#feel free to ignore the tags there's a lot.... and i'm just frustrated for the rest of my life i guess

[chillllii]

i dont think i have room to still be upset at old friend

sometimes i don't really care either?

like i've acknowledged that i was an asshole and could've been better but also i never allowed myself to get mad or upset back at them

[wholoveseggs]

Me again :) I'm just requesting those as they come to me, so feel free to ignore. How about Elijah and reader being in a relationship, but Elijah being pretty vanilla and gentle in the bedroom. So, reader sits him down to share each other's desires and kinks. He finally opens up, revealing a world of dirty thoughts inside his mind, one of them being da breeding kink. I picture it very conversation driven as they build tension.

Fantasies

gif credit @winchesster

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You get Elijah to open up about his desires and he discovers a few of yours, leading to a night of fun and exploration.

♡♡ Thanks for the request sweet @originals23 I adore all of your requests ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smutttt, discussions of kinks & sex, lots of cum & orgasms, praise, breeding kink, public sex, fingering...

When you started dating Elijah, you expected a lot of things. You expected him to be the perfect gentleman and he was. You expected him to be kind and considerate and he was. And you expected him to be the perfect, loving partner and... Well, he was that too. He was everything you wanted and more, but sometimes... Sometimes, he was a little too gentle.

The first time you had sex with him it surprised you, mostly just how sweet and tender it was. He had you on your back, pressed into the mattress as he made love to you, taking his time, kissing your lips, your neck, and even your forehead before he came. You didn't expect it and you had to admit it was a little frustrating.

He was one thousand years old, an immortal creature of immense power, a man that had seen and experienced so many things, and yet, in bed he was just… the complete opposite. He was a soft lover, a romantic, a gentleman in the bedroom and you adored him for that, but there were times when you wanted more.

At first, you chalked it up to him wanting to make sure you felt good, but it soon became clear it was just the way he was. He wasn't shy, not exactly, but he wasn't open about his desires either. He was quiet in bed, mostly just letting out the occasional groan. The wildest thing he had done with you was smack you on the ass while you were riding him and, well, that just wasn't enough. You loved him so much, and you wanted to explore your sexual fantasies with him, but... You didn't know how to tell him.

All of this was on your mind when the two of you were at Rousseau's, cozied up in a quiet corner booth, drinking bourbon and chatting about everything and nothing at all. His arm was draped behind you on the booth, his hand idly stroking the nape of your neck and he was laughing, a deep and beautiful sound, his head tipped back as the corners of his eyes crinkled.

You loved this version of him. Relaxed and happy, with no care in the world, no responsibilities, no Mikaelson family drama, no nothing. Just the two of you and your love.

You'd had a few drinks, making you extra chatty. Your hand was on his knee and you were leaning against him, telling him some long winded story about something. You couldn't quite remember what it was, because his fingers kept brushing the nape of your neck and distracting you.

He noticed, of course, and when you trailed off and fell silent, he leaned down and whispered, "What's on your mind?"

"I..." You shook your head and finished your drink, setting it down on the table a little harder than necessary. "Can I ask you a question?" You said softly, turning towards him, your eyes flicking from his lips up to his eyes.

"Of course." He smiled at you, his eyes sparkling. "Anything."

"You tell me all these interesting stories about your past, but you never talk about... your... uh… sex life." You flushed red, stumbling over your words. You had no idea why you were so nervous. He had touched on the subject a few times, but never in any sort of detail.

He chuckled, looking away briefly, his smile growing, the corners of his eyes crinkling once again. "You want me to kiss and tell?" He asked, amusement in his voice.

"Yes. No. I don't know." You huffed, reaching for his hand, needing some kind of connection to him. "It's just... We've been dating for a while and... Well, I feel like I know almost nothing about your desires. Like… what you're into."

He took a sip of his drink, watching you curiously. "Tell me yours first," he said. "Then I'll share mine."

"Mine?"

"Yes, yours." He chuckled. "We all have them, don't we? Fantasies we like to indulge in."

"I... sure, I have them." You bit your lip. You knew your face was bright red.

"What is the wildest thing you've done?"

You hesitated, thinking about your past. You'd never been in a serious relationship before and the only thing that had been somewhat close was the occasional hookup, but those were few and far between.

"Uh... Well, this one guy I dated really liked roleplaying, so we used to pretend to be strangers in public places and stuff." You felt your cheeks flush as you looked down at the table, avoiding his eyes. "It was... It was fun."

"What else?" He was leaning back, relaxed, watching you intently, but there was something about the way he was staring at you that sent heat straight to your core.

"It's your turn," you said quickly, wanting to steer the subject away from you. "Tell me about one of yours."

"Mine?" He smiled that knowing smile of his, his eyes sparkling, but he didn't hesitate to answer. "I enjoy watching."

"Watching?"

"Yes. Watching." He laughed, finishing his drink. "There was a witch I was with for a short while and she would touch herself while I watched."

"Oh." You shifted in your seat, biting your lip. "And... And did you touch yourself too?"

"Sometimes," He set his empty glass down on the table and leaned back, stretching his arms out over the back of the booth. "Other times I would simply enjoy the show."

"That sounds hot." You licked your lips, picturing him sitting back and stroking his cock, watching some naked girl touching herself.

"It was." He turned his head towards you and looked you up and down, a playful glint in his eyes. "Your turn, tell me a fantasy of yours,” he said, his voice a low purr.

"Oh, okay." You shifted in your seat again, fidgeting. This whole thing was getting a bit intimidating.

"Come now, don't be shy." He said softly, his hand brushing against your arm. "I told you mine, didn't I?"

"Fine, fine, uh..." You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You weren't embarrassed, not exactly, but it was hard to open up. This wasn't exactly going the way you planned. "I've always wanted to... I've always wanted to be dominated, but like nothing too rough, just..." You paused, taking a shaky breath. "I don't know how to explain it, but I've always had this fantasy of a man pinning me down, making me do whatever he wants, making me submit."

"Is that so?" He asked, his hand settling on your shoulder. His touch was light and gentle, but his fingers squeezed lightly. "Have you ever done that before?"

"Not really. You have to really trust someone to let them have control." You opened your eyes and found him looking at you, his eyes dark, his lips parted slightly. "Also, some men just aren't very good at it, they have to enjoy it as well."

Elijah chuckled, nodding in agreement. "That is very true."

"What about you?" You asked, your eyes searching his. "Have you ever...?"

"Done what you just described?" He cocked his head to the side and thought for a moment. "I've been on both sides plenty of times, but I prefer the dominant role. I find it..." He trailed off, his eyes roaming over you, his gaze lingering on the exposed skin of your thighs, the swell of your breasts. "I find it very appealing."

"Of course you do," you teased, relaxing a bit. "What else do you like?"

"Well, now, I couldn't possibly reveal all my secrets to you, could I?" He said, his hand settling on your thigh, his thumb stroking the skin there.

"What is a kink if not a secret?" You laughed, reaching out to touch him, sliding your hand under his jacket and rubbing his chest. "What about, uh, what's the most bizarre thing you've ever done?"

"That would depend on what your definition of bizarre is," he grinned, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your skirt. "I've had sex with vampires, witches, werewolves, humans..."

"No, not what," you rolled your eyes, trying not to giggle. "I mean... I don't know... Like... What's the wildest kink you've ever explored?"

"Ah." His eyes sparkled as he moved closer to you, his hand slowly inching lower. "Are you sure you're ready to hear it?"

"Yes, of course." You shifted, spreading your legs apart for him, wanting him to touch you.

"Hmm, maybe another time." He slid his hand higher, his palm pressing against your pussy. "I'd like to hear another one of yours."

"Elijah..." You sighed, moving your hips, rubbing against his hand.

"Tell me, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

"Fine, okay." You closed your eyes and leaned back against the booth, focusing on his hand, his fingers. "There was this one time, with this one guy..." You gasped, his fingers pressing against your panties, stroking you.

"Yes?"

"He wanted to... To come inside me and... I didn't let him, obviously." You opened your eyes and glanced at him, finding him watching you, his eyes dark and intense. "But... I've thought about it a lot since then."

"Oh?" His fingers slid beneath your panties and he groaned, feeling how wet you were. "You're soaking," he murmured, his eyes still locked on yours. "Tell me more."

You could tell by the look on his face that this was definitely something he was into, his eyes burning, his lips slightly parted. "He said he wanted to fill me up," you said softly, biting your lip, trying to ignore his fingers. "He wanted to make sure I was... uh... filled with his cum," you whispered, feeling yourself blush. "I told him no, but... I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Is that so?" His fingers brushed against your clit, making you whimper. His lips were inches from yours, his breath hot and sweet.

"Yes," you moaned, closing your eyes, your hands gripping the edge of the booth. "I would think about him, about what he'd do if I let him."

"Would you like to explore that with me? This fantasy?" He asked, his thumb circling your clit, his fingers teasing your opening. "I'd love to try it with you," he whispered, his tongue licking the shell of your ear.

"Yes," you whimpered, spreading your legs wider, wanting more.

"What would you like me to do?" He asked, his teeth gently tugging on your ear.

"I'd like you to... To pin me down and..." You took a deep breath and forced yourself to say the words, knowing that's what he wanted to hear. "To fuck me, fill me up with your cum, and leave me a mess."

"A mess?" He laughed, his fingers slipping into your cunt, pumping in and out. "Like you are right now?"

His lips were still by your ear and you could hear the smirk in his voice, his fingers pumping firmly, you gripped his arm, squeezing him tightly. 

"Wait. Eli- someone could catch us," you gasped, glancing around the bar. You couldn't see anyone watching, but there were still a few patrons at the bar.

"Relax, no one can see you." He kissed your neck, his thumb stroking your clit, his fingers fucking you. "Now tell me," he murmured, his tongue sliding over the soft skin of your throat. "Would you like that? To be left a mess, your thighs slick with my cum, your pretty pussy dripping?" His teeth scraped across your skin and you shivered, unable to hold back a moan.

"Answer me, darling." His fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that made you see stars. "Would you like that?" He asked again, his lips trailing lower. "For me to fuck you, make you mine, claim you?"

"Yes," you whimpered, bucking against his hand. You couldn't remember ever being this wet. "Yes, yes, please," you moaned, your nails digging into his forearm.

"You have to stay quiet baby," he said softly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. "Can you do that?" His thumb pressed against your clit and you couldn't help but cry out, a loud moan slipping past your lips.

He chucked, his hand stilling inside you, his other hand cupping your jaw, turning your face towards him. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted. He kissed you, adding a third finger, stretching you. You couldn't take it anymore, your orgasm crashing through you, moaning into his mouth.

"Elijah," you whined, breaking the kiss. You were still shaking, his fingers still inside you, his lips brushing against your jaw. "Fuck," you gasped, trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you go. You had completely forgotten where you were. Thankfully the bar was practically empty, only a couple of people around, no one sitting near you, but it was still a public place and you were completely exposed.

He smiled, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth, licking them clean. "We should be getting home." He murmured, his lips ghosting over yours.

"Yeah, yeah, we should." You sat up, adjusting your skirt, smoothing it out. You were still shaking, still wet. He was watching you with amusement, he had never seen you so turned on. "You should call a car," you said, not meeting his eyes. Your cheeks were flushed and you could feel your heart beating in your chest.

"I could." He reached for his phone and started typing out a text. "Or I could get a hotel room." He looked up from his phone and smirked at you. "You can finish telling me about your fantasies," His eyes raked over you, his smile growing. "Unless you'd rather just show me." He winked and hit send, his phone vibrating immediately with a reply. "Car's on the way," he said, standing up. "Shall we?"

He led you outside and you followed him blindly, not saying a word. It was late and the streets were mostly empty, the streetlamps casting a warm glow over the city. The wetness between your thighs was cooling and you shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Elijah put his jacket around your shoulders, taking your hand and leading you to the waiting car. He opened the door and helped you in, sliding into the seat next to you. You sat silently, staring out the windows as the driver took you to the hotel.

"I can't believe we did that," you whispered, a bit nervous.

He kissed the side of your head, intertwining his hand with yours and bringing it to his lips, "I guess we both enjoy a bit of exhibitionism,"

The hotel he rented was incredibly fancy. The lobby was massive, filled with plush chairs and couches, a grand piano in the corner, soft music playing in the background. You stood by the desk, Elijah talking with the receptionist, signing papers, making arrangements.

To the untrained eye he looked the picture of composure, but you could see how worked up he was, his shirt slightly rumpled, his tie loose. You could feel the heat from his body, the warmth of his hand on the small of your back. The two of you barely spoke the whole way here, both of you eager for what was to come.

The room was on the top floor, overlooking the city, the lights sparkling. You took in the sights, admiring the view, before turning towards Elijah, smiling. He sat on the bed, pouring two glasses of champagne. He held out a glass to you and you took it, taking a sip.

"This is nice," you said softly, setting the glass down on the nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed. You felt nervous now, you didn't know what to expect from him.

"It is," he said, his voice soft. His fingers trailed up your leg, "come here" he gestured, and you obliged, moving to straddle his lap, his hands on your hips.

You kissed him, his lips warm and soft, his beard tickling your face. He pulled away, smiling, and kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You moaned, grinding against him, his cock hard beneath his pants. He slowly peeled your clothing off, tossing it to the floor, leaving you in just your panties. 

His eyes roamed your naked form, his gaze hungrier than ever. He lowered his mouth to your breast and swirled his tongue around your nipple, sucking on it lightly. With his other hand he gently massaged your other breast. You moaned softly, your head falling back as he worshiped your body.

He looked up at you, admiring your flushed skin, half-lidded eyes and puffy, pink lips. He couldn't wait to fill you with his cum, have you dripping and full.

His hand went up your thigh and dipped below the waistband of your panties. His finger slid between your pussy lips, gathering your arousal, before moving up to circle your clit. You moaned, grinding your hips, chasing the pleasure.

He hummed in approval, watching your face as he teased your clit, before pushing two fingers inside. He pumped them in and out, curling them slightly, searching for that sweet spot.

You gasped as he found it, clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"I can feel how you tighten when I touch here," he whispered, his lips against your ear, his fingers pumping firmly. "Your pussy will milk my cock so well, won't it?"

You whimpered, feeling yourself grow closer. His thumb brushed against your clit, his fingers never ceasing. You arched your back, bucking your hips, your body begging for release.

"I didn't hear you," he said in a soft lilt, his lips ghosting along your neck.

"Yes, yes, it will," you moaned, panting heavily.

He smiled and pulled his hand away, making you whine at the loss, he left you so worked up. You felt his erection twitch against you, his hands gripping your hips.

"You'll have to be a good girl for me, won't you?" He said, his voice husky. "So I can give you what you need."

"Yes." You sighed, your fingers working at his tie, struggling to undo it. His words making you flustered, he had never been much of a talker in bed before. This vocal, dominant side of him had you reeling, the way he was speaking to you, touching you. It was driving you mad, and you needed more.

He watched you pull his tie off, his hands on your hips as you fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Your fingers finally succeeded, pushing his shirt open and running your hands over his chest. You leaned in and kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip.

He broke the kiss and grinned at you, suddenly flipping you over onto your back, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He looked down at you, his gaze hungry, his eyes dark. You reached out, grabbing his belt, undoing the buckle, wanting to feel him. He leaned back, letting you, his cock straining against his pants.

You pulled his belt off and threw it aside, his pants and boxers quickly following. You stared at him, becoming wetter from the sight, he was so beautiful, so big, his cock was thick and long, already hard, a drop of pre-cum leaking from the tip.

He smirked at you and reached down, taking himself in his hand, slowly stroking.

"Touch yourself," he said, his hand moving up and down. "I want to watch you."

You bit your lip and obeyed, opening your legs, running your fingers along your pussy, gasping as they glided over your clit. He smiled, his gaze heavy, his eyes hooded.

"That's a good girl," he praised, his hand speeding up, his grip tightening. "Does that feel good? Do you like it?"

"Yes," you whimpered, nodding eagerly. You couldn't believe how much his words were affecting you, your fingers slipping inside, the sight of him above you, stroking himself, it was too much.

"I bet it does." His voice was thick, his breathing heavy. "You look so beautiful when you're enjoying yourself."

You couldn't help but smile, blushing at the compliment. He smiled back, letting go of himself and crawling over you, his cock brushing against your core. He kissed you, his lips soft and warm, his hands roaming down your thighs, lifting them up, pressing them into your chest. Your hips sprung up and he tapped his cock against your pussy, his hips grinding into yours. You groaned, the friction making your cunt ache. He continued to tease you, his cock sliding over your clit, your wetness smearing all over his length.

He kissed you again, his lips bruising, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. He grabbed his cock, lining himself up, the head of his cock spreading you open. He pushed in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, his hands found yours, intertwining and pressing them down onto the mattress.

He groaned, burying himself to the hilt. He stayed there for a moment, letting you adjust, before starting to move, his hips moving slowly, rocking back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of you. The sight of him above you, his hair disheveled, his chest rising and falling with his breathing, his eyes locked on yours, was almost enough to make you come.

He kept a slow pace, his cock stretching you, filling you, his hips rolling into yours. The hot, wet sounds of your pussy making him groan.

He let go of one of your hands, his free hand reaching down, his thumb brushing over your clit. You gripped his forearm, holding onto him, your eyes locked on his, as you both lost yourself in the pleasure.

He was letting out these soft groans and grunts, his jaw clenched, his breathing heavy. His hips were starting to falter, his cock twitching inside you. He was so close.

He leaned forward and kissed you, his hand squeezing yours. You felt him tense, his hips thrusting forward sharply, burying himself to the hilt. He let out a strangled groan, his body shuddering, his cock pulsing, filling you with his cum.

You looked down, watching as he pulled out, a string of cum connecting you, his fingers pushing inside, fucking his cum into you, his thumb circling your clit.

He leaned forward, kissing you deeply, his fingers pumping in and out, his thumb teasing your clit.

"That's it," he murmured against your lips. "Such a good girl, letting me fill you."

You could feel his erection pressed against you, he was still so turned on. You could feel the pressure building, his fingers pushing into you, his thumb stroking your clit, filthy wet noises coming from between your thighs.

He pulled his fingers away and replaced them with his cock, your combined fluids slick and warm, dripping down your thighs. You groaned, his cock sliding back inside you easily, his hips meeting yours, his body flush against you.

He pushed your legs up further and you hooked your arms under your knees, spreading yourself open for him.

You watched his thick cock sliding in and out of you, a trail of white fluid clinging to his cock every time he pulled out. The sight of it was enough to push you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through you, a strangled cry falling from your lips.

"That's it baby, squeeze my cock." His voice was low, his breath hot against your ear.

Your pussy pulsed around him, your orgasm continuing, making you feel like you were floating.

He buried his cock deep, his hips circling, his pelvis brushing against your clit, another wave of pleasure washing over you, the aftershocks of your orgasm intensifying. You felt his cock twitch, his hips jerking forward, a fresh wave of cum filling you.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his cock pumping his cum into you, his body shaking, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. He kissed you, his lips soft, his tongue slipping past yours.

He continued to rock his hips, his cock throbbing inside you, his cum spilling out, trickling down your ass, soaking the sheets. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, your hips moving in tandem with his. You wanted to stay like this forever, to keep him inside you, his cum warming you.

"Elijah," you whimpered, your pussy clenching around his cock.

He chuckled, kissing you slowly, his tongue exploring your mouth.

"You like being filled, don't you baby?"

You nodded, feeling a fresh wave of arousal hit you, your pussy growing wetter.

He grinned, kissing you again, his hips grinding against yours. You gasped as his cock brushed against that spot inside you, the pleasure building. He started to move again, his pace slow and deep, his lips never leaving yours.

"I'm going to keep filling you, until you can't take anymore." He whispered, his voice heavy, his hips thrusting forward, his cock hitting that spot again, sending shivers up your spine. "You want that don't you?"

"Yes," you whined, feeling a bit dizzy. You felt so full, so warm, your cunt was stretched so tight. His cock was rubbing against all the right spots, his lips brushing against yours, his beard tickling your skin.

"Do you want to have my baby?" He asked, his lips ghosting along your neck, his teeth nipping at the tender skin. "Want to have me pumping you full, filling you, making sure my baby grows?"

"God, yes." You gasped, his words making you moan. He was so close to you, his body covering yours, his cock buried inside you, his hot breath fanning over your face.

He leaned back, his cock coated in white, pulling out slowly, before pushing back in, a low moan escaping his lips. He was so turned on, his eyes hooded, his cheeks flushed, his pupils blown.

"Look at your perfect pussy." He growled, his eyes fixed on the place where you were joined, his cock covered in your combined fluids. "You're so full, aren't you? My cum spilling out of you."

He was fucking you so slowly, his hips rolling into yours, his cock stretching you. It was too much, too intense, you couldn't take it. You reached down and rubbed your clit, desperate to find release, desperate for him.

He grinned, watching you touch yourself, his eyes glued to your face, your eyes screwed shut, your mouth falling open. He started to fuck you faster, his cock pounding into you, his pace rough and demanding.

You felt yourself start to fall apart, the pressure building, your clit throbbing. He was pounding you so hard, so deep, his hips snapping forward, his cock bottoming out.

He kissed you again, his lips hot and slick, his tongue caressing yours. You moaned into his mouth, another orgasm hitting you, making you see stars, your pussy clamping down on his cock. He groaned, his hips stuttering, his cock swelling inside you before releasing another hot load of cum, your combined fluids spilling out, pooling between your thighs.

He kept moving, fucking you through your orgasm, his pace slower, his hips circling, riding out his own release.

His hips stilled, his cock resting inside you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He let out a low moan, his cock twitching, the last of his cum filling you.

You watched him slowly pull out, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, more white fluid pouring from his cock. He groaned, tapping the head of his cock against your swollen clit as he softened, his cum dripping onto your stomach.

You were still reeling, your whole body tingling. You felt so empty, so warm, his cum coating your thighs.

He kissed you again, his hand moving up to stroke your cheek, his other hand resting on your thigh.

"You were so good for me." He said softly, his voice hoarse, his eyes meeting yours. "So beautiful."

You blushed, smiling up at him, the praise washing over you. He smiled back, leaning in, his lips brushing against yours, his kiss tender and sweet. He moved off the bed and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth.

