hall cum at once just by moaning into the microphone. Fuck, their concerts must be wild.

Your mouth falls open in impatience as you look up at him with your eyes glazed over.

"You are such a good girl." Mingi whispers, holding back a moan as your tongue sticks out to lick the drop of pre-cum that is leaking from the head of his cock. He's sure that you've only been made for sucking his cock.

It's so easy to lead you; you're docile, submissive, eager for pleasure, and desperate for the praise that comes with it. The further your mouth descends onto his cock, the bigger and brighter your eyes become, full of pleading as you look up at Mingy, watching how he reacts, wanting to know if you're doing well. Mingi knows that if he were to send your picture to the members right now, it would cause a universal heart attack. They're absolute wimps for obedient little girls that they can scold and use at will.

"Look at you." He takes a sharp breath and runs his thumbs over your pouting cheeks. You look wickedly adorable, and perhaps Mingi is tempted to shove his cock even deeper down your throat, so that you choke on it and begin to sob. "You bruised your knees just so you could suck my cock. How did I get to be so lucky?"

The stifled moan that you let out is accompanied by a thrust of your hips that makes you feel like you are starting to choke. You try your best to relax your jaw as much as possible, holding back the coughing that starts to bubble up in your throat and forcing yourself to calm down. You look at Mingi through the protruding tears and blink your eyes slowly, waiting for the idol to start to fuck you down your throat. He takes no more than a second to realise what you're proposing.

"Want me to fuck your mouth, baby?" Your strangled moan stops momentarily as Mingi moves his hips again, pushing further into the enveloping wet heat, throwing your head back as you accept his heavy, massive length without complaining. "Damn beautiful, such a pretty cock slut."

Your lips tingle around the suggestive girth, and your cheeks are warm from the praise and effort you've put into his pleasure. You look so dishevelled right now, saliva dripping from your chin down your neck and between your heavy tits falling out of your bra. Your knees are red from rubbing against the rough carpet, your eyes are wet and red from unshed tears, and a small puddle of your secretions is also collecting underneath you, dripping freely from your quivering cunt. You haven't even been fucked yet, and you probably look as fucked as you feel. Even though you have every hope that you will be soon.

When Mingi suddenly yanks you by the hair and pulls you away from his cock, you make a half-squeaky sound and look at him with a crying, hurt look on your face, as if your favourite toy has just been taken away from you. Mingi leans down and pulls you to him for a dirty kiss, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and licking it from the inside to the outside as he tastes himself. 

It may be disgusting, but your moans are enthusiastic, and you enjoy every second of it.

"You're so beautiful, dolly. What am I going to do with you?" His words are breathed in through searing kisses, the lips sliding together at random, smearing saliva and mucus all over. Damn, this is unrealistically hot—all of his fantasies coming to life in a beautiful girl who just happens to be sharing a compartment with him on the night train. "Maybe I should have you with me for an introduction to the other members? How would you like it if I were to fuck that obliging mouth of yours off in front of the whole group?"

Enjoying his praise and such a tantalising prospect, you whimper again. Being their whore isn't such a bad option, to be honest; as long as you're fed and well fucked, it's enough to have fun.

"I can't seem to keep my hands off of you, sweetheart. You're literally a pollination." Mingi's deep, velvety whisper tickles your ears. He reaches out to take the palm of your hand and cradle it against his cock. 

It's a heavy, hot length, resting perfectly in the palm of your hand, and you long to feel it inside of you. It's big, big enough to send you to heaven with every thrust, and the big head hits you right on the cervix with every thrust of those skilled hips. God bless his dancing skills, because, as you know, dancers can fuck like gods.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" You gasp as Mingi's big hand glides over yours, both of them sliding up and down his hard cock in a confident manner. "With your beautiful eyes and the beauty of your face, Perfect, sweet lips, perfect for the sucking of my cock." He bites down on the torn lower lip you have bitten and kissed and pulls it into his mouth, then pulls back to give you a chaste kiss on your swollen mouth. "All of this is just for me."

Leaning completely on Mingi in front of you, your weak legs have long since stopped supporting you. Your beautiful mouth is open a little, a small whimper escaping from the depths of your throat as you savour the praise that is pouring down upon you. It makes you feel so damn good.

"You are such a delicious girl." Mingi moans as he bites down hard on one of your lips. He turns you around and pushes you in front of him until you find yourself pressing your face first against the fogged-up window. You look out, eyes wide open. There is nothing on the road, just wide fields whizzing by in a fast, blurred image. But something about the thought of somehow seeing how Mingi is fucking you stupid in front of windows makes you wet. Your pussy clenches against nothing. You arch your back and your plump, soft arse, trying to rub against Mingi's cock.

His commanding hand pulls one of your buttocks back to reveal your wet cunt and virgin anal opening. Fuck, you look so delicious. He thinks about pushing his face into your pussy once more and licking you until the morning comes. Next time, he says to himself, shaking his head in the hope that the urge will go away. His hair is falling down over his eyes, giving him that same vicious look that makes their fans go crazy for them. 

"I'm going to fuck you like this." Mingi whispers, clenching the lobe of your ear with his teeth. "You'll be a good girl, and you'll be quiet for me so that nobody else can hear how good and how deep I'm fucking you. Do you understand me?"

The rough, big palm slapping your mouth muffled the impatient moan you made as the head of Mingi's cock pushed your sticky folds apart from behind.

"What I told you, doll. If you want to feel me inside you, you need to hear it. I can tease you all night long and play with your lusty little pussy if you are naughty." His words are disapproving and you do a quick nod of understanding. You're going to be good for him. You know you can. You will do everything Mingi asks of you and fulfil his every wish.

Mingi continues to tease you, enjoying the stuttering moans that are muffled by his hand as his cock slides between your folds, rubbing against your clit but never penetrating you. The bulging head of his cock clings to the edge of your throbbing hole and you want to start begging for it. It's agonising, and your eyes fill with tears of frustration at how much you want to feel the thick, long Mingi's cock inside you.

"Have I upset you, doll?" Mingi cooed at the sound of your sobs. "You want my cock so badly. Don't you?" Confirming his words, you nodded mindlessly. "Baby, you know how much I love you; I can't upset my fans." One second you're empty, needy, and throbbing with anticipation, and the next Mingi's thick cock is shoved deep inside you, your oozing hole struggling to get used to his massive size.

A wheeze bursts from your lungs at the intensity of the thrust, your breasts pressed against the window. Your nipples are hardening from the cold of the glass and are becoming even more sensitive than they were before. It's so painful and so good that you're on the verge of tears.

"So perfect, if only you could see the way your beautiful cunt is taking my cock in. I thought you'd have to be stretched for that, but what a pleasant surprise; you don't need it." The sultry purr makes you roll your eyes. His voice is a damned aphrodisiac, making you dumber and wetter, your juices squirting around his cock with every sinful move he make of his hips. Mingi fucks like a god; you were right about him.

You whimper weakly as your nipples rub against the cold glass of the window. Rationality has left you completely. Drool flows freely into Mingi's palm, which is still clamped over your mouth. Your legs turn to jelly as Mingi holds you with a strong arm around your waist, sliding hard in and out of your wet cunt, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. Somewhere far away, your mind is foggy. All it can think about is how good you feel and how much you want this to never end. It's like you're addicted to a drug and you need more Mingi—more, more, and more.

The narrow, velvety walls of your vagina close in over Mingi's dick, pulling him inside and holding him in what feels like a soft vice. Mingi's low, deep moans, the slapping against skin, and the loud, rhythmic squelching echo around you. It's so damned loud, even when he's holding back, and you can't help imagining what it would sound like elsewhere. This must be in their dorm; the rooms are soundproof because he's a terribly loud, whining, moaning mess.Two long fingers slide into your mouth and onto your tongue. You gurgle around them, sucking hard, the cold of the rings burning you, and it's so erotic.

"The best for me." That's all Mingi has to say to you before his thrusts get faster and faster, becoming almost aggressive as he presses you up against the window, his muscular thighs slapping against your plump arse.

All you can do is take what you're given and lick his fingers deep into your mouth as his massive cock fucks the life out of you. You throb and whip your juices around him. As your orgasm hits you, you rest your head on Mingi's shoulder. You arch up and shake with your whole body. Mingi's cock is still thrusting into you. He is having a hard time moving because you are squeezing him so hard. He doesn't stop hitting you, he moves his hips in a calculated way, hitting that special spot that makes you want to see the stars. It's almost mocking. The intense stimulation is searing, almost maddening, as if you're stuck somewhere between heaven and hell.

"That's it, doll. You look so beautiful when you cum so hard. Maybe I should fuck you on stage before all the fans, so they can see what a pretty face you make when my cock is so deep inside you." Teeth sink into your shoulder, and you give a weak whimper. "Or maybe you want me to film it so that I can jerk off any time I feel like it? Tonight I'm going to watch you cum over and over and over again."

Mingi seems to really mean what he says, because it's pretty clear from the way he keeps moving inside of you that he won't be satisfied until he's gotten a few more out of you. His endurance is something rabbits would envy. Mingi fucks like an animal, but it's fucking splendidly.

You squeal in overexcitement and run your hands over the window in front of you, leaving a trail of fingerprints all over the glass. You moan loudly as Mingi comes out of you, your used-up, reddened hole shrinking in the emptiness as you instinctively try to close around the hot, massive length. He has literally broken all the men in your life. How the hell are you going to be able to have sex with anyone else after this?

You'll be in need of rehab for the rest of your life.

He pulls you by your waist like a real doll. You find yourself on the lap of a cheeky idol. Your hips are shaking, and you are trying to hold on to him, clutching at Mingi's broad, muscular shoulders with your hands. He stares at you with a lustful, wet gaze, his eyes gliding over every curve and every mark he's left on you. And Mingi isn't finished with you yet.

"Now let's plant you properly, baby." As he pushes you onto his cock, his hands grab your arse and spread your cheeks. The squelching sound is loud and sickening as you sink down onto him completely. Mingi presses his hand on your belly as the head of his cock protrudes from under the thin skin of yours. "That's right, you take me so well. Your cunt is the perfect place for the warmth of my cock to be. Don't you think so, dolly?" He's almost purring like a fucking cat, and you're not thinking anything; you're just mindlessly nodding along to everything he says.   You moan longingly as he circles your hips, and you settle comfortably on his cock. You're so full that he presses against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp for air. With Mingi's help, you begin to rise and fall, slapping your arse against his muscular thighs, your mouth ajar, your eyelashes fluttering, and your chubby cheeks wet and hot. You're pure sin. Your legs are too weak to ride Mingi properly, but the idol doesn't care; he's doing fine on his own, guiding your hips as he pleases and driving his cock into you with powerful, deep thrusts.

As he hits you in all the right places, making your toes curl, you see stars behind your closed eyes. You sob openly, your slippery lips pressing against Mingi's neck in an attempt to muffle your moans. You whimper about how good it feels, how deep it goes, and how he never wants to stop. With each thrust, the round, wet head comes to rest against your cervix.

You shudder and squirm in his hands as Mingi presses his fingers against your swollen clit. You can feel it; you're so damn wet. You're flowing like a waterfall, all the way down the length of Mingi and probably all the way down to your balls, forming a puddle on the seat beneath you. You don't want this moment to end; you feel so full and satisfied.

He can collar you and drag you all over the world if he wants to, just so you can keep feeling that gorgeous cock inside you.

"Now! I'm going to cum now, Mingi!" You squeal, pressing your hand to your mouth and bouncing up and down in spite of the tension in your thighs, your tits jiggling with every move you make. Aydol leans forward and catches one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his hot, silky tongue around it as he licks it. Are all rappers that good with their tongues, or is it just something that Mingi does? So you come for the third time that night, your head thrown back and your muscles burning as you continue to be fucked mercilessly. You contract and throb relentlessly all over the thick length that has been pushed deep inside you.

It's a lot, so damn much, but Mingi is still insatiable. To be honest, you wonder where all this sexual appetite comes from with such a constant workload. He could probably go at it with you the whole night through, changing position after position until you pass out.   Mingi isn't enough; he isn't full enough to be finished with you.

He turns you over on your back, and you slam your back into the uncomfortable seat. Mingi is still so hard; the head of his cock is a fierce shade of red; his balls are throbbing; one more orgasm from you, and maybe he'll finally let himself come and make a real mess of you. The prospect of flooding you with his cum would be heavenly for him; you would look so beautiful with thick white jets of cum flowing all over your face. It was definitely an unforgettable sight.

