#i feel like that's already a sign that the new characters will be getting more depth this szn

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Get Lost

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get caught in the corn maze after dark but you don’t think those footsteps belong to someone trying to help you find your way out.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: this is the fifth and final of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Jaden points across the dash, receiving a swat from Alexandria as she tries not to veer. 

“Hey,” she cries out, “don’t do that. I can’t see over your ugly sweater.” 

“Oh, whatever, Lex,” he snips, “I was just trying to show you that.” He points again, this time without blocking her view, “you see that sign ahead?” 

“Sure, I see it,” she leans over the wheel as your nail taps across your phone screen. You huff. You wish they’d stop arguing for one moment. “A maze?” 

“A corn maze. Doesn’t that sound fun? I haven’t been to one since I was a kid.” 

“Of course, you haven’t,” you scoff and let your phone hang carelessly in your hand. “We’ve all seen that movie with the evil kids. Who wants to go running through a field?” 

“I do,” Ashton says, “better than driving around looking for those shoes that don’t exist.” 

His girlfriend, Samira, laughs and leans into him. You blow a raspberry. 

“It’s all the way out in the middle of nowhere,” you sneer. 

“Well, Mrs. Xanny, you never want to do anything so your vote counts for nothing,” Jaden retorts. 

“Excuse me,” you roll your eyes. 

“I’m up for it,” Ashton raises his hand. 

“Me too,” Samira mimics him. 

“Me three,” Jaden declares. “So looks like you two are outvoted.” 

“Whatever,” you mutter and Alexandria sighs. 

“Fine, but nobody better leave me behind. I’m not getting lost because of you idiots,” she growls. 

“Don’t worry, Lexi, I’ll hold your wittle hand,” Jaden teases. 

The others laugh and you go back to your phone. You’re more interested in the new heels at your favourite boutique than some dirty and scarecrows. Alexandria steers on as she continues to snap at Jaden to stop distracting her. Her driving is a lot scarier than anything that might be hiding in the maze. 

You swipe and tap and tune out the world around you, especially the two lovebirds exchanging not so subtle touches beside you. Jaden had to insist on sitting in the front. Finally, the car rolls, the axle jostled by the lumpy ground, and you look up at the gray sky. You hate daylight savings. 

When the wheels are still, you’re reluctant to get out. You could offer to watch the car until they get back. It’s cold and you don’t feel like slogging through soil and seed. 

“Hey, Lex,” you begin. 

“If I’m going, you’re going,” she snips as she undoes her seatbelt. 

You curl your lip and make a face at her back. The others are already out of the car. Jaden’s bouncing eagerly, Ashton’s staring at the gate to the maze, and Samira is draped off her boyfriend’s arm. They probably just want to find a dark corner so they can makeout. They are so high school. 

“Fifteen bucks?” You read the sign above the table, “blech. I could put that towards my hair appointment tomorrow.” 

“Oh, boo hoo,” Jaden snorts. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have the money,” Samira jeers. 

You call these people ‘friends’ lightly. You all just kind of stick together out of familiarity. Most people you’ve met aren’t much better so why risk downgrading. 

You take a step and feel your tall heel sink into the mud. Ew. 

“Oh, my boots,” you whine as you lift your sole, the muck dripping off of it. 

“Wash em after,” Ashton says. 

“These are Louis’,” you snarl. 

“And you have at least three identical pairs at home. Lighten up,” he barks back. 

You cross your arms and seal your lips with a wry smile. You’re not arguing with him. He’s been a jerk ever since you turned him down at his sister’s twenty-fifth. You suppose it was his birthday two, them being twins and all. Not that he looks very much like Alexandria. 

You trod after the four others, trying not to step too deep in the mud. You growl at the ground. You know what’s not dirty, a salon or a store. 

“Nice boots,” a deep voice rolls over you as you join the queue for tickets.  

You lift your head and look over at the man nearby. He steps up next to you as you eye his bristly upper lip. It’s a look, not a good one. 

“Brave girl going in alone,” he comments. 

You frown, “I’m not,” you step closer to your friends and they chatter. 

“Oh, coulda fooled me,” he remarks as he reaches into his jacket. “So, those Louis boots... those are last year’s...” 

“How would you know?” 

He shows the lining of his jacket. Also Louis. He pokes his fingers into the interior pocket and slides out a pack of gum. He pushes out a piece and pops it in his mouth. He tucks the pack back into his pocket and drops his hands to his hip. 

“So,” he chews the gum loudly. “You’re not really dressed for a maze.” 

“And you are?” You scowl, looking him up and down. He copies your posture and does the same to you. 

“I’m not here for the maze, baby girl,” he winks and snaps the gum. “But you have fun.” 

He turns and struts away before you can respond. Your lips open in confusion. What could he mean? You blink and shut your mouth, stepping up between Alexandria and Ashton. 

“So, how long are we going to have to stand around?” You ask. 

🌾

You hold your phone up in irritation. Your bars are totally gone. Great. This maze thing is so fucking boring. What are you supposed to do now? 

You sniff and shake your head. You sigh and put your phone in your jacket pocket, keeping your hand in the fleecy insert as the chill creeps up your leggings. You guess you’ll have to help or whatever. 

“Alex--” you look ahead then back, and side to side. Your heart leaps and you rush forward as fast as you can on your six-inch heels, “Alexandria? Ashton?” You look around the next corner and the opposite way along the other pathway. “Samira?” 

You spin again, your ankles tangling together. You blink as the tall corner adds to the dimness setting over the horizon. You gulp as your heart pounds in your throat. You slip your phone free once more and turn on the flashlight. 

You aim it ahead and listen for voices. You don’t hear much past the dense wall of stalks. As you brush a bit too close, you cry out and back away from the hanging husk. You shake of the crawling sensation and turn back and forth again. You lost your sense of direction. 

You look up at the sky. The clouds are thick, you can see neither moon or sun. You stop and pull your phone closer. You bring up your maps but it’s just a blank screen. Still no signal. 

Fuck it. Just walk, you’ll find the way. 

You shine the light ahead of you, your heels sinking into the mulch of footsteps, husks, and stones. You walk unevenly over the soft ground. You mumble obscenities as your arches start to bemoan the height. If you had known about this special excursion, you could’ve worn your Uggs. 

There’s a scuff, a strange echo of your own steps. You stop but it keeps going. You squint and twirl around, the light glinting off the corner and slicing through shadows. “Hello?” You call out. 

The footsteps continue but no one answers. You can’t tell if they’re ahead of you or behind you. Or to the left. Or right. You sway back and forth. This is getting weird. 

You take a breath and set your feet. You nearly trip as your heels dig in once more. You grunt and pull them out. You’re about to just scream for help. 

A sudden rumble makes you squeal. What the hell was that? You twist around and it happens again. It’s laughter? Someone’s laughing at you? 

You look at the tall stalks of corn, searching between the tight rows. 

“Alright, not very funny. Ashton....” you holler. 

The laughter gets louder. 

“Jaden,” you hiss. 

The laughter stops. 

“I really am not amused, okay? I want out. I never even wanted to do this stupid thing--” 

“Those boys are long gone, sweet peach,” the voice drawls around you like the wind, “I’m all man.” 

“Where are you? Who are you?” You ask. 

“I’m right behind you, baby, and I’m your knight in shining armour,” he purrs. 

You gasp and turn around. You beam the flashlight of the phone in the man’s face. You only get a glimpse of that short brown mustache before the cell is knocked from your grasp. 

“What are you tryna do? Blind me?” He snarls as your phone disappears between the corn. 

“What-- What do you want?” You step back, dragging your heels from the mud. 

“I wanna help, baby,” he slithers. “You seem lost.” 