He cleaned you gently, wiping away the mess, before lying down next to you, pulling the covers up over both of you. He held you close, his hand stroking your back, his breath warm against your skin.

"There are so many fantasies to explore," he murmured against your skin. "So much for us to try."

"Oh yeah?" You asked, running your hands over his shoulders, your fingers tracing the marks your nails had left. "Like what?"

He grinned, his hand trailing down your side, cupping your ass.

"Well, I did have this idea for next time…" he said, his voice low.

You laughed, pressing closer to him. You loved him so much, and knew there was a lot more love to give. You were already looking forward to his next fantasy, and hoped he was looking forward to yours.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[icarusredwings]

Getting deep into the x men fandom means seeing ships I don't agree with, so I don't interact, seeing posts that mischaraterizes one of the deepest charaters possible, so I don't interact, Seeing people actively say things that are blatantly wrong, so I don't interact.

Getting a large following is also kind of frustrating (Im not complaining I love you guys!) But I've had to block 2 people already today because they keep leaving rude replies to my comments on OTHER peoples posts or purposly come to my blog to tell me that how I view a charater is wrong. Had someone tell me that the stuff that happens in MY au is dumb because "that would never happen" like yeah bud. The writers at Marvel are too much of cowards for it to happen, hence why i'm here.

So my thing is... if im chosing not to interact with all of this- why is it still on my feed?

I feel like the more I ignore it the more I see and I do not wish to be the type to block someone simply because they make one post about a ship that personally isn't my cup of tea.

Also- I think Im starting to see the different sides of extremes, especially when it comes to one specifc charater.

Logan.

I have seen dozens of lovely stories, lovely rants, lovely head canons about this man-

But something that feels weird (to me at least) is people who are 45+ yelling at people who aren't even 18 that their story/headcanons are trash because they've "been enjoying Logan for 40+ years" as if this gives them any right to tell a 17 year old that they shouldnt write a charater how they see them.

It's also weird to me that there seems to be two sides.

Logan IS an animal and that's perfectly okay.

Or

Logan ISN'T an animal, and everyone who headcanons him as animalistic is fetishizing his mutation and are insulting him.

I get not liking a certain trope, but sir, that person is young enough to be your child. You have to accept that we all grew up with different versions of each charater. I Personally didn't grow up with any and get the luxury of indulging in all sorts of media all at once- therefore getting to see him from multiple sides and pictures.

I completely understand if you grew up with the original series and are upset to see that kids are headcanoning your stone cold angst biker man as wearing bow clips and 'making biscuits' on a pillow while watching gilmore girl with his boyfriend, and wearing pink fluffy hello kitty pants and a tight shirt that says "Milk"

I completely understand if you grew up with the movies and see him as a sexy gruff hot buff man and you love to write lots and lots of steamy x reader about him.

I completely understand if you LIKE logan wearing hello kitty pants and don't agree with the idea of him being a dark edgelord, lone wolf charater.

Do you know what I don't understand? Fighting over a charater when different timelines have been canon since the 80s. The Time Variance Authority (TVA) first appeared in Thor #372 (October 1986) which means ALL of your logans are the correct logan. Just not all the same.

Do I think Wolverine Orgins Logan would wear pink hello kitty pants? Nah.

Do I know that Deadpool and wolverine Logan is a whole different universe then Orgins Logan? Yes.

That's why people tag different logans and different aus. So what is all the fuss about?? What happened to the more the merrier?

Theres so many different versions of comic book logan, too, so don't even go there.

Feel free to ask my personal opinions but as far as I stand I could never be foolish enough to seriously go into someone elses post and genuinely be upset at them for how they perceive a charater. I get second hand embaressment when ever I see ANYONE doing it.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk. I don't care if I lose followers for this. Let the door hit you on the way out. There aint no reason to be harrassing folks.

[neouture]

Senses

Pairing: Haechan x Reader

Words: 4,146

Genre: Smut (18+), angst if you squint

Includes: Fem!Reader, established relationship. Haechan is jealous and somewhat possesive bc of a silly little hug drunk Renjun gave you. Arguing, silent treatment, make up sex. Smut warnings under the cut !

Author's note: Possesive Haechan lives in my mind rent free. This story might not be for everyone because it includes very specific kinks that not everyone is into, but I had a lot of fun with this. If you like it, please leave a comment/ask. I also now have a ko-fi account, the link it's in my pinned post, in case anyone is interested in leaving a tip ! That's totally up to you tho, my stories are free for everyone. It's just another way to support (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) I'm reposting this bc I posted it yesterday but it wasn't showing up in the tags so hopefully they work now!

Smut warnings: I feel like this is the time to reveal I have an impregnation kink so bear with it. Dirty talk, teasing, you're somewhat turned on by Haechan's possesiveness in all honesty. Oral sex (f. receiving), mentions and fantasies of impregnation, impregnation kink, unprotected sex (stay safe ! ), creampie.

If looks could kill, Renjun would've had a fatal ending.

Way more fatal than the fate you are transiting right now, sitting in the passenger seat while Haechan's gaze shoots darts into the road as if it’s a target, surrounded by an overwhelming silence that not even the street sounds and the city’s bustling can ease.

If looks could kill, Renjun would’ve collapsed next to you the second he decided to wrap one of his arms around you in a warm, brotherly hug. One that, seemingly so innocent, was misinterpreted by your boyfriend from afar.

“Haechan,” you sigh, but it’s useless yet again. No matter how many times you’ve said his name on the way back home, it seems as though you're speaking to a wall. A stubborn wall that doesn't listen, in which your words bounce back and are interiorized with shame and embarrassment when you realize that all you’re left with is the palpable tension inside his car.

You can see said tension in the prominent veins of his arms, his clenched jaw and the way he is just staring at the horizon, not daring to look at you. You can feel it every time you call out his name and his body stiffens a little. You can hear it in his heavy heartbeats and rapid breathing. You can smell it on your clothes, impregnated with alcohol and cigarette smoke.

But you can’t taste it. You can’t taste the tension when your mouth is dry, and your throat is aching with words gathered at the lump in your throat, threatening to spill out at any moment in an attempt to know what's going on in his mind.

“Look he didn’t mean it that way,” you murmur, trying to ignore the stinging tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. “He just- he just put his arm around me. It wasn’t- it didn’t mean anything”.

“Of course it didn’t,” it’s the only response you get, right when his car takes the street of the complex you two live in.

Whether it's because of the sound of his voice, or the fact that you're really close to knowing your true fate tonight, you feel somewhat relieved.

“He was tipsy,” you continue, resting your head against the cold, glass window.

“You weren’t,” Haechan cuts you short right when he enters the underground parking lot. The car becomes illuminated by a dim, warm light, just enough to catch a better glimpse of your boyfriend, but he still doesn’t look at you. “And you still let him put his hands on you”.

“Come on, Haechan!” you groan, frustrated.

His jealousy always gets the best out of you, but somehow it also manages for the worst of you to show through. It's a complicated situation you always find yourself in, when something like such happens. You don't really like that side of him, the jealous and possessive one, the one that feels entitled to you as a person. But at the same time, you really can't begin to hate it either.

It’s enticing.

“Get out,” he says while unbuckling his seat belt. He does so with a swift movement, only to turn around the car just to open the door for you.

He is upset, and pissed, and really angry, but he can’t get himself to stop being a gentleman to you. What happened tonight it's not your fault, anyways, but he secretly wishes you'd pushed Renjun away.

In a way, Haechan thinks it’s your fault. Even when it isn’t.

But you still follow his orders to a t, getting out of the vehicle while he holds the door for you, closing it right behind you with a loud sound that makes you feel startled for a bit.

You know Haechan would never hurt you, but this side of him it's such a scary contrast to his usual personality. It’s somewhat unsettling, to say the least, but it is never frightening.

“You’re going to give me the silent treatment?”

After a minute or two, the lack of response gives you a one. You follow him defeated through the elevator doors that take you to the lobby complex, and lose all hope in getting him to talk.

Plus, it’s getting late, and you’re tired, so if Haechan doesn’t want to talk now, you’re not going to push him further anymore —it’s probably best to deal with all this tomorrow morning, after a good night of sleep.

You stop trying to get his attention when the doors of the lobby's elevator close, and just opt to stand right beside him in silence —you've said so much already, from the minute he dragged you out of the bar you and your friends were attending to celebrate Jaemin's birthday, to the final moments in his car; if he didn’t say anything then, he is probably not going to say anything now.

So you accept the silent treatment, walking alongside with him to your apartment door. He pulls out his keys, opens it for you and gets inside without even sending a look your way. You close the door behind you and watch as he throws his jacket to the living room couch, standing awkwardly while he figures out exactly what to say.

“Why did you-”.

“I’m tired,” you cut him short, passing by him through the living room and into your bedroom. “I’m going to bed”.

Like him, you pass by without sparing him a glance. Without even acknowledging his presence there, like you’re just announcing another part of your routine to no one in particular.

“You’re not,” it’s when you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist, and stopping you from leaving the scene, that you turn around to face him —you can still see the tension, in his knitted eyebrows and that gaze of regret he holds. “Let’s talk”.

“I wanted to talk,” you murmur, getting yourself out of his grip. “I spent all the ride back home trying to talk, but you weren’t even looking at me”.

“I was just trying to find the right ti-”.

“What even is the right time?” there’s annoyance in your voice, and a part of you wishes your emotions hadn't escalated too quickly. But if there's one thing that pisses you off, is how things are always done the way he wants them, when he wants them. “When you feel like talking?”

“Listen to me-”.

“No, Haechan, you listen to me,” you sigh, leaving your purse on the couch, right next to his jacket. “Renjun just put his arm around me, he wasn’t- it wasn’t even an actual hug. And yeah- he was tipsy, but he just- he wasn’t hitting on me or anything, God!”

The more you speak, the more stressed you become. Now that the words are falling from your lips, and you’re revisiting the facts, you realize how unprovoked Haechan’s anger truly is.

“You say he's one of your best friends, but you can't even trust him,” your hands travel all the way to your hair, pushing it back and away from your face. The despair is making your body feel warm, and you can even feel a thin layer of sweat gathering on your forehead and nape. “You say you love me, but you can’t even trust me”.

“I trust him,” Haechan murmurs, “and I trust you”.

“Then what is your problem?”

“I am the fucking problem,” the black-haired groans, imitating your previous actions by pushing his hair away from his face. It’s not usual for him to raise his voice, let alone sound this frustrated —the unexpected loud tone makes you swallow thickly. “I know it’s not your fault but I can’t help it”.

“It is not my fault,” you repeat in a whisper, trying to give some echo to his own words. “If it’s not my fault, then why are you acting like it is?”

Haechan goes quiet. Not because he wants to give you the silent treatment again, but because he doesn't know what to say.

Is there anything to say, anyway? You're right, and he feels like an asshole.

“Because,” he begins, all worked up because he believes the answer is rather obvious. Isn’t it? He’s acting like this because you’re his. Because no other man has the right to touch you, or even look your way. You’re his, and he doesn’t like to share. “Because you’re only mine”.

The sudden response makes your heart skip a beat or two. Is it wrong to feel something just by seeing him this angry? Is it wrong to feel proud of hearing him say something so possessive like that?

You feel conflicted —you’re enjoying this when you’re not supposed to.

“Yours?” you ask, with an eyebrow slightly cocked.

“Yes, mine,” you're not quite sure when it happened, but your bodies are now facing each other. You can smell the tension in his cologne, along with the remains of cigarette smoke and the alcoholic beverage Renjun threw Haechan’s way at the club.

“You’re so entitled,” you let out a soft scoff, one that does nothing to ease Haechan's sharp gestures. “Yes, you’re my boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I belong to you”.

It's, perhaps, the frustration talking. You know what he means, but it's your anger the one to make the first move.

However, you're not expecting him to laugh.

You expected him to counter attack, to get even angrier.

You expected him to raise his voice, or be silent at all.

But you weren't expecting to see the corners of his lips rising in a half smile, one as mischievous at the comment you just made.

“What?”

“Do I need to remind you how mouthy you get when I'm fucking you?”

You stare at him for what feels like ages, not daring to blink or break eye contact. He is also staring at you, but far from looking angry or frustrated, he looks amused. It's like the roles have been reversed, and it's you now who doesn't know what to say.

“What- does that have to do with this?”

“You say you don’t belong to me,” Haechan sighs, the tip of his tongue poking just slightly through his cheek. “But you never seemed reluctant about me owning you when we're in our bed”.

You can feel your cheeks getting warmer, and a weird tension in your lower abdomen you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past years. It’s probably not the greatest time to get aroused, but you can’t control yourself when it comes to him.

Just like he can’t control himself when it’s about you.

“That’s- it’s different,” you weakly attack.

“Is it?”

Haechan can tell you're getting nervous. By the way your shoulders are moving at a faster rate, and you seem to be struggling to look at him, he knows he has hit a nail. Perhaps this is a way to make a point —the one he has been wanting to make all night long.

“How so?”

The words get caught up in your throat again, and the fact that you don't have an actual response makes you feel uneasy.

“If it's any different, then that means you're a liar,” he says, guiding one of his hands to your chin whilst lifting it up. You can hear the tension in the nuances of his voice, those who seem mocking and provocative. Those looking to make you lose a game you didn't even know you were playing, “so when are you lying?”.

His hand strokes the sides of your face, and then places a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is enough to make you gulp, but it’s a nice contrast to his harsh and filthy words.

“Are you lying to me when you say you belong to me, and that you’re mine?” Haechan asks, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. “Or are you lying to me right now, just to rile me up and get what you want?”.

That wasn't precisely a conscious plan, but now that he says so it seems that all your efforts to get him all worked up were to end up just like this.

“I just- Haechan”.

“What?” he asks you. The hand that was caressing your cheek is now placed at your waist, pulling him closer to his body.

You can feel the tension when his bulge brushes against your abdomen, hard and throbbing, pressing against you. It’s too tempting to stop, too inviting to know what he has to say without using no words.

So you allow him to touch you, to press his body against yours to make you feel how much he needs you. There is really no point in resisting, because you’ve wanted this all night long.

“Pervert,” you whisper, panting when you feel his rough grip on your ass. “I bet you were thinking about this on the way back home”.

“And you weren’t?” Haechan scoffs, quietly. “I could see your thighs squeezing together every time you looked at me”.

Embarrassingly enough, he is not that far from the truth.

“I can’t help it,” you wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to be closer to him. “I’m sorry”.

“Save your apologies for later,” his lips are dangerously close to yours, and you squirm between his arms when you feel his breath caressing your chin and jaw. “You’re going to need them for being such a liar”.

And, finally, you can taste the tension —it tastes like alcohol, cherries, and rage. Like mint and something else.

“Fuck,” you whisper in between kisses when you feel his teeth sinking on your lower lip, “Haechan”.

It doesn’t take him long to guide you to the bedroom, managing to walk the small, dark hallway with his hands all over your body and his eyes closed.

“Haechan,” you voice once again when he lays you down in the mattress, his skillful hands looking for the hems of your jeans and underwear to pull them off in one go. Truth be told, you’ve never seen him this desperate; his lips are all over your thighs and legs, kissing them sloppy while he caresses the sides of them. He’s sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh, marking you every now and then in places he knows he’s the only one entitled to see.

Everything is happening too fast, but you don’t want him to slow down —you’re just as desperate as he is.

“You’re fucking dripping,” Haechan groans when he catches a glimpse of your sticky folds, all glistening with your arousal, “shit”.

He doesn’t hesitate before hooking both of his arms under and around your thighs, keeping you still in place while his lips approach your throbbing cunt.

“You think Renjun could get you this wet?” Haechan hums against your thigh, his intimidating gaze looking up at you while you struggle to support your upper body weight with your arms. For an unknown reason, you feel your body melting and going numb at such comments.

“N-no,” you shake your head.

“Do you think your body would react to him like it does with me?” The soft and teasing kisses are killing you; his lips are licking and sucking everywhere but where you want them.

“No, Haechan!” The cries in your voice makes him grind his hips against the mattress, hoping to get even the slightest friction.

He wishes he could keep on teasing you, drive you insane just like you did to him back there at the club. But, truth be told, he can't spend another minute without feeling you, in all the sense of the word.

“Apologize, then,” Haechan says, brushing the tip of his nose against your throbbing clit. That single touch is enough to earn a whimper from you, and it is also enough to make you lose all logic and rationality within you —not that you have any whenever you're underneath him in your bed to begin with.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, clenching around thin air every time the word falls from your lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry Haechan. I’m sorry”.

“Sorry for what?” the dark-haired asks again, acting oblivious to the situation. “What are you apologizing for?”

Whether it's mercy or pure neediness, his tongue unexpectedly laps at your wetness. He licks your slit and toys with your clit, just enough to provide you with some pleasure but without distracting you from your task.

“For- shit, for letting him touch me,” you sigh, kicking your head back. You’re not quite sure what exactly you’re sorry for, but you’re willing to say anything just to feel him. “For letting him- put his arm around me, fuck”.

Haechan smiles against your pussy. A genuine smile, one that can only indicate he’s feeling proud.

“See how easy it is?” he coos, continuing his ministrations on your clit, “you tell me what I want to hear, and I give you anything you want”.

Despite Haechan’s early accusations of you being a liar, you mean everything you say when you’re in bed. In fact, you're only brutally honest when he's deep inside you. When you've lost all your senses and sanity, and when all you are left with is pure bliss.

“I’m sorry,” you keep on chanting, latching your fingers against his dark locks in an attempt to bring him closer to you.

You know you're seconds away from coming, and he knows this too, so he allows you to manhandle him against you as much as you want. He hisses when you grip his hair particularly harsher, but he doesn’t stop; instead, he licks you ardently, looking forward to your orgasm.

“Show me how sorry you are, then,” he murmurs against you, his nose and chin shining with your own wetness. “Come”.

It’s the sight of him between your legs, along with his crude words and pretty eyes that pushes you to the edge. Your hands clasp the bed sheets beneath you, and your thighs threaten to close around him but he is quick to keep them apart with his hands.

“You’re getting shy now?” he teases you while you overcome your high, writhing underneath his hold. “Keep them open for me pretty, I want to lick you clean”.

Much against your body’s will, Haechan manages to keep you in place while he helps you through your orgasm, causing waves of overstimulation to wreak havoc inside you from your head to the tip of your toes.

“Haechan!,” you gasp when you feel him pulling away from your body, the sudden loss of contact making you feel somewhat relieved after the pinches of pain caused by the overstimulation.

His lips are bright peachy and swollen, all covered in your own orgasm.

“Too much?” Haechan asks, unbuckling his belt while getting rid of his clothes. You imitate him and do the same, discarding your blouse and bra somewhere along the room.

“No,” you shake your head, inviting him between your legs.

He positions himself in the middle, and the sight makes you clench around thin air yet again. His cock is hard and reddened, throbbing almost visibly in front of your eyes.

“You still think you can take me?” he asks yet again, trying to make sure you’re not sore from how aggressive his early ministrations were.

“I’ve been wanting you all night long, Haechan,” you murmur, wrapping your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. “Don’t care about anything, I just want you to fuck me”.

He kisses your forehead, and then your chin. The tip of his cock is pressing against your clit and, at times, against your entrance, but he is still nowhere near being inside you.

“See,” Haechan whispers with his lips against your jaw. “I know you’ve apologized, but I still need to make sure everyone knows you’re mine”.

His words make you let out a quiet scoff.

“How come, exactly?”

“What if I came inside you?” Even the idea makes you gasp —half a gasp, that ends up sounding more like a moan, “hm?”

For this, he needs to feel you. So he loses no time pushing himself inside you until he bottoms out. You dig your fingernails into his biceps when you feel the tip of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot inside you, and it’s only then when he continues to tell you, perhaps, his filthiest fantasy.

“What if I got you pregnant?” It’s crazy, the rational part of you acknowledges. But the aroused one, the one that lacks logic, only gets even more turned on at his words. “That way, everyone will know what we do when we’re alone”.

“Shit,” you cry, clenching around his cock.

He smiles when he feels it.

“You’d like that, don’t you?” After a couple of slow, delicate thrusts, he begins to acquire a faster pace when you get used to having him inside you. “You're squeezing my cock so hard”.

“You want to- get me pregnant?”

Even the words falling from your lips make you clench around him yet again, and it takes him a lot of effort not to come just by those gestures alone.

“That way everyone would know you’re mine,” Haechan sighs, pistoning deeper inside you. “Everyone would know that I’m the one who fucks you good, the one you allow to come inside that pretty pussy of yours”.

You whimper at his words, nibbling on your lower lip while trying to contain every lewd sound that threatens to escape your lips.

“I bet you’d- look so pretty like that,” the more aroused he gets, the less he cares about what he says —it seems as though he’s not having any inhibitions, and you love it. “Fuck”.

It's a wild fantasy, but you two seem to share it. You’d be lying if you say that the mere thought of carrying his child is not appealing to you, because it is.

“Yeah?” you ask, feeling him losing all pace and rhythm of his hips. “Why don’t you get me pregnant, then?”

The dirty talk does wonders to him, because the minute you start voicing his thoughts it’s the minute his movements become sloppier, rushed, and faster. He wants to come, he desperately needs it.

But he wants you to come first.

“I will,” he groans through gritted teeth. “If that’s what you want, then I will”.

Your heart feels fuzzy, and the tension on your lower abdomen starts increasing with each thrust. It’s not going to be long before you come around him, for the second time in a row, and as much as you’d like to savor this moment, you’re too desperate to take your time.

“Fuck,” Haechan curses under his breath, feeling his arms going numb —the pleasure is too overwhelming for him to maintain a steady pace, but he makes an effort. “Make me come, baby. Squeeze my cock until I come inside you”.

The dirty talk, combined with his gaze and the future promise of offering you that something only he can give it to you, makes you reach your orgasm again.

“Coming,” you cry quietly, wrapping your legs even tighter around his hips. You arch your back against him, and he hugs you tightly in place while he continues fucking your pussy, just as much as your grip allows him too.

“That’s it,” he praises, leaving wet kisses on your forehead and cheeks while you overcome your high. “Are you going to let me come inside you tonight? Fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes!” it’s all you manage to say in the midst of such a devastating arousal. “Yes, yes, Haechan”.