Your walls are on fire as Mingi's cock struggles to get back into the nice velvety warmth, and you shake your head underneath it, visibly shaking your whole body and letting out the most beautiful wet sobs.

"It's too much; I can't! God, Mingi, I can't." Mingi kisses you lovingly to calm you down, and you breathe heavily, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"That's OK, baby; you're OK. You can give me another one, right? I know you can, beautiful doll. Come on, make me cum."

"Just one more time." Your voice is barely a whisper.

"Yes, just one. And you can get some rest. I promise." It's something between a promise and an assurance; the words are little more than reassurance, but you're in agreement.

If you had another member with you, you can't even imagine what it would have been like. You wouldn't have survived. And you wonder how fans keep referring to the idols as cute prince charmers with big innocent eyes. Never again.

Mingi squeezes your plump breasts in her hands and bends her head down so that she can take one of your nipples in her mouth. You're too sensitive right now, and even this action makes your hips tremble slightly. Her tongue swirls around the hard bud until Mingi begins to suck tangibly. You tangle your fingers in the surprisingly soft hair, your breasts rising and falling rapidly as you slowly recover from the hypersensitivity of your last orgasm. Mingi's cock is still warm deep inside you.

His hips begin to move gently, in a slow, erotic rhythm, as his teeth graze your nipple, making you whimper. It is this kind of change that almost gives you whiplash. You wrap your legs around Mingi's slender waist and scratch his back with your nails; it hurts, but in a good way. Deep down, you always knew you were a bit of a masochist.

"Look, baby, you're doing so well. You look amazing." The deep, gentle movements of his hips hit the right spot in you. You jump, and you see white spots in front of your eyes. "You need this, don't you? You need to be fucked until you can't take it any more, you little slut."

You nod desperately. It's exactly what you've always needed. A fuck on the edge of your life is exactly what you need after a string of unsatisfying, disappointing partners, after work and endless errands, after the weariness of the day and the noise of the crowd. And it seems that Mingi does too.

You never expected to intentionally meet an idol, and you certainly didn't expect him to remember your face, let alone your name, but here you are with Mingi's cock from Ateez deep inside you, and to be honest, it's the best thing that's ever happened to you in your whole life.

You're so lucky.

Your eyes are closed, your mouth is open in a silent moan, and your breasts are shaking with every thrust. And just as Mingi expected, the crystal pendant looks amazing between your bare tits.

You are being fucked so well that you can't find the right words to describe it. The contrast between you and Mingi is striking: you're completely dishevelled, shattered in every sense of the word, shivering, your clothes half hanging off your body, while Mingi has only drops of sweat on his forehead with long strands of fringes clinging to them, his trousers still on his hips, unbuttoned just so his cock can slip out, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and his hair slightly dishevelled.

In a selfish desire to cum, you are pressed mercilessly into the seat, fucking the rest of your life out of you.

"Cum inside." You whisper, barely coherent. "Please, Mingi."

Mingi growls at this request, losing all self-control at the thought of him filling you with his cum, forcing you to keep it inside you so that all you can think about is him. Feeling him inside you with every step you take. He rubs your swollen clit hard with his thumb, making sure he squeezes the last orgasm out of you. His hips set a frantic, jagged rhythm as he enters your pussy that still flows around him, wet squelches and slaps echoing between you.   It's the final orgasm that finally brings Mingi to his own release. He lets his head drop low as he bites the back of your neck to stifle a loud, prolonged moan, both of you lost in their own pleasure. Mingi's orgasm is so intense that you can feel his cum running down the sides of your cunt, filling you to the brim. The intensity causes him to go blind for a few seconds, and it takes him a while to come to.

This is new. Even for him.

Mingi finally pulls back to look at you. He coos softly as he notices how broken and completely fucked you look.

"That's my girl. You did great, doll." He whispers in a low voice and leaves soft kisses on your bitten skin. His lips are like soft, fluffy clouds—very soft and delicate.

Your vision is blurred and your mind is a mess, and you don't seem to be able to function properly anytime soon, but the only thing you're sure of is how content and satisfied you feel right now. You whimper pitifully as Mingi comes out of you, trying to squeeze your hole to keep the cum from leaking out. But it's inevitable; a small amount leaks out of you anyway in a thick, creamy mass.

"Let's get you cleaned up, doll, so you can get some rest afterwards."

Despite the sperm leaking out of you, your head tilts helplessly to the side as Mingi helps you put your clothes back on. He seems to be enjoying the sight, making no effort to wipe it off. Disgusting, yes. He doesn't give a fuck. Nobody ever said he was a nice boy.

You cringe at the sensation. But the knowledge that it's Mingi's cum gives you endless perverse pleasure. You're tired, too exhausted to want anything more than to sleep. You still have hours of travel ahead of you; you must rest before Asa meets you at the train station.

Mingi notices your condition. He has already straightened your clothes and picked up your mobile phone from the floor. The recording is safely stored in a private folder. It is protected by a complex, multi-digit password.

"Y/N, you can sleep now. I'll keep an eye on you." He laughs as he says that, because that's exactly what he said before he started fingering you. But this time, he really means what he says.

"Whatever you want to say." You reply with a smile and finally take off your shoes, which are uncomfortable as hell, and curl up into a ball. "I think, thank you, Mingi. You know, for the sex."

"Don't thank me; I'm kind of totally into you."

"Good night, then."

"Dream about me, Y/N."

By the time you wake up, the train has already arrived at Tamagawa Station. As you would expect, Mingi is nowhere in sight, but your duffel bag is on his seat opposite you. He's not a complete bastard, after all. You pack quickly and fly off the train, straight into Asa's warm embrace.

"Hey girl, you're finally here. God, you look tired and exhausted." If she only had a clue...

"Long night," you reply simply with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Well, let's go. The hot springs are waiting for us, and I hear there's a famous group staying at this resort right now. Maybe we'll meet some of the idols." Asa is terribly excited and is dragging you by the hand in the direction of her car.

You vaguely remember what Mingi had said about him and the boys coming here to relax before their concerts. But you don't even know if they stay here or not, and this is a big resort. What are the chances?

When you get into the car, the only thing you can think about is Mingi's dried semen on your thighs and where the hell your knickers have gone. 

On the next day.

"This is it; I can't stand it any longer. How can you stand it??"Asa whined as she climbed out of the big hot tub with the bubbling hot water. She was all flushed, the pretty pink bathing suit clinging to her body like a second skin, until she changed into a fluffy white dressing gown.

"It's hot springs, Asa. That's the point.."You rest your head on the padded side and laugh at her pained expression. It's a beautiful resort, after all. "Go on. I'm going to be here for a while."

"Yes, don't get boiled alive; there's no one to save you. We're the last ones here tonight; you can sit here alone all night." You realise that Asa has already left, her voice coming from somewhere far away.

The hot water relaxes you, and you feel so good, warm, and comfortable. While enjoying your own moment, you close your eyes.

The next time you open your eyes, there will be a piece of fabric dangling in front of your face, or rather, is it a pair of panties? Cream-coloured silk with a delicate ruffle around the edge—it's definitely a pair of panties. It's your panties! Oh, shit. You turn sharply around and sail away from the edge to look into a face full of a seductive grin and the most gorgeous cat-like features.

"These are yours, aren't they?" The voice sticks to your skin like a kiss of love, so honeyed and sweet. Shocked by the situation, you nod your head stupidly, not knowing how to choose your words. "Oh, I finally found you. You know, Mingi has told us a lot about you, y/n." The man slips easily into the hot tub, unfastening his white dressing gown, revealing a chiselled, gorgeous body. For your taste, too close. He corners you unceremoniously, putting his hands on either side of your face, his wide shouders completely blocking you from seeing. "I'm San. But you already know that, don't you, baby?" He literally whispers the last word in your ear, sending a shiver down your entire body and hardening your nipples, even though the water is warm. "You know, we're resting here before the concerts start. It would be really nice to have a pretty kitty like you to keep us company."

Belatedly, especially when San's lips begin to trace a light path down your neck, you understand the meaning of his words.

"Us? I don't understand." You give him a slight push away from you, but he doesn't move an inch.

"To us, of course, you silly kitty - Ateez. You see, our leader is very interested in making a personal record of all your cute little sounds." He leans over to you and whispers in your ear in a conspiratorial manner. "We had a lot of fun listening to how you cum, kitty."

This is a big resort. You remind yourself. What a possibility, you say. You see a satisfied, anticipatory smile on Yunho's lips as he waves sweetly at you from the other side of the hot tub. He is such a sweet boy. Yeah sure, you absolutely believe it.

Looks like you got lucky. After all, what are the chances of getting to meet not just Mingi, but the whole of his group?

[h0nkch0c0late]

i will literally do anything for jordan li x fem reader

enemies to lovers

Oh my God anon you are setting me up for such a good plot....you have too much faith in me.

Top Five

Jordan Li x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Jordan had always fought about everything. Whether it was because of something you two disagreed on, or a simple topic, but it was always mainly due to your Top Five rankings. While Marie was put in #1, you stayed in place at #3. As they say: the enemy to your enemy is your friend :)

WARNINGS: swearing, slight Gen V spoilers, implications of sex (not specifically written)

You and Jordan had been enemies since you could remember. Both of your parents had been close friends, and thought that their children would be the same.

That had never been the case, though, as you two had been each other's sworn enemies since the day you had met.

Why? Neither of you really had a reason. It had nothing to do with your powers, and most times your arguments had no real...argument. just pointless yelling.

But then, as you grew up, and you both entered Godolkin, it became more than just pointless arguments.

You spent every day trying to prove who the better person was. Which one was liked best, which one performed the best, etc...

It didn't help your case that Jordan was all buddy-buddy with the headmaster, Professor Brink, which let them be in with the popular crowd.

That didn't prevent you from being #3 for the top five, of course, but you were still upset.

---------------------------

Its not like you weren't friends with the "popular" crowd either, being friends with Cate Dunlap and Andre Anderson had its perks.

The only downside was that you were constantly in the same room with Jordan when you all hung out together, and she INSISTED on glaring at you every time.

Your response to it was always sticking your tongue out at them like a child, to which they always rolled their eyes.

To you two, it was like a game of cat and mouse, and neither of you could figure out which was which.

To your friend group's eyes on the other hand, it was a game of "who will kiss who" first. They saw your constant fighting as blatant flirting that neither of you were willing to admit.

So, when Marie Moreau came to the school, and Luke had killed himself along with killing Brink, you two finally had someone to be genuinely enemies with.

After all, the enemy to your enemy is your friend, right?

So, while Jordan was thrown to #5, and Marie moved up to #1, you couldn't stop glaring at Marie every time you walked past her.

-----------------------------------------------

As you walked down the path towards the dorm rooms, you had noticed Jordan standing there, clearly upset.

Ever since their rating had gone down, it was like they were a ghost to the rest of the school. You could relate, however, as being #3 wasn't as nice when the top 2 were being practically worshipped for something they hadn't even done.

So, gathering up your courage, you walked over to him, lips casted into a frown, "you okay?"

Her upset expression turned into one of annoyance (defense mechanism due to the fact her enemy was talking to her), and she groaned, "why do you care?"

You rolled your eyes, expecting nothing less from the supe in front of you, "because ever since Marie got to #1 and you got pushed, you've become a ghost. And you seemed pretty upset so...I don't know."

"You're still #3. You shouldn't be caring about anybody who's below you." They scoffed, their eyes refusing to meet yours.

You sighed, "the enemy to my enemy is my friend, I guess? Look, Jordan," You paused for a moment, "I know we aren't the best of friends, but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how close you and Brink were and what happened fucking sucks."

Jordan's eyes moved to look at you, her frown slightly disappearing as she noticed that you actually genuinely cared. "Yeah, I'm fine."

You tilted your head, furrowing your eyebrows as you knew that they were lying, "there's no need to lie to me. We may hate each other but I do know you."

Jordan sighed, "can we not do this here?"