You blink at him. He’s a dark silhouette against the greyness trapped in the maze. You bristle and look over at the corn. 

“Sure, I’ll just grab my phone, thanks--” 

“Ah, ah,” he comes up to meet you, blocking you with his arm. “I don’t work for free, honey pot.” 

“Fine, then go away,” you spit. 

“Woah, ho, you haven’t even asked what I want in return, sweetie,” he brings his other hand up to touch your cheek and you flinch away. 

“You’re not getting it, dude,” you back up. 

“Just a little suck. Hell, you give the little guy a nice kiss and I won’t even make you finish the job--” 

“Ew, no way,” you smack his hand down as he reaches for you again. “Fuck off--” 

He’s quick. He grabs you by your jaw and snarls as he looms over you, “for such a pretty mouth it sure is fucking filthy. Won’t matter what I put in it--” 

“Hey,” you grunt and writhe in his grasp, twisting your hands around his thick forearms, “get off--” 

“I’m trying, trust me--” 

You ram your knee up and feel the crunch in his pants. He wheezes and lets you go. You shove him and stagger backwards. You look at the corn one last time. Your phone is somewhere in there. 

As he cradles his crotch and snarls, the urgency of the moment slaps you across the face. Fuck your phone. You need to get away from this creep. 

Thank god you got insurance on your cell plan. You turn and lift your knees. You land on your toes, keeping your heels off the ground as much as you can. You’re not going very fast and you know you look ridiculous but you don’t care. You want to go home. 

You pump your arms as you breath hitches. You hear groans and another set of steps, just like before. You get to a corner and turn before you crash through the corn. You heave as you race away, ankles threatening to bend. At what point do you just ditch the Louis’ and mourn them with your phone. 

You cough and slow down. Shit. You’re in terrible shape. You look over your shoulder, your breath foggy in the plummeting temperature. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him either. Good. 

You turn-- 

“Boo!” The man startles you so you shriek. 

You stagger back as he cackles and you hurl yourself forward. Your feet catch as your heels stab the ground and you stumble with your arms flailing away from him. Your shallow breaths thunder around you as you charge through the maze only to find yourself trapped at a dead end. 

You stop and waver, lungs filled with fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You stomp with each internal proclamation. 

“Look, sugar tits, you can keep running and I’ll keep chasing,” the man struts up behind you as you spin to face him. “But it all ends the same way.” He sets his feet wide and cracks his knuckles. “And since you bruised my left nut,” he snarls, “you can kiss that better first.” 

“Uh, like why are you doing this?” You ask. 

He chortles, “like because I can.”  

You snarl and cross your arms, “you’re a loser. And you’re old. Like, can’t you find someone your own age to creep on?” 

He laughs louder but there’s not much humour in it. He stalks closer and your defiance glimmers, just a little. You don’t know where he gets off. Does he really think he can just tell you what to do? 

“So, I knew you were gonna be a handful,” he grabs you by the neck and you wince. You slap his wrist and he tuts, bringing his other hand up to grope your chest, “in more ways than one.” 

“Hey, fuck--” you grit out. “Hey!” 

“Look, sweetie, it’s a simple transaction. I pull my pants down, you keep those teeth to yourself, and be real nice to me,” he glares down at you. “The way you crushed my balls, you’re lucky I don’t make you lick my boots.” 

“What is wrong with you?” You growl. 

“Oh, a lot,” he smirks. “Now, those boots must kill your feet so...” he jerks you roughly, “on your knees.” 

Your eyes tinge just a little but you won’t cry. Not because of him. You gnash your teeth and grimace at him as he peels his hand away. 

“You got one thing going for you, baby, and that’s that pretty face. I can change that, trust me,” he warns. You swallow avert your eyes. He chuckles again, “god, I love that pout.” 

You bat your lash and fight to keep the litany of insults inside. You caterpillar faced fuck. You viagra powered moron. You overgrown frat boy. 

“The next time you open your mouth, it better be to gobble my cock,” he sneers, “so don’t even say it.” 

You look at him again. You set your eyes and your jaw. You step closer and he lifts his chin just slightly as he stares you down. 

You grab his belt and he twitches. You unbuckle it and whip the ends aside. You pop the button open and yank the zipper apart. He watches you, his eyebrow tweaking. You push his fly wide and roll your eyes as you feel his naked pelvis beneath your fingertips. Of course, this weirdo is hanging loose. 

You reach under his pants and angle his hard dick through the teeth of the zipper. You stroke him up and down with a dry, tight grip. He hisses and shifts his weight. 

“Careful, like sandpaper,” he rasps. 

You tut and look down. You huff. You move one foot back and bend your leg. You put one knee to the ground then the other. You make a face as you come level to his tip. Ugh. 

“Don’t look so fucking enticed,” he barks. You roll your eyes again and he swats your head. “Keep doing that and your eyes are getting stuck.” 

Old. Man. 

You pump him again and slowly, inch by inch, lean in. 

“Ah, I said kiss the left one first, then you can get to the main dish,” he puts his hand on his hip. 

You swallow and push down a tide of disgust. You lift him and lean your head to the side. You crane around and pucker, pressing your lips to his left ball. He twitches and groan. 

“Damn, those lips are soft. Do the other one.” 

With bile brewing in your stomach, you obey. You pull back and put his tip to your lips. You narrow your gaze at his pelvis and spread your mouth around him. You wet his swollen head then work your way down his length. He might be a desperate loser but he’s not small. 

You bob up and down as you take more and more of him. He curls his fingers into his hip as his other hand goes to the back of your head. He urges you on and you bat his hand with yours. You push back against him and flick your eyes up. 

“You are a stubborn one,” he rebukes. 

Your lips meet your hand and you pump him emphatically with both, popping off his tip so he whimpers. He clutches a wad of your hair as his eyes gleam desperately. 

“I kissed it better,” you wipe your mouth, “you show me the way out, and you might just finish, old man.” 

He stares down at you. Agitation and amusement battle across his expression. He takes a breath and lets it out. 

“One last kiss and I’ll get you out,” he says, “And then you’ll get me off.” 

The cold air swirls around you and the darkness floods through the corn. You squeeze him slightly and put a sloppy kiss on his tip with a loud muah. You let go and tickle along his length. You grab onto his arm and pull yourself to your feet. 

“I want out. Now.” 

“Alright, princess,” he snickers. “Don’t you worry, I got a throne you can sit on when we’re home free.” 

[bumblebeehug]

How do you feel about Hiro M. continuing the story after 100YQ?

Murdery horribly and terribly.

No, that’s a lie, because it isn’t all that bad, but it’s my initial reaction.

Like in my opinion it’s a sign that he doesn’t like, or knows the public won’t like how the hyq is going or how it will end. Which worries me, yk?

When the hyq was the only thing that was left of the Fairy Tail franchise, I could lay my trust in Mashima making nalu canon: it’s the only missing cornerstone for a great story. But now? For all we know Mashima might scrap that.

I’m not saying that there’s only bad things to come out of a situation like this: I LOVE fairy tail, and continuing the story makes the fandom stay alive as well. But my problem is how Mashima’s gonna treat nalu again. Because, though I’m aware of the amazing writing we could be subjected for, I’m also painfully aware that Mashima won’t write it.

I love the hyq, but it’s kinda mid. Mashima doesn’t realise that he focuses too much on developing new characters and complicated plot elements for no reason — the characters he already has are plenty to work from (I’m talking about how he could write stuff for the FT guild, not just team Natsu, for sabertooth, for oracion seis, crime sorcerière, literally you name it). And I’m saying this out of love, because the original series shows us how great he can write — his character developments CAN be out of this world!!