He buries his face on the crook of your neck, and keeps on fucking your swollen pussy until he achieves his orgasm too.

A hot, sticky feeling is quick to flood your tummy, as well as your inner thighs. He continues fucking you slowly and gently, even after coming, to prevent his arousal to leak out of you.

“Shit,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his neck so that he plops down on top of your body, “I can feel you”.

He hugs you into his embrace, while still inside you, and attempts to stabilize himself before leaving the bed to provide you with some wet towels and water. Truth be told, he wishes to stay like this forever, with your naked body underneath him, and his leaking cock inside you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, leaving a quick kiss on your lips. “I know it’s-”

“Hey,” you cut him short, cooing softly. “We can talk about it tomorrow morning”.

He gets the sense that you're comfortable right now, despite the early fight, so he follows your plea compliantly.

“I’m an asshole,” Haechan jokes.

“Sometimes,” you scoff softly, finding his hazy gaze in the midst of the dim lights. “I’m glad you can acknowledge it”.

“And I’m glad you still keep up with it”.

[markster666]

I'm not sure if I've made a request with you but if I have please feel free to ignore! I just can't stop thinking about reader just going up to Vox and asking if they can play videogames and use his head as the monitor. idk I just wanna fuck with Vox he's hilarious

My Life is Like a Video Game (Literally) - Vox x Reader (SFW)

Pairing: Vox x Genderless!Reader

Tags: Vox, SFW, Comedy, Not a lot of plot, Vox is pissed off, Vox x You, Cursing

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: 575

A/N: I saw this request come into my inbox a bit ago and I died of laughter. I hope this lives up to your expectations. Unedited, so apologies for any spelling mistakes. Enjoy. LMFAO

You cursed in disgust as the lights went and fucked themselves. You knew Vox had a temperament and when it got BAD, the power shut off everywhere. You were in the middle of beating a really hard boss on Dark Souls, one you spent DAYS UPON DAYS trying to complete, only for his fuck-head lookin' ass to ruin your almost perfect run of it.

You threw down the controller and groaned. You decided to get up and mindlessly walk around the room, actually putting in the time to throw your dirty clothes in the pantry and make your bed.

You were hoping Velvette or Valentino would've calm him down by now, but the complete darkness and lack of gaming audio states otherwise.

You hastily put on your comfort jacket and shoved open your door and slammed it behind you, murmuring obscenities as your feet scuttled down the hallway. Your arms were crossed from how cold it was (the heater electricity was shut off too).

You knocked on Vox's door, stabbing back a foot or two in anticipation of the door opening.

After a few moments, you shouted "VOX!"

Still no answer.

You raised your voice even more, "VOX! OPEN UP THIS FUCKING DOOR OR SO SATAN HELP ME-"

The door opened, slamming against the wall and threatening to break.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT Y/N?!!"

His eyes were glowing red, a snarl coating his face. His hand was still on the doorknob, ready to slam the door in your face at a moments notice.

You rolled your eyes, "I was in the middle of a Dark Souls boss fight and you decided that THAT was the perfect time to completely cut all power."

He groaned in frustration.

"I'm SORRY, okay? I don't know what else to tell ya."

He started closing the door but you pushed past him and into his computer room.

"There's only ONE working TV in all of Pentagram City now..."

He frog blinked at you, closing the door with a look of confusion on his face.

"Um... What are you trying to say?"

You turned to face him, arms on your hips and looking him up and down.

"May I PLEASE use your head-screen thingy to... beat the Dark Souls boss?"

He looked DUMBFOUNDED. Like there's absolutely no fucking way you just asked him that.

"That is probably the dumbest fucking request I have ever gotten from you. No, absolutely not. Power will be back on soon."

He pushed past you, sitting in his chair and rubbing his eyes in exhaustion and stress.

You smirked and went up behind him, massaging his shoulders lightly, leaning in close to his ear.

"I'll go and spy on the Radio Demon for ya."

He perked up at this thought, swiveling his chair around to face you.

"Oh? Ya don't say?" He folded his hands on his lap. "Fine, then, but ONLY 10 minutes."

You squeaked in giddy, sitting down and crossing your legs on the floor, booting up your controller and he switched his monitor to Dark Souls, trying to stay as still for you as he could.

It ended up taking 8 hours because you had beaten the boss but wanted to keep playing so you just didn't tell him you beat the boss.

And you left him even more angry than he already was. :)

Oh and you also didn't spy on Alastor you truly couldn't give less of a shit.

[chaileaf]

𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐑 - part two

› featuring: camboy!shuntaro chishiya + fem!reader

› word count: 8,451 words

› synopsis: shuntaro chishiya is the star student at your school. not only is he handsome and athletic- he is extremely well liked by all the professors with perfect grades. whenever you attend a meeting for the school council, as you’re the only one currently running for president, you feel the presence of the one and only chishiya. realizing he is trying to take your spot as president, you listen closely to what he says. then and only then did it click: his voice, those eyes, the way the corner of his lips curl… he is the camboy you watch in your free time! when you get a notification on your phone for a bidding livestream, you're intrigued. it was an auction hosted by none other than k1ng0fd1am0nds. the prize? a private cam date with him, orgasm included.

› rating: nsfw, +18

› cw: vulgar language, mutual masturbation on camera, rivals to fucking, dominant!chishiya, face slapping, oral sex (f), facefucking (m), submissive!reader, degradation, calling chishiya daddy, slight praise, public sex in a library, creampie, somewhat rough sex

› setting: college au

⤷ chai's note: hiii! this is my first fic i've written in a while! i'm so excited to publish this and i really hope you all enjoy it. i had a lot of fun writing it. i love chishiya sm if it wasn't already obvious. anyways, this isn't proofread so if there's mistakes, pls ignore them. love u byeee xoxo (p.s. there’s a hint to my next fic in here and no, it’s not aki hayakawa hehe)

⤷tags: @poetrieshouse @tungstenorc

it was a familiar feeling for you. the feeling of getting off to his voice, to the way his lips curl into a blissful smirk whenever he touched himself on camera. he was your favorite cam to watch after a stressful day of classes.

you let out a deep breath, reaching for the small towel beside your bed to wipe your hand of the juices that covered your fingers. your heart was still racing from your orgasm and your breathing was slowly but surely slowing to a normal pace. your brain was foggy from the quick orgasm, but it still felt like one of the best ones so far. of course, you said that every time you watched his show and came to him.

you let out a deep breath, reaching for the small towel beside your bed to wipe your hand of the juices that covered your fingers. your heart was still racing from your orgasm and your breathing was slowly but surely slowing to a normal pace. your brain was foggy from the quick orgasm, but it still felt like one of the best ones so far. of course, you said that every time you watched his show and came to him.

“i hope you all enjoyed my show. i’ll be doing another livestream in a few days so make sure to turn my notifications on. thank you for tuning in and have a splendid night.” his sultry and noticeably softer voice made you turn your head towards your computer screen, admiring how pretty his lips looked in the camera. even though you could only see from his nose down, you knew that he was handsome. there was no doubt about it. no amount of masks and camera angles could hide how attractive he was. it was no surprise that he had so many viewers watching him get off using various toys and methods. not only that, but people paying for these toys, and for him to touch himself how they wanted to see him do. you wished you had more money to spare, to see him get off in a way that you desired. unfortunately, being a college student didn’t give you the ability to spend your extra income on some popular camboy.

to say you were sexually frustrated was an understatement. you never thought you’d get to a point in your life where you would have notifications for a camboy set so that you wouldn’t miss his show. you shook your head and layed down, opening your emails to see if any of your professors had sent anything important out.

just as you had thought, a new email was sitting at the top of your inbox. you rolled your eyes, closing them and laying your head back further into the pillow. school wasn’t difficult for you, more so tiring than anything else. you couldn’t wait for it to be over, and as a senior, you were so excited to graduate with a degree in the spring and start your life.

your fingers glided across your screen and opened the email titled ‘school government meeting’. it was nothing more than a reminder of the meeting for tomorrow. you groaned, rubbing your eyes with one hand before realizing it was the hand you got off with and quickly removing it. what would the student body have to say if they knew their future class president was getting off to a camboy, you wondered. that thought alone made your face grimace,

you set your alarms and plugged your phone in before turning the bedside lamp off and snuggling into bed with your stuffed animal. your brain created thoughts of the camboy and what he looked like. you’ve only seen his eyes and lips, amongst other explicit body parts. you could feel the blush on your face as you slowly fell asleep, wondering what his hands would feel like on yourself instead.

the morning of the school meeting came sooner than you would have liked. it was prior to all your classes, which eased the anxiety you would’ve had if it had been at the end of the day.

getting out of bed, you decided to look professional today. instead of the usual tee-shirt and sweatpants combo, you went for something more work casual: a pair of black bellbottom slacks and a white button up with your favorite light wash jean jacket. you topped the outfit off with your signature white converse and headed out the door, leaving early to get breakfast from the school cafeteria.

it was a nice day outside. the sun was shining enough to warm you while the wind was blowing. you smiled to yourself, putting in some headphones while you walked to the student center where the cafeteria was located. your head nodded to the beat of the songs on your playlist. while lost in song, you realized one thing: you left your bag at the dorm. all the blood rushed from your face and turned you pale. part of you wanted to run back and get it, while the other part of you knew that you’d be late for the school council meeting. you groaned to yourself, rubbing your eyes and carrying on with your walk. you decided it was best to be late for your first class rather than the meeting. in the process, you also realized that meant you didn’t have your wallet either. skipping breakfast was the only option now.

as you arrived at the student center, you headed straight to the library where the meeting was being held. you were about twenty minutes early due to not getting breakfast, which was fine with you. you went inside and decided to peer around the bookshelves to see if there was anything interesting.

while looking through the books in the medical sciences section, one in particular caught your eye. you lifted it off of the shelf and examined the cover that read ‘anatomy of the human body for dummies’. the title made you have to stifle a laugh. you’d hoped to yourself that anyone who was reading this wasn’t a pre-med major. you took your headphones out of your ears and put them back into their case before placing it into your pocket.

as you looked through the contents of the book, a familiar voice brought you back to reality. it sounded very similar to someone you knew, but who? your eyes left the pages to meet with the eyes of the one and only, chishiya shuntaro. you did your best to not immediately roll your eyes after making contact with his, closing the book you had and holding it against your chest. “can i help you?” you quizzed, attitude seeping through your words. it made him chuckle as he leaned himself against the bookshelf with his arms crossed. anyone could tell that he was an arrogant prick by the way he carried himself. you couldn’t understand why so many teachers and students alike were enamored with him.

“i said, hi y/n. is it so wrong of me to greet my fellow classmates?” the rhetoric question made you want to roll your eyes again but you didn’t, you knew it would only instigate him further. chishiya’s eyes moved from yours to the book in your hands. “anatomy of the human body… for dummies? that’s the perfect book for you.”

your eyes widened and you shoved the book back onto the shelf. you didn’t have the time to deal with his snarky attitude at eight thirty in the morning. as you walked away, you felt a hand grab at your arm. you quickly pulled it away and turned to face him, only to reveal that the gap between you both had closed in. you could feel chishiya’s breath on your face, and the scent of strawberry was in the air. it was nearly repulsive. “hey, hey. i didn’t mean it, sweetheart. you know i was jo-”

“don’t call me that.” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence. his cocky smile turned to that of a false frown, a finger lifting to just below his eye being dragged down to simulate a tear falling. it took everything in you to not scowl at him. “what do you want anyways? shouldn’t you be at track practice or tutoring some girl who’s fawning over you?” you questioned in a sarcastic tone, turning towards the bookshelf to avoid looking at him any longer. your fingers scanned over the bindings of the books, the indentions of the letters being grazed by your hand. “or better yet,” you began with the same sarcasm exuding from each word. “don’t you have some teacher’s to kiss ass to?” your eyes left the bookshelf to meet with his, a hand leaving the books to rest on your hip as you faced him this time. an eyebrow raised in question to further show how irritated you were with his presence. chishiya scoffed, holding a hand over his heart to feign hurt.

“now why would i do that?” he retorted back, seeming slightly annoyed with the rudeness you were giving him. “y’know, i don’t really understand why you don’t like me.” that statement earned a small chuckle from you as you leaned more into the hand resting on your hip. chishiya crossed his arms, returning to the stance he had against the bookshelf earlier. “i don’t get it, honestly. i’m kind, athletic, intelligent… what is there not to like, y/n?” he probed.

chishiya was right. he was a star student and the talk of the college. his grades were as perfect as they could be. he was extremely talented when it came to track and won almost every race. he wasn’t even close to being unattractive, leaving half of the female population at school that knew of him to be head over heels. there wasn’t much to not like about him. except one little thing.

“your attitude.” you answered, honestly at that. it was nearly immediate. chishiya raised an eyebrow at your statement. you took a deep breath and then sighed. “everything about you seems real, but it isn’t. you think you’re the king of the world and you’re not. i could go into detail and would love to express the ways i think you’re a phony, but i won’t. just know that you’re not who you make yourself out to be.” a genuine look of confusion and concern was plastered across his face as you spoke. you shook your head and turned to leave the star student and the stressful conversation behind.

you checked your phone as you walked away and went to go sit at the table the email told you to meet at. with five minutes left, you decided to spend it looking through your instagram feed. the door to the library opens and a few people in your year come in. you greet them with a smile and a little wave. “hey!” you say to your classmate, lily, who then sits next to you. she returns the smile as the rest gather around the table inside of the library. “you ready for the meeting?” you asked her. your anxiety for the meeting about to happen continues to rise, but her presence alone begins to stifle it.

“yes, and no. i just really wanna get it over with so i can go to class and see professor nanami!” lily leans toward you while dragging out the professor’s name. you rolled your eyes and giggled a bit before looking around. your eyes landed on chishiya who was standing close to the table, yet again leaned up against a bookshelf as if it was his signature position. this time, however, he was reading a book off of the shelf next to him. as if he was reading your mind, his eyes slowly left the pages to meet yours. a smirk played across his lips as he made contact with your eyes, making you turn back to lily who was now talking about what she had for breakfast.

mr. hayakawa, the head instructor for the student council, came through the door of the library. a sigh of relief left your lungs as you could finally get chishiya shuntaro out of your head.

the meeting went on as usual, until a familiar and annoying voice decided to speak up. “uhm, sir. i thought i’d mention that i’m also here because i wanted to run for class president. i wasn’t able to attend the last meeting, unfortunately, so i hope that i can still apply.”

all the blood that was in your face had left at this point. you couldn’t believe it— actually, you could. this is exactly the kind of thing he would do. chishiya would have the nerve to come in and ruin everything you’d planned for. the voice of mr. hayakawa brought you down from the thoughts clouded in your head and you listened to what he had to say. “that is unfortunate, but considering today is the deadline you still have time to be put on the ballot. lucky you.”

your stomach churned at the idea of having to run against someone that nearly the entire school and staff was madly in love with. you knew you had no chance and would have to pull strings if you even wanted a chance at becoming president of the graduating class. all of these thoughts were racing through your head at once and you started to feel light-headed, although it could be because of the lack of sustenance in your stomach as well.

“splendid. thank you, mr. hayakawa.” chishiya responded happily.

but… that word. splendid. your mind couldn’t understand why that single word in his voice sounded so familiar, as if you’d heard it over and over again.

until it hit you.

the flashbacks from every time you’d watched k1ng0fd1am0nd’s cam. every single time he logged off, he would say ‘have a splendid night’. you wondered why chishiya’s voice in your ear earlier sounded all-too familiar and it hit you. but could he be…? no, he couldn’t be the same person. you rejected the idea completely and pushed it in the back of your head to be locked away.

before you knew it, lily nudging your ribs brought you back to reality and you realized you’d been staring at chishiya this entire time who was returning the stare with a grin on his face. you shook your head, moving a strand of hair behind your ear before focusing back on the conversation at hand. “so, mr. shuntaro, what is your goal as president?” mr. hayakawa asked with a plain yet curious tone of voice.

“before i, hopefully, become president, i want to raise funds for a senior activity of some kind. i think it would be nice to get all of my senior classmates together for one last outing before finals, y’know? i know that it would help relieve the stress off of some of the students, me included.” chishiya answered with a smile, glancing at you ever so often. it made you want to puke.

after zoning out for most of the meeting, trying to retain some of your sanity, you finally managed to get through it. “see ya later, y/n! try not to worry too much. you’re going to be a great prez.” lily said with a smile, waving you off. you smiled back and headed to your first class of the day with a pain in your head and a pain in your ass.

you finally made it back to your dorm and immediately flopped onto your bed, face down into the pillow. a pillow-muffled groan left your mouth as you recalled the events of today. you really couldn’t believe the audacity of chishiya shuntaro, and you really couldn’t get his voice out of your head. no, not his voice. k1ng0fd1am0nd’s voice, the camboy’s voice, out of your head. you rolled over onto your back, chucking your shoes onto the floor by pulling them at the heel. a ding from your phone distracted you, with that set tone being the indicator it was from your favorite camboy. you didn’t even want to think about him. he was the one thing that brought you some sort of happiness, and it was ruined by the one and only chishiya. you grimaced before picking up your phone and reading the notification.

k1ng0fd1am0nds: “hello, my lovely watchers. i will be holding an auction to raise funds for something very dear to me. the prize? a private cam session with me, orgasm included. tune in tomorrow night to join in on the bidding. have a splendid night.”

you took a second before realizing you were holding your breath and breathing in deeply before letting it out. everything that was happening is all too coincidental for chishiya to not be him. but there’s no way, right?

you shook your head and slid your lock screen to the side, checking the numbers in your bank account before deciding that you’re going to win that auction once and for all. there was no resting until you did.

“hello, my lovely watchers. it’s so good to be back.” the camboy’s voice rang through the speakers of your headphones as you watched him contently. he had a mask on as usual, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. you admired his smile, amongst other things, as you listened to what he had to say. “now, before we start, i wanted to lay out some rules. you can bid in $10 increments at minimum. the second rule is that to buy out all the bidders, you must autobuy. that means you will be paying $1000 to win the private cam session with me. got it?” his signature smirk was plastered on his face and you couldn’t help but notice how uncannily similar it was to chishiya’s grin. “let’s begin!”

it took twelve turns of bidding while the cam boy did suggestive things before you placed the bet of $500. you thought no one would outbid you, after the last bid being $250. you bit your nails, watching the screen intently. “wow! $500 from…” the camboy leaned in with a squint, reading out your username. “queenofdiamonds222? that’s adorable.” he smiled, showing all of his beautiful pearly whites. your heart raced as he said your screen name out loud. you never thought he’d notice you, and although it was because of your bid, you still felt a rush of anxiety and excitement run through you.

five bids later, you finally decide to say fuck it. “god damn it.” you say after placing your final bit with an exhale, closing your eyes and leaning your head into your hands. it was the autobuy. you knew you shouldn’t have, but your need for knowing whether or not your favorite camboy was chishiya led you to this decision. it was a win/win in your head. on one hand, if he is chishiya shuntaro, you’re right and can potentially use it against him. if it’s not, you get a private session with the one and only k1ng0fd1am0nds. it wasn’t the most financially stable decision, but you had to do what you needed to. the camboy raised a brow in the middle of gripping his semi-hard cock, almost giving you the impression that he was getting off to people bidding money on him. his eyes focused on the screen before widening and letting out a breathy laugh.

“an autobuy from none other than queenofdiamonds222! wow, thank you so much. i- i honestly can’t believe it!” the video star’s voice was full of surprise, genuinely not thinking someone would dare spend that kind of money. “i guess there you have it. i’ll send you a friend request shortly, queen. as for everyone else, i’ll be doing another livestream later this week to take donations. i hope you all enjoyed, and have a splendid night.” with that, he was gone.

part of you felt relieved that you didn’t have to wait any longer. the other part? you could die on the spot. your heart was racing and your palms sweaty at the idea of meeting k1ng0fd1amond’s. although it wasn’t in person, the idea was still extremely anxiety inducing. a fwhip ding from your laptop distracted you from the nerve-wracking thoughts in your mind. it was a friend request from the one and only cam boy. you gulped deeply, hands shaking as you slid your fingers across your mousepad to accept. a few seconds later, a video call notification popped up on your screen from him. “fuck.” you whispered under your breath. “i can do this, i can do it. it’s fine.” you muttered, fixing your hair as if that would make a difference. you answered the call with your video camera still turned off.

k1ng0fd1amond’s face was plastered across your screen, a soft smile playing across his lips. “hello, my queen.” he greeted, leaning back to show off his toned torso. muffled r&b music played in the background of his video call, seemingly setting the mood. “now, as i said, you get this video call with me. however, it would make it much more interesting if i also got to see your face, considering i’m showing mine for the first time.” he leaned forward, mask still covering half of his face. his pretty chesnut-colored eyes were sheltered by long lashes, making his eyes look more sultry. “so, how about it?” the camboy quizzed and lifted his fingers to the edge of his mask as if he were to lift it at any moment.

you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “okay.” you stated softly, reaching the mousepad with your hand and turning on your camera. you stared at him as your face popped up in the corner of the screen, slightly messy hair framing your face. you bit your lip out of anxiety, hoping nothing could go wrong. the cam boy paused, mouth open slightly as if he was examining your face. his eyes darted around, intently staring at the screen before smiling.

“this does, in fact, make things much more interesting.” his fingers delicately hovering over the edges of the mask finally grasped it and pulled it off. your heart nearly dropped out of your ass. all of your suspicions were proven at this moment as his face was uncovered.

chishiya sat there with his signature cocky grin, staring at you through the screen. it felt like you were also naked with how embarrassment flooded your entire body. “are you going to say anything, y/n? or are you just going to stare at me with your mouth open as if you want something inside of it?” his attitude was repulsive, but you couldn’t help but think back to how many times he’d gotten you off without even touching you. his voice, his eyes, the way he stroked himself… all of those things led to your own orgasm countless time. you clenched your jaw, pushing those thoughts aside for the time being.

“i knew it was you, i just needed to prove it.” your voice was shaky, and your breathing continued to become more unsteady.

“okay, so now you know it’s me. now what?” chishiya questioned, raising a brow and seeming unfazed. “you gonna tell the whole school that i’m an exhibitionist? that i take pleasure in knowing people watch me to get off, hmm?”