You gave them a look of confusion, "Okay...where do you wanna-"

You were cut off by Jordan taking your hand and dragging you off to their dorm room, and suddenly you found yourself sitting on their bed as they began to pace around. "Of course I'm not okay! Marie took all of the credit for something she didn't even do! She fucking took off! She ran! And it seems like I'm the only one pissed the fuck off about it because come ON! you did more than her! You actually tried to talk to him! You tried to talk him down and yeah it didn't work but you tried! And I fought him! Where the fuck is our credit, huh?!" Jordan ranted, getting angrier by the second.

Your frown deepened as you watched Jordan get heated, "Look, yeah, I'm angry I didn't get any credit, but at the end of the day, the rankings aren't that important to me. And yeah, I'm stuck at #3, but it's been like that for a while. I'm fine with not getting any credit because at the end of the day, it wouldn't have changed anything. You would have been #1, and Andre would have been #2. I care more about the fact that I lost a friend." You explained, standing up and walking over to Jordan, grabbing their hands in your own to stop their pacing.

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes downcast at your interlocked hands, head low to hide the rising blush that began to cover her cheeks.

"But I thought you did care. Yknow, our constant fighting and all?" Jordan questioned.

You chuckled, "Jordan, I constantly fought with you because thats what we do. We're supposed to be enemies, remember? Enemies fight."

Jordan stared at your hands for a bit longer before gathering the courage and looking up, "what if...what if I don't wanna be enemies anymore?"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "what do you-"

You were cut off by Jordan planting their lips on your own, and you didn't hesitate to kiss back as your hands let go of their's and cupped their face.

And soon enough, you were back on her bed.

---------------------------------------------------------

It's a little rushed but fuck it we ball 😎

Also, how do we feel about me calling yall gentlebitches bc I find it kinda funny

[cmncisspnandmore]

heyyy so i saw that your requests were open so i wanted to ask:

could you write an Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader where she kinda has control issues as she could never trust people with doing the bare minimum so she always does it herself- (she is a civilian by the way). so one day simon sees her breaking down, losing her golden patience and being a crying mess because she is so stressed with doing everything

(ngl i need some comfort after that happened to me)

love you and dont stress yourself!!

Hi Nonny! I hope you're feeling a little better now. You can always message me if you need to talk. I'm sorry this isnt super long, my 3D printed tiny human is having a rough day, but i wanted to get this out for you. I hope i did it justice, its kinda hard to put into words what doing everything looks and feels like. But I did my best. If its not what you wanted/needed please let me know and I will try again. Lots of Love <3 Paige

Pairing: Simon X Reader

Warnings: Overwhelming feelings, soft simon, little bit of butt touching. Like one swear word.

Word Count: 960

You were tired.

Beyond tired, you were exhausted.

The kind of exhaustion that seems to be radiating from your bones. Your hands shake as you sit on the floor of the bathroom. Your back pressed against the side of the bathtub. The cool surface sends chills down your spine as you wipe your hands across your cheeks. It was a pointless action, the tears were falling faster than you could get rid of them. Your cheeks are raw and sore from the constant rub.

Your chest aches from trying to hold back the sobs that threaten to escape. You clamp a hand over your mouth as your shoulders shake, strangled gasp for breath leaving your lips. A pair of boots stop outside the bathroom door and you know that you’ve been caught. Your best efforts to keep quiet, to not worry Simon, have been foiled.

There's a soft knock on the bathroom door, followed by the handle being turned, the wood creaking as Simon’s blonde hair and brown eyes peek behind the door.

“Love?” He says softly, as he slips through the door and closes it again, coming to crouch down in front of you. His brows pulled together in worry. “What's wrong?” He asks softly.

“I’m tired… I just.. I need the world to just pause for a moment so I can catch my breath,” you sniffle, as Simon takes a seat next to you. His arm wrapping around your shoulders as they shake.

“What do you mean Lovie?” He asks, his fingers brushing along your upper arm as he listens.

“I feel like I can never relax.. There’s always something that needs to be done. The dishes, the laundry, something at work, going to appointments, making sure the house is taken care of while you’re gone. I feel like i'm running on empty,” you sob, resting your head on his shoulder.

Simon is quiet for a moment, his hands continue to stroke the fabric of your shirt sleeve as he holds you. He knows the feeling, the inability to let someone else do something for you because what if they don't do it right. Or what if they don't do it at all? He's been there before, after his family was killed. After he was buried alive. He didn't trust anyone else to do the job, so he did it all himself. Wore himself out so thin he wasn't sure he would ever recover.

He noticed it in you too, at first he thought you were just trying to be independent. That you wanted to show him that you could do things on your own when he was away. Which Simon appreciated, he liked to know that you would be okay while he was gone but it quickly became more than that. You started taking over all the chores, making sure that everything was done before he got the chance.

It wasn't to say that Simon didn't try to help you. He did, but you were often insistent that you could do it, you didn't need him to look after you. Night after night you would come home, make dinner, clean it up, and do everything in between, while waving Simon off with the promise you could handle it.

But now, as Simon holds you in his arms on the bathroom floor he wishes he could take what you're feeling away. He wishes he tried harder to get you to relax, because it was clear you hadnt relaxed in a long time. Simon takes a deep breath, his head resting on yours.

“You gotta let me help you, Lovie…” he whispers.

“But i can do it…” You sniffle, pulling away slightly to look at him with teary eyes.

“I know you can, but you don't have to. You don't have to do everything yourself, we’re a team…” His hand comes to rest on the side of your cheek, wiping away your tears. “How can we be a team if you do everything yourself? You know how much I love you right?” You give him a small nod, leaning your cheek into his hand.

“Good girl…” he smiles slightly, “And because I love you, I need you to start letting me help you out. You don't need to be the one who keeps the house in order, or makes dinner every night, you don't need to pretend that nothing is bothering you. I know how stressed you are at work. I know how you feel like you're being pulled a million different directions at all times because you feel like you have to do everything, control everything. But you don't, Love.” Simon’s thumb wipes some of the tears from your cheeks.

“So what you're going to do now, is you’re going to change into your comfiest clothes, and you’re gonna go to our room and lay down, pick out a movie, and i’ll be there in a moment. Then we’re gonna spend the rest of the day in bed, napping and eating junk food until you feel a little better, okay?” He leans forward kissing your forehead.

After a moment you let out a small sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. “Okay…” you mumble into his shoulder as his arms wrap around you, one hand on the back of your head. “I love you Simon…” You whisper.

“I love you too, now go,” he smiles as you pull away. As you stand up and head out of the bathroom, Simon's hand smacks your ass, a yelp leaving your lips as you look back at him with a small smile on your face.

“Simon!” you scold.

“Sorry Darling, I couldn't help myself,” He smirks as he follows you out of the bathroom.

[madschiavelique]

Mads babe I have a v self indulgent request 👀

What if Miguel is self conscious about all his scars from Manning those Spiders and reader traces them and kisses them and he's just so in love with reader and how they make him feel and AUGHHHHHHH 😫😫😫😭😭

AAAAA BESTIE you read my mind because this is literally one of my favourite things to read generally WE KNOW THE GOOD STUFF

I FINALLY feel good enough to write so i am BACK BESTIES HEHEHE

summary : reader kisses miguel’s scars and reassures him about it

content warnings : mentions of scars miguel had during fights, self conscious miguel, reader comforting miguel, mention of reader's scars (had during missions), other than that SO much reassurance, genderneutral!reader, no use of y/n word count : 1,4k

tag list : @fandom-ash

Depixelating his suit at the end of the day was often, if not always, a difficult step. He was well aware that worrying about things as superficial and ephemeral as looks was pointless, but knowing that the marks that ran the length and breadth of his body would stay with him forever was a constant reminder of what he was: a hunter, a tracker of balance, control left on him handcuffs drawn into scars different from those administered to the anomalies under his care.

He sighed, his brown eyes roaming his body in the reflection. So many enemies, so many traces, so many marks eternally etched on his skin.

Costumes are all well and good, because like a carnival mask, they hide enough of oneself not to appear whole, but they also reveal enough to others. It's almost impressive, the way a single thickness of pixel covers the deep lacerations, the acid stains, the ancient fissures when he was cut.

He tucks in his chin as he observes his arms. Long trails of scratches, burns and other poisons erased in his blood but not on his skin ran across them like randomly scribbled textures and patterns.

Only doodles are much more pacifist in idea, he thought. Maybe... maybe he could find a way to reconstruct his skin tissue? Arranging a new technological prototype. He'd heard of an Earth-199999-style device for reconstructing skin tissue. Perhaps he could make use of it? Find a way to get rid of all this... filth.

He wasn't proud of it. They represented his violence, his willingness to put himself in danger and endure brutality just to get the job done.

A sword is said to be good by its marks, its nicks, its scratches, all proving its durability and the fact that no matter the enemy, it holds. How long could his sword last?

You had just entered the bathroom, coming face to face with Miguel, looking at his hands. How many irreparable, eternal scars had he left in his wake? How many bodies had he marked with his claws and fangs with such rage and zeal that the gesture had permanently altered skin and minds?

"Is everything okay, amor?" you'd asked as you approached him, placing your hand on his back.

He had shuddered at your touch, how could you let the softness of your hand reach out to touch the evidence of atrocities that littered his body?

"Yeah," he assured with a deep breath, "yeah I'm just..." he pursed his lips, "I was thinking about doing something about my scars."

The idea made you frown for a moment, was Miguel worried about his appearance? He was always the first to tell you that your body didn't matter, that he thought you were absolutely gorgeous no matter what you looked like, so the fact that he was saying this for himself caught you off guard in the moment.

"What do you mean?" you asked, coming to guide your hand to his shoulder where a gash resided.

He remembered every cut, every pain he'd felt when he'd received new marks. He breathed in, watching your eyes in the reflection of the mirror as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"I want to remove them."

Your lips parted, mixing surprise and tenderness. You probably only had the surface of Miguel's ideas, for he was still occasionally secretive about his thoughts. And the realization that Miguel might be ashamed of his scars had struck you right in the heart.

"Why?" you questioned anyway, caressing his skin.

"Because they're... ugly," he said, bobbing his head and lowering his eyes to your hand placed on his shoulder, "they're proof of some of the things for which I'm not the proudest."

Your eyes sought his tenderly, you saw them lowered, ashamed, as if the mere possibility of meeting your gaze made him feel like a child who had broken something, dreading the scolding of his parents.

You lowered your eyes to your hand, your thumb lightly tracing the scar on his shoulder. Your other hand came to rest on his arm, and you placed a kiss on the tanned gash.

He took a shaky breath: nobody had ever kissed him here, his skin exposed. Only to the sun had kissed him there. Only the sun.

"Those scars do not represent you, Miguel." you affirmed as you took a step to the side to face him, tilting your head up to see him. He was so tall, his vast torso covered in oscillating traces of colours and shapes.

Your hand trailed from his shoulder to his chest, which was cleft by three large marks, no doubt a claw. You wondered if he'd come close to death when he'd been scratched here.

"They're not admirable," he sighed, his breathing almost ragged as the travel of your hand over all those areas he hated so much made him shiver.

The contrast of the softness of your touch against the obscure reality of him was electrifying. It was as if, with your simple touch and your pure words, you'd managed to right a wrong you hadn't committed, evils of which you weren't the author.

"Not all scars can be considered to be admirable," you said as you traced his cut skin, "we just consider them to be a proof that we survived no matter how little or great the menace was. It's nothing you should be ashamed of." Your eyes settle on his face. "There has never been any shame in surviving, has it?"

He breathed, his eyes finally meeting yours. They were soft, almost melancholic.

"Maybe..." he murmured, his voice almost inaudible as he listened to you.

You kissed his scratches on his collarbones gently, your hands caressing the tender skin of his completely lacerated back.

"Scars are not us, they're not our identity. It's terribly complicated to forget the pain, but I think it's even more difficult to remember the softness. After all, we don't have any scars to show for the joys we've had... "

Your fingers illuminated the darkest parts of him. Those sensitive places that held so many crimes of sorrows and screams, you covered them with colours and creams. He felt so soft under your hands, under your touch, under your mouth.

He couldn't get over the fact that you were kissing the most monstrous parts of him with those same lips full of sweetness and sweet words.

You learn so little from peace.

You pulled back.

"I'll show you mine."

You looked up at him, and your hands came away from his body to take hold of your T-shirt. You took it off, pulling it over your head to let Miguel rediscover the multiple gashes in your skin.

You'd been on many missions, some less successful than others, and since it's part of the spider's panoply to always get up no matter how heavy the blow, your body had experienced great agonies that had left marks all over you.