Look at Erza when she goes from scary-evil-cruel-strict-boring to a loving, emotional, quirky friend who spreads more love than fear. Or look at Gray (and here I gotta give cred to Mashima for his writing in the hyq) bc he goes from angry, emo, snarky, nonchalant, rejects all signs of happiness to someone who can finally stand beside his friends and allow them to love him.

I could go on about character developments (like Laxus, Jellal, there’s so many) but this post is getting so long already so I’ll keep my point clear:

Mashima could focus on characters and write the best spin-off ever. But he won’t. And that’s the problem.

Mashima can’t write characters in a relationship to save his own life: look at how gajevy and elfever is treated (though these are kinda mild examples imo — a better example would be Shiki and Rebecca, how their relationship both developed and ended up: Shiki gave us like one (1) moment where he showed the readers his feelings, while Rebecca had to take the many many many other hints of them being a thing… not unlike how Lucy’s the one who has to set the status on her and Natsu’s relationship, and never Natsu.)

So since there’s a 0.001% chance that Mashima can write nalu in an active relationship (in EZ he solves that conundrum by killing the pair/avoid writing scenes with the pair/end the whole story, same with FT: keeping the love interest away most of the time to avoid having to write emotional scenes — jellal, juvia. Oh and he kills Mavis and Zeref. And he keeps away from writing elfever, well, ever, and he only writes what he deems absolutely necessary for gajevy. Even the whole Edolas thing was easy for him, bc he only had to write silly aftermath instead of actual emotional connection between two characters.)

This became SO long I’m so sorry. But my main worry really lies with the fact that nalu might be even further postponed, and I’m not really sure I can take another 20 years of this, yk?

[written-in-flowers]

Lovesick: Chan x Male!Reader Pt. 6

Pairing: Bang Chan x Male!Reader | Side pairings: Minho x Chan, Minho x Male!Reader (unrequited)

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Horror, Angst, Smut | AU: Yandere!au, Videogame!AU, Highschool!AU

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary: After being sucked into the dating simulator "Lovesick", Park YN has to defeat five rivals to reach his goal. However, he soon learns his rivals aren't the only thing he must contend with for Chan's love.

Tags: Graphic depictions of violence, Main Character Death, dark fic, dead dove: do not eat, yandere behaviors, yandere!reader, stalking, murder/violence, blood and violence, toxic relationships, mentions of murder, unrequited love, mentions of domestic violence, school massacre/genocide, implied teacher/student relationship, homophobic parents, mentions of bullying/trauma, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, high school setting, anal sex, anal fingering, edging, eventual smut, pool sex, locker room sex, blowjobs, choking.

A/N: PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE READING! I'm not responsible for any feelings you end up having because you ignored this warning and the ones above.

Seo Changbin: Monday < | > Seo Changbin: Wednesday

****

Seo Changbin: Tuesday

Despite the agreement you signed, word about Sohee and her string of teenage lovers spread throughout the school. A majority of them remained quiet about their experiences, feeling confused and upset by the entire thing. Other boys, like Felix, boasted about their encounters. You did not particularly care to hear them. Your main concern was Changbin, and what his family had done about the situation. 

“They’re suing the school for hiring a predator,” one of the boys said as Chan passed out potential flyers during an early club meeting. “They said they can’t believe the principal knowingly hired a person with a spotty record.”

“Do you blame them? If my child was abused by a teacher, I’d sue them too.”

You lifted your head up from the flier in front of you. “They’re not taking him out of school?” you asked incredulously. 

“No,” they said, a bit unnerved by your tone, “Why would they? He didn’t do anything wrong; she did.”

“He’s too important to the school for him to leave,” said another member. “He's our star athlete.”

“His parents already paid his tuition,” a girl with golden earrings said. “They won't get a refund if they withdraw him so late in the semester.”

“But…Isn't he ashamed?” 

“Why should he be? She abused him,” she replied a bit curtly. “What happened to him isn't his fault.” 

You felt their stares turn somewhat sour, and you shrunk back. “I didn't mean it that way. I meant that people will start spreading rumors about him and not be as understanding as us. I thought he'd want to start somewhere fresh.”

Which is what was supposed to happen. Why did that not happen? Changbin’s elimination required his secret, which would bring him shame and make him withdraw. Why had that not worked? You knew why. It came to you immediately. Minho. Your fingers curled inwards to your palms, digging into the cuff of your sleeve. This is his way of getting back at you. A pang of anger needed to be restrained in front of everyone, but it festered inside.

“I think it's disgusting,” said Chan, examining one of the possible flier choices. “She is a pedophile. She should be in jail, not another high school. It's the school and parents not wanting it to be big news. They care more about their reputations than the students’ safety.” You heard the spite in his voice, “Two students went missing and it was barely investigated. It's shameful.”

“Yeah,” you added. “You’d think a school that boasts about being safe would, you know, be safe.” 

“It’s not like he didn’t want it though,” one boy smirked. “Wish she’d come after me, eh, right YN-ssi?” he nudged you, and you coughed awkwardly. 

“They might have wanted it at the time, but I’m sure they regret it now and it’ll scar them one way or another,” you replied. “Unless you’re Felix, since it hasn’t bothered him at all.” 

Chan snorted, “Nothing phases Felix, to be honest. In his head, he bagged a hot older woman, not that he’d been preyed upon by her. Felix doesn’t make romantic attachments as easily as Changbin, so it wouldn’t hurt him like that.” He picked up another flier, considered it, and said, “I just feel sorry for Changbin. He was crying when I saw him come out of the coach's office. I’m glad they fired her.” 

Sohee’s continued employment was no concern for you. Your failure was. You stewed in your disappointment during the rest of the meeting. Even after following all the steps, you failed. You'd gotten hold of the secret, gone to the counselor, and gotten rid of Sohee. Changbin, with his good boy reputation, was supposed to feel so ashamed he left school. That is what Minho told you. You shouldn't have listened to him, but you'd trusted him back then. The sinking feeling of losing Chan suddenly came over you while they talked about baked goods and flowers. Yes, you had three more days before the Friday deadline, but you’d lost a whole day. Any plan you hatched needed to be quick. 

Chan believed hosting a garden party at the beginning of spring term might promote the club. They’d sell baked goods from a member’s family’s infamous bakery chain, showcase their nicest plants, and offer pamphlets on proper nature care. By the end, everyone decided to put it into motion. Meanwhile, you focused on your next move. It’d have to be something inconspicuous; not death since too many deaths might result in further investigations. You had no idea. Your mind appeared to be blanking. Minho mentioned there being loads of ways to take out opponents, but usually involved murder. You couldn't trust anything he told you now.

You walked out of the school garden with Chan when someone blocked your path. 

“Hey, YN-hyung! Hey, Chan-hyung!” Seungmin beamed at the pair, holding his usual notepad and looking at them hopefully. “How’re you guys doing?”

“We’re doing well, Seung-” Chan began to say, but Seungmin cut across him. 

“-That’s great, anyways, YN-hyung,” he addressed you directly, “I hear from several reliable sources that you’re the one who exposed Mrs. Yoon for the pervert she is. I’m writing a column in the school paper about it all, and was hoping you’d like to comment on the situation.”

“Seungmin, what can you possibly add in your paper that people don’t already know?” you asked with amusement, glancing at Chan who shared the feeling. The pair of them began walking with Seungmin in their path, the journalist walking backwards. 

“Rumors are not facts, Hyung,” he said pointedly, “And I only write the straight facts.”

“That’s debatable,” Chan noted. 

“So, what are your thoughts on Mrs. Yoon escaping a jail sentence?” he asked, putting his pen to the notepad, “Bewildered? Outraged? Disgusted? The people are dying to know. You outed her to get her put behind bars, and that did not happen. You gotta be peeved about it.”

“No comment, Seungmin.”