“n-no…” all of your confidence went out the window. “i just wanted to prove it to myself.” your answer was honest to an extent. you did want to use it against him, but that would be cruel. the perfect chishiya shuntaro, a cam boy. it would be hard for some to believe, but you knew that somehow it would benefit him.

“you paid all of this money, so do you want to get to it?” chishiya asked, cocking his head to the side and letting his hand slowly glide to his lower torso. you stared intently before looking back up at his face which was riddled with arrogance.

“get.. get to what?” you asked curiously, breath hitching in the back of your throat as you felt yourself start to get more turned on. although you truly despised him, he was still the camboy you admired dearly.

“you know exactly what i mean. you can still hate chishiya shuntaro, but don’t try to deny that i get you off better than anyone else could.” that statement from him earned a breathy and near-silent moan. you weren't even touching yourself and he’d already gotten you to the point of wanting to do indescribable things to yourself while listening to his voice. “see, that’s a good girl.” chishiya praised you for the noise you made, his voice dripping with confidence.

“i-i can’t. you’re… i-” words seemed to get stuck in the back of your throat with every sentence you tried to speak.

“and why not? you mean to tell me that you paid all of that money and are gonna let it go to waste, princess?” the nickname made you clench your jaw out of frustration, but not in the bad way. “you know you want to…” you watched his hands grip around his cock, getting harder with every word. you stared at the spot on his grey sweatpants that began to get soaked with his precum. “look at what you’re doing to me, y/n.”

nothing could’ve stopped you at this point. you placed your laptop towards the end of the bed and sat on your knees, unbuttoning your shirt that you’d worn to school earlier that day. you looked into the camera, heart racing and breath spiking with every button that was undone. your hands lingered on the last button before pulling off your shirt to reveal your pretty white lace bra. chishiya bit his lip, his hand gripping his dick and moving up and down the shaft slowly as if he was teasing himself. you could hear him stifle a moan as he watched you undress yourself.

“you’re so beautiful. i’m surprised you don’t show yourself off on camera.” that comment earned a small chuckle as you were finally down to your bra and panties. chishiya slid his grey sweatpants off to reveal a tented bulge in his boxers. his hands stroked the member at a slow and steady pace, as if he went any faster that he’d combust. you let out a soft groan at the sight, feeling yourself become wetter by the second. “lay down on your back. i want to see all of you.” chishiya ordered, becoming more flustered by the second.

you listened to his words as if they were controlling you, positioning yourself on your back to where he could see everything from the side. your eyes closed briefly before the nerves got to you. “chishiya, i-” you started before he quickly cut you off.

“i don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. the only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, daddy’, ‘no, daddy’, and ‘thank you, daddy’. understood?” his words made you moan as your fingers lingered over your bra-covered breasts, touching yourself so lightly that it made you want more. you nodded, biting your lip and daring to look at the screen. chishiya was positioned to where you could see from his thighs to the top of his head. you took in the way his face stared intently at you with a lasting expression of lust. his toned torso moved in sync with his rapidly increasing breaths, and his hands were teasing the tip of his cock. the cam boy raised a brow, expecting you to answer.

”yes, daddy.” you replied nearly breathless. you couldn’t believe the state you were in with not having done anything yet. this reply garnered a genuine and lecherous smile.

“that’s my girl. now, take off your bra.” your hands didn’t hesitate to reach around and unclasp the device, taking off the undergarment in one swift motion. you awaited his next command as the cool air from your room made your nipples perk up. chishiya licked his lips. his movements on his girthy member becoming more steady with each stroke. “i want you to touch your nipples, softly. pinch them, tease them. show me how you touch yourself when you watch me.”

you did your best to push the embarrassment of knowing that chishiya knew you had gotten off to him countless times. the tips of your fingers came up and twirled your nipples, head leaning back into the bedsheets as you let out a soft gasp. you pinched them in between your fingertips, teasing them while replaying thoughts of him stroking his cock. “daddy…” you let out in a breathless moan. it was a plead for more, and you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet.

your other hand came up and gripped your breast, squeezing it softly as you closed your eyes. your pussy tingled with anticipation and your hips bucked up slightly at the feeling. you wanted more. you needed more. your eyes opened as you turned your head to glance at him. chishiya was staring at you with lascivious eyes, almost as if they were imploring for more.

you slid your hands down, not caring that he only said to touch your nipples. you stuck your thumbs on the inside of your panties, glancing down at them for a moment before returning your eyes to him. his teeth tugging on his bottom lip was confirmation enough, leading you to pull your underwear completely off. chishiya followed suit, revealing his cock that was hidden behind his boxers. you’d seen it many times, but this one was different. it was so much more intimate knowing he, too, was watching you. his hands gripped the thick member, stroking it at a steady pace as he watched you unravel yourself for him.

“fuck, i fucking need you.” chishiya’s words were enough for you to bring one hand to your breast and slide the other down to your pussy in hopes of relieving some tension. “that’s a good fucking girl. keep going.” he ordered as moans left your mouth over and over, eyes fluttering back and forth. you imagined that instead of your fingers, it was chishiya’s stroking your sensitive and swollen clit. you wished it was him teasing at your nipples with his tongue instead of your own hands. the thought alone pushed you closer to the edge.

“chi!” you gasped, curling your fingers inside of yourself and watching him continue to speed up the movements on his cock. his hands were curled around his member, stroking at a fast pace while watching you touch yourself. the moans leaving his mouth were heavenly. thoughts of what they’d sound like as he was inside of you flooded your mind, making you speed up the pace of your fingers.

“keep going. fucking faster. that’s my good fucking girl. such a good toy for daddy.” chishiya muttered out of nothing more than lust. you obliged to his demands with a ‘yes, sir’, doing what he ordered as if you’d done it a million times.

you felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. your hips bucked over and over as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers, watching him pant and continue to stroke himself. “gonna cum for me?” chishiya asked in between melodious moans. you nodded intensely, squeezing your eyes shut as your felt your orgasm bubbling. “beg.” he ordered sternly, mouth opening as sweat rippled across his forehead.

“please, chishiya! please, daddy!” you begged, curling your toes and bucking your hips. you turned your head and dared to open your eyes and watch him. “please let me cum for you. please, daddy. i need to cum for you.” you pleaded as your release was closer than you could imagine. chishiya moaned deeply, speeding up his movements to match yours.

“cum for me. cum, you stupid fucking slut.” with his words, you felt your orgasm wash over and relieve you of any stress you’d built up. your moans rang through his speakers as you reached your release. looking over, you watched as he reached his orgasm, squirting his cum all over his torso. chishiya’s breathing was rapid and his eyes were closed. he brought a hand up and brushed his hair out of his face, leaning his head onto the pillow behind him. “fuck…” he said breathlessly.

“yeah…” you agreed with a stifled chuckle, closing your eyes and leaning further into the mattress. the real world creeped in slowly, persisting you to grab a shirt from the floor and put it on to cover up. chishiya did the same, grabbing his boxers and putting them on to cover himself after cleaning his release from off of his stomach. “so.” you said awkwardly, brushing your now messy hair behind your ear and positioning yourself to sit and face the camera.

“so?” chishiya asked curiously, a sweet smile curled on his lips with the singular word. he rolled his eyes and scoffed. “please don’t tell me you’re gonna make this awkward now.” you blushed, looking away and biting your lip out of anxiety.

“no, i just-” you began before shaking your head and looking down. you lifted your head shortly after to face him and begin again. “this never happened, okay?” the look of disappointment replaced his smile and he pursed his lips to the side. he nodded in agreement, mumbling a defeated ‘yeah’ while shaking his head.

“as you wish, my queen.” the name made you genuinely laugh, causing him to sit for a moment and admire you. you took a moment before regaining yourself, admiring him as well. his eyes were so beautiful, something you loved about him before knowing it was him. chishiya’s lips were so perfectly tuned for his face, as if god himself took his time to make sure he’d have a lovely smile and an even more lovely kiss. you shrugged the thoughts off and decided to call it here.

“bye, chishiya.” the voice was not meant to sound sad, but it came out as if you were slightly heartbroken. you didn’t want the fun to end, but you knew it was for the best. chishiya wasn’t your friend, nor your acquaintance. he was the star student of your college, a famous cam boy, and your academic rival. nothing about this would work. you sighed, content with knowing the answers you sought after in the first place.

“see ya later, y/n.” even his voice sounded sad, but in the same way as yours of knowing what’s best for each of you.

it had been two weeks since your escapade with chishiya and you’d been avoiding him the entire time. every time you seen him, whether it be in the cafeteria or the library, you immediately turned around to go the other way. he tried multiple times to give you a small wave but you couldn’t bear to think of the things you two did together.

the thoughts flooded your mind as your physics book was laid out in front of you, notes scattered across the table in the back of the near-empty library. it was 7pm on a friday, meaning everyone was either out partying or doing their own thing in their dorms. you, however, had to study immensely for your upcoming midterms. the thought alone made you groan and shove your head in your hands. “fuckin’ christ. i should just drop out.” you muttered dismissively, not wanting to study any longer.

“that’s not the attitude i’d expect from our future class president.” the words stung your ears as a familiar voice flooded them. you lifted your head slowly, eyes cautiously settling on chishiya who was watching you intently. your face flushed with a crimson blush after avoiding him for so long. he lifted his hand and did a small wave that you’d rejected many times before this meeting. “hi, y/n.”

“chishiya, i really don’t have time for this.” you stated in an annoyed and exhausted tone, beginning to close your books. he walked over slowly, grabbing at your wrist that was trying to put away the notes. chishiya closed the gap between you, leaning over and getting closer to your face. his eyes left yours for a moment to peer at your lips, only to look back up and smirk. you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and pulled your wrist away. he released a chortle, sitting close to you on the table where your scattered notes lay.

“c’mon. you don’t wanna talk to me?” chishiya questioned with a smile, shaking his head. “and after all we’ve been through…” he tsked, putting a hand over his heart. the blush that had since faded returned, making you turn your head away from him in attempts to hide it. chishiya noticed by the redness of your ears and without further hesitation grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. “what do you say we do it right here, right now?” a devilish grin was stuck on his face as he leaned in closer to you, almost as if he were to kiss you. your tongue left your mouth to lick your lips before he moved right past your face and went to your ear. the star student licked along the outskirts of your earlobes before breathily whispering. “i can feel how much you’re aching for me right now, sweetheart. tell me you want me to take you in this library for everyone to see.” a moan slipped from your mouth as the grip on your chin shifted to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly to arise a reaction from you. “don’t you wanna be a good girl for me, y/n?”

that phrase alone made you wiggle with anticipation, causing his mouth to leave your ear and look at you. his hand left your throat and rested on either side of you, positioned on the chair you were sitting at. chishiya’s eyes darted from your own to your lips, as if questioning if you really wanted to do this. your breathing was steadily increasing, as was your heart rate. part of you wanted to say no, to leave immediately. but you were desperate for him. you needed him to devour you like an animal. before you could say no, your body produced a nod for chishiya.

his hands left the chair and instantaneously connected with your jaw again, closing the space between you and engulfing your lips into a kiss. your hand wrapped around his wrist, nudging it down as if begging him to put it around your throat. chishiya smiled into the kiss and did as you requested, gripping your neck just enough to cut off the blood flow and send a rush to your head once he let go. the bliss of his tongue entering your mouth and intertwining with your own made you moan into his mouth, scooting closer to the edge of the chair to be more near him. chishiya took this as a sign to further things as he lifted your body off of the chair , still locked in the kiss, and move you to the table. pages of your notes fluttering across the floor with the swift movement. you wrapped your legs around his waist, deeping the kiss by pulling his head closer. the feeling of his hardening cock behind his white joggers against your own sweatpants made a moan escape your vocal chords into his mouth. chishiya pulled away from the kiss and moved the chair you’d previously been sitting in to settle himself on his knees. you raised a brow, confused by his actions. “chishiya?”

a fiendish grin made its way onto his lips as he placed his thumbs through the waistband of your sweatpants and tugged them down along with your underwear. “i don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. the only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, daddy’, ‘no, daddy’, and ‘thank you, daddy’. understood?” the familiar words made you lose your breath as you remembered the moments from a week ago. you nodded hastily and let him continue. “atta girl.” chishiya praised before kissing up your thighs, gripping them with a steady pressure on either side. his mouth found its way to your stomach by sliding your shirt up, lifting himself up ever so slightly to reach your nipples. he looked up at you with his dark chocolate eyes before immersing your the sensitive buds into his mouth, sucking on them with no hesitation. his teeth bit them gingerly, continuing to suckle at them as he did so. chishiya moved to the other side and continued to do the same thing before moving on, lips interchanging between peppering kisses down your torso and fellating the skin there.

his movements continued until he was face to face with your pussy. a deep breath exhaling from him caused you to buck your hips, in search of some sort of contact. you bit your lip at the unconscious act of desperation that your body performed. you never expected to be so submissive in the presence of chishiya shuntaro. his eyes locked with yours before licking up the sides of your folds, tasting in the sweet juices that had trickled out. you leaned on one arm and used the other one to cover your mouth with your hand. even though you knew no one was in the library, you couldn’t imagine getting caught in this position right now.

chishiya continued to explore you with his mouth, licking along everywhere except where you needed him most. “chi- daddy…” you corrected yourself quickly, before continuing. “daddy, please. i-” his eyes focused in on you, darkening as you continued to speak in stuttered breaths. “i need you, chishiya.” those words were like a switch in his brain as he began to devour every piece of you his tongue could reach. you did your best to withhold the sounds of pleasure that dared to escape your mouth as he suckled at your extremely sensitive clit. chishiya’s tongue made its way up and down your folds before settling on your clit, nibbling it ever so slightly. the explicit noises he made ellicited a deep moan from you, causing chishiya to groan into your pussy. before you knew it, you were being filled by not one, but two, of chishiya’s fingers. a loud whimper made its way out of your mouth. you gave up leaning on your arm and gave way to laying down fully on the table, squeezing your thighs around chishiya’s warm face. the pressure against your sweet spot combined with the movements of his tongue had you seeing stars.

“cum.” chishiya commanded out of nowhere., muffled by your wet cunt. you hadn’t realized the feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you before he’d said something. not responding in a proper enough time frame from him, he got up and leaned over the table, fingers still working at your g-spot. “i said cum, you pathetic whore. cum for me.” his hand went over your mouth as he kept bullying your insides with his middle and ring finger. “look at me.” chishiya demanded. the look on his face and his continuous movements led you to your orgasm, slick juices covering his hands as he slowed his pace down. your erratic breathing elicited a smirk from him, the signature, cocky smirk. he removed the hand covering your mouth and replaced it with the fingers that were inside of you, which you gladly and hastily licked clean. “what a good fuckin’ girl. now say ‘thank you, daddy’.”

“thank you, daddy.” you replied breathlessly, still coming down from the high of having an orgasm by his hands.

chishiya leaned in and kissed you, his tongue slowly making its way to ravage your mouth and selfishly steal the taste of your juices from you. suddenly, he pulled away with a familiar devilish grin. “now, should i give you what you want, or should i fuck your face like you’re my own personal fleshlight?” the vulgar words made your face hot with embarrasment, but you didn’t care anymore. you just wanted him, in any way you could have him.

“whatever you want, daddy. anything for you.” you responded in a sultry tone, wanting nothing more than to please him at this moment. chishiya’s lips curled into a smile as he pulled you to the edge of the table, making you sit up.

“knees. now.” those two words sent chills down your spine as you moved to listen to him. you looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, giving him an innocent facial expression even though he ate you out like he’d been starving for days. chishiya chuckled, pulling his sweatpants down enough for his cock to bounce out from the restraint of the clothing. “look at you,” he began with a hand on your jawline, running his thumb across your chin and up to your lips. he pulled your bottom lip down with his fingertips, eliciting you to open your mouth. chishiya’s spare hand was stroking his member at a painfully slow pace, precum dripping onto the floor. you took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and closing your eyes before opening them and making eye contact. “you’re such a pretty fucking slut, y/n.” he took his thumb out of your mouth and continued to stroke your jawline, eyes never leaving yours. a smirk took over his face before he pulled his hand back and landed a slap on your face, just enough to move your head but not enought to hurt you. “open that slutty mouth of yours, yeah?”

you made an opening with your mouth for him, continuing to stare up into his hazel eyes. chishiya used his hand to move his member and hit it against your cheek, making a light slapping noise from the contact. he moved the tip to your lips, rubbing the dripping precum against them before slowly entering his dick inside of your mouth. he let out a deep moan as you continued to take him inside of your mouth, flattening your tongue as to rub it against the underside of his shaft. chishiya’s soft palms grasped at either side of your face, fingers tangling in the hair that he could grasp. he started off slow, pulling his cock out to the tip and moving back in, doing the same again but only taking half out this time. you mustered up the confidence you could to not gag and pull off of him. suddenly, he began to fuck your face fiercely. chishiya shoved all the way in to your mouth with each thrust at a steady, quick pace. he was desperate to feel you around him, gripping your hair harder with each thrust and letting moans go with each time you’d gag around him. “s’fuckin good.” he praised while moving a hand to clench your hair into a ponytail. he used his free hand to lean on the table behind him while he thrusted into your mouth. the sounds coming from his mouth could’ve made the heaven’s cry by how lovely they were. you closed your eyes, focusing on breathing through your nose and whimpering with every harsher thrust chishiya delivered. the feeling of his cock riding in and out of your mouth so recklessly made you wish it was inside of you instead.

all too soon, he pulled his cock out of your mouth and grabbed you by your arms to place you on the table. “need you. now.” chishiya stated frantically, kissing you in between sentences. his hand made it’s way to your folds, entering two fingers in suddenly and curling to hit your sensitive spot a few times before pulling them out almost as quickly as they were inside. he grabbed his girthy cock, positioning it in front of your pussy and sliding it along the slit. a breathy ‘fuck’ escaped his lips before he shoved it in without warning. you leaned on one arm, your free hand covering your mouth to prevent a scream from escaping as he pounded into you at full speed. you could tell he needed this.

chishiya thrusted into you over and over again, continuing to defile your insides with his cock. you bucked your hips in sync with him as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you onto him more with each thrust. you felt like you were drunk or high, as if you were in a haze. your thoughts were incoherent as he started plowing in and out of your cunt, merciless by accident with how roughly he moved— not that you were complaining, quite the opposite with how hard it was to keep quiet inside of this empty public library. sounds of desperate moans and skin on skin filled the room. chishiya seemed determined to make you cream around his cock in a way that would make you completely forget everything but the image of him on top of you on this table. a groan slipped from your lips, making you arch your back as he hit the sweet spot inside of you. “be quiet.” chishiya grunted, moving your hand from your mouth and letting it fall onto the table to support you. he replaced your own hand by shoving two fingers in your mouth. you happily obliged to this filling, sucking on his fingers and whimpering around them as he relentlessly thrusted.

between incoherent pleads for more around his fingers and breathless moans, you felt your orgasm drawing closer with each time he entered you. a bubbly feeling was growing by the second, and your expressions of pleasure soon heightened in pitch. “d-daddy… ‘m close!” the broken words escaped your mouth as soon as he removed his fingers from your mouth to return to your hips in hopes of somehow bringing himself deeper into you, although being already balls deep. “that’s it, cream all over my cock.” chishiya’s fingers immediately went for your clit, fingertips circling the swollen and sensitive bud to send you over the edge.

between the clenching of your walls closing around him from your high releasing and the thrusts continuing at full force, his orgasm followed suit. his beautiful, low moans filled your ears as he emptied his load inside of you, the thick liquid slowly coming out your hole and spilling onto the table as he continued to thrust slowly while he hit his high. chishiya stopped moving his hips eventually, leaning his chin to rest on your shoulder. you both were a panting mess and the library was extremely dark. he pulled out with a wince at how sensitive he was before pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. he helped you off the table, legs still shaking from the exchange. you leaned into him, pulling your own sweatpants up and tightening them around your waist. you looked up into his eyes. they were glassy and still full of lust, but still beautiful. “let me walk you to the dorms.” chishiya said, more of a statement than a question. you inhaled deeply and nodded, not having the energy to tell him you could go alone.

chishiya helped you pack your things into your bag before you both left the library, eyeing the one old lady sitting at the desk who seemed to be oblivious to everything happening around her. she had an old headset on and seemed to be reading a very thick book. you both shook your head simultaneously and headed out the door towards the dorms.

after a few minutes walking in silence, you decided to speak up. “y’know this doesn’t change anything, right?” you quizzed, looking straight ahead so as not to look at his face. chishiya’s familiar chuckle flooded your ears as he nodded.

“i figured. you’re very stubborn.” he joked, playfully pushing you to the side. you laughed in return and returned to your original position on the sidewalk next to him. “however,” he began, making your ears perk up. you looked over at chishiya who had a devilish grin. “you don’t always have to watch me on camera. you could join me, too…”

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XX.

GIF by bestintheparsec

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The night of the ritual.

WORD COUNT: ~9.1k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: dead dove: do not eat!, kidnapping, mc is held hostage, allusions to SA (nothing explicit. will be explained later on), hallucinations, humiliation, wound care, hurt/no comfort, crime thriller vibes are vibing, demon worship, cult ritual, supernatural elements, non-consensual drug use, angst, whump, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i'm missing any other tags please let me know.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: i’m going to hold y’all’s hand when i say this... i am putting paloma through it 😓 i was initially going to just bang everything out and post it in one big chapter, but as i was writing... i just felt like it would be better if we let the suspense of it all do its thing and end with a cliffhanger. i am a sucker for ‘em, even if they’re so frustrating (in the best way possible) 😭 i hope that all the lore revolving the cult has been concise and strong enough to hold up during the ending bit of this. i wish i could say things are going to get better from here but they’re not… they’re actually going to get worse 🤠 as always, feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or on ao3. i'd really appreciate it 🖤

♰  read on ao3. ♰

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When ten minutes pass, Javier brushes it off. She’s probably just caught up in something. It’s nothing to worry about.

But when twenty minutes roll by, that’s when the unease creeps in. He starts pacing the living room, fighting the urge for a cigarette, glancing at the clock.

Where is she?

By the time half an hour has come and gone, he’s dialing the library, wondering why Paloma hasn’t come home yet. The phone rings and rings, but no one picks up. His stomach tightens, and he wills himself to remain calm. She’s probably fine.