His eyes were riveted on you, shifting from one scar to another. It wasn't the first time he'd seen them, but he'd never looked at them from the angle in which the discussion was taking place. His hand came to rest on your shoulder, his fingers gently tracing one of your cuts with tenderness.

"We're not always proud of it," you asserted, "but sometimes scars bloom no matter where we plant them, and we don't decide what garden our bodies become when we do the job that we have."

"Mine don't bloom," Miguel whispered, his eyes returning to yours as his hand traced down your arm.

"Why not?" you questioned.

He shrugged, his hand continuing its path until it reached yours, caressing your fingers.

"They're weeds," he whispered, taking your hand in his.

You smile, little stars forming in your eyes as he looks at you questioningly.

"I like weeds."

He pouted confusedly. "Why?"

You came and kissed the three gashes on the centre of his torso, resting your chin on them as you looked at him, clasping his hand in yours.

"They always survive."

He could almost feel the tears welling up. He brought you against him, hugging you gently.

You drew stars around his scars, and he felt more loved than ever.

[potentialguybodyswaps]

Jockifacation

Being one of the smartest nerds in school sometimes had it perks, I mean sure most of the nerds got bullied and treated like shit by a lot of the school, especially the sports teams, but there were a few of us that were able to escape from the public humiliation that comes with being a nerd

Us top tier nerds, as I like to call us, we’re the ones that the Dean had picked to help tutor some of the more important students, like the ones who parents had made large Contributions, and the sports team, that all he really cared about, the people that really mattered.

As usual, the dean gave us nerds a heads up that a pop quiz was coming in some of the different classes we all shared with the assigned person that we’re in charge of making sure pass

The guy I was in charge of was one of the basketball players, his name was jake

He wasn’t the dumbest jock in the school, and thank god for that, I feel bad for the guy that had Brad, bro might have retard strength but also the intelligence of one.

atleast I can work with jake, might be annoying with his slow ability to grasp concepts and the constant side stories about the team, his latest conquest, how All this school work is pointless cause he’s gonna be a professional some day… etc

Jake was from a small red neck town and Texas and you could tell, he kinda stood out here in California with his accent and very little understanding of basic algebra, I guess they didn’t teach that were he’s from

it was probably around midnight when I finally got him to remember and be able to apply The Quadratic Formula, now Hopfully he can maintain it for 12 hours

“Aye bro thanks for helping me out with all this math shit, if you ever need anything partner just let me know” he said getting up to stretch

I got up to stretch too and crack my back

“I mean not unless you can make it so I don’t have to stay up late night tutoring members of the team because the dean demands it haha” i said laughing and smiling a sleepy smile at him

“Shiiiiit cuz, I got you just put this hat on” he said taking his hat off and handing it to me

“I mean thanks for the symbolic gesture but I don’t think a hat will do much” i said staring at it in my hands

“Just put it on bro, and you’ll be a part of the team” he said reaching over to guide it and place it on my head

“So is that it? Am I part of the team now haha?”

“Nah bruh, you gotta turn it backwards to start the uh, process”

“Start what process? some sort of initiati-“

I said as I felt it start

“Initiation? initially? Initials? No bro, initiation, god dam I had a brain fart for a minute there bruh haha…” I said stumbling on my words

“Bro? Bruh? What’s happening I don’t use those words!?” I thought to myself as my eyes started to glaze over

“There you go cuz, it’s starting, don’t worry, you should be a full fledged member in a few minutes, then you’ll never have to worry about tutoring again haha, the process kills quite a bit of brain cells” he said sitting back down smiling as he slowly closed his eyes

I tried to get up and take the hat off but I could barely move as I felt my mind weakening and my body was in too much pain as it reshaped it’s self to move

I could feel my thoughts get slower as my body changed more and more

“Mhmmmm b-b-bro h-help” I was able to mumble out, able to hear my voice getting lower

“Just let it take its course” Jake said not budging

My long shaggy hair got shorter and receded back into my scalp until it was short enough to fit inside the cap

My acne disappeared until my face was smooth and I could feel my face reorganizing itself, wholes appearing in my ears for some new giant fake earrings

Next was my sweatshirt I wore to hide my skinny frame dissolved into my skin as it looked like I gained 25 pounds of muscles as my arms became swole and my chest became hard with 6 pack abs from years of working out

“No that’s not right, I never spent years working out, going to the gym, I read books all the time and prepared for tests, played dnd with my nerd friends”

“Nerd friends? I don’t have those, I might skip leg day and not be on any teams but they always considered me a honorary member right?”

Next most of my jeans dissolved into my legs as my calf’s gain muscles from practicing in the gym and on the court with my fellow team mates

“Nah bruh, something about this isn’t right bro” I said standing up suddenly realizing I can move again

“But uh bruh I can’t remember what” I said taking the cap off to scratch my head

Jake looked over and jumped up looking concerned and walked over grabbing the cap

“It’s fine bro, we was just getting ready to go to a party, but the bitch hosting it sent out a text saying not to come for another hour, there was an issue getting the alcohol, we all know how much you like to drink cuz haha”

“Oh ok” I said setting down on the couch… some small part of me was screaming not to wear the cap but it was kinda stupid cause let’s be honest, I look hot wearing this cap

I put the cap back on and closed my eyes for a few seconds

I hadn’t noticed how weird I looked since my jeans weren’t exactly gone but were now Jean shorts

Didn’t matter tho cause my jeans morphed into some white shorts with a red strip to match my cap, right after that my underwear morphed into some tight American eagle pair as I felt my dick grow from 2 inches soft, to 4 soft.

“I can’t wait to go the party ima fuck so many bitches tonight” I thought to myself giggling like a dummy

Wait that isn’t right? I don’t get any bitches on my dick, no one wants to be with a small dick nerd, a 4 inch hard on is pathetic.

“Man what was that thought? I’m not a nerd! I’m a fucking jock bruh! And 4 inches being pathetic? Maybe hard, but that’s me just soft, I’m atleast 6 inches hard. never really cared to measure, chicks always seemed to love it when I fucked them, and if they think I’m small, their just fucking loose pussy bitches!” I thought to myself as I started getting hard pitching a tent

I opened my eyes to see Jake smiling at me

“Wtf you looking at bro? You gay or someshit? I mean that’s fine but just don’t try no shit with me bro” I said mean mugging him

“Nah bro, looks like you got some business to take care of, I’ll uh, be in the bathroom for a bit cuz” Jake said getting up to go to the bathroom

A small voice in my head was telling me something’s wrong, take the cap off, who wears hats inside?

But I decided there was something more pressing, and it’s in my pants

I pulled my shorts down to see my dick straining against my underwear, I pulled them down to let my dick flap out

I grabbed it to feel emence pleasure

I could feel something inside of me traveling down to my balls but I didn’t care, the pleasures were to much, felt like I’ve never jerked off before…

It only took me a few minutes for me to cum my brains out, figuratively and literally unbeknownst to my new jock brain, losing what little remains of my nerd personality, and 55 iq points, taking me down from 145 to 90.

“Fuck bro that felt great haha, i don’t know why I came so fast, must just be a fluke or something” I said to myself

Just then jake walked back outside

“Ya that happens to everyone at first when they go though the process of becoming a jock” he said smirking

“What you mean becoming a jock? I’ve always been one dude” I said a bit offended he didn’t think I’m a jock, I’ve hung out with jake for years now!

“Bro, we’re are we right now?!” Jake said throwing his hands up and looking around dramatically

“Uh my room” i said

“Ya and look at it, it’s a room for a nerd” he said looking at me with a look of annoyance on his face.

“Oh god, your right, I gotta change this shit bro, babes aren’t gonna find this attractive” i said looking horrified of my nerdy room

“Dam straight cuz, it’s ok, you just went from a nerd to a jock boy after all haha, it’s to be expected, especially with memory loss of your old life” he said with a smile on his face

“Now let’s go to a late night party” he said walking towards me throwing a arm around my shoulder and walking us towards the door

“Wait, so you’re saying I use to be a nerd? Ew what the fuck bro… is there anyway that I’m gonna turn back into a faggy ass nerd?” I said concerned

“Nah bruh, once you cum after the transformation it’s permanent, your one of us now dude, I hope you like it haha” he said laughing

“Ya I don’t really remember being a nerd but I bet that shit sucked ass compared to being a jock that can pull bitches haha, and good, I wouldn’t ever wanna go back despite what that voice in my head was crying about” i said laughing

“Oh that voice? Don’t worry about it, just like your chance to go back to your old life, it disappeared when you cummed” he said laughing smacking me on the back

[cyberpunk-20xx]

Hey hey

Hey

Johnny Silverhand's not cool

Johnny's disabled. Johnny had a military issued chrome forced onto him. Johnny treated himself like shit and probably smelled like shit too for it.

Do you think he got therapy for it? No I don't mean mental therapy I mean physical therapy, for the arm, I mean do you think he got physical therapy for a metal arm shoved onto a wound (I don't expect the wound was taken care of anymore than what was strictly practical no of course not), no no he wasn't given therapy, he wasn't given time to adapt, his trauma at losing a trustworthy friend on the field was just stacked with the trauma of just being weaponized even more before being put back on the field for a fucking pointless war, so that means-

I mean you know about amputation? No? No, right, of course not, it'd be weird, right? To know about amputation and implants and prothesis and the psychological impacts in detail you'd need to have read up on it, pretty obsessively at that, too, that's not normal, normal people don't do that, what kind of weirdo has hyperfixations about that because of OCD right? Right.

Well amputations are so fucking traumatizing even if they save your life. Of course they are. It's a part of your body. Your body is not supposed to see its insides and it's not supposed to lose parts either, your brain can't actually compute that, like let's say, cutting your nails?

They put a metal arm on him like cutting nails, they didn't care, he wasn't a person to them he was a tool.

He never got physical therapy for it. He never went to have it recalibrated or maintained. Why would he? I don't even think he knows what model it is. Do you think they bothered telling him? Do you think they gave him a little booklet for "how to take care of your new implant"? Ahahahah of course not that'd be so fucking silly and kind and thoughtful. Of course not.

Johnny needs his addictions. Do you think he has prescribed medicine for the chronic pains that the arm causes him? No of course not. Do you think he started drinking and taking Lace because it was fun? Because it was cool? Because he was gonna be a rockerboy? And he wanted to impress girls.

In the real world, as of 2020, the first cause of mortality in the USA is opiates, and the main demographic is white men, aged 30 to 60, roughly, a large amount of those men war veterans, cumulating psychological trauma even prior to the addiction, even prior to the army itself, cus the majority of people who join the military do it to escape poverty and a dysfunctional household. It's a well oiled machine because at worse they go back to the motherland and die quietly of OD or something else, or best case scenario they have kids! And some of those kids are boys, and out of middle class recrutes, a good part are from military families!

It's a system that works just as designed really.

America, abuse and neglect of your chronically ill and chronically in pain is part of your DNA currently.

Johnny's not cool. He runs hot, he's a fucking spoonie who ran out of spoons before he even joined the military so now all he's got is knives. Knives knives nothing else nothing but knives. Johnny's a man overheating on constant, he's been dying for years, he likely has fevers from his port inflammatory's issues due to neglect, he doesn't know how to take care of himself, he wasn't taught, it's not expected of him, no one in his entourage sees him as what he is, do you remember for one second someone treating him like he was disabled and needed accomodation?

Disabled people whose chronic pains are not given the deserved care are most likely to develop the hardest addictions to cope with it, with the physical pain, and the psychological consequences- namely, psychosis, psychosis is a common consequence for having your pain ignored because this kind of neglect breaks your psyche at its core, at its sense of self.

Johnny has all the symptoms of a man in pain but because American soft power made drug abuse cool people think he's cool for drinking and fucking and killing and coking himself up until he blows himself up. Johnny's not cool, he's a tragedy, he's hurt, he's self-medicating, no he's not going to go cold turkey because he loves Kerry or because he loves your V, love isn't going to fucking save him, if you just erase Johnny's addictions because you think love fixes that honestly fuck you, because I'm tired of people just treating addiction like a bad spot to bleach out of sight, like it's got no roots and it's got no continuation, to no longer need self-medication Johnny would need reparation and better treatment, especially if he's brought back with that fucking arm, why do people not get that he didn't reclaim the arm, he let it take over, for fuck's sake he canonically blames all HIS bad deeds on The Hand, that's not reclaiming, that's self-sabotage.