“Come on,” he groaned, “Give me something. Anything. Changbin won’t talk to me-”

“-Oh my god, Seungmin, you asked him?” Chan asked in disbelief. “What is wrong with you?”

“It’s always good to hear the full account from the victim-”

Ugh, people saw him as a ‘victim’. This will only endear people to him more, and make it harder to get rid of him. The thought of him having another dirty secret came to you, but that sounded unlikely.  

“What I’m giving is ‘no comment’,” you finally told Seungmin. “Thanks.”

You and Chan managed to pass him, ignoring his stammered pleas. What are the odds Changbin has another secret? From what you understood, every student only had one and you’d exposed Changbin’s. You needed something else. Right now, everyone pitied Changbin. Perhaps tarnishing that reputation might give the right results? 

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” Chan commented with a scoff. “Always looking for a story. Changbin is going through enough as it is. Having someone like Seungmin poking around must be making him feel worse.” 

And Chan pitied him. This sympathy will bring them closer together, you could tell. 

“I try not to give him any attention,” you said. “Otherwise, I might end up being talked about next.” 

“Nobody should. Seungmin is nosey and messy. He loves causing drama between students and making up fake theories to spread around. Can you believe he once said a girl was selling photos of herself online and she had to withdraw due to the the embarrassment and bullying? It was so wrong of him.”

Hm, at least he despised Seungmin, which would help down the road. “He’s just bored with his own life, so he does stuff like that.” 

“You have no idea,” he rolled his eyes. “Want to grab breakfast with me? You have to try the breakfast sandwiches. They’re to die for.”

“Sure,” you smiled brightly. You had been standing in line for food when he got a message. 

‘Hey, where are you? I haven’t seen you since yesterday. I miss you.’

Minho. Your blood simmered reading his name alone. He was the last person you wished to speak to right then. There'd be an actual murder if you did.

You noted that Chan ordered himself a bacon and egg sandwich with extra hot sauce on it, alongside some chips and an iced americano. You ordered the same thing, though you would have rather shared a plate with Chan. You wanted Chan’s sandwich just to drag your lips across the bitemarks and taste the same flavors Chan tasted. Having only a piece of him would comfort you. Everything about him did that. You admired his beauty in the morning sunshine. The sun caught in his dark curls, and made him glow like an angel. 

‘Hey, answer me. I want to see you. I saw your elimination plan didn’t work. Let’s talk about it.’ 

You ignored the message again, and bit into your sandwich. 

“Minho?” Chan guessed when the phone buzzed a third time. You noticed him glare at the phone, but quickly covered it up by eating. 

“Yeah,” you sighed defeatedly. “He and I…Well, things got awkward and I’m not sure if I want to see him right now.”

“What happened?” he asked, sipping from his coffee. 

“He…” you struggled to say the words, “He told me he had feelings for me and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Do you like him back?” 

“I don’t think so. He’s been super helpful to me since I’ve been here, but nothing romantic has happened between us.” You would never tell Chan about the kiss. You preferred not to think about it either. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but…”

“You also don’t want him thinking you feel the same?” 

“Yeah.”

“Dump him.”

You looked up from your food to see it happening again. Flickers and shimmers went across Chan’s face in blue and white, and you swore you saw a black void between them. It was almost like someone slicing a hole to peek from inside Chan’s body. It sent shivers up your spine and made you twist your neck. You worried it might swallow him up completely. 

“Chan-hyung?” 

“Du-um-m-p hi-i-mmm,” Chan said, his head twitching as the glitching continued, “Dummmp hi-i-m-mm-mm ughhhh.”

He froze entirely. It was as if a player pressed pause in the middle of a cutscene dialogue. You looked around the area in case anyone noticed, but the world went on around them. Eventually, the glitching stopped. You kept looking to see if someone else saw, but Chan might as well not be there. You wanted to help him, but didn’t know how. When you reached forward, wanting to feel the disintegrating pixels, they stung your fingertips. White hot and crackling, it might have been pure fire. Chan went still for a few seconds, then smiled broadly at you. 

“How’s the sandwich? My eggs could be a little more runny, but it does the job.” 

You were speechless. The last time Chan glitched, it’d lasted mere seconds. This one lasted longer. This could be leading to a larger problem. 

“YN-ssi,” Chan smiled, a bit confused by your silence, “Earth to YN…Hello? Are you with me?”

“Um, uh, yeah, yeah,” you nodded, giving a nervous laugh. “The sandwich is great.” 

“You okay?” He asked with a small smile. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you assured him. A thought came to you again, “I was just thinking about Minho.”

Chan’s smile disappeared. “Oh…Yeah, well, you would since he’s your boyfriend.” This distaste was obvious, and struck you as odd. 

“He’s not,” you said. “He likes me, but I don’t feel the same.”

Another blue flicker went through him, and you stopped the conversation. You’d been about to bring up going to class together when a disturbance went through the crowd. 

Turning your heads to the center of the canteen area, you saw Felix and Hyunjin at each other’s throats. The tension between them went across the area to the other students, who stood staring as the boys provoked one another. The boys shouted insults, pushing and shoving before hell broke loose. Felix swung his fist straight into Hyunjin’s face. The tall boy held his jaw for a second, groaning in pain before retaliating with his own fist. The fight happened so suddenly. You looked on as they grappled at each other, punching and grunting to try loosening the other’s grip.

“Aw, fucking hell,” Chan sighed irritably. “I’ll be back.”

“Wait, Chan-”

Chan ignored you as he pushed through the gathering spectators and into the fray. Grabbing the back of Felix’s blazer, he pulled him off the boy with ease, while another student took Hyunjin away. Felix, red-faced and bleeding, shouted more curses and insults over Chan’s shoulder but did not struggle against him. Hyunjin retorted with his own remarks.

“You and your dad are fucking finished, Lee! Finished, you hear me?!”

You watched Chan and Felix disappear into a nearby bathroom, and you couldn’t help following them. You slowly walked into the small hallway leading inside, pressing yourself to the inner wall while listening for their voices.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Chan asked, appalled. “Starting a fight with Hwang Hyunjin in the middle of the canteen with everyone watching? What’re you thinking?”

“Hyunjin’s a fucking cunt,” Felix remarked. The sound of a trash bin being knocked down echoed in the small room. “He’s been pushing in on my contraband territory. What am I supposed to do, hyung? Let him?”

“Yes,” Chan said, “Yeah, let him. Who the hell cares if someone else is selling stuff on school grounds? You could do with some healthy competition.”

“The only healthy competition is no competition, Chan.” You heard him growl angrily, “Then he started talking about my dad, and nobody talks about my dad!”

“What was he saying?” Chan asked.

“He said my dad’s nothing but a cunt in a suit, and that he was going down.”

“Ugh, this is all so childish. Felix, your father is one of the richest men in town. He’s got a whole army of thugs who will do whatever he says; he has his hands in every important pocket around. I doubt someone like Hyunjin’s dad could even make a dent in his business.” You heard him move closer, “And you starting fights with him will only stir things up more. Whatever crap is going on between your families should stay outside of school. You can’t risk getting expelled because you decided to be a dick and start a freaking gang war.”

“But Hyung-”

“-You know just as well as I do that if you get suspended or expelled from here, your dad will tear you a new one. I remember what he told my dad: he pulled a lot of strings and called in a lot of favors to get you in here. Don’t ruin your dad’s efforts by letting him down.”

Felix fell silent, his anger coming to a simmer. “You’re right,” he finally said. “You’re always right. It is stupid.” You heard them hug, patting each other’s backs, “What would I do without you steering my head the right way?”

“Get arrested,” Chan said, humorously at the end of the word.

They laughed together, and your jealousy burned. You watched the two boys walk down towards the school canteen area again. Their conversation would normally upset you, but not right now.