At the hour mark, Javier’s behind the wheel, speeding into town. Maybe she’s still upset from the argument they had earlier, and instead of coming home, she went to Tammy’s.

But when Tammy tells him she hasn’t heard from Paloma for a few days now, a knot twists in his chest.

Panic threatens to take hold, but he pushes it down. He can’t let it consume him—not yet. Not until he has a real reason to worry.

But she has that damn habit of disappearing to sulk in random places when she’s upset. And that habit is gnawing at him now.

He drives to every spot he can think of, the abandoned tracks, the clearing behind the cemetery, the creek—but there’s no sign of her.

That terrible feeling grows, heavy and unshakable. He marches into the sheriff’s department, jaw set, not caring who sees the frantic look in his eyes.

He storms the file room, ripping through boxes. His hands tremble as he plucks out the file he’s searching for.

“Fuck!” He curses under his breath, jaw tightening as the photo of Paloma’s mother stares back at him.

Now, he has a reason to panic.

He should have known when he first laid eyes on it. The familiarity of her features—her eyes, her hair, her smile; it was all too close to Paloma. Too close to ignore. But he had, all because his mind was completely elsewhere at the time. Now look where that got him.

It’s like a scene from a horror film, where everything snaps into place too late.

The recent victims; brunettes in their mid-twenties with similar features, similar backgrounds—they resembled her.

The staged chamber, the gore, the man who killed himself.

All of it was leading to this, tying up the gruesome mystery with a neat little bow, like a gift Javier wishes he could burn. They had been played—manipulated, distracted from seeing the bigger picture.

Whoever orchestrated this whole thing has been after his girl from the very beginning.

He fights the urge to smash his fist into the nearest wall, to tear down every shelf in the room in a fit of blind rage.

But what would that solve? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Rage won’t lead him to her. Fear won’t undo what’s already been set in motion. All he can do is cling to hope, even if it’s slipping through his fingers.

The ultimate goal of this fucked-up cult—their twisted mission—is to birth the flesh reincarnate of their so-called, bullshit deity.

His blood runs cold at the thought of Paloma being used in some horrific ritual, being touched, violated, forced into madness.

He’s shaking, on the verge of a panic attack, his heart slamming against his ribcage like it’s trying to escape. But he forces himself to breathe—slow, deep, steady breaths, locking the perturbation away. 

Javier puts out an APB, his voice tight as he details her car, her appearance. Every word feels surreal, like it’s not really him saying it, like he’s watching someone else’s nightmare play out.

Romeo’s going to hear this, and he’s going to have to explain how they missed all the signs, how Paloma has been in danger this whole time.

The weight of it presses down on him like a thousand pounds of guilt.

Gathering what he needs and delegating some of the overnight officers at the station, he frantically drives to the Leighton house.

He’s already chain-smoked half a pack. That nasty habit he’s been trying to shake is clinging to him. The file in his hands feels too light for the bomb he’s about to drop.

How the fuck is he supposed to do this? How do you tell someone their wife’s past is tangled in a nightmare, and that their daughter—a woman they both love—is at the heart of it? How do you stay composed when you’re barely holding yourself together?

“Where the fuck is my daughter?”

Javier’s barely set foot out of his truck when Romeo’s fists twist in his shirt, shoving him hard against the vehicle.

The impact rattles through him, but all he can see is the wild, desperate look in the sheriff’s eyes—a terror that matches his own but runs even deeper, cutting into every line on his face.

“Romeo, listen to me!” Javier’s voice is authoritative, that familiar guarded wall of stoicism building as his trademark defense mechanism to the absolute anxiety that’s gnawing away at his body. “This is gonna be hard to hear—I’m barely making sense of it myself—but I need you to listen if we’re going to figure this shit out.”

Romeo’s grip tightens, then slowly loosens, and Javier seizes the moment, shoving the older man back, no longer giving a fuck about keeping the peace.

He yanks the folded photo from his jacket pocket and holds it up, letting him get a clear look. “Tell me. Is this Paloma’s mother?”

Romeo’s gaze flits to the photograph, and the recognition that floods his face is immediate.

His fingers snatch the photo from Javier, and his expression cracks, aging him in just a matter of seconds. “Where did you get this?” His voice is barely a whisper, “What the fuck is going on?”

Javier’s own dread deepens. “From the old files,” he says, voice hollow. “The ones from the original group. She’s connected to all of this. They both are.”

He takes a breath, then begins to explain everything he knows. He lays it out, bit by bit—the tangled web of what Paloma had uncovered, the twisted threads that pointed to this cult, the fake leads that had kept them chasing shadows. Every word feels like glass in his throat.

Confusion, fear, anger—every emotion etched on Romeo’s face makes Javier feel like he’s the one who has failed. 

“Did you know about any of this?” he asks, though he already knows the answer from the lost look in Romeo’s eyes.

His mouth opens, then closes. He seems to gather himself, shoulders dropping under a weight he’s only just begun to grasp. “None. When I met Abby… she was just a woman startin’ over. She’d moved into a small house near the church. Said her parents had passed and she needed a fresh start. Picked a random town—that’s how she ended up here.” The sheriff’s gaze drifts to a place Javier can’t reach, caught in the bittersweet memory of his late wife. 

“Paloma said she found this out by going through her mom’s things,” he says carefully, each word a stone dropping into his gut. “But I don’t think she was telling me everything.”

Silence stretches between them, heavy and loaded as they lock eyes in an unspoken understanding.

They need answers, and every second they waste is another second Paloma could be slipping further away.

“Before we make accusations,” Javier says, forcing himself to stay grounded, “we need to dig through their belongings. There has to be something there—a lead, a hint—something that’ll tell us who’s behind this.”

“But you already know who it is, don’t you?”

Javier’s eyes darken, and his jaw locks as one name barrels into his mind, clear and hateful: August.

The red flags he had dismissed, convinced they were just a byproduct of his hate for the guy, now stand out like beacons.

He meets Romeo’s gaze, a grim certainty settling into his features. “I believe it’s Augustus Dixon and his group.”

Romeo’s face twists with anger, and he grits out, “Motherfucker—” His fists clench, his whole body radiating fury.

“Be pissed off later. We’ve got a job to do.”

They stalk up the stairs, both men moving with purpose—Romeo heads for his wife’s things while Javier makes his way into Paloma’s room.

It feels surreal, even wrong, to be rummaging through her life like this. The last time he’d been in this position, it was in Jessica’s room, and even then he could see the resemblance her space shared with Paloma’s—but he’d never thought he’d be here, seeing his girl as a victim.

His fingers skim over a leather-bound book tucked away on the top shelf in her closet, hidden behind a jewelry box. It’s as if she’d placed it there purposefully, stowed away out of reach.

When he pulls it down, he realizes it’s a scrapbook brimming with photographs and clippings.

Inside, he finds images of Calmana, surrounded by groups of men and women, all dressed in matching, traditional attire. A towering cathedral looms in the background, religious iconography scattered throughout—symbols he now recognizes from his research.

Maps, faded with time, span several pages, and in the center lies an intricate, sprawling family tree with Paloma’s name written at the bottom.

He spots envelopes tucked between the pages, each one addressed to her in cursive hand.

He calls out for Romeo, and the sheriff is by his side almost instantly, his expression a twisted mix of hope and dread.

“What’d you find?” 

Javier silently hands him the scrapbook, keeping the envelopes for himself. 

One by one, he opens them, unfolding each paper. His breaths come out ragged, and he feels his stomach drop as he reads.

They’re love poems—explicit, filthy in their adoration. Line after line, they detail all the things August wants to do to her, each word penned with obsession.

The praises he lavishes on her, how he calls her a spectacle, the power he insists she wields—it’s like poison seeping into Javier’s mind. 

His hands start trembling, and the implications tighten around him like a noose.

Romeo, sensing his agitation, reaches out, his voice rough. “What’s that—what did you find?” 

Javier jerks the papers away, swallowing hard. “Trust me. You don’t want to see these—not now.”

“Let me see them, Javier! Goddammit, my daughter is in danger!”

Before their back-and-forth can spiral any further, Javier’s walkie talkie crackles sharply, an officer’s voice coming through:

“A dark green, 1970 Buick Electra matching the APB put out an hour ago has been found in Lake Fraiser alongside an unidentified female body.”

The air thickens and shatters as Javier and Romeo lock eyes, both of them wearing the same look of wide-eyed horror. 

“Romeo—” Javier tries, reaching out, but the man is already out the door, the scrapbook falling from his hands and hitting the hardwood floor with a hollow thud that reverberates in Javier’s chest.

He mutters a quick fuck and scoops it up, rushing after him, yet the sheriff is a blur, tearing down the driveway with the kind of desperation only a father can muster when everything he loves is on the line.

Now that he’s left alone, Javier grips the railing, and the weight of it all—of losing her—comes crashing down. His heart’s splintering, his chest tight, mind skidding out of control.

This is what he’s been running from all along—failure… loss… grief. Now it is all coming back, circling like vultures, ready to take the one thing that’s ever brought him true happiness.

But he forces himself to breathe, to anchor his mind to the one cold comfort he has left. “He wouldn’t kill her. He needs her.” The words taste bitter, chilling him, but they hold him steady.

Paloma is at the center of this plan—there’d be no sense in taking her, just to end it so abruptly.

Despite everything, he finds a sliver of reassurance in that cruel logic. He clings to it with everything he has, because right now, it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

Javier pulls up to Lake Fraiser, where the scene is a flurry of first responders, flashing lights reflecting off the water’s dark surface in sharp reds and blues.

He parks haphazardly, barely cutting the engine before he’s out of the truck, heading straight toward the area cordoned off by yellow crime scene tape.

His heart slams against his ribs as he spots Romeo, kneeling by the edge of the lake beside a body draped in a white cloth, his face blank, almost empty.

Javier’s eyes dart to the surrounding officers, scanning each one, trying to get a read on the situation before he speaks.

“Is it her?” His voice breaks the stillness.

Romeo doesn’t look up, his gaze locked on the covered body. “…No.”

Relief floods through him, dizzying him for a moment before his gaze lands on a tow truck pulling Paloma’s car away from the scene. 

He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to swallow back the bitter uncertainty rising in his throat.

Romeo stands slowly, brushing the dirt off his hands, his expression hardening as he relays, “Just got a call from the hospital. Our girl from the woods finally woke up. Tonight of all nights.” He chuckles dryly. “Asked to speak with me specifically. So I’ll head that way tomorrow after she’s been stabilized properly… which means you’ll be in charge of all this.” He gestures around them vaguely.

The pulsing emergency lights cast fractured shadows over their faces.

“It’s best for you to step back momentarily. Clear your head. You’re too close to this,” Javier adds quietly, “She’s your daughter.” And while Javier is her lover and every inch of him is fraying at the edges for her, he understands that his pain won’t amount to the agony that Romeo is drowning in.

The sheriff’s silence stretches, words hesitating on his tongue, until finally, with a quiet confession, he murmurs, “I was too harsh on her. On you. I was an asshole, and if it’s any reconciliation—thank you for tryin’ to get her out of this shitty town.”

Javier’s caught off-guard but doesn’t show it, the self awareness on his behalf is appreciated. “I’d do anything for her.”

Romeo studies him for a moment, as if measuring the resolve behind his words, then he nods, his expression taut, “Gonna start combing through everythin’ back at the station. Probably call Olsen, see if he’s got any cameras ‘round the library so we can get a timeline goin’.”

These two men are similar in that regard, backing themselves into their jobs to mask the turmoil inside. They talk through some of the procedures before Romeo is pulled away by other officers, leaving Javier to handle things here.

He forces himself to switch gears, to summon every bit of authority he has left to do his job. He’s got a dead body to assess, a team to command, and then—then he’ll focus everything he’s got on finding Paloma.

Paloma stirs awake, the pitch darkness of the early morning pressing in from all sides.

She’s disoriented—a dull ache in her head and the sting of thick, abrasive rope biting into her wrists.

Her hands are suspended and bound above her, tethered tightly to an old, rusted pipe overhead, which creaks slightly as she shifts her weight.

She can feel the grit of dried blood matting her hair against her temple, the aftershock of Sloane’s vicious hit with the bat ringing sharp behind her eyes. Her boots are missing, leaving her barefoot against the cool concrete ground.

As reality sharpens around her, she realizes this isn’t a dream and it nauseates her, instilling panic in her heart.

She barely remembers the car ride or the way they dragged her down here, everything muddled from the hit she’d taken until she’d finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

Now, the throbbing intensifies as she tugs instinctively at the ropes, her wrists burning, but no amount of pulling loosens her bonds.

Frustration and terror mix, unwieldy coiling in her chest and tears sting at her eyes despite her attempts to fight them back. She doesn’t want to imagine what they plan to do to her.

She knows Javier and her father have to be looking for her. They must be tearing themselves apart with worry. She can almost hear her father’s harsh reprimands and Javier’s quiet, determined rage—they’re relentless when it comes to protecting her. 

They’ll find her. They have to.

The cellar door creaks open and she freezes, her pulse skittering as August, Sloane, and Gabriel descend the stairs.

The dim light barely touches their faces, but she doesn’t need to see them clearly to know what they’re capable of.

She tries to hold her head high, pushing back the tears, refusing to let them see the fear that’s boiling inside. She won’t give them that satisfaction, not if she can help it.

Their footsteps echo against the walls of the basement. August stops just close enough that she can feel his presence invading her senses, suffocating, his familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Good morning, P,” he drawls, voice dripping with the charm that managed to slither its way into her heart.

What she once found magnetic in him is now hollow, a mask that hides something so unfathomable. 

“Pretty nasty cut ya got there.” Sloane’s voice drips with fake sympathy. Her eyes glint with that special brand of cruelty she’d always kept hidden behind a guise of friendship.

The satisfaction in her tone is unmistakable, like she’s savoring every moment of seeing Paloma in such a vulnerable state.

The urge to spit in their faces, to lash out, is almost unbearable, but she remembers her daddy’s lessons, advising her to stay calm, to never let them know how afraid she really is.

Every word of advice he’d ever given her about self-preservation hangs heavy in her mind. 

She keeps her face blank, her mouth a hard line.

“Silent treatment, huh?” August steps closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. His fingers are inches from her forehead when she sees the sick satisfaction in his eyes, and she can’t suppress the involuntary grimace as his fingers hover over the gash near her forehead.

The moment of weakness feels like a win for him, his smile widening as he grazes her wound, pressing just enough to send a wave of pain radiating through her skull and a fresh stream of blood to trickle out.

Sloane watches her reaction, faux innocence weaving through her sneer. “You make for a pretty damn good damsel in distress. Thought you’d put up more of a fight, if I’m bein’ honest. You really disappointed me, doll face.”

Paloma’s grip tightens around the rope until her knuckles ache. She wants to tell her off, to fight and scream—but instead she just turns away, refusing to even look at them.

August’s hand cups her chin as he forces her to meet his eyes, eyes that once held promises of affection and loyalty now filled with something so dark and consuming.

His fingers dig into her soft skin. “I need you to look perfect, little dove. All stitched up and pretty.” His thumb trails along her chapped bottom lip. “Gabriel,” he calls, not even glancing back at the other man, “Tend to that. Tonight’s a big night, after all. Lots to prepare for.”

There goes that trepidation again. Her mouth twitches, half-ready to break her silence and demand to know just what the hell he’s talking about. But she’s already committed to keeping quiet.

Gabriel lingers behind them, shifting uncomfortably, the first aid kit clutched tight in his hand.

He doesn’t say anything, just stands there as usual, eyes flicking from Paloma to his partners, some part of him clearly unsettled yet too cowardly to intervene.

He’s her best shot of getting out of here, she just knows it.

“‘S’okay, you ain’t gotta talk,” August’s coos. “I actually prefer you like this—makes things a hell of a lot easier. The others…” He snorts, shaking his head.

How many other unfortunate women had been dragged down here, suffering at his hands?

“Too squirmy, too squeamish—like fuckin’ pigs.” His laughter is mirthless and Sloane joins in with loud, exaggerated snorts that mimic a pig’s squeal. The sound claws at Paloma’s ears.

There’s this twisted admiration in his stare as he studies her. “That’s why I knew I needed to have you. No one else on this planet holds a candle to the magic you have, Paloma. You should stop bein’ so scared and embrace it.” He murmurs, dropping his voice to a whisper.

His hand snakes down from her jaw, tracing her neck, lingering in an unsettling crawl between her breasts before settling at her hip.

His fingers dig in, and she flinches, her body stiffening in revulsion. He smirks at her reaction, savoring her discomfort like a fine wine.

“I’ll be back to check on you later, alright?” His tone is falsely tender. "Gotta make sure everythin’ is perfect. Can’t afford any fuck ups now—I’ve been way too patient for this."

He steps back at last, allowing Gabriel to shuffle forward with the kit in hand.

With a jerk of his chin, August motions for Sloane to follow him. She blows Paloma a mocking kiss and winks with a saccharine sweetness that really piles on the hatred that burns a little hotter for her specifically.

The heavy cellar door slams shut, casting them back into dim silence as the first pale light of dawn begins to creep through the basement windows.

Paloma’s heart pounds as their shadows disappear, leaving her helpless in the creeping morning light.

“What are you goin’ to do to me?” Her voice is hoarse, each word scraping her dry throat like sandpaper, but she can’t keep quiet now that they’re alone.

Gabriel wordlessly drags over a stool, placing the first-aid kit on top. He opens it, sorting through supplies as though she isn’t even there.

Paloma yanks at her restraints, the old pipe groaning in protest. “Fuckin’ say somethin’,” she snaps, anger edging her desperation. “It’s the least you could do—just… tell me.” She hates the pleading tone that slips through, the last thread of her control unraveling as she imagines what fate awaits her.

His gloved hands move to clean her wound, and she clenches her jaw against the sting, glaring at him as if she could force him to talk through sheer will. He’s careful and practiced, clearly having done this before.

“The Crimson Rite,” he mutters, brows furrowing as he concentrates, his voice a barely audible murmur. “It’s where the conception will happen… on the altar of incarnation.”

Paloma’s heart stumbles, her mind racing to piece together the fragments. “What the fuck are you even sayin’?” Her voice wavers, but there’s no denying the chill in her spine.

She knows what those words mean on their own, but together, they paint a picture she’d rather not face—the harrowing reality of how August truly plans on using her.

“August’ll explain,” he replies, brushing her off with the indifference of a man following orders. “He’s better at that shit than I am. I just do what he asks and stay outta the way.”

“Like a fuckin’ coward,” she spits.

The needle pauses, its sharp tip hovering an inch from her skin, and he raises his eyes. “You get all lippy with me, but keep your mouth shut around them? What, I ain’t intimidatin’ enough for you?” 

She holds his gaze, defiance simmering behind the exhaustion in her stare. “Nothing about you’s intimidatin’ enough to keep me from tellin’ you exactly what I think.”

His lips twist downward, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he resumes stitching, each tug at her skin rougher than the last. 

“At church that day, you were warnin’ me, weren’t you?” Her voice is barely a whisper, the memory of that awkward conversation rattling in her mind. “S’not too late, Gabe. You can still help me outta this… We both can be outta here ‘fore the sun comes up.”

There’s a lapse, just for a second, in his eyes—something she wants to believe is regret, a part of him she hopes she can reach.

The sliver of optimism she’s mustered might awaken that dormant part of him buried under layers of August’s bullshit and the bitterness life has forced him to swallow.

But he shakes his head slowly, avoiding her gaze as he finishes stitching her wound, his hands deft. “You don’t get it. Don’t matter if I do the right thing. He’d find us—he always does.” He sprays her wound with a numbing mist then covers it with a small gauze.

“He wouldn’t find us,” she insists, her voice fraying. “Daddy would protect us. He’d make sure we’re safe.”

He lets out a low, humorless chuckle. “Yeah? He promise you that or somethin’? ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, you don’t look all that safe.”

A bitter, frustrated cry escapes her as he begins to pack up his kit, her pleas bouncing off him like stones against steel.

“Please, Gabe, don’t leave me down here alone,” she chokes out, and the words twist something deep inside her, pulling her further into a desperation she’s been trying to keep at bay.

“Breakfast’ll be down in a few hours,” he mutters, almost as if talking to himself, keeping his voice low and detached. “Probably get you a shower at sundown so you ain’t all sweaty and grimy. Needs you all fuckin’ pristine.” The last words slip out like a hiss, a disgusted edge in his tone. “S’gonna be a long day for you down here. Scream all you want; ain’t nobody around worth a damn to hear it. You got a better shot at rubbin’ the skin off your wrists than gettin’ out of that rope.”

Paloma snaps, her control breaking in a flood of panic and fury as she yanks at her restraint, her wrists burning as she curses him, calling him every name her mind can summon.

The words pour out in a desperate torrent, trying to cut him, to provoke something human out of him, anything.

But he stays silent, barely flinching, his face a mask as he gathers his things, turning his back on her without a word. 

When the cellar door finally slams shut, it echoes through the basement, and her last shreds of resolve crumble as she sinks into sobs.

The thoughts come in fragments, jagged and bitter, cutting her deeper than any wound.

The way things were left with her father—how they’d argued and he looked at her with that final, dismissive silence, like she’d become a stranger for daring to chase her own life beyond their town.

The love that took root so unexpectedly, so completely with Javier. He came into her life at the perfect time, pouring a rare, tender kind of intimacy into her soul; the kind that made her feel seen for the first time in her life.

He was a good man who’d endured his own share of hardships —and she let their last conversation end in anger and frustration. She’s just like her father.

Perhaps if she had told him the full truth about how she came across her mother’s past, she wouldn’t be in this mess at all.

This mess—it’s her inheritance. Not a blessing like August wants her to believe, but a curse Calmana left behind, the forced sins of her mother she didn’t choose but can’t escape.

Her suicide is starting to make more sense.

It all makes her feel like a lamb at slaughter, her life never really hers, and now her blood and body are an offering to feed whatever he believes she’s meant to bring to life. 

The promise of an explanation later on hangs over her like a guillotine. Does she even want to know? Will it make a difference?