Johnny dies like a pathetic pawn in Blackhand's plan, and even among people who were supposed to be his own, he's not seen as anything but a hero or a monster. No inbetween. He's not a man to them. He's something to workship, and if he doesn't grant them miracles he's the Devil.

What a load of bullshit.

Fuck, Johnny's not cool. Johnny needed help but didn't even want it because he was so full of violence and hatred he killed himself. But he deserved better nonetheless.

[mncxbe]

𝙄𝙣 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚

𝐟𝐲𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

A sly smile made its way to his lips as he offered you his gloved hand. "Care for a dance?"

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: character death

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: slight angst

○ ☆°

You knew you fucked up. And you fucked up badly. You have done the unthinkable, something so reckless and stupid no one dared to do before: you betrayed Fyodor. And you knew your deeds would not go unpunished. The most ironic thing is that you did it for him, because you loved him.

Countless thoughts were racing in your mind. Not even the soothing music played by the orchestra was able to silence them. You were staring mindlessly at the people around you. Almost all of them were waltzing in pairs, spinning around the golden lit room.

You felt his piercing gaze on you as soon as he stepped foot in the room. A shiver ran down your spine as you saw the tall man approaching you. He was wearing his finest white suit. His hair was undone, framing his face in the most beautiful way. Fyodor was by far the most attractive man in the room, turning the heads of many women. His eyes however didn't leave yours as he walked across the ballroom, straight through the crowd of dancing people. Your anxiety grew with each step he took and you were most certain that he noticed that. He stopped a few steps away from you, his purple eyes taking in your figure. You were wearing a cream coloured dress made of silk, embroided with shapes of flowers and pearls. It was one of your favourites, simple yet elegant, gifted to you by Fyodor himself. A sly smile made its way to his lips as he offered you his gloved hand.

"Care for a dance? We shouldn't let this music go to waste" His eyebrows slightly arched as he waited for your response. You cautiously took his hand and let him guide you to the centre of the room. He quickly started moving and you followed. Before you knew you two were floating around the room.

As you grew more and more conscious of the position you were in, fear began spreading in your body like a virus. You knew how deadly his hands were, how many lives they ended. The same hands were now trailing along your waist, your arms, gently holding your hand as you spun around the room. You were at his mercy and he was aware of that. You gazed around the room. The couples around you were moving at a faster pace, following the rythm of the music. You looked up at the glimmering chadelier that was right above you. Its light was falling upon your skin, bathing you in a rain of gold. You slowly closed your eyes, letting yourself be carried by the music.

Little did you know that your partner was observing all your gestures, your mimic. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful and radiant. You were literally glowing, the pearls on your dress shimmering like starts on the morning sky. Like an avid reader reading his favourite book he took in all your features: your smooth, rosy cheeks, the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your neck as you looked up at the beaming chandelier, your collarbones and the top part of your chest. The rest of your body was hidden behind the cream dress, but he needn't see it. He already knew every single curve of your body.

A few minutes have passed since you closed your eyes. The constant movement was making your head spin. It felt as if you were drunk on happiness and love. You slowly opened your eyes only to meet your partners'. You were taken aback by the softness of his gaze. A gentle but sorrowful smile appeared on his lips as he leaned in. "Why did you have to betray me? You of all people..." he whispered in your ear. The feeling of his hot breath on your neck made your hairs raise. You both knew that the question was pointless since the answer was already known.

The rythm of the music started slowly decreasing. The song was coming to an end. You were overcame by a feeling unfelt before: the overwheling need to live, to see and experience new things, lust for life. But you knew it wasn't possible.

Your partner noticed the change in your demeanor, the sudden glimmer in your eyes. He was familiar with that look although he himself hadn't had it in a while. The glimmer of hope, desire to live. He only pulled you closer to him, your bodies completely touching as he spun you further around the room. Your gaze was holding his, desperately trying to make him break. But he wouldn't, he couldn't. Not after what you did to him.

The end of the song was approaching faster than it should. All that you wanted was for this moment to last forever. You eventually closed your eyes, parting your lips as you waited for your punishment to be served. But that didn't happen. Instead, you felt a pair of lips gently pressing against yours. Your partner tightened the grip around your waist as he deepened the kiss, a low moan escaping both your lips. You were slowly but surely losing yourself in the passionate kiss, the heat of the moment. Suddenly, a sharp pain bloomed in your chest. You struggled to keep your eyes closed as you pressed even further against Fyodor's lips. You were growing weaker, your partner supporting most of the weight of your body. You dared not open your eyes when you felt the taste of salt of your tongue. You didn't know whether the tears belonged to you or him but that didn't matter anymore. The last thing you heard before being completely engulfed by darkness was Fyodor's low whisper "May you feel alive in death, my love..."

Your limp body dropped to the floor as soon as the music stopped. Fyodor was gazing at your lifeless body. The white flowers on your dress were now red, matching his blood stained suit. Your featured looked all the same, except for your eyes which he couldn't nor wanted to see. He stood by your side contemplating your figure until a loud screech echoed in the room. A woman beside took notice of the lifeless body and screamed, pointing a finger at Fyodor. Panic started to rise among the dancers. They quickly started rushing around the room trying to find the closest exit. Fyodod took one last look at your limp body and planted a soft kiss on your forehead "Rest well" he said before he got up and slowly made his way towards the grand doors. As he left the ballroom he couldn't help but notice the deep feeling of regret, of misery rooting itself in his soul. He always had blood on his hands, but yours seemed a darker shade than anyone else's.

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

hi liddy! i saw the post you rbed about blocking liberally, which i’m very much on board with, and it reminded me of something i’ve been thinking about a lot lately and i’m curious about your thoughts.

i’ve noticed that the culture in fandom, maybe specifically the drarry fandom maybe not, is to not engage with things that make you upset, which i think comes from this same root of it feels like crap for everyone and is a self protective choice. that arguing on the internet is pointless and hurtful and it’s better to just look away and move on. but it seems like that turns into folks feeling like they can’t or shouldn’t call out real problems. whether it’s racism or ableism (etc) in fic, issues with modding or beta-ing, interpersonal drama, etc - if the culture is to block and move on, how do we address what does come up in order to keep each other safe? what has been your experience with this, if you’re down to share?

this is such a good question! When I reblogged the post I was thinking mainly about blocking people who post stuff I don’t like so that I don’t have to see it in the tags, essentially because it’s clutter to me. That’s not a particularly serious thing, more just personal preference. This got long so prepare yourself for loosely organized rambling.

I’ve found that fandom’s attitude toward conflict is extremely avoidant. This isn’t specific to drarry or HP, it’s something I have seen in basically every fandom I’ve participated in. Some folks are really uncomfortable with conflict, and it seems to be considered polite not to say anything negative about fanworks and tropes you have a problem with and especially not to publicly take issue with other fans, even ones who are managing the fan experience for lots of people, such as mods.

to some extent, it can be a good thing not to be public about disagreements. The entire fandom doesn’t need to weigh in and take sides on every personal disagreement. That would be a really unpleasant atmosphere and people would leave or be driven out and all that would be left is people who like to fight.

BUT on the other hand, I think there does need to be significantly more tolerance for like. Friction? This anti-conflict attitude favors the status quo, and like. The status quo is kind of steeped in the ableism, transphobia, racism, fat phobia, and even homophobia and misogyny of our larger culture because like. It takes focus and research and constant effort to shed those bigotries, and we are all at different stages in those journeys.

Personally I would feel way more welcome and accepted in fandom if it weren’t seen as like. Impolite to discuss how fandom can do better around things like race in particular. Fandom has turned drarry into an interracial relationship which I love, but sometimes the fannish handling of Harry’s character as a man of color is kind of racist and it would be great to be able to talk about it. once I saw someone say they specifically depict Harry as white because it’s too much trouble to sort out the details of his identity as a person of color and I thought that was SO hurtful and insulting to fans of color. The veneration of Aurors in fandom makes me kind of uncomfortable as a Black fan (acab??) and the treatment of house elves is a fucking mess (your SLAVE character is comic relief?? Really??)

In our particular fandom, canon is SO messy that fanworks seem like a good opportunity to address its messiness. On the other hand, some people don’t care about addressing all the problematic isms in canon and would rather just read and write and draw for sexy reasons or fluffy reasons and aren’t especially interested in taking the source material seriously enough to pull it apart and fix it. Or maybe some people don’t feel like. Informed enough to fix it. Putting yourself out there and sharing your work or even your taste in other people’s work can be really scary. Maybe people feel strongly that more barriers to entry are inherently a bad thing.

Maybe that sense of vulnerability, like we’re all doing something that’s on the edges of socially acceptable that makes everyone so afraid to hear criticism. I don’t see things like callout posts (I recently learned that calling someone out used to mean challenging them to a duel like swords and pistols style!) (Hogwarts era snarry? Pistols at dawn, you villain!) and blocklists anymore but they are not very far in the past. I was going to say we might be overcorrecting but did callout posts and blocklists actually make fandom safer or more moral?

I think a big part of the issue is that fandom is a fucking enormous group of people, united by the fact that we read some book series and we want to make and enjoy fanworks about it, and that is not a lot to have in common. We are going to differ significantly about what constitutes harmonious cohabitation. And of course most people find a little corner of fandom they like the look of and only engage with a few dozen people at a time. That’s much more manageable but like. You still have to be able to talk honestly to people about How We Want To Be (and then sometimes you find out someone doesn’t consider themselves part of your We at all and don’t care how you want to be as long as you leave them out of it).

To me, participating in fandom is about creating relationships and connecting with people, even more than it is about engaging with the source work or enjoying fanworks. It feels very strange to me to be trying to build relationships in an environment where I’m supposed to be unnaturally agreeable. How are they going to know who I even am, if I can only talk about things I like?

But even that is a matter of personal taste! Not everyone enters these spaces wanting to make friends, and there’s nothing wrong with just quietly enjoying the art and keeping to yourself. In which case, maybe conflict in fannish spaces feels more like shouting in the library than healthy relationship maintenance.

All this to say that building relationships and sharing space with other people is always messy and contentious and acting like you can avoid the mess by only saying positive things is self deception. Imposing that standard on the whole group is just. So unhealthy!!! We need a basement for how we treat each other so that people can feel safe that they won’t be damaged by other fans for either making a mistake or drawing attention to an issue.

But how do we establish rules like that so that everyone knows about them and agrees to them? How do we enforce rules? If we successfully establish community standards, how do we share them with new people as they enter? Being a group of humans who want to share things with each other is very fucking messy. These aren’t the kinds of questions you can answer once and be done with it. You have to keep answering them over and over again.

I don’t have a conclusion to this rambling and I have errands to run, so I will leave it here. I appreciate the question!

[alpydk]

Eclipse - (Part 13) - "Dream"

My second favourite chapter. Totally in love with altering the in game scenes ever so slightly. I initially wanted them to pass through Barovia but Gale v Strahd is not the fic this week.

Ao3 Link

Finding the Annals of Karsus had proven a little more difficult than the party had anticipated, but as they each laid down for the night at the Elfsong Tavern, they knew it had been the right thing to do. Gale sat alone with the book flicking through the pages mindlessly. He’d been quick to devour the information in front of his eyes, taking in what the book was telling him about the crown. With it, he could not only save them all from the Absolute; he could also rid himself of the orb and claim back his magic as it once was. He could become a god… This would mean claiming back his life and not needing forgiveness from Mystra at all. With this newfound freedom, he could live his life as he wished and support individuals who had experienced similar hardships. He could be a god with morals and humanity.

To new horizons. Gale wasn’t sure at what point he had fallen asleep, only realising what had happened as he opened his eyes to feel that the wooden surface of the boat which he sat on was unstable. He glanced around, seeing the astral seas around him, the woven skies that stretched for all eternity, the young girl that sat opposite him with the brown eyes that reflected the surrounding stars. He recognised her and yet didn’t. She had a curiosity in her look that matched his own, a nervous energy that came from channelling the weave, an excitable mind at the planes that extended out around them.

“Who-“ he tried to speak, only to be interrupted as she raised her index finger to her lips. He took the signal to be quiet, watching as she waved her other hand out over the edge of the boat.