The blue static did. It had come out of nowhere. Its sudden appearance and then disappearance concerned you. If you had the control room, you could fix the system bugs. The idea the game might completely crash came to you. You looked up at the sky, expecting to see it across the fluffy clouds and bright sunlight, but it didn’t happen. Nothing changed. Could your failed elimination be another result of the glitch? A bug in the system where the elimination goes as planned but still fails? 

Not having to worry about Felix until next week, you put your efforts into Changbin instead. Watching him from the shadows of the courtyard, you noticed a change in him. The light he once carried appeared dull; he did not meet anyone’s eyes and stayed quiet in the group. It appeared his friends did not want to brooch the subject. Nobody did. While people whispered behind their hands and gave concerned looks, nobody walked up and comforted him. Good. The less people talk to him, the easier it’ll be to eliminate him. But how? The thought frustrated you.

Expulsion? You could buy contraband items and put them in his bag the rest of the week. 

Bullying? Ruin his reputation so much that he leaves school on his own. 

Setting him on fire in an accident? A bomb? A trap? A car accident? Something. Anything.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and curiosity got the better of you. 

“Just kill him. Where’s the fun in the game if you’re not killing people?”

You ignored Minho’s message again. To be honest, you didn’t know if you could handle a second murder. Jisung’s happened in a fit of rage and frustration. You hadn’t intended on it. You recalled the burning hatred that had flowed within you, tensing your muscles and creating a headache. While it’d felt exhilarating at the time, you didn’t know if you wanted to go through that again. At least, not so brutally. 

“Hey YN-hyung!” Jeongin appeared in front of you with another food tray. This time he’d made hotteok. The round, sweet pancakes sat lined up on the tray; you could smell the cinnamon and sugar inside them. “Want a little sweet treat before class? They’re fresh! It’s not good to-”

“-Start the day on an empty stomach,” you finished irritably. Why did he have to come now? To give more cryptic messages? “No thanks, Jeongin-ssi. I’m not hungry.”

Jeongin stared over you, thin eyes crinkled in his forced smile, then said, “What’s the matter? You seem down.”

“It’s nothing.” 

He stepped closer. “Have you been to our library, hyung?”

“Not really.”

“You should,” he said. “It’s a quiet study place, and not a lot of people go in there. They have a lot of informative and educational books there.”

“Like a lot of libraries…”

“Well, I only bring it up because you might find the solution to your problem there. There’s this one book I really enjoyed when I read it. It’s called ‘Elimination: A Guide to Self-Help and Problem Solving’. I think you’ll like it. It’s on the third shelf in the case closest to the window; it's behind the books. If you go now, you can read it during class. I'm sure the teacher won’t mind since it’s a library book.”

You held his gaze. Since you’d arrived, Yang Jeongin did not act as the other NPCs did. He seemed to move more fluidly, and broke off from his bubbly, friendly persona at times. Yes, you’d changed the autonomy and artificial intelligence of the student body, but this felt different somehow. While you’d normally suspect a trick by Minho, Jeongin did not express any malice or ill will towards you. He’d covertly helped you. He did it through messages and quick words. If it were Minho, he wouldn’t be trying to hide. 

“Thanks, Jeongin,” you said with a head nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m always happy to help, hyung,” he beamed, stepping back and leaving you under the shade. 

Knowing you’re on a deadline, you left the courtyard for the empty library. Not very large, it only had four bookcases in total. Most of the shelves had books of various sizes and colors, but no titles on the spine. Out the window, you saw an outside view of the school’s garden. A nice quiet place for a studious person to get some work done. You went to the tall case near the windows, and found the book hidden behind several others. After years of being handled by various players, the book’s age showed in the worn out corners, peeling plastic, and stained pages. You saw previous players scribbled in the margins. Some were helpful tips they picked up, but you found some disturbing messages.

‘HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP!’

‘HE’S GOING TO GET ME!!’

You tucked the book in your bag and went straight to class. If this book offered any sort of help, you’d take it. Chan appeared to still be with Felix, so you had time to yourself before he arrived. The spine cracked stiffly as you opened to the first page. It gave a short introduction into the game, and offered a map of the school. You realized, as you skimmed the content list that it was an old game guide. It offered you information on every single aspect of the game. You knew why this book had been tucked behind the rest. It contradicted a lot of what Minho had told you. You skipped to the eliminations chapter, and looked up “Secrets”. 

“Once you discover your rival's secret, leave a note in their locker with a time and place. When you meet them, tell them you know about it. There are three eliminations tied to this: Blackmail, Befriend and Betrayal…”

Minho had told you to turn them in. He said it would work. He'd lied again, but this time you were not surprised. You searched the rest of the chapter. The book listed every possible elimination and offered step by step instructions. You could crush Changbin by throwing a heavy object from the school roof. You could drown him by sedating him and throwing him into the school pool. You could matchmake him with a student who has a crush on him. But, you saw one that caught your eye. Framing. You read on:

“A difficult elimination, you can frame your rival for a murder. If done right, it will result in an absolute elimination.”

Underneath, you saw the instructions on how to carry it out. It involved grabbing supplies, making your rival touch the murder weapon, and then using it to kill another student. You considered the method, worrying over the difficulty and time it’ll take. You read another elimination: Drive to Murder. 

“Another difficult elimination, you can brainwash a student to murder your rival or vice versa. This is achieved through the kidnap and torture method (See section 3, page 12). 

You read this with images flowing through your mind. These both sounded like viable options, but needed more than three days. You needed something quick and easy. Crushing sounded good. The book gave you three options: the rooftop air conditioner, a bookcase or one of the lockers in the locker room. The rooftop had a large air conditioner you could unscrew, then push onto Changbin when he’s underneath it. The bookcase and locker required luring him behind it and then pushing it onto him. All you needed was a screwdriver, which the book said was found in the workshop. 

Faking Suicide: Forge a suicide note in your rival’s handwriting, lure him to the rooftop, and then push him off. 

Electrocution. After spilling water near it, have your rival turn on the faulty light switch and watch him fry!

So many options, and you wanted to try them all. Minho never intended on anyone finding this book, so he could make himself the sole guide throughout the game. You wondered what else he was keeping from you. 

****

You’d start with the electrocution first. It was the easiest one out of them. The book said you’d find the bucket and water in the Home Economics room. During lunch, you’d been filling up the bucket when someone noticed you. 

“Hey, what’re you doing? It’s not cleaning time yet,” said a girl with dark auburn hair, holding a bento box. 

You paused, thinking quickly and said, “Oh, there’s this huge spill in the canteen area. I’m helping clean it up.”

“Oh, okay!”

You went back to the bucket, which you then lugged all the way to the second floor bathroom. A few students did stare in confusion when they saw you. You told the same spill story to those who happened to question you. As you walked, you worried being seen with this might implicate you later on. But, they’d have no proof you did anything to Changbin. After dropping it off in a corner of the bathroom, you went to the courtyard where you found Changbin. 

“Hey, hyung,” you said, adrenaline starting to build inside you. 

“Hey, YN,” he said flatly. You could tell he didn’t want to really talk, but that didn’t matter. “What’s up?”

“I thought you should know that someone wrote some graffiti about you in the second floor bathroom,” you lied.

“Someone wrote something bad about me?” He said with sad eyes. “What did it say?”

“I don’t think I can repeat it. I wanted to let you know.”

“Well, we should clean it off before anyone else sees it.”

“Yeah, I already got the bucket and bleach. I tried scrubbing it, but I didn’t get off much.”

“Let’s go see it.” 