She got herself kidnapped by trusting them all, falling for August’s romantic words and impressive knowledge. All of his lies. She’d thought she was smart enough to see through him, to keep a grip on her own heart, and instead, she’d unknowingly let him manipulate her.

Sloane was right—she is the helpless damsel she always denied being, someone who hadn’t fought hard enough to save herself. 

Paloma has to believe she’s got people searching for her, that they’re smart enough, relentless enough to find her before night falls. She has to cling to that hope, however fragile, because right now it’s all she has.

Her cries fill the empty space around her until exhaustion claims her in silence.

The basement is her prison as the sun traces its lazy arc above.

The day drags on in a haze of stale air and the natural sounds of bugs chittering about. On occasion, she’ll hear people walk by or see their shadows through the small windows.

She's trapped here, the only visits marking the hours coming when Gabriel brings a bucket for her to relieve herself—like she’s some kind of animal—or sets down a tray of food she refuses to touch.

“You need to eat,” he says, setting the tray with her dinner on the floor. His hands working on cutting the thick rope binding her wrists, each tug and scrape freeing her a fraction at a time.

“What’s the point? M’gonna die anyway,” she mutters, exhausted but still pissed. “Won’t matter if I’ve got a full stomach or not.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not goin’ to die, Paloma. You’re too important to all this. How haven’t you realized that yet?”

“Oh, forgive me if I haven’t picked up on all your twisted bullshit,” she snaps. “You all speak in fuckin’ tongues and riddles. No one’s told me a damn thing that makes any sense.”

At last, the final fiber of rope snaps, and the weight drops from her wrists. She lets out a low, relieved sigh as her arms fall to her sides, stiff from the hours of suspension.

The ache in her shoulders is intense, and her wrists are lined with red from the coarse bondage.

“Don’t try anythin’ stupid,” he warns, his voice low. “They might not kill ya but they’ll hurt you in ways that’ll make you wish you were dead.”

She doesn’t doubt it, so she reins in her impulses and instead glances at the food, the bitterness slowly giving way to resignation.

If the chance to escape comes, she’ll need her strength. She takes the cup, drinking greedily, barely noticing the water spilling down her chin—it’s just a relief to feel the dryness ease, something grounding in a nightmare that feels endless.

The meal tastes dull, but she swallows it down anyway, each bite a fight to hold onto her sense of self, to stay sharp.

Gabriel watches her with that quiet, unreadable expression.

“I tried leavin’ years ago, when August first started buildin’ the group.” He looks down, his mouth pressing into a grim line. “But he caught me at the train station. Gave me the ass-beatin’ of my life. Locked me up in a shed in the middle of the woods for days, left me there until I learned my lesson. I swear, I lost every bit of myself in that dark place.” His voice lowers to a whisper. “After that, I never thought ‘bout leavin’ again... not until he got his sights set on you.”

Paloma’s chewing slows, her eyes flitting over to him, reading the conflict etched in his expression.

For August to treat Gabriel, his so-called “brother,” with such brutality to keep him in line... it makes all too much sense now, why he is August’s silent shadow, obeying every command.

“His obsession with you is different. Everythin’ suddenly became different. He has this way of makin’ you submit to him that gets me wonderin’ if all this Eurynomos shit is actually real.”

The twisted loyalty, the deep-seated fear that’s tangled around them like shackles, intertwined with stories of divinity.

She’s barely scratched the surface of what August is capable of.

“That’s terrible,” she whispers, sympathetic to what he’s been through. “I’m sorry... ‘n I get why you’re scared, but there’s two of us now. We could make a run for it, slip away while we have the chance.”

Her food is forgotten as Paloma edges closer, her gaze steady and imploring. For a moment, he genuinely considers their escape.

But the heavy, thunderous creak of the cellar doors breaks through the moment, both of them jerking apart.

She scrambles backward until her back presses against the cold, damp wall, her heartbeat racing as Gabriel stands abruptly from his stool, his face hardening again. 

It’s only August this time, his usual shadow—Sloane with her biting sneers—thankfully absent.

He strides down with a bag in one hand and shower supplies in the other, eyeing her like she’s some prized possession he’s been itching to inspect. 

“Unrestrained, ate her dinner, and didn’t even try to run? My, my. Little dove, you’re such a good girl.” He passes the items to Gabriel as he steps closer, and she hates the way she’s wedged in a corner, wishing she could melt into the wall or skitter away like a mouse.

He crouches, gently moving the gauze out of the way, his sharp gaze examining the stitches worked into her head wound. “S’lookin’ better already. Now, let’s get you a shower. I can smell you from here, and, sweetheart, it’s not exactly appealin’.”

“Fuck you.”

He smirks, the cruel curve of his lips almost congratulatory. “There she is. Glad to see that fire hasn’t died just yet, my love.”

With a vice-like grip, his hand latches onto her arm, dragging her up to her feet and across the basement to a sad excuse for a shower—no curtain, nothing remotely resembling privacy, just exposed plumbing and mildewed tile. He shoves her into the cramped space, gesturing at her with a command that chills her: “Strip.”

Her stomach tightens, and she squares her jaw. “Turn around.”

A laugh bursts from him, sharp and mocking. “You think you’re in any position to make demands? You may be special, darlin’, but that don’t mean you’re runnin’ shit. Now strip, or I’ll tie you up and rip that little outfit off myself.”

She grits her teeth, fists clenched. “No.”

His smile vanishes, replaced by a darker, crueler expression.

In a flash, his hand is around her throat, shoving her harshly against the slimy tile, the back of her head meeting the hard surface making her cry out in pain.

Her breath snags as his grip tightens around her neck, the cool press of a switchblade grazing the scar on her hip, making her pulse hammer in her ears. “Don’t push me,” he growls, the blade’s edge nicking her skin just enough to sting. He knows exactly where she’s sensitive, and he revels in her flinch. “I’ve told you—I don’t like hurtin’ you, but I will if I have to. Strip. Now.”

He releases her, the air rushing back into her lungs, making her cough.

Her hands tremble as she peels away her clothes, starting with the long, flowing skirt that puddles around her ankles, leaving her in just her underwear and camisole.

August’s eyes rake over her, and his silent demand pulls at her last nerve.

She swallows back her tears, fingers shaking as she slides the straps off her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor and then stepping out of her underwear, kicking the pile aside.

Now entirely naked, her arms wrap protectively around herself to shield what she can. She looks away, the sting of indignity making her skin crawl, willing herself not to cry.

August steps forward, adjusting the shower’s dial, and the pipes clank and groan as water finally bursts out of the rusted shower head, icy at first. She shivers, her teeth clattering, and only once the water turns warm does the chill ease up.

A snap of his fingers brings Gabriel closer, setting the shower supplies within reach. August then places them at her feet, his mocking gaze never leaving her as he drags a worn wooden chair up, seating himself like a perverse audience settling in for a show. 

Paloma doesn’t move, clinging harder to her body, her nails digging into her own skin, praying he’ll lose interest and turn away. But he just smirks. “Don’t be shy, P. Not like I haven’t seen you naked before.” His tongue drags over his lips, blue eyes glittering darkly, drinking in her discomfort.

She would rather die where she stands than have him touch her, lingering his hands over her body like a wolf savoring his meal. Slowly, reluctantly, her arms fall to her sides, shoulders curling inward, as she begins to wash herself.

The hot tears mix with the water streaming down her cheeks, each drop hiding the sobs she’s swallowing.

August’s stare trails over her figure, his smirk deepening every time she flinches under the weight of it.

He doesn’t hide his hunger, watching her every movement—the rise and fall of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the sway of her shoulders as she soaps herself in silence.

Gabriel’s eyes stay firmly on his boots, shame evident in his posture. 

Finally, she shuts off the water, chest heaving as she swallows down the humiliation, covering herself again and feeling his satisfaction lingering in the room like a toxic cloud.

A towel lands at her feet, and she grabs it, pulling it around her trembling frame, feeling like her skin might crawl right off her bones. 

“Got this dress made just for you,” August says casually, standing then pulling out a white dress and red flats from a worn bag. He tosses them onto the chair he’d just been sitting in, not making any effort to move or look away, and she swallows back the lump in her throat.

She’s barely holding herself together, her fingers fumbling with the towel as she dries off, eyes darting between the two men.

One won’t meet her gaze, too timorous, and the other stares at her with lecherous eyes.

She slips on the dress, it’s something she would’ve picked for herself under different circumstances; calf-length, delicate ladder lace along the trim, cap sleeves, and three charmeuse red ribbons that match the shoes.

But the beauty of it feels like a cruel mockery against the ugliness of this moment. 

“You look so beautiful,” August purrs, “Get a good look at yourself.” 

She’s forced in front of an antique mirror, the glass warped and cracked, but she can still make out her reflection. 

The dark circles beneath her eyes, bruised skin, the way her hair clings to her damp skin, the faded pallor of her face against her outfit—she looks like a ghost.

His hand slides to her shoulder, pushing her hair aside as he leans in, trailing his nose against her skin and inhaling deeply. “You smell like summertime.” He presses his lips to her neck, and bile rises in her throat.

Then, he pulls back, her mother’s cross pendant in hand, fastening it around her neck with a satisfied smile.

Her heart clenches once she sees it. She’d left that at Javier’s, tucked away safely with all the other things she moved out of her childhood home in preparation for their big trip.

The thought of August being in his space, doing God knows what, gets her alarmed. “What did you do to him?”

August looks momentarily confused by her query, but then his smirk grows as he eyes the pendent and sees that look in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your precious narc. He ain’t been home all day. He’s out there, sniffin’ around for you like a lost dog. Thought about killin’ him, but… I think he’d suffer more thinkin’ he failed you. Just another life he couldn’t save, huh?”

The words press against those bruising, sore spots on her heart. She scowls, throwing back as much defiance as she can muster. “You wouldn’t get close enough to try.” Her voice trembles, but she knows Javier and what he’s capable of. 

He just shrugs, the malicious glint in his eyes unwavering. “Maybe not. But Sloane?” He grins, knowing how even mentioning her gets under Paloma’s skin. “Now, I think she could.”

He doesn’t give her time to respond, moving to bind her hands again, this time in smooth silk restraints that feel uncharacteristically gentle against her wrists.

Time moves in slow motion, she becomes unresponsive, like a melancholic statue, as he brushes her hair, fussing over her appearance as if she were some doll, changing the gauze over her stitches.

Her hope of getting out of this has diminished. Gabriel won’t help her and August has run the two men competent enough to figure this out in circles, so tangled up in deceit to find her.

The evening melts into night, shadows deepening when he finally leaves, just to return moments later with a steaming cup of tea that smells rancid and earthy, like decay.

“Drink up.”

She shakes her head, refusing it, but he pries her mouth open, forcing her to swallow the scalding liquid. It’s bitter and burns her throat, her tongue singed as she swallows unwillingly. 

“See? Wasn’t so bad,” he taunts her, wiping away some of the remnants that spilled from the corner of her mouth.

The effect is immediate; her mind hazes, thoughts swirling, until her body feels sluggish, as if it is no longer tethered to her.

Just as her vision starts to fade, a red, body-length veil is draped over her, the fabric casting her world into blood-hued darkness.

“I need to see it again.” 

Javier pinches the bridge of his nose at Romeo’s request, fingers then pressing hard against his closed eyes as the footage gets rewound. 

It’s the only evidence they have—a single security camera capturing what transpired. The grainy video shows her crossing the street, pausing, and then August and his accomplices stepping into view. She runs, disappearing off-camera for what feels like a lifetime, before being dragged back and shoved into the bed of the truck.

Each time Javier watches, another shard of him breaks away.

Romeo shifts beside him, watching the screen with unrelenting focus. He’s insistent, searching for anything, some small clue to pinpoint where they went.

Javier, though, is at his limit, fighting the urge to hurl the screen across the room.

“Romeo,” he begins, a little strained, “we’re not going to find anything new here.”

“We missed shit before. Can’t afford to miss anythin’ now.”

They’d spent the whole damn day combing through the trio’s hometown, hoping for any piece of intel, some breadcrumb that would lead them to the group’s hideout.

The search had been maddeningly fruitless. Fayette’s local authorities helped spread the word, but there was nothing, no tracks, no whispers, no real leads to follow.

Every registered address tied to the three was a dead end. Their only childhood homes, a trailer park, had burned down over a decade ago, leaving no trace, no history to sift through.

Everyone close to them—parents, guardians—were either dead, in prison, or admitted. The few family members with any sense had cut ties long ago.

“They were hellraisers,” the retired sheriff had muttered. That’s all the town could say, the simple acknowledgment that the trio had always left destruction in their wake.

The only useful piece of information they dug up was that August had left his job at a local grocery store to work for some woman, an outsider no one really knew.

She’d shown up, taken August with her, and he’d returned a few years later with a more hardened resolve, recruiting Sloane and Gabriel.

After torching some local acreage and serving time for arson, they’d vanished from Fayette until the recent spree of murders started.

“He’s been planning this for a long time, Romeo. They knew how to hide; they’ve done this before.” Javier mutters, frustration simmering in his tone.

They’d tried running a partial plate of the truck, only to come up short once again.

Javier moves near the blinds, unable to keep watching her kidnapping, glimpsing the sea of people that make up their search parties gathered in their too small department.

The faces blur together, civilians and first responders alike, all waiting for direction.

“It’s probably best if you go to the hospital and get Harper’s statement. She’s cleared to talk, right?” 

Romeo takes a beat longer to respond, clearly grappling with his own anguish. “Yeah. Got the official call ‘bout ten minutes ago.” 

“If anyone’s got something to give us that can break this open, it’s her.”

The room is quiet except for the low murmur of voices spilling in. The tape finally ends and Romeo’s gaze falls to the corner of his desk, where a lone photo of Paloma sits; she’s grinning with his cowboy hat perched high on her head, radiating joy.

He stares at it like he’s trying to draw strength from that moment, then he slowly picks it up, pressing his lips together in thought, handing it over to Javier.

“Here. This is the one I used for the flyers.”

Javier swallows hard, taking it, his thumb grazing over the image, his own heart sinking. This is the Paloma he can’t let slip through his fingers, the one who belongs right here, laughing and safe. Not wherever she was now. 

Romeo’s tone holds firm determination. “Do what you gotta do. For her. You understand me?”

Javier just nods, no words left to offer in the face of everything unsaid.

The sheriff lets out a long, heavy sigh, the kind that speaks of too many hours awake, too many close calls, too many second chances lost to bad luck or timing or whatever fate is left to them.

He grabs his jacket, slinging it over his shoulders, steeling his expression as he leaves the office, moving through the throng that instantly swells around him.

They close in with questions, worry, and hope—all of it colliding in one tense space.

Seeing them converge on Romeo, Javier takes a steadying breath and steps out right behind him, his presence commanding even in his silence.

He straightens, letting the authority in his stance speak for him, his gaze hard as he begins relaying their plan with swift, unyielding precision.

The world tilts and sways as Paloma returns to half-consciousness, vision still muddled from the drugged tea that has her head feeling like it’s filled with lead and limbs sluggish.

She’s seated upright in an ornate, over-decorated chair with her hands still bound in front of her. She tries to blink away the fog clouding her mind, but the red veil over her face continues to shroud her vision.

Her stitched wound throbs faintly, then suddenly, she’s being lifted and carried by four indistinct figures.

The swaying motion makes her sick, but she’s too weak to cry out, her voice nothing more than a ghost lodged in her throat.

She starts to feel the dampness of the humid Texas night pressing into her skin, the scent of flowers floating in the air, sickly sweet as it mixes with the distant smell of incense.

She’s paraded down a candlelit path where kneeling figures line the walkway, bowing in silent reverence. The sound of murmuring voices hums around her like a distant, dreadful lullaby. 

Finally, the procession stops, and her chair is lowered to the ground.

Her surroundings feel unreal, like a fever dream she’s trapped inside. A dark shadow moves in front of her, reaching to pull her to her feet. She tries to make out their face, but it’s just a dark, hollow blur.

Her legs tremble as she takes a few shaky steps, guided by an iron grip that steers her from the soft earth to a hard surface. Somewhere to her right, she hears a voice—August's—so sharp that it almost makes her ears bleed.

“We have to capture this moment.”

Paloma’s body is positioned, hands adjusting her like she’s an ornament rather than a person. She can barely keep her knees from buckling, her body swaying as they try to hold her up.

Her mind is a mess, every thought tangled, every movement slow, as if she’s moving underwater.

She falls, just as she hears the flash of a camera, her legs finally giving way, but hands grip her before she hits the ground, lifting her, steadying her as her head lolls to the side.

Then, in one swift motion, the veil lifted from her face.

August stands there, close enough that she can see every cold line in his face, conforming into possessive delight. 

He’s dressed to match her, red bows on his collared shirt, the same lace design on his pants.

Her skin crawls as his fingers trace the side of her face, his voice a leering purr. “My special little dove.”

He pulls her close, spinning her so that she faces their creation in her honor. The white marble gleams in the halo of the candlelight, surrounded by a sea of blood-red spider lilies, their spindly petals stretching out like claws.

Candles of every size and shape cast their shadows over the altar, illuminating the intricate carving of their emblem, miniatures and other offerings strewn about.

“All for you,” his lips brush against her ear.

The hands surrounding her are unyielding as she’s lifted and maneuvered onto the cold slab, the hard surface unforgiving beneath her back.

Her wrists are freed only to be tied again, the silk binding each one to a small stone pillar at each side.

Her ankles follow, strapped to the pillars near the end of the altar, legs bent slightly and spread, leaving her trapped and exposed.

Her breath quickens, each ragged inhale catching in her throat as the reality of her fate crashes down with brutal clarity. The red veil is drawn back over her face.

Tears blur her sight, mixing with the snot and sweat as she starts to sob, desperate cries spilling from her lips, pleas tumbling out in a desperate stream that echo out into the vastness of the field.

“Please… please, let me go. You don’t have to do this, please.” Her words come out strangled and slurred but she’s ignored. She jerks against her restraints, each movement growing weaker as the drug saps her strength.

August stands before his followers, his voice low yet electrifying, every declaration steeped in reverence and simmering triumph. 

“For centuries, we have waited in the shadows, prayed in whispers, bound by oaths that our forebears swore. Those before us dreamed of this moment, yet they were weak, too fearful to claim what was rightfully theirs. We will not repeat their mistakes. The bloodline of the first, the birthing bloodline, flows through her veins, and she is ours. Eurynomos will have a body made of flesh and bone, a place in this realm, because of us.”

Paloma shakes her head side to side, desperate to block out August’s devious words. Just as a surge of strength flares within her, sharp fingers dig into her shoulders from behind, pressing her back down, anchoring her in place.

Through the haze of drowsiness, her blurred vision lands on Sloane, looming over her with a short, black veil shrouding her face. Beneath it, Paloma can make out an expression as evil as it is watchful.

“No more dreams. No more consuming or offering flesh that rots before dawn. Our devotion, our patience, has led us here. We are the last of our kind—the ones who bring forth the new age. Now is the time for fulfillment. Now is the time to step into the eternal night and bring our deity home.” 

His gaze sweeps over the bowed heads, the flicker of candlelight dancing in his eyes as his words coil around them like a vow.

Sloane relinquishes her hold, seemingly fading away.

He approaches her slowly, each step deliberate, his hand drifting up the length of her body. His fingers come to rest on her cheek, stroking gently, almost reverently.

August leans in, his nose brushing against hers, and without a word, he presses his lips to hers, a slow, possessive kiss over the sheer material of the veil.

She wants to pull away, to resist, but she’s trapped within herself, her will slipping as though he’s holding the reins to her very soul.

When he pulls away, his voice lowers to a rhythmic timbre, the words twisting together in an incantation she can’t understand.

Each syllable makes her sink further into delusion, the compromising position heightening her vulnerability. 

The weight of her own helplessness crushes her as she lies there.

Suddenly, the speaking stops. An unnatural silence blankets the moment, thieving sound until it’s just her shaky, pitiful cries. Even the cicadas quit their insistent chirping.

Paloma blinks, barely able to see through the veil, but she watches August step back until his figure is swallowed by the darkness beyond the altar. 

She shivers as a chill wind flows over her body, extinguishing the flames around her and plunging her into the night, save for the heavy, luminous moon hanging full and merciless above.

Two glowing eyes flicker into view at the far end of the clearing. They hover, eerie and inhuman, watching her with a predatory patience.

A twig snaps in the shadows. Her breath catches. Another snap, closer this time.

Blood rushes in her ears, but above the pounding, she hears something else—labored breaths, thick and wet, the sound too guttural to be human. 

Her body locks up and quivers as a shadow casts up to the very heavens, emerging from the backdrop of trees, its form towering and monstrous. It seems to stretch endlessly, merging with the dark sky above, as if it could reach out and seize the lunar sphere.

Paloma tries to scream, but her body is frozen, paralyzed in a state of unholy dread.

Her eyes widen, tears leaking silently, her throat closing tight as the figure moves forward.

The dark, hulking mass leans over her, and she feels something press down on her belly, then sharp claws caress her bare legs, creeping upwards, scratching at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. 

Her chest tightens as if she’s having a heart attack, fright coursing through her like poison. She can’t breathe, feeling herself teeter on the edge of consciousness.

Black spots swallow her field of view as her eyes roll to the back of her head, and in that instant, she’s slipping away, her mind yanking her away from this horror, casting her into the darkness of her own making as she loses herself, the terror too great to bear.