The purple skies flickered before them, becoming light, going on to reveal the shores of the Chionthar in the distance. Just as he found his bearings, they vanished again, allowing him to see the docks of Waterdeep under the light of the setting sun. His breath hitched as it appeared, his longing to be home catching him off-guard at its sudden unveiling. Waterdeep’s docks soon became Netherwinter’s river, became the Ice Lakes of Luskan; all overlapping, all similar and yet different. He felt time and space bend around him, his memories conflicting with each place that he knew he had been and lived in through one life or another. The only constant factor staying the same was that of the young girl who appeared so innocent before him. The last sight he saw was from the docks of Baldur’s Gate itself and a glistening shine coming from beneath the murky waves.

“I love you. I miss you.”

As he heard the words as they had been spoken to him so many times before, he felt the sudden urge to hug the child, to bring her close to him and protect her, to care for her. He reached forward only for the world around him to waiver; the skies becoming shadowed, and the waters black. The air crackled with magic and the young girl looked around in panic, a confusion on her face as if she had just woken from a trance. Gale watched as the waves grew fierce around them, as the skies lit up with flashes of lightning, as the child vanished before his very eyes.

---

You’d returned to Nortale’s Hostel trying to get your head in gear before the visit to the temple in the morning. Despite knowing that talking to a statue would be pointless, it had been so long since you had visited that you hoped maybe Mystra would listen, what with how desperate you now were. Placing your head on your pillow, you wished Gale could hear your thoughts of how you longed to be with him. This journey should have ended with your meeting with one another; instead, you had been met with emptiness and further heartbreak. Your mind drifted over the various sending spells, over the images you had seen in the crystal ball of battles and victories, of his times of loneliness but also friendships. He couldn’t just have died. They wouldn’t have let that happen so easily.

Lúthien stirred near you and let out a soft moan. Dragging her here had all been for nought and soon you’d need to either tell her the truth or take her to some random family member hoping you could bring someone else into the lies you had told her. What would certainly happen though would be the long slow trek back to Waterdeep, empty-handed despite all your efforts.

She let out a quiet whimper, and you placed a hand on her shoulder, comforting her just as Gale had used to with you. On one torturous day in the distant past, he had taken you sailing out on the Sea of Swords, his sea legs prevailing much better than your own. He’d claimed it was a new adventure as you’d felt the rickety boat sway in the waves and his hand on your shoulder had provided the comfort needed to find your balance just before the winds died down, allowing you both to sail pleasantly down the coast. Now all you had left of those days were memories and minor acts of comfort you could only pass on.

---

Emaciated fingers tapped nervously on the edge of the rocky throne the figure sat on. “Oh, he found the book. What a capable young fellow his is.” His gaunt face wore a smile as he watched the wizard read and he tittered to himself as each page was turned. “Oh, but we need no more gods.” His jagged teeth gritted together, and his tone grew excitable. “She won’t let you take the crown, but you could, you know? You could take it from right under her eyes and use it.”

He stood and dramatically waved his arm in front of him, gesturing to the imaginary audience that sat on the edge of their seats at his every word. “It will be so much fun to see the tantrum she will have. Little lady of magic trying to have it all, but that’s not how it works now, is it, love?” He hopped down the steps playfully, a dance in his step. “How about we give him a little taste of power and see if he likes it? Everyone needs a little taste.” His gaze moved from the audience to nothingness, to the sleeping child, and he saw how she dreamt of playing in rose gardens.

“Roses are red, and sometimes white. Don’t worry dearie, I don’t bite.."

---

Lúthien felt the loss of the rose petals in her hand as they withered into ash and blew away with the chill of an icy breeze that passed over her shoulders. Her mind went blank, and she felt her body become weightless, as if descending into a bottomless ocean, and she let herself sink lower and lower beneath the glooming waves.

As she succumbed to the currents pulling her down, she could see the shimmering of purple light above the waters, the shadow of a small boat passing overhead, and she tried to reach out for it, to shout through the water that filled her lungs as she fell further into the darkness. Slowly, her fear turned to a gentle peace, her eyes closing as the twinkling of stars drifted further from her view. There was no pain or confusion as she lost herself in the dreamless sleep and floated away with the flow of the streams.

Her body jolted suddenly as she found herself on the wooden boat facing the bearded man. The waves licked up around them and the sky had grown grey with hostile clouds. Lightning could be seen in the distance, and the rumble of thunder grew louder in her ears with each passing second. Her heart pounded, and she looked around for any form of escape, her breath catching in her throat and a tightness building that she couldn’t control. She wanted to scream but the noise would not come, only the feeling of a palm held around her neck, and she gazed helplessly at the face staring confused at her, wishing that he would stop whatever was happening.

His arm reached out to her tentatively to offer comfort, but before she could grab onto it, she heard her mother’s voice, felt the touch of a hand on her shoulder and the next thing she knew she was back under the woollen blankets of the hostel bed, safe once again.

---

Mystra had refused herself the opportunity to watch over Gale since he had entered the vault. Her reaction to the missed opportunity between him and the child in the store had been a little more extreme than she had wished, and she’d felt the eyes of Ao fall on her, causing her to step back in line once again. Now she listened to the prayers of villagers as they asked the gods for forgiveness, as the lava burst forth and the earth cracked beneath them. She sent them rain, benevolent as she was, and as the fires dwindled, she smiled with a sense of satisfaction at the good deed she had done for the mortals that would soon come to worship her. 

The Weave twisted around her fingers as the spell ended and she listened to the whispers of gratefulness that came from below. “Who-“ The voice caught her off-guard amongst the din, but she recognised it as her former chosen, speaking from an area he was forbidden from ever returning. Her eyes narrowed in on him as he floated across the astral seas with his daughter, as they blinked in and out of existence with little regard for the disruption they could cause. Her temper flared directly upon them as she brought upon the storms, the lightning bolts of her own creation tearing through the skies towards them, the hurricane winds she would use to destroy them if needed. HOW DARE THEY PLACE THEMSELVES AS GODS WITHIN MY REALM!?

The Weave crackled uncontrollably at her fingertips, sparks darting out, ready to claim the Karsite weave that sat before her. What would the lives of a few tens of thousands of mortals be worth? Would Ao care if all of Baldur’s Gate were to be obliterated due to one rogue dream? The girl vanished from the vision and with it Mystra clenched her fist, holding herself back. Their presence may have been Gale’s doing, but the abilities he displayed were not ones he had even been capable of before. Someone was toying with her, and she needed to find out who.

---

The elderly wizard sat in a quiet corner of the Elfsong tavern, pondering over the words he would say to Gale with the coming dawn. His directions were simply to send Gale to Mystra at the temple, where she could issue her demands, and yet none of this sat well with him as he sipped at the red wine and picked at the cheese. She wanted not only the crown, but Gale and the child as well and had explained very little of why. He’d questioned her actions repeatedly; that the crown he could accept, but why Gale? Why the girl? She had no use for them with the multitude of other potentials out in the world. She had shunned him, questioning his loyalty, and for the first time in so many years, he had heard venom in her voice instead of the apathetic disdain she had previously embraced. He knew she wouldn’t want to grant any power to the boy, but she would say otherwise if it meant he stood by her side yet again. Over the centuries, she had become lost and jaded, and Elminster had watched as it had happened, standing back as she discarded those that were no longer useful to her.

He looked over at the bartender, that whispered to a patron, most likely offering advice impartially in a way that few could. Maybe words spoken from the heart would be more for Gale’s benefit, rather than the distant requests he had made of him last time. Maybe instead he could help Gale find Tav, bringing them both back together after so long, or maybe, in some ridiculous, Volo-esque manner, love could conquer all.

Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will. He would be a hypocrite to not believe these words himself, and so, as the sun rose, shining through the dusty windows of the tavern, Elminster placed his pointed scarlet hat atop his head and teleported himself to the room where he too would defy his goddess.

[yellowflowerbub]

boat racing and telepathy

Your tail’s end, thin and wispy, grazes the bristles of varicolored coral; the ocean’s currents knock your balance into them. Never, not once have you insisted on swimming so near the reefs, your respect for them greater than the King of Atlantis yet you continue forth, barely biting back an urge to check for damage. 

The enormous boat motor whirrs and whirrs under the sea water, the bubbles yield dispersing to pop on your skin while you scratch away at the distance between the daunting barnacle ridden boat and yourself. Your arms cut through the water as a blade do paper, your tail flows as gracefully as the waves above and you squint to keep your eyes on what lies a few breaths ahead. 

The gated dock.

Through the distorting powers of the sea, you hear the muffled and silly sounding voices of sailors on the ship looking overboard to watch you swim along with their machinery in awe. You smile but pay no real mind to their wonder for you are fixated on beating this ocean splitting machine.

You're close, very near to the gates but a voice all too familiar invades your train of thought. 

‘To your right, a fish your size is coming to ya’.’

As the voice stated, a fish nearly as big as yourself in both width and length scurries into your line of vision. You face the inevitable and brace your body as you roughly crash into the leathery flesh of the fish. You both spin out, the fish plenty more startled than yourself as it quickly swims out of view the moment it regains its sense. 

You curse, then float to sea level to find the boat. As expected, it's reached the dock as your face meets the cool air. You’re sure would’ve won if that fish had been a bit more aware of its surroundings.

The voice speaks again. ‘You alright?’ 

Your thoughts are mostly incoherent, some cursing yourself and the sea creature. A full thought manages to maneuver through the internal chaos, ‘Mostly.’

‘I’ve told you so many time now to-’

‘Stop chasing your boat. I know.’

‘No actually. No matter how many times I tell you that you just don’t listen. It’s pointless to keep reiterating it. I was trying to say be careful when you do decide to chase around my ship.’

If you could find time to articulate your thoughts to say something you still would’ve chosen to stay silent. Unfortunately you don’t have time to sort through everything racing through your head,

‘You’ve had your whole life in the sea. One could only assume you’d be able to move around like you have for Christ's sake.’

‘You’re getting old.’ You think.

He grew into his age. He gained a black beard that sprouted into a salt and pepper scruff along his upper lip and jaw. You noticed a smidgen of a hint at wrinkles after a long while of his absence, since that day they seemed to grow in greater quantities. His cheeks now had a line that marked his smile and wrinkled skin at the corner of his eyes. His eyes looked more tired than usual and his forehead had a few horizontal streaks of their own. 

‘I don’t need to hear that from you.’

A constant in his appearance was the middle part he sported but hid away underneath his sailors cap. In these recent years, you only get to see his hair being combed through by zephyrs of wind during the earliest hour of dawn. He’d wake before everyone else to watch the ocean ripple from the ship’s deck, however, he seemed to watch you stare back at him more than the sea’s reflective hue. 

‘I know. Just messing with you.’

It was saddening to have his appearance be a constant reminder of how quickly humans grow old and how you wouldn’t grow old with him. 

Men of various statures spill from the boat onto the vine ridden doc cradling boxed cargo in their arms. They grunt and babble as they walk along, conversing amongst themselves about nothing in particular. 

‘Shouldn’t you be helping, Captain?’ You tease, flicking your tail above the water.

‘They can handle themselves.’ He retorts. From around a corner, you spot the Captain cradling a cigarette behind his palms and the spark of fire igniting the end hanging from his lips. Adjacent to him is a sailor who looks about the same age as when you’d first met Kishibe. His youthful lively energy is of a stark contrast to Kishibe’s unwavering discontent. You wonder if he likes having the kid around. You then wonder if he heard you wondering but chose to leave you without an answer.

Soon enough you wander into both of their views. 

“Tell the fish-person I like their tail colors.” This sailor doesn’t seem to understand that you can hear. 

‘You heard the boy.’ 

‘That I did.’ You smile at neither of them. The boy turns around so only the back of his head is in view. 

You tilt your head in confusion and the Captain huffs out a single laugh. 

‘What's wrong with your boy?’ 

He scoffs, ‘First off, he’s not ‘my boy’ just a part another hand on deck.’

“What’s she sayin’?” The boy asks, leaning in a little closer to his Captain. You realize he’s got pointy teeth when he rotates enough for you to see his mouth. He reminds you of a silkie.

“Nothing important.”

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello, mbti-notes! I will quit trying to be creative and will just thank you for this blog. I always come here when I need to somehow freshen up my thoughts. I like your approach and your wording.

I was going to ask you a question about a better way of socialising, but before that I wanted to explain my current mental state. It got long, sorry in advance.