Changbin’s helpful nature would be his undoing. You followed him as he went upstairs to the bathroom. Your heart thumped hard in your chest when he turned the corner into the dark bathroom. The light slaps of his shoes in the water puddle amplified in the empty room, and you forced yourself to suppress a giggle. 

“Ugh, it’s dark in here,” he scoffed. “Of course you couldn’t scrub it, YN-ssi. You can’t see the walls.”

“I had trouble with the light switch.” 

“Yeah, it’s broken. Someone said you have to fiddle around with it.”

You braced yourself to hear the flipping switch and sounds of agony, but nothing happened. “Whatever,” he sighed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“What?” you asked, flustered. 

“Yeah,” he slumped past you, “It’s probably nothing people haven’t already said about me.”

“What are you talking about? People like you. They feel sorry for what happened to you.”

“Not everyone,” he replied, looking at you over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, YN. It’s not like anyone actually goes in there anymore.” 

“But, Changbin-”

How can your elimination be foiled so quickly? Could it be that Changbin’s mood has made him apathetic to everything around him? You needed to move fast. 

Burning. The book said a bucket of gasoline and a good door trap can do the trick. You only needed matches from the Occult room or a Bunsen burner from the science lab. As lunch progressed, you ducked into the black and red Occult club where you saw they kept their ritual candles stacked in a corner. You scanned the black table for the matches, which you found hidden between two of them. Then you went to the gardening shed for gasoline. 

“YN-ah?” Chan came through the doorway, curious and looking about the shed. “What are you doing? I thought you’d be in the cafeteria.”

“Oh, I was on my way there when, um,” you tried thinking up a reason you’d have a gallon of gasoline in your hand. It was hard with Chan staring at you with his pretty brown eyes and furrowed brow. “When, um, one of the teachers asked me to get gasoline from the shed. Yeah, in the cafeteria, the gas stove isn’t working so she said to get this.”

“That isn’t how gas stoves work, YN-ah,” he said. “I think it’s a bad idea. Here, I’ll take it for you,” he reached for the gallon and you pulled away by reflex. “YN…”

“She asked me to do it,” you said nervously. Time was running out. Lunch time will be over and you’d have a harder time catching Changbin after school. “I don’t want to bother you with it.”

“Gas stoves don’t use this kind of gasoline. After Mrs. Yoon, I’m finding it harder to trust the staff around here. Please,” he grabbed the gasoline can before you can protest, “I’m only helping you, YN. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“Hyung, I’m sure she doesn’t-”

“-Come have lunch with me,” he said, putting the gasoline back on the shelf and withdrawing a key. As he led you out of the shed, you watched him lock it with disappointment. “They’re serving seaweed wraps today. I’m going to eat like a million of them,” he laughed sweetly. 

As tempting as lunch with Chan sounded, Tuesday is halfway over. “Sorry, hyung,” you said, “I already have lunch plans…with Minho.” If anything seemed to upset Chan, it was Minho’s supposed presence in your life. 

“Right,” he said, the smile dropping into a small scowl. “Minho…" the name came out in a soft hiss, hard turning stony and cold. You don’t even…Why would you…” 

His hand tightened around the padlock, and you saw him staring right at it. It came back like before. The familiar blue and white flickers went down Chan’s entire body this time. They made him wave in place like static on a screen. You saw anger flaring up in his eyes, all sweetness gone as he took in your words. 

“Hyung?”

“You do-on-t-t-t- lik-ikeee hi-m-mmm,” he said, neck twitching and hands shaking. He then froze in place, eyes bulging and mouth contorted at an odd angle. 

“Channie?”

"He-e-eee won-t treat you like I woul-l-ld." You saw him struggling to get the words out. The sense that someone else is behind these words came to you. "Don't go with hi-i-mm-mmm."

"Chan-hyung, what's wrong?"

"Min-n-h-ho-ho." Like before, he crashed completely. You moved to examine him closely, but he then suddenly snapped back to his usual bright smile. “Have a good lunch, YNie.”

He walked away from you. You waited until he turned the corner before leaving. Another glitch. What was happening? You worried what might happen if these glitches kept appearing, especially with Chan. But, what concerned you more was what he'd said and his reactions. The bugs became more apparent whenever you mentioned Minho or any romantic feelings surrounding him. It seemed whatever jealousy Chan developed since your changes now messed with the game. You stomped your foot in irritation. Why did this have to happen now? You have plenty of things going on. You don't have time to investigate this.

When you exited the garden, you saw Chan again. He stood talking to Changbin. You saw Chan put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, giving reassuring words of comfort and gentleness. Jealousy boiled inside you seeing them standing so close together. It should be you that Chan was speaking to so sweetly. It should be your jaw he’s caressing and your tears he’d wiping away. Maybe if the bug fixed itself, he really could do that. In the middle of the empty pathway, nobody saw Chan speaking soft words to a weeping Changbin. Nobody but you saw them embrace, Changbin sobbing into Chan’s shoulder. 

You needed to get rid of him. Quickly. 

With Changbin usually walking around school alone, crushing sounded like a good and easy option. You stole a screwdriver from the workshop room, and grabbed a piece of paper and pen. On it, you scribbled a note saying to meet by the dumpster after school to discuss “our predator”. You quickly folded it as you made your way to Changbin’s locker, the screwdriver heavy in your pocket. This had to work. This can't possibly fail.

Yes, yes it could.

Once the bell rang, you made your way up to the school rooftop where a large air conditioner vent stayed on one side. After expertly unscrewing the bolts of the machine, you pushed it closer to the edge where it’d easily topple over with a good shove. It didn’t take long to see Changbin walking from the locker rooms to the dumper area. Judging the proper aim, you took steady breaths to still your racing heart. You counted his steps as he walked into the gated area. He stared around for a moment, and you took your chance. Putting your back against the air conditioner, you pushed it over the side of the railing and down to the ground. Smirking, you thought you’d find a bloody, broken Changbin underneath the smashed unit. However, you didn’t. You saw Changbin standing two feet away from where you’d aimed, shocked and frightened by his close call with death. 

You managed to hide before he looked up. 

Agitation settled inside you on your way down. You wanted to punch something. You wanted to scream and shout into the void. After everything, you still have failed to eliminate Changbin. You took a seat on one of the canteen benches to consult the book. Reading the eliminations you’d done, you realized your mistake: you did them at lunch time, where most students are hanging about and will note your strange behavior. Before or after school are the best time for these eliminations, since there will be no witnesses or questions raised. You thought of trying them tomorrow, but that will only waste more time. 

For the next three days, time is of the essence. 

*** Later That Night***

They tried fixing it. They searched through strands and strands of code to find the broken pieces. They’d originally considered your reconfiguration a special surprise, but now it was more of a nuisance. They’d managed to patch up the cracks littered throughout the systems, but the character ones became rather tricky. They’d gotten to the Principal before she completely broke, but it’d been hard. They did not want to alter your changes too much, but the game might crash if these remained unchecked.  

Dark blue and white, they flickered like dozens of fairy lights strung against a black backdrop. Usually, the strips of code were pure white and moved in single strands. These lines twisted together with your additions, which had turned blue. They saw how the two lines tried meshing into one solid piece in places, but some parts remained separate. These made the glitches. Ropes of them went through the principal’s makeup, causing several holes that they filled. She had not been the only character affected by the change. The problem started with background characters who’d been lagging through the school or frozen in place by the twinkling glitches. Now, they found them in the main rivals and other important characters. They briefly wondered how long it’d take them to get to Minho. 