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

okay so i just stumbled upon your blog and the first thing i saw was the pianjeong tag.

i have to ask.

do you ship piandao and jeong jeong??? do other people ship piandao and jeong jeong ???? is pianjeong a thing, and if so, WHY ?????

i'm truly baffled but i want to be enlightened

(i know you sent this a while ago sorry, took me some time to figure out how to respond and gather all the links to fic)

yes, yes, and yes, though of course it's a pretty niche thing since it's about minor characters.

as to why - imo it stems from the fact that if you want to ship either of them with someone, the other is the most obvious choice. around the same age, fellow white lotus member, fellow ex-fire nation military, easy to interpret as gay. like no, they don't have any canon interaction, but it's easy to imagine that they've interacted offscreen.

for my part, i got into it in 2020 when my friend abby @rarepairnation came up with it while writing earth system history, a zukka fic with piandao as zuko's gay professor. when trying to find a character to be his husband, she landed on jeong jeong, and then decided to go explore that dynamic with spark from a flame and we said forever (but forever wouldn't wait for us). i'd always liked both characters - i'm a sokka fan so of COURSE i like piandao, and i thought jeong jeong was fascinatingly tormented - so i was drawn in.

i think i'm still into it so many years later bc the storyline and characterizations established back then are legitimately really good. there's kind of a pianjeong "canon" to me:

they meet as young men in the fire nation military. young piandao is desperate to prove himself worthy (backstory from an old nickelodeon lore site says his parents abandoned him as a kid for being a nonbender) meanwhile young jeong jeong is a firebending prodigy (from that same lore site) vaguely uncomfortable with the status & privilege that grants him. they both crave what the other has

piandao brings a sword to a fire fight and wins. they both find the experience exhilarating - piandao is thrilled to be defeating a powerful firebender, and jeong jeong is thrilled to have someone stand up to him (spark from a flame, an old phenomenon)

they start a relationship of sorts, kept secret bc of the homophobia in the military (army dreamers)

jeong jeong deserts, leaving piandao behind (we said forever)

piandao eventually leaves the military too, traveling the world and learning the truth of the war (beyond your darkness)

they both independently end up in the white lotus

piandao offers jeong jeong a place to stay at his mansion after the war and they reconnect. it's been so long and so much has changed and jeong jeong definitely isn't in the right mental place to be in a relationship but slowly, he gets better and they get close again (i'm your light, ghosts, diary of the deserter)

like, is this kinda just two OCs in atlaverse? probably. but i think another reason i've been into it so long is that it allows me to engage with atla without always having to deal with the broader fandom discourses that frustrate me. i think atla is a pretty good show so the way fandom tends to want to change or ignore canon doesn't really appeal to me. i'd rather just play around in the universe! also i started writing a lot of pianjeong fic in 2020-2021 and tend to be a slow writer so i'm still working on it, and that keeps my interest alive.

so yeah. feel free to join us in old man yaoi if you like :)

[lostdrarryfics]

This is one of my favorite blogs, so I hope I'm phrasing this respectfully. As someone neurodivergent, I never make asks off anon because you occasionally dress down the asker for not following the rules or not asking kindly enough. I'm desperately afraid that's going to be me, and I realize I won't be tagged as a result if some of my remaining lost fics are found. Not asking you to make changes or accommodations; just saying that some of us are on anon for a reason, and it isn't to irritate you or because we're embarrassed by our taste in fic.

Thank you for what you do.

Hi anon! We believe you are referring to the statement in our pinned post, where we recommend people send asks off anon because it makes it easier for us to help you. That statement was added a long time ago (maybe two years ago?) when someone sent us an ask to let us know they were too embarrassed to send spicy and/or dark asks off anon. We wanted to make sure people knew that LDF is a no-judgement zone so we updated our pinned post. Send us excruciatingly detailed asks about a blow job scene! Describe a dark Harry AU and tell us all the messed up things he does! We really don't mind. There are mods on the team with differing likes and squicks, with some mods comfortable with searching for just about anything. In this way, we can work together to search for a wide range of requests.

From a team partially made up of neurodivergent folks, we're sorry to hear that you struggle with sending asks off anon! It will never be a requirement, only a suggestion. We typically ignore/delete asks that are rude or don't follow the rules. We will admit we've recently called out a couple people who didn't follow our guidelines around Reddit posts because it is a new and repetitive issue. It's very frustrating for our team when we spend so much time and effort on an ask just to find out that it was located on Reddit. It's a huge waste of our time but we've tried to roll with it anyways. We updated the rules and it still keeps happening. We try to be as kind as possible when calling out these asks, but we understand it's difficult to convey tone. We're not trying to embarrass anyone or make them feel bad, we're just saying "hey! Please don't do this in the future!".

We're all just people here and we try to give others the benefit of the doubt. Yet, we believe it is perfectly reasonable to give an appropriate response in a situation where you break our rules or are rude to us. This is a free service and we can choose to be firm about our rules when we find it necessary. Keep in mind that there is a reminder to read our guidelines before sending an ask in bold red letters on our pinned post. It's in our bio. You literally have to click a button that says "read the guidelines" when you send us an ask. The most important points in our guidelines are written in bold red letters. If you get that far and still send us rule-breaking asks, we may respond and ask you not to.

People tend to treat us like a search engine and not a team of real people. We help with a lot of asks that don't even include a simple "please" or "thank you". 99% of the rude or rule-breaking asks don't even see the light of day. We delete them and move on. It's very rare for us to respond! There really shouldn't be anything for you to worry about anon, it sounds like you have probably already read our guidelines. We understand if you'd still like to be anonymous in the future though! It doesn't irritate us, we just won't be able to send you updates about the fics you're trying to find.

[xthelastknownsurvivorx]

Writing Patterns

List the first sentence of your last 10 AO3 works.

(I’ve also seen the “and the last sentence” variant, so I went ahead and did that.)

Thanks for the tag @bbcphile and your patience with me getting to it! Everything here is red, white, and royal blue stuff for mostly the same ship, though I think 2024 will see some other fandoms as well

Doesn't He Know (I've had Him Memorized for So Long) — one shot

first: "Get in, loser, I have coffee."

last: "Yeah, I'm sure."

Every Time My Heart Swings Back to You — 16 chapters

first: "Gabriel of Cleremont, former knight of Lord Beringar's house. Accused and convicted of attempted sodomy with His Royal Highness Prince James."

last: Maybe fate had a hand in leading them to each other, but this is Alex's choice. And it feels pretty damn good.

Not a Day I Don't Miss (Those Rude Interruptions) — one shot

first:

Alex, Had to go early for a family matter. Left with the PPOs. Didn't want to wake you. Thank you for everything. X

last: And all Henry is left with, for the rest of his life, is the feel of Alex's name on his lips.

Red, White, and Royal Switcheroo — one shot

first: "There are a lot of things worth over thinking, believe me. But this isn't one of them."

last: i meant to ask - star wars and luke huh? i've always been more of a han solo guy

SNL | Season 45 Episode 2 | HRH Prince Henry & FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz — 4 chapters

first: TITLE: Categate Cold Open

last: Maybe his trip to London in a few months won't be so bad after all

Burn (They're Watching Us/I Hope That They) — lyric rewrite

first: I cherished each email you wrote me

last: I hope the world burns

Some Element of Mystery — 2 chapters (5+1 things)

first: Alex is having an existential crisis. Has been having an existential crisis for the past two hours.

last: Honestly, maybe Alex should have led with that all along.

Satisfied (Never Have Been, Never Will Be) — lyric rewrite

first: "All right, all right, that's what I'm talking about!"

last: He will never be satisfied, I will never be satisfied

The Frustrating, Intoxicating, Complicated Sum of Him — one shot

first: "Your Highness, we have arrived."

last: "No," Alex says as he shuts the door behind him, "I wouldn't."

Weird That It Happened Twice — one shot

first: "Do I really have to go through with this stupid tradition? There's so much more good I could be doing, actual people I could be pardoning instead of two modern day raptors."

last: But before he goes, he glares at Cornbread and Stuffing and says, "If it were up to me, ya'll would not be getting pardoned tomorrow."

--

Patterns:

For opening lines, I like to drop the reader immediately into the scene. Most of the time I seem to use dialogue to achieve this, but sometimes I'll borrow a line from the original piece of media.

My endings are a little less consistent. I might end on the main character musing on something that happened or central theme to the story. Or I could also be a bit more open and end on some sort of dialogue that's hopeful and hints at what might come afterwards. Other times, I just write the ending that comes the most naturally to me and feels like the appropriate conclusion.

I feel like it's been a while since is went around, so feel free to ignore if you've already done this @happiness-of-the-pursuit @14carrotghoul @affectionatelyrs @cactusdragon517 @suseagull04 and open tag as always

[beetleviolet]

THIS TOOK ME TOO LONG OMG AGH

Collab Masterpost

TJ and Nardo belong to @its-the-chicken-nugg

Misa belongs to @littlemissartemisia

The other Mikey and Luke belong to @boots-with-the-fur-club

And the "Raphaels" are by @justalittleobsessed and @languajix, I kinda didn't ask before I threw them in here for a little bit, sorry!

I doubt this will actually count for points but uhh @tmnt-fandom-family-reunion why not tag feel free to ignore lmao

For reading purposes: Lo is Deaf, and all signing is in italics (unless i missed something lmao). These are all English translations, and are not written in ASL grammar!

“Fuck!” Raph cursed. It was simple to read his lips for that word, a solid “F” that was easy to catch, even if the “-ck” wasn't. That, and by Raph's expression alone anyone could tell he was cursing, his face was twisted in dismay. 

Honestly, Leo was relieved he was finally snapping too. The human and Nardo were, as expected in the situation, losing their shit, but they mostly kept it to themselves. It was nice Leo wasn't the only one fed up with the whole situation. Wasn't the only one “lashing out”, as the human had put it, a frustrated fingerspell. 

Does Mikey know how to swim??, Raph asked, frantic. The whole camp underwater, it had taken Lo and Raph a while to get used to the feeling, even thought they could still breathe. Can't really learn to swim when your only access to water is full of shit. 

He's a turtle. The other Leo signed, apparently fine being called Nardo. Leo was glad Mikey hadn't thought of that one. Maybe worse though, they decided to call him Lo. Raph was the one who suggested it, and Leo didn't want to make himself look insecure by objecting. Now he kinda wished he had. The name ‘Lo’ was something more intimate, something from when they were little. Like he was a kid again.

I'm sure he'll be ok! Nardo continued, but there was a fine tremor to his fingers, and his smile was a little strained. Leo wanted to argue, just for the sake of it, but Raph already looked stressed out of his mind. 

We should split up and cover more ground, The human suggested. A spike of fear drove its way through Lo's chest like a stake through his lunges, or maybe a nail in a coffin, or maybe a little bit of both. 

He had to move. Had to strike first. 

I'll go with you. He signed, and damn it, his hands were shaking too as he pointed to the human. Maybe it was a Leo thing. Raph tracked the movement knowingly. 

I can go with you. Raph offered. 

We need one of you in each group. Nardo interjected firmly. If we find them we need someone from each family to help. He was annoyingly right. Lo nodded. Raph grimaced, 

Fine. Text me if you need anything. 

Ok, Mom. That made Raph crack a smile. A small one, at least. 

Leo thought the day had pulled every last ounce of emotion out of him, wrung him dry, but looking back that was dumb. Raph wasn't there, and when Raph wasn't there Leo was a little less there too. So yeah, part of him expected the fear. 

He hadn't expected it to be… kind of awkward. 

There was a lot of walking, a lot of glancing and then glancing away. The human had to interpret as they asked around, but it wasn't really needed most of the time. There were a lot of shakes of heads, blank stares at the missing poster, tight lips as they shrugged. 

Lo kept his head turned away, not wanting to see anymore. That was, until he looked back and TJ was gone. He jolted, spotting her pink jacket on the shore of the lake and two forms in the water. The human, and.. 

Lo broke into a run. 

It was stupid, but at first he thought the small kid in the water was.. was.. 

It didn't make sense. It had been years since Mikey was that small. 

Lo moved into the water to help, but there wasn't any need. Misa fit neatly into the human’s arms, even as she flailed. 

Thank you, TJ signed anyway. She said something to Misa, a question. Misa's chest was moving up and down, up and down. She flapped her hands in distress. The human said something else, before patting Misa on the back. The kid coughed up water. Lo winced, pressing his shaking hands together. It was fine. Misa was okay! Until she covered her eyes, face painted with distress. TJ seemed to remember Lo was there, signing as she spoke to Misa, 

Don't look at what? She asked her. What? His anxious confusion must have shown on his face, because TJ softened, 

It’s okay Lo, I’ll take care of her. It was almost embarrassing how much he was reassured.

Cold. Misa signed it this time, half of the shivering genuine. TJ wrapped her jacket around her. 

Better? She asked. Misa nodded. The human helped her dry off for a moment before turning to Leo,

We need to bring her with us.

What?? Are you crazy?? Lo signed a little smaller, suddenly aware the kid was watching him, It's too dangerous! She could slow us down! 

He risked a look at Misa. Bad idea, those puppy-dog eyes were killer. 

…it wouldn't be right to just leave her alone.

Fine. Stay close. Misa smiled. She was so cute it was obnoxious. TJ seemed to read his mind,

You're adorable in that jacket! Do you feel okay enough to walk, or should I carry you? Misa held her arms up. Tension fell from TJ’s shoulders, it was clear how much she loved kids. She rested Misa on her hip. Misa chewed on her thumb, signing with one hand,

Where is Misa? 

We're going towards the cabins now. TJ pointed, Is there anyone we need to look for for you? Any friends or family? Misa shook her head. The kid was all alone, then. She bit down on her thumb again. Must have been a nervous habit, it reminded Lo a little of Donnie.

Hey Misa, can you help me? He asked. Misa looked up at Lo curiously. Can you help pass out these posters? She nodded, and took a few from him. The determined spark looked a lot like Raph. 

TJ had been right about taking Misa along, at least this way she would have some people looking after her. 

Hey! Leo snaps back into attention as TJ waves over another Mikey who was rushing by. She interprets a little hecticly, still balancing Misa in one arm. This Mikey was looking for his brother too. 

Who's your brother? Leo asked. The Mikey began to sign as well. 

Huge crocodile! He spread his arms all the way out, indicating what must have been, in scientific terms, a massive fucking crocodile, His name is Luke! 

We can look for him while we search for our siblings. TJ signed. Lo gestured to Misa encouragingly. She handed a poster to the Mikey, who accepted it with thanks. To Leo's excitement, the Mikey's eyes lit up with recognition. 

He gave me a bandana! He pointed to Mikey on the poster. I haven't seen him in a while though. He bit his lip anxiously. Please, let me know if you find my brother, he's been missing since the power outage. 

The power outage… Lo didn't pay attention as TJ rattled off the same warning she had been giving to everyone. Fear spores caused disappearances. Anything glowing blue, even just blue for that matter, was dangerous. When asked for a phone number in case they saw Luke, he handed TJ… a purple cellphone? There was something distinctly Donnie about it.

This can call me directly through my ninpo, and I can call you, I'll let you know if I see anything. 

Thank you. TJ signed gratefully as he rushed away. For a second, just a second, her expression crumpled into something awful, hurt, her eyes shining. She was quick to cover it up,

Ok. Let's go find some more people to ask. Lo nodded along. 

It wasn't any of his business, really. She was a stranger. More than that, she was a human. Messing with humans was stupid, and Lo wasn't stupid. He wasn't. 

…it was just, just for a second, she reminded him of Raph.

Except Raph always hid it a little faster.

…Leo was so stupid. 

How are you? He asks. And he was so bad at this, just like always. TJ glanced at him, surprised he asked. 

Alive. She responded. That was fair. 

Good.. good… He signed. This was just embarrassing. 

What about you? You okay? 

Yeah, yeah. But his nodding fist shook. Lo jerked his hand down and into his pocket. TJ stopped, turning to him. 

We will find Mikey. She looked him in the eye. I won’t stop trying until I know he’s back with you and safe. I promise.

She.. promised. 

In their family, promises were big things. Some days, promises from Raph and Dad were the only things keeping him going. Promises were sacred. So it had to be true, right? 

Damnit, she was just like Raph, taking Lo’s.. concern (ew) and turning it around on him. And just like Raph, it was working, he was all tensed up and eyes stinging, nope, abort mission, abort! 

Right. Same. He avoided eye contact, looking around. Let's ask them! He pointed to a pair of turtles standing nearby. They were trying on red masks, but based on the giggling, and the orange fluttering out of their back pockets, they weren't Raphs. 

Annoying. The human signed small, having to fingerspell the word, They're the ones pranking everyone. She didn't seem too happy about having to talk to them next. Leo fought a smile. It was a little funny when some of the other campers slimed him and Mikey, even if his brother didn't share the sentiment.

As usual, Leo stood back as the human talked and signed along. 

No joke, our siblings are missing, have you seen them? Anywhere at all? There was an immediate reaction that Lo didn't bother paying attention to,

Your siblings are missing? Oh man, I'm sorry. I don't know what I'd do if my big bros went missing. The other turtle elbowed him, Ow-! I mean, if my one older brother Leonardo and my two younger brothers Donatello and Michelangelo went missing because I am Raphael and that is me. I'm Raph. Totally and absolutely. He flashed a smile. 

…right. Lo signed before handing them a poster. To his surprise, the turtle's eyes lit up with recognition. Yeah! Tj did her best to interpret, Me and another Mike pranked him with some glitter, but bro totally freaked out. Cussed us out and everything.

Yikes, Mikey hated glitter. But cussing people out? That didn't sound like him at all. TJ looked annoyed, both with the pranksters and with the inability to sign with both hands. She mumbled something to Misa, who helpfully raised her hand so TJ could tap out a list. 

One, how dare you upset him. Two, Lifesaver! Lifesaver? How did that help at all?? TJ turned to Lo, excited,

The glitter! She pointed to where the crystals were thicker, and it was a bit darker. Something sparkled. Glitter smudged against the stone. 

Maybe TJ really would make good on her promise.

[cringefaecompilation]

I know it wasn't the focus of your misogyny post so if I'm overstepping please ignore me, but it also really makes me mad when people "conveniently forget" that Ashton is nonbinary, especially when it justifies their shitty opinions (ie he's One Of The Boys™ so he's always correct and can do no wrong thanks to his male-based intellect unlike the awful evil women or he's an Evil Manipulative Man™ who's going out of his way to use his male-ness to harm these poor innocent helpless women because he said/did anything negative towards them). Like please y'all, they're not a man PLEASE they said their pronouns IN THE FIRST EPISODE PLEASE. Feel free to like/dislike Ashton all you want cause that's perfectly fair, but for the love of god don't be transphobic (especially to be sexist) when you do it??? Is that too much to ask??? Idk if I'm making sense/getting upset at nothing because I've seen a lot of people dismiss this as being silly or getting mad at nothing, but idk as a masc enby a lot of discussions around Ashton feel so gross? Idk though, once again ignore if I'm overstepping or anything

you are not being silly and you are not getting mad at nothing or overstepping. it's a huge problem.

i've seen way more of the former where he is misgendered as a cis male as a positive trait, so i'll be talking more about that. will be reposting my tags about this trend in fandom because i've already said my piece on it.

ashton is "schrodinger's man" to these people when they're bored with ignoring/erasing orym's respect and care towards the women in his life. they're nonbinary and trans when they're being directly defended against fans who only like the women, and they're a cis male who is a victim of violent misandry when complaining about previous drama or shipping laudmo/ore (willing to give the benefit of the doubt that maybe some of that blending is them including cis male actor taliesin jaffe but then again). the idea that shardgate was Feminism Going Too Far is an actual statement that i've seen going around the fandom, and it's gotten worse now with swordgate.

didja know there are people insisting laudna should have been abandoned by the hells or fearne should have gotten "harsher punishment" when her dad nearly killed her because both women did something selfish/impulsive and ashton was yelled at and punished for doing something selfish/impulsive? the They Only Were Upset With Ashton Because He Is A Man argument is so fucking dumb. bro almost nuked himself without telling anybody else and was the only one not forcing the shard down fearne's throat, of course they'd come to blows. and you wanna know why they didn't scream at fearne or laudna? BECAUSE THEY LEARNED TO NOT DO THAT. THEY HAD A THERAPY SESSION SPECIFICALLY TO AVOID DOING THAT SHIT AGAIN

and it really does make it obnoxious because i like him and orym's dynamic but it's so fucking frustrating seeing people make them into bell's hells leaders and Voices Of Reason just so they can say "orym is always correct because dead husband and imogen is a salty selfish bitch" or "ashton is always correct because tough love & street smarts and imogen is just a salty selfish bitch" that it immediately sets off red flags for me if someone says those guys are their favorite bh characters. and it sucks because i love orym and ashton too!

obligatory "both sides though" mention: yes. there are im/odna shippers that fantasize about "punishing" or murdering ashton. they do that to dorian and orym too. i am aware of them and i have seen them. i have 90% of them blocked lmao

and i have also talked about this before but the amount of people i've seen insisting callowm/oore is a bad homophobic cishet ship that erases fearne's pansexuality is BIZARRE. this argument was used to prop up fearn/iture which makes no fucking sense to me since chetney is, as far as we know, cisgender. we might not know ashton's sexuality proper but it's safe to assume they aren't heterosexual as they've flirted with people of many genders. also there was this genuine debate if as/hrym was a homophobic ship because orym only dates men... and. well. i don't think it'd be the same as shipping keyleth with orym, let's put it that way lol

[krikeymate]

So I've had this idea for a while and wanted to share it with you, but I'm kind of a noob when it comes to tumblr lol. Feel free to ignore this if it's bad or if I sent this to the wrong place 😅

I've had this headcanon since I've started obsessing over the Scream franchise that the Carpenter household was a Spanish-speaking one. I mean, Melissa speaks Spanish and Jenna's Mexican/Puerto Rican I think, so this could be canon if they decided to expand more on Christina and Dad Carpenter (now DC if I ever return to your asks lol I'm kind of embarrassed).

Growing up, the Carpenter sisters were taught Spanish by both DC and their mom. They didn't want them to grow up not knowing Spanish, what they both speak, so they strictly spoken Spanish while Sam and Tara would learn English at school.

While Sam succeeded quickly in learning English, Tara was stumped because "why the frick does the letter J make that sound in English? What the heck are elongated vowels? Why does Sam laugh whenever I pronounce certain things?"

All in all, Tara had a rough time.

Sam tried to help wherever she could, but they would end up play fighting and forgetting about Tara's homework.

When DC left, Tara was left all alone to work on her English. Sam stayed out later and later, and Tara thinks she's avoiding her. Christina barely gives her the time of day anymore, only going off in her mother tongue when Tara finally annoys her too much.

All alone in this journey, Tara suffers through her learning. It didn't help that she became the butt of the joke for a long time in school for muttering to herself before shouting out the answers in class.

She just feels left out. Even more when Sam ups and leaves, and Christina finally falls into a bottle.