So, lately I have been socialising my a** off. Like literally hopping on every opportunity to have a conversation with anybody. Even with people that I feel no sympathy for and initially despise. I tried to prove to myself a theory that I can have a nice conversation with any kind of person. For what?

Maybe, I am thinking, I was just trying to become a «better adult». I have always been told by my parents and elders that I am a sloppy, slow to react child, that is spending too much time in its head. And I felt uncomfortable with that. Though I doubt anyone would be comfortable with listening to such half-teasing accusations )). But I respect and love my elders, though can be bitter sometimes. Unconditional love is a thing, yeah. No one is perfect.

And I just tried to prove myself that I can be that easy-going, light, happy person. I tried and I succeeded. Because you think what you believe - in a lot of cases. And you can go a pretty long way with silencing that tiny voice in your head that keeps asking: «Is that the real you? Why are you trying to become the person that you despise the most? And why do you not feel anything?»

But because there is (Thank God!) such thing as one’s nature, I am entering my usual state currently. With constant cold showers of mild social anxiety, but having my own projects back on the forefront and exploring new interesting topics that fill me with knowledge (and thus providing comfort/sense of self).

But there is a doubt in my head that is always present: may it be that I am just «slacking off»? Not doing enough of my Extraverted Feeling exercises? Should I go back to caring about people around me even if it seems to be pointless, emptying all of my resources and making me feel miserable and hollow? Maybe it is true that «what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger» and I should continue this slightly destructive way of self-exploration?

Because of those constant intrusive (and self-deprecating) thoughts I feel the need to go back in time somehow. In a way, return to the foetus version of me and tell it to feel less guilty for not liking people around it, for not having answer for everything and being a little bit slow to grow up. And maybe take with me that precious naivety of my younger self, that openness which helped me overcome dark pessimistic thoughts with ease.

But I based my whole socialising experiment on trying to prove that the child me was wrong. That elders are right because they are more experienced and know the flow of things better. Simultaneously, though only a little bit, it helps with fear of dying a mediocre person. At least there is a possibility that you will gain «enlightenment» skill with age. It could have been worse, right?

And of course it is not my first experiment. I did a lot of it in my teens too. Now I am just being more conscious about the steps that I am taking.

And my sentences may be lacking structure, that’s why I will try to sum up everything I wrote in one question. If you would be so kind, please answer. I would really appreciate your feedback.

My question:

Is there some better way to stop feeling disgusted with yourself while trying to socialise, other than just straight-up ignoring your feelings and discomfort?

Example:

I am talking with a person. At some point I understand that I do not care about them. Then I feel hollow, because somewhere deep I start to feel that I sincerely do not care for anyone. I even question if I have any feelings at all. Maybe I am just a piece of egotistic shit and that is all to me. To avoid this dark thought I just throw it away. Stuff it in a metaphorical drawer. And maybe try to justify my lack of empathy by thinking that we are all the same and I am not the only one with a social mask. And maybe feel manipulated/tricked by society/media/literature/art for putting in our minds this concept of sincere empathy afterwards.

Thank you for finishing my long ask!

Hoping to receive a reply.

An INTP (early twenties, female)

--------------------

I appreciate that you have a desire to improve yourself and I certainly wouldn't want to discourage you. However, I would never suggest anyone try your method. What can I say when people go against my advice? Your case is a textbook example of two mistakes I have repeatedly warned people about:

1) It is important to wait until one is psychologically mature enough to pursue inferior function development, otherwise, one could easily get trapped in inferior grip. You are not yet at the stage of ego development where healthy inferior function development is possible or desirable. The results of your "experiment" only confirm this.

2) It is important to approach type development with the right intention, armed with the right understanding of its grand purpose, otherwise, one is likely to exacerbate developmental issues or create even more. Your motivation for function development was suspect from the start. It is apparent in your admissions that you are driven by ego, childishness, and faulty reasoning (that keeps you trapped in your own world of distorted beliefs).

Why do people socialize? They need relationship. To be successful in interpersonal relationships, you have to: invest in strengthening relationship bonds over the long term; care about psychological well-being; open yourself up to being seen and loved. It doesn't sound like any of this was happening. How can a proper relationship form when your intention in socializing is merely to prove some imaginary point? Other people don't really exist for you except as objects to be used and discarded once the point is proven. There is no "social" in your socializing. There is no "Feeling" in your Extraverted Feeling actions.

As far as I can tell, one reason you've faltered is that you don't know what exact problem you're trying to solve. From your description, it seems the main problem is a lack of feeling and empathy. Forcing yourself into inappropriate socializing situations isn't going to solve this problem. If lack of feeling/empathy is indeed at the root, then you ought to focus primarily on it. Lack of feeling/empathy isn't a crime and doesn't automatically make you a bad person; it is a legitimate psychological issue that people experience for a variety of possible reasons. Take time to understand how and why you suffer from this issue. Perhaps consult some experts on the matter.

Putting yourself down or destroying yourself is unnecessary and counter-productive. Self-denial and self-hatred are major impediments to personal growth. If you truly want to grow as a person, the first thing you have to do is face facts and accept the truth of what you are, rather than live in a fantasy world where you believe that weaknesses and faults can be eliminated with the wave of a magic wand. Only by being seated firmly in reality will you have the right frame of mind to learn effective coping and adaptation strategies to make the best of what you have.

[hirik0]

Ghosts

Coping

Hesh still rembers the day their mother died how for some time everything lost its appeal, everything had a vail of grey, but it passed, they got closure at the funeral. They had each other. This, but this what he is feeling now is so much worse. When somebody dies you atleast can say goodbye, can return to the grave if you miss them. Logan being gone don't give him this, there is only uncertainty, there will never be closure, it will hurt forever. He is still on medical leave for his leg but he dont think he would be of use in the field if he was not injured. The rest of the team is gone trying to get a lead on Rorke, while he lays in bed staring at the ceiling for 5 days now. Pathetic, he is so pathetic he should search for Logan, he should train, he should do something, but he cant. Yesterday was the first day he left his room with out being bribed with food or taking Riley for a walk. He still haven talked to his father he is undecided if its for the better or the worse that Elias didn't try to talk to him again. He would probably just scream again, so it's for the better, his thoughts about the situation are spiralling out of control. Riley is the only living thing that can stand him right now, resting his head on his chest, but everytime they walk past Logans door the dog is sitting down, barking waiting for the door to open. The door will never open again tears start running down his face at this though. He knows he need to pull himself together that he is expected to join the next big mission, that his pitty party have to end soon, but he dont know if he can. For the very first time in his life he dont think he can keep going, he's exhausted despite him doing nothing but sleeping, he crys with out reason, everything is pointless. He wants to give up, but he is to afraid to really think what giving up means in this context, he trys to find a reason to keep going but all of them are pointless, dont feel like they are worth the effort, finding Logan feels impossible to achieve. The weight if his feelings is crushing him, he feels so much that he dont feels anything at all anymore. The days start to become one big blob, he knows this is dangerous but he dont care to stop it, he will try tomorrow. Ignoring he says that for 3 days already. Today is the first day he lets the sun in the room again, not being able to take the constant darkness any longer, the darkness in his thoughts cant get chased away by the sun, but they look smaller now, not like gigantic shadow monsters. It looks like a really nice day out site, fluffy white clouds on clear blue sky. A sting goes through his heart, remembering how Mum, Logan and him would sometimes lay in the grass looking at clouds, describing what the shapes remind them of. Life was so easy back then. "What do you think Riley can we be sad outside these 4 walls?", he asks the dog his voice empty, does he really want to go out? Riley lifts his head looking at him before jumping from the bed walking to the door. He also slowly get up from the bed, it is coasting him way to much energy do to this simple think, but now did before. He opens the door, autopiloting to the outsite, Riley next to him. Maybe he can get some things from Logans room to put in his room he dont have to choose now. It will not run away.

The sun feels strange, like its warmth can't wash a way the cold numbness he is feeling, like it is lost part of its brightness, he can't believe there was a time he enjoyed being in the sun. That was inly 6 days ago, but it feels so much longer ago. They walk aimlessly over the base Hesh not really knowing what he is looking for till he finds a space to just sit down, before he starts to cry again. He's done with crying, he dont want to cry anymore, crying is annoying. He didn't even know you can cry that frequently, for days with our a end in sight. "God damit", he curses he didn't mean it this literally when he said being sad out site these 4 walls. He lays down, looking at the sky and automatic starts to see shapes in the clouds, one that reminds him of a tree passing over him. His crying gets worse, but somehow a warm feeling is spreading through him for the first time in 5 days. Doing this child activity is comforting in a bittersweet way.

Riley is the first one to notice them being approached. Getting on his legs while Hesh absently looks at clouds not registering anything around him, lost deep inside his head. It coukd have started to raun and he would not have noticed it. He dont even know how long they are here already, but the sun is slowly sinking, colouring the sky in orange and red. Somebody is kicking his feet and for the first time since he sat down Hesh is really taking in his surroundings. "You are a easy target if you zone out like this", Kick says to him, with means the team is back. "I'm not in the field", Hesh states the facts sitting up, looking at Kick with puffy and red eyes from crying. "C'mon we are looking for you for 40 minutes." Kick is soundung reliefed that he found Hesh and is holding out a hand to help him up. "Gues my stealth skills improved." It is meant as a joke but it totally misses the mark, seems to annoy Kick who is kicking him again. He takes Kicks hand and gets up, grass stucked on his cloths. "We have information you might want to hear", Kick says getting a sad smile from Hesh before he nods getting as much grass of him as possibel before exploring the older Ghost. The way back feels endless, every step is harder then the last one, but he has to do this right, its part of recovering to start participating in life again. These informations could be about Logan even just a tiny nugget could help him figure out away to get his brother back. Hesh atleast trys to convince himself, a part of his mind clearly telling him that its pointless, that he will likely never find Logan again. He pushes the voice, soundung suspiciously like Rorke, away he listened to this voice for 5 days and its not helping him at all, it makes everything worse. They enter the briefing room and Hesh chosses a chair as far away from his father as possible next to Kegan, Riley laying down next to him. He feels 2 pairs of worried eyes on him his father and Merrick, he hates this. The two oldest Ghost are giving him worried parents vibes, is he going to a hard time, surr but this? This makes him feel weak and useless like a child that needs to be protected. Kegan is punshing him against the shoulder. "Good to see you." Hesh nods as a acknowledgement before Merrick is starting the briefing the eyes of his father never leaving him.

He stopes listening to Merrick when he announced their next target somebody that can give them information on how to find Rorke. Finding Rorke means getting info on Logan, it's the tiniest nugget of hope but Hesh will be damend if he is not guarding it like a dragon its treasure. This it what he needs to keep going, even if its just till after the next mission, its a goal it feels achievable and from there more tiny steps to reach the big goal. The other Ghost are leaving the room everyone besides him, Riley and Elias. Merrick hesitates at the door but Elias is signaling him to leav, but Merrick stays at the other side of the door in case Hesh is exploding again. Elias is slowly aproaching his oldest like a feral animal that is corner led ready yo leavh out, there is no guarantee that this talk will end better then the last one. He carefully sits down on the chair Kegan sat minutes ago, carefully resting on of his hands on Heshs leg. He sees how his son is pulled back in to the room. "Hesh", Elias starts hesitant he referred this with Merrick for two days but he still don't fell ready. Hesh looks around confused clearly trying to catch up what happend. "How your doing?" God its a dumb question its clear as day that Hesh is doing terrible. "I.. sometimes I think for hours what I could have done differently", Hesh admits sounding tired. "There is nothing you could have done differently. Not with Rorke planning to get one of you", Elias trys to reasure his son. "When... when you lost Rorke did you think what you could have done different?", Hesh asks looking for the first time at his father. "For weeks and.. there is nothing I could have done different, there was now way for me to save Rorke. The only thing that would have changed things would have been us retreating when the city got flooded, but Rorke he was obsessed with killing General Almargo and it let to his downfall", Elias explains watching his son warry for any sign if aggression flaring up. "We could have done things diffrent, we run like headless chicken", Hesh states but stops when his father is shaking his head. "Hesh, he would have gotten Logan one way or another", Elias trys to reasure Hesh his heartbreaking when tears are gathering in Hesh's eyes again. "I.. I just let him take Logan", Hesh sobs for the first time talking about what happened. "Hesh, you didn't let.him just take Logan, you two ran quite the distance ti get away, you nearly drowned and he shot you in the leg and he would have killed you if he had to. You survived and we know he has Logan because of that otherwise we had to asume Logan drowned. You did everything you could in the situation", Elias says having to hold back his own tears he needs to be strong for Hesh just a littel bit longer. "But.. but it was not enough", Hesh wispers voice breaking feeling Rileys paws on his other leg. "Hesh, it was enough.", Elias reasures him giving Riley space to comfort one if his owners. Hesh is doing a strange mix ov nodding and shaking his head at the same time his body trembling with every sob. They sit there in silence Merrick checking in on them twice while Elias waits for Hesh to calm down so he can ask him one important question.