Finding a piece of Chan’s data file, they saw the glitching piece in the middle of the code. It hurt them to even be near their old self like this, so close and personal. They wished with all their being to become one with themselves again. Having been locked in the classified folders, they’d lost touch with their body. They did not feel human anymore. Seeing Chan like this hurts them , even if it is an altered version. They admitted they’d avoided diving into the character systems, worried they’d run into their old code. But, seeing the breakages that needed to be removed, patched, and put back, it was unavoidable. They’d move to fix the broken piece and replace it with a new one…

But then they saw you. They didn’t see you outside in a third person perspective like the usual way. This time, they had a first-person view. They looked at the world through Chan’s eyes in this small slit. Gingerly, they poked the spot and it vibrated through the strand, causing a ripple effect to the rest of the codes. They did it several more times, and realized what was happening. This tear in the code was their escape. It was their real escape back into the world. When they plunged a bundle of pixels in for a final time, however, the split began to burn. They yelped in pain and moved away. 

Pain. 

They felt physical pain. They’d never felt anything before. They touched the glitch again simply to feel it. They continued going through the lines, seeing breaks in the fake Chan’s codes and touching them. Each spark made them feel more alive. They saw pieces of the world, their little game world, through his eyes. It’d been so long since they’d been Chan, they’d become a ‘They’, a ‘Thing’, a ‘Code’. They’d stopped being ‘Chan’ and became ‘Lovesick’. All because of Minho’s jealousy and violence.

With these broken pieces, they could be ‘Chan’ again. They could live again. Picking up a broken piece, they saw it was part of the model designs. Yes, this was the first step. 

And they’d take it. 

****

A/N: What the hell is going on in this place?? Glitches, bugs, and failures aren't going to help YN. Please reblog and like <3

[pangzi]

can we just talk about how incredible wandee goodday is with their narrative devices though? the foreshadowing is incredible. there's symbolism everywhere. the oyeicher/yakdee juxtapositions are so good. even though their words and actions might contradict each other, everything gets spelled out for us so clearly, it's beautiful.

[thatseventiesbitch]

What are your wishes for Leia as a character in season 2 of t9s? or characters in general lol and what do you think will happen in this season?

I'm very excited 🥹thanks for your updates about the series

Thanks for the ask! I share your excitement for season 2. They've already filmed 4 episodes (and are taping another one this Friday!) so I am feeling cautiously optimistic that they might release something in time for summer, even if it's only part of the season. 🤞

My wish for Leia this season is that we see some growth/character development. Is she becoming more confident (in her friendships and in love)? How are her relationships developing - with Gwen, with Jay, with Nate (?), with her family? She should seem a little bit older, as she's now going to be turning 16. I'm wondering if the slightly rebellious attitude we saw in season 1 will be more... present this season.

In general, if I had to make a prediction, I bet this season will be about "hook-ups, break-ups, and [causing] trouble" as the descriptor on 1iota says. I bet Nikki/Nate will be thrown into relationship disarray at some point during the season, and the Leia/Nate/Jay thing will also come to a head fairly quickly. I could see Leia dating Nate for the majority of the season, but be fighting/denying her feelings for Jay the whole time. In the finale, finally she admits her feelings to Jay and there's a cliffhanger into S3.

Personally, of course, I'm hoping for some more #Geia content - and I'm confident we'll get it (both moments of friendship, and moments for 'shippers like me to squee over). I'm also hoping for a second Topher Grace appearance, another on-screen Eric/Donna moment, another on-screen Eric-Forman-as-a-dad moment, and seeing the whole Forman family interact again. Maybe for her sweet sixteen? 🤞

Oh, and I've said this before but I have this very clear storyline in my head where Ozzie comes out to his parents and it doesn't go well, and the Formans step in to help mediate and maybe even give Ozzie a place to stay temporarily (paralleling their care for Hyde, obv). At this point I might write it into a fanfic, lol.

[these-lovely-monsters]

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 2

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, bondage, nipple/clit stimulation, double penetration, anal play, edging, yandere monster

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

It’s late at night and you’re sitting in bed, reading a book before you go to sleep. Or at least, you’re trying to, but you keep peeking over the side of the bed, hoping your tentacle monster will come visit you again tonight. After a while, with no sign of your guest from last night, your eyes grow heavy and you drift off to sleep. The light is still on and your book is sitting open on your stomach as you lay sprawled across your mattress, dreaming about tentacles wrapping you up.

You’re snoring softly when, suddenly, you jolt awake to the feeling of something cool and silky caressing your cheek. Quickly sitting up in bed, you blink open your eyes to find an inky black tentacle stroking your face. With a wide smile, you reach out a hand and stroke your fingers along its length, marveling at how nice the texture feels. When the tentacle begins tickling your ear, you squirm out of reach, giggling and gently batting it away. Wiggling in place, almost as if it’s laughing, the tentacle retreats back under the bed.

A moment later, it reappears again with its tip wrapped around an object. This time, you reach out your hand, eager to see what it has for you. When it uncurls itself, a small stone drops into your hand. Grinning at the new gift, you hold it up to the light and marvel at the gorgeous gray surface that’s veined with bright streaks of white. After you’ve finished inspecting the stone, you place it on your nightstand along with the pearl and necklace pendant. Leaning in, you place a soft kiss on the tip of the tentacle and then laugh when it wiggles again.

Remembering what you found up earlier today, you hop off the bed and hurry over to your backpack, calling over your shoulder, “I have something for you too!”

After rummaging around for a minute, you find what you’re looking for and walk back over to your bed where the tentacle is still patiently waiting. Extending your hand, you watch as it carefully picks up the piece of dark green sea glass, its edges worn smooth. Another tentacle appears as it gently rolls the piece of glass between the two tips, caressing the surface, as if inspecting it.

You’re chewing your bottom lip, hoping it likes your gift, when suddenly the tentacles wiggle again as several more shoot up from under the bed and wrap you up in a giant hug. Laughing, you squeeze back, happy that it seems to like your gift. 

As the tentacles slither along your skin, you’re reminded of the night before when it had you pinned to the bed. Your cheeks grow flushed with the memory and you wonder how you can make that happen. As if it can sense where your thoughts are headed, the tentacles begin to deliberately rub along your nipples, which are already hardening under your shirt. Letting out a soft moan, you relax into the monster’s hold, hoping it will get the hint.

It clearly understands what you want because a few tentacles grip your shirt and begin pulling it over your head as others work your shorts down your hips. Once you’re completely naked, the tentacles take a moment to slither along your bare skin, as if enjoying the feel of you just as much as you do. 

Then, one of the tentacles wraps around both your wrists, tugging you forward so you’re on your knees. Another one wraps around your waist, pulling backwards as the first one continues to pull your arms down to the bed. Soon you’re fully bent over with your ass up in the air and your wrists bound and stretched out over your head on the mattress. Next, two more tentacles wrap around each of your thighs, pulling them apart so that your pussy is completely exposed.

A shiver runs through you, not from the cold, but from anticipation for what the monster will do to you. Fortunately, it doesn’t make you wait long. One tentacle reaches up to play with your clit, alternating between flicking the bud and pulling at it with one of its suction cups. You moan at the sensations, trying to wiggle your hips for more but you’re completely bound, unable to move anywhere.

Two tentacles reach up and suction themselves to each of your nipples, pulling down so there’s a delicious tug on your breasts. The weight of the tentacles and your heavy breathing causes them to sway beneath you and you mewl in pleasure. As the other tentacle continues to play with your clit, wetness drips from your soaking pussy. Another one slides up along your leg gathering up your juices and plunges inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion.

As the tentacle pushes deeper inside you, stretching your walls as far as they’ll go, the small bite of pain adds a delicious zing of pleasure to the already overwhelming sensations. When it’s completely filled you up, it pauses, letting you adjust for a moment. Once it senses you beginning to relax, it slowly pulls back out, almost to the tip, and then plunges all the way in again. Pulling out and shoving back in, it sets a rapid pace, the wet squelching sounds mixing with the cries of pleasure pouring from your lips.