Post 5 & 6 headcanons to tag onto this one lol:

Tara used to call Sam her guerrera fuerte (strong warrior), but now she sticks with either Sam or Sammy. Sam still has a lot of nicknames for Tara in Spanish, but the ones she regularly uses are chiquita (little one), corazón (heart), and cielo (sky, or it means they're your "whole world")

When she's exhausted, Sam will slip and speak in Spanish

Tara, being the pent-up and angry bean she is, yells in Spanish whenever she's frustrated. She doesn't notice sometimes after she's forgotten what she's angry about, but Sam is always willing to communicate with her excited sister

(Some of Sam's eagerness to talk to Tara is to prove they're the better sibling pair. Mindy and Chad have an advantage to the bet by being twins, but they're no match for Sam and Tara. Tara has no idea this bet is going on. Kirby is the referee.)

Sometimes Tara crawls into Sam's bed and tucks herself into her side. Sam, even if she was dead asleep, will always turn and wrap her sister in a tight hug. She sings Tara to sleep using a Spanish lullaby DC used to sing whenever Tara had a nightmare or became fussy

Sam and Tara talk smack about Gale to her face in Spanish. Gale learns Spanish to spite them

(They refused to admit they panicked when Gale all of a sudden knew Spanish and ran away laughing. Gale wants to adopt those two kids.)

Tara is a HEAVY Spanglish user because she's lazy, and she still never really bothered to properly learn English. That's why whenever she's talking to someone in English, she'll trail of and eventually go silent. She forgot the word she wanted to say in English...

Sam finds it hilarious and teases Tara whenever that happens, which is often

Sam and Tara are forced to listen to Chad and Mindy absolutely butcher their first language while trying to learn it. They stop trying

Sorry if this was too long haha, I got excited while writing this!!

I really really really love this!!!! More of an exploration of their roots both in and out of canon is something I would love to see. I've thought about trying to add some Spanish language into my work previously, but I decided against it because I know I would only butcher it, as it's not a language or culture I'm familiar with.

I hope you do return to my inbox, you've clearly got some awesome ideas to share!! I LOVE ALL OF THIS.

Their first language being Spanish and only learning English through school is such a really cool idea. Especially if you combine it with my idea that Tara ends up starting school a year later than she should, it could help explain why she struggles even more in that initial period. It would probably be quite hard for Sam to relate to Tara's struggles as well, because she'll end up having 6 or so years of learning English over her sister, and by then she's fluent and has forgotten how hard it is in the beginning. And if Tara's got learning difficulties? Oof. God knows I was never capable of learning a second language - not everybody can! Sam sees Tara getting frustrated when she speaks to her in English, and always quickly gives in, switching back to Spanish and distracting her instead.

I have no comments on the rest because it's all so so so perfect. A thousand kisses for you.

[ceruleanmusings]

No Idea; 1: Miscalculation

Summary - After getting called out for his past actions, James vows to change his ways and prove to Mickey that he can be her friend. (James x OC)

Contains: entitlement, mentioned harassment, deconstructing misogynistic outlooks

a/n: i can't promise all my updates will be speedy but i have been thinking about this a lot so i already have a lot of it mentally planned. it's just the writing part i need to do. and this exists because i have a deeeeep frustration with how james was treated in the show and how he never got proper character development (yes i say this a lot but i'm not joking when i say the frustration is deep!) so this is one way i'm working to fix it and, hopefully, change people's ideas of james. also this is set in season two and if i had to place it anywhere it'd be between BTGirlfriends and BTLive (though that's not super important.)

Tags: @witchofinterest @myloveforhergoeson @partiallypearl @raging-violets

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“And she has no idea, no idea, that I’m even here, I’m even here. She has no idea, no idea, I’m standing—no, wait—I’m lying here, I’m lying heeerrreee…”

The orange vinyl stuck to James’ face and probably wasn’t doing good things to his skin. He was too heartbroken to care. It was supposed to work this time. He had it all planned! New haircut—check.

New clothes to go with new haircut—check!

The perfect date idea—check!

The perfect opening to ask Mickey on a date—check!

It all lined up! It was all perfect!

How did it go wrong?

He ran his tongue along his teeth, even though he knew they were free of any unsightly bit of spinach or poppyseed, still smooth to the touch. He would never run the risk of bad breath. C’mon, a world-famous singer with bad breath? No one would live that down. And he was James Diamond, everything was on point with him. But she still said no! How was that possible?

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

James tilted his head, turning his view from shiny orange plastic to Mrs. Knight approaching with a laundry basket on her hip. “No,” he uttered. How could he be okay when the girl of his dreams shot him down? Again.

“What happened?” She sat and set the laundry basket on the table, pulling out one of Kendall’s shirts. Or was it Carlos’? They both tended to prefer off the rack sacks that hung off them. Logan, at least, leaned towards the collar shirts that fit him a little better. James had tailored clothes all the way.

Huffing a breath, James pushed himself upwards. The couch peeled away from his cheek. He rubbed the back of his hand against the line that formed and tucked himself into the corner of the couch. Crossing his arms, he flicked his head, moving his hair out his face. “I did what I always do. I asked Mickey out and she said no.”

“Is that all?”

He balked. Is that all? As if he’d said he dropped a toaster waffle on the ground or his that his fish sticks were soggy. How come no one ever understood the gravity of his life? Why did they always laugh at it? Okay, so, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to call the FBI over because he ran out of hairspray but it was a hair emergency! It was important! This is important!

“I don’t think you understand.” James cleared his throat and slowed his speech, “She. Said. No.”

“I heard you.” Mrs. Knight snapped another shirt in the air and, with a few quick folds, added it to the quick growing pile on the table. He almost asked her to separate his clothes from his buds’, but held his tongue. He wasn’t sure she’d take that too well. She got weird about things like that sometimes. “She’s said no to you before.” Rude. Hurtful. But…true. “What was different about this time?”

Wincing, he sucked air in between his teeth as the deep, throbbing ache came back; souring his stomach with that ugly feeling of shame he tried to ignore. He couldn’t exactly do that when Mickey’s face—twisted; anguished; red, wet eyes and all—came slamming back into his brain. He’d never seen her like that before.

He didn't know which was worse: seeing her so upset or being the reason she was so upset.

He twisted his fingers, spotting a hangnail. That had to go. “Well…it wasn’t exactly a no…” It wasn’t as short as a no. And it wasn’t as quiet as her usual no. It was louder. Much louder. And faster and more pointed than she’d ever turned him down before. And longer, definitely longer.

“What was it, exactly?”

Maybe it was the way Mama Knight looked at him, maybe it was the soft tone to her voice, maybe it was that she actually asked instead of brushing him aside. Either way, the cork was popped. There was no coming back now. “That’s what’s so weird.” He hopped off the couch, pacing, words spilling out of him. “I’ve asked her out a hundred and twenty-seven times”—yes, he’d been keeping track—“and she’d always say ‘I don’t think so’ or ‘I’ not sure that’s a good idea’ or ‘I’m busy’ or ‘I have to feed my ferret’—she actually does have a ferret.” Mama Knight made a silent ‘oh’ and nodded. It was a cute ferret. His name was Gizmo, she called him Pipsqueak or Pip for short. She absolutely loved him. He wished he knew how that felt. “Anyway! We’re hanging out in Studio A, just messing around after practice. The girls are packing up to head home and I figure, now that she’s alone, it’s the best time to ask her to the Griffith Observatory. So I do.

“And she says she’s not sure. So I try and sweeten the deal by reminding her that I’d pay for everything. And she says ‘I don’t know’. And I said what could be better than spending time with me? And she…well…” Sighing, James rubbed the back of his neck. The sour pitching of shame hit him again and, God, it was worse the second time around after everything happened. “She…kinda…yelled at me.”

“…Mickey yelled at you?”

“Yeah, I know. Surprising right?”

Mickey wasn’t just called ‘Mouse’ by her sisters because of the obvious name association but because she was just that quiet. In fact, the day they met by the Palm Woods pool, he couldn’t get a word out of her. And he pulled out all the stops.

The first time he’d heard her was her laugh at dinner that night. Kelly had invited them, Mama Knight, Katie, and Gustavo over for dinner so they could all get to know one another. They’d never met quadruplets before—really cute ones at that—so the questions were flying. She didn’t outwardly react, responding mostly with shrugs, faces, or waves of her hand. But then Carlos said something that made her laugh and—

Oh. My. God.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard in his life.

She first spoke a couple days later, some sarcastic comment about how they were stupid—which was fair—and none of them realized she’d said it at first until her sisters started cracking up. But the first time she’d said something to him? The first time she’d looked him in the eye, had his attention, and said, “You were meant to be here”?

His entire world stopped. Gustavo yelling at him for having “no talent” and being “the absolute worst” suddenly didn’t matter anymore. He was a goner. It was the best he’d ever felt in his life.

Mama Knight hummed and snapped another shirt. James frowned. What was he supposed to do with that? “Well, what did she say?”

Might as well get this over with. “She said for me to stop. To stop asking her out and to leave her alone. And why do I keep doing that to her? That she can’t take it anymore. And I was saying I didn’t realize she was serious and thought it was a joke or a game, our thing. Cause, you know, girls can be confusing, and I thought it was just how we were. And then she’s like ‘Why would you think that? We’re not friends. You don’t know me. You know nothing about me. Leave me alone.’ Which, I don’t know how I can do that when she plays in our band and she goes to school with us and they hang out here all the time. But now I’m here and I’m sad.”

He flopped onto the couch again, letting out a low moan, partially at having to recount something so uncomfortable and partially because it hurt all over again. Was this what embarrassment felt like? Her words echoed in her mind but it was the look on her face that hit him straight in the chest. He high-tailed it out of Rocque Records after that. He and the couch had become one ever since.

“I see.”

“What?” He didn’t meant to be so loud but…damn! She was being too cryptic for his liking. He needed answers! Popping back off the couch he demanded, “What do you see? ‘Cause I’m not seeing anything! And I don’t need glasses! I have perfect vision!” He pointed his fingers around his face, just missing poking himself in the eye.

“Well, sweetie, you have been coming on a bit strong.”

James crossed his arms. “Explain.”

With a few quick curls of her fingers, she paired and matched sock after sock. “Well, it’s…possible you’ve been making her uncomfortable with all the attention you’ve put on her.”

“What? No.” James scoffed. “Girls like that sort of thing.” She didn’t know what she was talking about. How long had it been since Mama Knight had a date? Right. She had no idea what dating was like now. It wasn’t the 80s.

“Not all of them,” she insisted.

That couldn’t be right. It always worked for him. It especially worked for his dad; he’d seen it with his own eyes.  He’d seen the videos of his old rock shows, the girls lining up just to catch a glimpse of him before and after a show. The way they held onto his every word at meet and greets or parties. The way they practically melted beneath the attention he gave them. It worked for him. That’s how he got his mom (so he says, his mom had a different story.) That’s how he got his second wife. It worked. He had the proof.

…Didn’t he?

“Why do you think it was different this time?” Mama Knight added.

“I don’t know!” He threw his arms in the air. They landed on his denim-clad thighs with a smack. “That’s the problem!”

“Just think about it. Based off her verbiage, she sounded distressed. And she said that you weren’t friends.”

“Yeah, that was the really weird part. Because we are.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” He paused. Then, “I think so? I mean, we’re always hanging out.”

“In a group.”

“I mean, there’s enough of us so…” Even numbers between his buds and the Mason girls made it easier to play games or do homework or teaming up for playing pranks or bothering Gustavo. It made sense.

“Have you ever spent time with her alone?”

“I’ve been trying to, but she keeps saying no!”

“She’s saying no to going on a date with you.” She put a stack of folded denim into the basket. “What I’m asking is have you, James, ever spent time with her as a friend?”

“Well—”

“Have you ever asked her about her day? What she’s been reading? What movies she’d seen lately? What she’s interested in?”

“Yes! I definitely have!” Ha! Mama Knight couldn’t poke holes into that one.

“Have you ever asked her those things without the expectation it’ll lead you to a date?”

“Um—”

“Have you ever asked those things just because you wanted to know?”

“I—” That’s not where this was supposed to go. She was supposed to have all the answers. Not ask him a bunch of questions.

“Here’s the thing; girls can tell when all you want from them is a date or a kiss or something else. And you’ve made it clear that you’ve been chasing after that instead of trying to get to know her.”

James shook his head before she finished speaking. No no no, she didn’t get it! That wasn’t what he was doing at all! But something niggled in the back of his mind. But...but what if she was right? Any explanation that came to his mind died on arrival because none of it sounded right. Not anymore. Wouldn’t that be the point of a date? To get to know her?

“Let me ask you something.” He groaned. He couldn’t take anything else. “Why do you like her?”

…Huh?

What kind of question was that? Apparently, he’d asked it aloud because she followed it up with, “What do you like about her?”

His lips blew in a raspberry and answers collided in his mind. Where to start?

“I like how much she loves playing the bass and how she puts her all into it even when it’s just practice. You can tell she really cares about it.” When Mama Knight didn’t laugh or make any sort of reaction he cleared his throat and kept going. “I like how much thought she puts into making sure fans have a great experience at our shows. I like how when she’s talking to someone, they’re her entire focus, like they’re the only one in the room. She’s a great listener and very understanding. She has this way of making people who walk away from her feel special, but I don’t think she realizes it. I mean, yeah, it takes a bit for her to talk but you when she does you can tell she’s taken the time to think about the right thing to say and that it means something.”

He stopped and shrugged. He could go on, but the thoughts collided into one another into one unintelligible jumble. What wasn’t there to like? Something about her drew him to her since he first saw her but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was that lit him up inside. That made him want to be around her all the time. Maybe a word hadn’t been invented for it yet.

“Hmm.” That humming was starting to get on his nerves.

“What?”

“Most people, when asked that question, they say things about what the girl does for them. Or they focus on their looks or something physical.”

“I mean, yeah, she’s gorgeous and funny and sweet and she has cool hair and she’s gorgeous, but that part’s a bonus.” She stopped folding, staring at him hard. His skin prickled beneath the scrutiny of her gaze. Did all moms practice how to look at them like that? “Sooo…what do I do?” She had to have some sort of idea to fix this. She always did. Otherwise she’d just be torturing him with facing his actions? That’d just be cruel.

“Okay, I’m going to tell you a secret. It’s really big and but it’s guaranteed to win anyone over. Are you ready for it?”

“Yeah!”

Mama Knight placed her hands on her lap and leaned forward. “…Treat her like a person.”

James blinked, shook his head, and blinked again, his eager smile instantly dropping off his face. “….That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Pushing out a sigh, she reached out and stroked his cheek. He leaned into her touch. And so what if he was pouting a little? That wasn’t the answer he expected. “Honey, I don’t think you’re bothered that she turned you down, I think what really bothers you is that she says you’re not friends.” He was ready to rebuff but she continued. “But she’s right. You haven’t been treating her like a friend. Or like a person. It’s like a consolation prize to you, and having a real good friend shouldn’t be less than.”

But it kind of was wasn’t it? “Just friends” didn’t go on dates or dress up or look at each other in a certain way or kiss or hold hands or whatever else it was that Kendall and Jo used to do and Kendall and Jazz now did. He claimed they talk a lot which, okay, that didn’t sound particularly exciting. He could talk to anyone if that’s all they did. He was good at that.

But he didn’t want to be in the Friend Zone. That was filled with airport pickups and shopping trips and ex-boyfriend talks (not that Mickey had any that he knew of but he couldn’t risk that.) His nose scrunched up at the thought. Mama Knight gave him that look again and sighed.

“The Friend Zone doesn’t exist,” she said, as if she could read his mind. How did all moms have that ability, anyway? “Looks like we’re going to have to have that conversation again.” He rolled his eyes but fought off a huff. She nearly bit his head off the last time he mentioned the Friend Zone around her. He didn’t want a repeat of that, thank you very much. Besides, she was a girl. She wouldn’t get it. “If you like Mickey as much as you claim you do, then being her friend or her letting you into her life would be enough. Because if you’re only being her friend with the hopes to date her, then you’re not friends at all.”

He clicked his tongue. He’d never felt like this for someone before. It could have been one of her sisters he met by the pool that day instead of her and he knew, deep down, he wouldn’t have the same feelings. Something made it nearly impossible for him to get her out his head, made him want to be around her, made him want to impress her.

But was that enough?

“It is.” Well, he could fake it until it was. Or until he liked her less. If that were even possible.

“Great. All you have to do is let her know that.”

“How?”

“Words work but, in this case, I think actions would work better. Be there for her. Be her friend. Everything else will work out the way it’s supposed to.” Slapping her palms onto her knees, she got up with a long sigh. Placing her hands on her hips, her mouth twisted to the side. “You boys are focusing so much on having girlfriends, you’re missing out on having great girl friends. You’re young, you’re in a successful band, you have all the time in the world to get girlfriends. Don’t let good friends pass you by on the way.”

[kitsune-oji]

I'm still the anon (🐨 maybe) that wrote the asks about vampire Leviachan, Beel and Satan (and the rpg horror comfort one)

If it wasn't clear I love vampires AUs XD

I don't have an headcanon this time, but I wonder if you had any headcanons about vampire Belphie? He is one of my favourites and yet I can't think of anything when I try thinking about him.

(I sent too many asks, feel free to ignore this one, I won't mind, you already gave me beautiful answers. :D I wish you a great day)

Vampire Belphie

Oh don't worry about it, I love getting asks! I do hope I can make Belphie justice though, because he's... Well, I have a difficult relationship with him you could say. So I hope this is alright and that you like it!

Gn! Mc (you/yours)

Warnings/Tags: Vampire feeding, mentions of manipulation, entitlement, delusional thinking(?), possessiveness; Belphie is a bit what some may call "yandere-ish" I think

Vampire Belphie would be the most moody vampire in the House of Lamentation. Hunting down prey takes up so much energy and his love for naps makes him wake up so hungry that even Beel giving him blood bags can't really curb his frustration. It's not the same as actually biting a human, it can't compare in the slightest.

When he does hunt, he prefers to guide humans to him through dreams. They walk into his trap, dazed and happy while he's ready to pounce and drain them of every drop they have to give. This takes a bit of time though and it's not really effortless either, so Belphie doesn't resort to this all the time. Which may also partially be because Lucifer would nag at him for killing every human he feeds from.

Falling for a human was the last thing he expected, or anyone else for that matter. Belphie doesn't really know how to act and for a while he doesn't even understand what he's feeling. He tries to manipulate and play with you like a cat would with their prey too - until he sees you sad and crying and he realises oh, I don't like this outcome.

The switch from manipulative and honestly mean to sweet and gentle is so sudden it would give anyone whiplash. Belphie doesn't see the problem though and gets frustrated if you dont fall into his arms right away. He's being kind to you, so you should be happy, is what he thinks.

IF however, you do fall for him and you both play your cards right, Belphie is a very cuddly and tempting vampire to be with. He does feel a bit entitled to your blood and will get whiny if you refuse to let him feed from you. When you do let him feed, Belphie loves to do so lying down, spooning you from behind and propping himself up just as much as needed to get a good access to your neck while hugging you close to him.

In his eyes, you're His and you should want to make him as happy as possible. Still, he doesn't actually want to hurt you anymore, so he makes sure to only ever drink little amounts of your blood at a time and orders iron supplements and makes sure you eat and drink enough. There's something he likes about unwrapping your bandaged neck to bite down on your subtle skin once more. It's like a present every time. Good thing his saliva has numbing properties, so it doesn't hurt too much.

It's also nice to him that you need a lot of sleep after he feeds because we all know he would love to have you nap with him all the time. You'll never have to worry about bad dreams as long as you're in his arms. Belphie will keep them all away from you like a protective dome around you, letting nothing malicious through.

[khaopybara]

get to know me 🐝

i saw this, thought, 'this is fun, i'll do this later,' and proceeded to completely forget about it. thank you @sherrymagic and @chinzhilla for tagging me! i might take a little bit, but i eventually get there, and i had fun answering these.

do you make your bed? - nope. i remember one time when i tried making it into an habit, but to no avail.

what's your favourite number? - lucky number 3.

what is your job? - as of right now, i'm studying. i also occasionally translate articles and school papers (i know, surprising).

If you could go back to school would you? - honestly? yeah.

can you parallel park? - yes, but only if there are no cars behind me wanting to get through.

a job you had that would surprise people? - i don't know if it's surprising but i worked in a police station for like a year and a half during law school. it was actually my internship, but i did everything, so i will say it counts.

do you think aliens are real? - absolutely.

can you drive a manual car? - we learn how to drive in manual cars where i live, so yes. i do have an issue with inclines, though, but i can do everything else.

what's your guilty pleasure? - what is even a guilty pleasure, fr. nothing comes to mind, to be honest, and trust me i pondered over this for like almost 10 minutes.

tattoos? - unfortunately no. i do want to a haku on his dragon form on my shoulder, though.

favourite colour? - yellow.

favourite type of music? - pop, k-pop, r&b are genres i always go back to. during only friends, i started listening to a lot of alt/indie rock because of sand and khaotung's songs recommendations.

do you like puzzles? - as in jigsaw puzzles? yes. crosswords can be fun. i grow frustrated quite easily especially when there's a difficult puzzle on a video-game, so if i can't figure it out, i just skip it and move forward with my life.

any phobias? - i'm insanely scared of frogs (just found out it's an actual phobia, ranidaphobia). i guess claustrophobia, too, to some degree.

favourite childhood sport? - volleyball and handball. i was so good at those, but i got injured and had to quit.

do you talk to yourself? - yes, especially when i'm driving or riding my motorcycle.

what movie(s) do you adore? - i was thinking about this the other day, how all my favorites change depending on what phase i'm in, but the one constant has always been spirited away (2003, hayao miyazaki). i guess it's bc it's one of the first movies i ever watched that i could see myself in the protagonist, and it was the first one i could pinpoint as being my favorite. the ones i've been liking as of the last six months are la sociedad de la nieve and bottoms.

coffee or tea? - tea. any type of tea. coffee only if it's with milk (i'm lactose intolerant, but we ignore that)

first thing you wanted to be growing up - a dentist.

also another funny thing about me, i don't usually tag people in anything bc i'm like apprehensive that i'll be imposing on them (i don't feel like y'all are imposing on me when i get tagged, i feel really great actually, so i don't know why my brain just assumes that i'm the annoying one), but do feel free to do this and tag me if you wish to.