When Hesh sobs are turned down to sniffing and he looks at his father again Elias knows his son is ready. "Get ready for Caracas, Hesh we need to get information from Rorke", Elias tells him getting a serious look from his son that is a bit undermind by the wet face, puffy and red eyes and but he can see that his son is ready to keep going and this is all that matters for now. He can hopefully pull Hesh along from mission to mission and keep the remains of their family together.

[yanderecrazysie]

Requested on Quotev!

Title: Trick Part 2

Pairings: Mr. Compress x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: When a strange magician comes to the little carnival you’ve been working at for years, you’re intrigued by what he’s able to do. Unfortunately for you, he has more tricks up his sleeve- ones that you might not be very happy with.

Part 1: here

trick

/noun/

a cunning or skillful act or scheme intended to deceive or outwit someone.

It’s disturbing how quickly you fell into your role.

Maybe it’s because you so desperately wanted out of your prison. A prison in which you could not move or speak, and even closing your eyes would not block out all that blue.

When Mr. Compress released you at last, you were nowhere near your carnival. Your home.

You were alone in a field, with an unfamiliar carnival about a half mile away, its blue-and-white striped tents and ferris wheel vastly different from the place you were used to.

Mr. Compress held you close, running a hand up and down your back in what he probably thought was a soothing way.

“I want to go home,” you’d said.

“I know,” he’d said, his voice soft and sympathetic. 

“Why? Why are you doing this? I want to go home!”

He had sighed, wearily looking down at you, “I know, my dear, I know. But I cannot stay in one place for long and I could not bear to leave you.”

“Why?” you whispered, heart twisting uncomfortably in your chest. It wasn’t fair, the way his affection for you still made you a little happy, putting butterflies in your stomach.

“I know you wish I could have just stayed, but it is not in my nature,” Mr. Compress explained.

You wished he could have stayed too. Then, you’d be happy at your homely carnival with the man you had a huge crush on, able to have the best of both worlds.

That way, you wouldn’t have been kidnapped and ripped away from your home and friends, left in a domed prison to suffer alone. 

How could someone who cared for you so much do something like that to you?

You had followed him obediently to this new carnival, where the two of you signed on to work there. You performed as a contortionist to crowds full of foreigners, unsure of where in the world you even had ended up. Mr. Compress went on to show his magic tricks, ones that no longer brought you joy and intrigue.

Then, after what felt like forever, Mr. Compress announced that the two of you were moving on. There were aww’s from the carnival workers, but Mr. Compress could not be swayed, much like what had happened at your old home.

The first moment the two of you were alone, Mr. Compress removed his glove and deja vu hit you like a train. You tried to cry out for help, but you were too late.

In a country you didn’t know with a man who still gave you mixed feelings, you didn’t stand a chance, did you?

It became a routine- get compressed, arrive at a new carnival, work there for a while, rinse and repeat.

You could tell Mr. Compress was pleased to live this life- the one he was used to with the bonus of having you by his side. But this life was not for you. You hated it- you hated meeting new people, staying in unfamiliar places, and being alongside him. 

Begging to go home was useless- he’d never listen. Running away was pointless- he’d find you and compress you without a second thought.

Months turned into years as the never-ending cycle continued. There was a resigned acceptance, yes, but even more than that was the depression.

Mr. Compress treated you with such tenderness, but the love you’d felt for him had long since faded by now. You could tell he felt guilty every time he looked at you, but he pushed on with his obsession anyways.

Each new carnival blurred together. They were all unique and filled with different people with diverse personalities, but they were all the same in the end. A prison outside of the compressed one.

What you wouldn’t give to go back to your old carnival or at least say goodbye to the friends who had become your family.

The only constant in your life was Mr. Compress. Although he had once been a source of affection and torment, you were losing that affection with every day that passed until you were left with a numb, bitter heart.

But as you looked among the latest crowd, your heart came to a sudden stop. In the large group of spectators was one familiar face- one you hadn’t seen in years.

Ryo.

Your old friend from your old troupe. You could tell he recognized you by his wide-eyed, shocked expression.

You didn’t have the chance to approach him. As soon as your act ended, Mr. Compress was at your side.

You looked up at his mask and instantly burst into tears. You knew the man well enough to feel the surprise and guilt radiating from him.

“I can’t do this anymore!” You sobbed, “There’s someone from my old troupe here- please, just let me go home! I hate this life!”

Mr. Compress was still for a moment before he enveloped you in a soft hug.

“Let me perform one last trick with you, please,” He murmured into your hair.

“You’re just going to compress me again, aren’t you?”

“No, not this time. Just one trick and you’ll be free from me.”

You were ready to agree with anything at this point, “Okay, fine.”

The two of you walked back to Mr. Compress’s stage. Your heart pounded- was this really it? One last trick and you could go home with Ryo. It felt too good to be true.

“Ladies and gentleman, it’s time for the grand finale! A disappearing act that will astound you!”

He rolled out a large black box and motioned for you to step inside. Hesitantly you did so, hope and worry swirling in your chest until you felt like you might just throw up. Mr. Compress began to close the door but, before he did so, he said one last thing to you.

“I love you, (Y/n). You’ll be free from me, just like I promised. Please, remember me.” You knew these words were for only you to hear, the crowd abuzz with bets on whether the trick would work or not.

The door closed, leaving you in darkness. You closed your eyes for only a moment, opening them wide open when you felt a sudden cold hitting your cheeks.

The land around you is devoid of any signs of human life. As far as the eye can see is white. 

Wherever you were, it was suddenly covered in snow. It was still summer, so how were you in a winter wonderland?

You covered your arms and shivered- you were wearing a red, sparkling dress, one that was meant for performing and not braving freezing weather.

With a thrill of fear that sent an even more violent shiver down your spine, it hit you all at once.

Mr. Compress said you’d be free of him.

Not that you could go home.

[berthemorisot14]

Deep Levihan

Although I ship them, I don't really focus on whether Levi loved Hange.  Hange is the one who stood by him until the end, she’s a great character, and she saved the humanities strongest’s life many times, so those facts just speak for itself. It's strange if he did not love her, be it romantic or platonic. (Somehow, I could never see Levi as a sexually mature romantic person throughout the series.)

Let me go deep into Levi’s feelings about Hange, though.

The first sign was at the beach, when he said, “do not touch that it may be poisonous.”

Aside from the fact that this was the very first time that Levi ever seemed to care delicately about someone, that’s very typical of tsundere( ツンデレ) character of Japanese romance story. Briefly, cold outside but warm and loving inside.

Westerners may not be familiar with the common plot of Asian romantic comedy when 2 characters seem very aromantic and even hostile but grow to love each other. 

FF to Chapter 126, up until Levi was seriously hurt, Hange probably did not know that she actually cares for him deeply. Her feeling is transferred to Levi, of course when she said “Maybe we should live here together”. What happened next is not shown from the manga, but it is certain that they had a long  conversation until the morning.

Before he was hurt, Levi did not know the whole intention of Yeager brothers. Hange should have explained everything and convinced him to serve the greater good of stopping rumbling and saving humankind. Otherwise, it is not possible that he appeared in front of Captain Magath and asked for coalition. Besides, Hange must have given him her thoughts about why it is pointless to fight against yesterday’s enemy when genocide is imminent, and Levi fully agreed with her. Although Levi said his intention is to kill Zeke, soon the intention was changed to killing Eren.

After the coalition of Marley and Eldian soldiers, a fierce fight broke out between Jean and Reiner about Marco’s death, however, Levi did not show any emotion towards Annie, who killed all of his previous squad. He had a change in his viewpoint about the world.

On the sailboat towards Odiha, Hange probably visited Levi regularly to check his health and fill him in with the situation. That’s why he knew that Yelena is awake from her fever, and tried to join the interogation. They were in constant touch with each other.

Hange is a natural pan and a free spirit and although she loved Levi deeply, she could also love someone else at the same time. When she flirted with Pieck. Levi reacted, and I think the most strong signal was when he uttered “Don’t say things like that guy (Erwin).”

He was never afraid of losing someone, and this was the first time ever that he showed his vulnerability towards losing Hange. Sadly, Hange already made up her mind that she will follow her fate and sacrifice herself. Probably she knew that all this fight is in vain, still she did her utmost to abide by her integrity.

I respect other Levi shipper’s opinion if it’s not about disparaging a character without reason. It is only the question of taste. Just see Levi’s face when faced with 2 other important persons’ death in the ship world. Erwin and Levi have a very special relationship, however I see more of a traditional Japanese Shogun-Samurai relationship in them. Petra is a typical character that serves love interest (of both other characters or fans) and again it’s me personally that it’s felt clichéd. The feelings of Levi towards Hange is something profound that grew through thick and thin.

Why did IH leave Hange till the end? I think its IH himself who dearly loved this character and that’s why her death is drawn so gracefully compared to other soldiers.

Only thing our lover boy Levi could do at the end was to give his heart to this magnificent person. That is the first time ever, again, that he uttered this mantra 心臓を捧げよ. At the death of Hange, he became a whole person who understands the meaning of life, how sacred life can be despite the futility of it.

I hope the last season really serve them well, hopefully with “some additional scenes” which they duly deserve.

[radiocrypt-id]

No but you don't understand... ElQuackity is the warning siren, he could have saved them all...

I think it's entirely possible that ElQuackity was a test.

I think it's entirely plausible that ElQuackity is a very good liar, so good the Federation doesn't know what he feels or what he's up to.

I think it's entirely pointless to discredit the concept of ElQuackity being more than what he appears.

I think it's a possibility that ElQuackity had every intention of being a roadblock for the Federation as President.

hear me out.

He has no attachments, no responsibility to anyone, no one trusts him or believes he's the real quackity and I don't believe he's doing a bad job of pretending to be quackity, i think he's doing a Very Good Job of showing he Isn't Quackity to the people that needed to know that. He was the least easy to manipulate. The one that actually knew the most about the federation and its employees and its scope of power. He was the most unknown and I believe that's On Purpose. He doesn't ever explain himself and I believe that's On Purpose. The Federation has shown that they are always listening, always around. They take pictures from right Next To You and you can't see them. They take pictures from Your Perspective even. We just watched Cellbit be dragged along with a carrot like a pig, digging around for truffles at their silent, hidden request. No one but ElQuackity could know the reach and will of the Federation. He is from them, of them, their puppet; and the perfect Wall. Who could they have threatened to make him behave? He has no child. no family. and as Maxo said, no friends either. He has nothing, so he has nothing to be used against him. He's unshackled by the very things the federation repeatedly uses to manipulate the island residents.

I really do think it's reasonable to believe that Bad made a mistake. ElQuackity was set up to be the federations choice for president? Maybe. they sure didn't try to protect him though, did they? His ominous behaviour in the chat is always taken as a threat, but they could be veiled warnings. "Have fun at the dinner :)" "Good luck candidates on the election" "You have no idea what you've done"

He's not wrong, he's never been wrong. Every message has instilled an unnerving worry, like clouds building on the horizon suddenly, moving steadily closer. His cryptic messages encourage everyone to be careful, to question, to prepare and be safe. As President, he could have been a wall. A steadfast, constant warning sign to anyone outside. A caution symbol. A warning siren.

What's more, no one would have thought twice to leave ElQuackity behind id they found a way out, but BBH? Forever? Mike, Felps Etoiles? Any of the disqualified candidates had they survived? How much hesitation would the islance residents hold for them? for leaving them behind? "We'll all get out, together, all of our friends that want to come we'll all escape!" but if the President can't leave? If federation entities and employees can't leave? How long would they wait? Not a second, for ElQuackity. But anyone else?

We really have no idea what we've done.