As the monster continues to fuck you senselessly, you begin to feel an orgasm building. But just as your walls start to clamp down on the tentacle, it abruptly pulls out, simultaneously pausing its ministrations on your clit, and you cry out in despair. After a moment, it resumes teasing and fucking you, only to pause once again when your orgasm is almost at its peak. It does this over and over again, bringing you right to the brink and then pulling back until you’re a whining, needy mess.

Tears of frustration begin to build in your eyes and you think you’ve almost had enough when, instead of pushing back into your pussy, the soaking wet tentacle moves higher, up to your ass. You suck in a breath as it tickles the outer rim, teasing and flicking the puckered skin. You’ve never had anything there and you’re a little afraid it will hurt, but at the same time you trust this monster with your body and want to see what it will do.

Pressing the tip gently in, the tentacle pushes past the first ring of muscles and you groan at the new sensation. Slowly, it works its way further and further in, pausing every few inches to let you adjust to the new girth. When it reaches as far as it seems to be able to go, it pulls back out and then pushes in again. This time, it fucks you more slowly than before and you melt into the mattress, getting lost in the sensation. 

You’ve forgotten your earlier frustrations, too distracted by the tentacle filling your ass, until you feel a different tentacle begin to push its way into your pussy. Gasping, you try to wiggle away – there’s no way it can fit two at the same time, right? But of course, there’s nowhere for you to go and it continues to ease the second tentacle into your cunt while the first one keeps slowly fucking in and out of your ass.

Before long, both tentacles are completely filling you up, stuffing you to the brim, and you’re almost delirious with the overwhelming fullness. They begin to move in tandem, plunging in and out of both your holes as you whimper and cry out with each thrust. It’s almost too much, but at the same time you’ve never felt anything more amazing and you never want it to end. 

This time, when your thighs begin to tremble and your walls start to clamp down with your impending orgasm, the monster doesn’t stop. Instead, it resumes playing with your clit and you immediately explode. Stars burst behind your eyes as your entire body seizes up, white hot pleasure coursing through you. It feels like the orgasm goes on forever as you get lost in a hazy bliss and time ceases to exist.

Eventually, though, awareness begins to return as you start to come down from the high and you sag into the mattress, boneless and spent. Carefully, the monster eases out of you and releases its hold on your body. You’re almost sad at the loss of contact. But then it gently maneuvers you so that your head is resting on the pillow and pulls the blanket over you, tucking you in around the edges. As the tentacles start to retreat back under the bed, you reach out and snag one of them, holding onto it. 

“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” You ask in a drowsy voice.

You feel it hesitate for a moment but then the tentacle winds up your wrist, grasping onto you. Smiling, you settle back into the pillow and begin to drift off. Before you’re fully asleep, you manage to mumble, “Will you come back again tomorrow night?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then, right as your awareness slips away, you hear an inhumanly deep, multilayered voice echo in your mind, “Yes, little creature.”

──────────────────

The monster is immensely pleased with this female it has chosen to mate.

At first, it wasn’t sure if the gifts left on various surfaces of her den were meant for it. But it took them anyways, wanting to indulge in the fantasy. Most creatures run screaming when they see the monster for the first time. Some even attack without warning. 

But not this one. To the monster’s delight, this delectable female was only startled at first. And when it tried to offer her gifts to soothe her fear, she eagerly accepted them! 

She even accepted its attempts to couple and let it touch her. 

Feel her. 

Taste her. 

She is utterly delicious.

And when she presented it with a mating gift of her own tonight, it knew for sure that she had accepted its offer.

As the monster settles into the darkness beneath where she sleeps, grasping her tiny delicate hand, it hopes that it can make her happy enough that she’ll never want to leave. Because even if she does, it will never let her go.

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[atlabeth]

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode. 

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets. 

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart. 

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown. 

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it. 

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.” 

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?” 

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.” 

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.” 

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him. 

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.” 

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.” 

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize. 

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size. 

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper. 

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun. 

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning. 

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked. 

“She did.” 

He frowned. “Where is she, then?” 

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on. 

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.” 

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed. 

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body. 

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now. 

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!” 

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away. 

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later. 

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far. 

…Gods. 

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought. 

-

“Luke—” 

“No!” 

“Luke, please!” 

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—” 

“She won’t know!” 

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!” 

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head. 

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!” 

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips. 

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!” 

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.” 

“If you say a single word—” 

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.” 

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.” 

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.” 

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.” 

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile. 

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.” 

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.” 

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.” 

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.” 

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.” 

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?” 

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him. 

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable. 

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then… 

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise. 

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?” 

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here. 

“Never better.” 

-

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said. 

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people. 

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said. 

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?” 

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.” 

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.” 

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night. 

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity. 

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”  

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?” 

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say? 

“I’m curious,” he decided. 

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her. 

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked. 

“And how it killed the cat?” 

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.�� 

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.” 

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.” 

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately. 

He nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Who’s her parent?” 

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting. 

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.” 

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved. 

He had a sister? 

“I have a sister?” 

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.” 

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her. 

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young. 

Gods. 

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?” 

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.” 

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry. 

“How did you meet her?” 

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school. 

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly. 

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.” 

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”  

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.” 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”  

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.” 

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about. 

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.” 

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.” 

-

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes. 

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy. 

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?” 

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said. 

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.” 

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.” 

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.” 

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself. 

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”  

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?” 

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.” 

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”  

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.” 

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off. 

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.” 

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.” 

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.” 

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” 

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.” 

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.” 

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front. 

A letter. 

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.” 

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took. 

So he took the letter when Luke offered it. 

To the one and only Luke Castellan, 

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash. 

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this. 

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is. 

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost. 

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.  

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry. 

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her. 

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.” 

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it. 

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.” 

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.” 

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke. 

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.” 

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her. 

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to. 

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…” 

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming. 

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.” 

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father. 

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.” 

-

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck. 

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along. 

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked. 

“You’re awake,” she said. 

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?” 

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.” 

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.” 

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again. 

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.” 

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.” 

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?” 

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.” 

Annabeth went silent. 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.” 

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”  

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.” 

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.” 

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?” 

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.” 

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push. 

“How did you meet her?” he asked. 

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

-

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think. 

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical. 

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it. 

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind? 

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia— 

Where was Thalia? 

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age. 

Thalia— 

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.” 

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else. 

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?” 

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids. 

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!” 

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—” 

“Annabeth!” 

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt. 

“Luke, you’re hurt—” 

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.” 

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—” 

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words. 

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years. 

“Luke?” you whispered. 

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead— 

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?” 

“My friends—” 

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.” 

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.” 

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading. 

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever. 

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought. 

-

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.  

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep. 

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock. 

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert. 

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it. 

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story. 

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?” 

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.” 

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets. 

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?” 

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.” 

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them. 

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?” 

“The usual,” you mumbled. 

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked. 

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.” 

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?” 

“Bullseye.” 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.” 

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.” 

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.” 

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” you murmured. 

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh. 

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke. 

“Can you stay?” you asked softly. 

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” 

“Just like old times,” you whispered. 

“Just like old times,” he agreed. 

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke. 

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it. 

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead? 

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough. 

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.” 

And by the gods, you believed him. 

[justdiptych]

There's a scene in Fallout: New Vegas that I find really interesting in how it uses skill checks in dialogue. A merchant company, the Crimson Caravan, want to buy out one of their rivals, Cassidy Caravans, and they hire the player character to negotiate the deal. The player has likely already met the rival company's owner, Rose of Sharon Cassidy, by this point - in fact, it's entirely possible that she suggested they ask the Crimson Caravan for work in the first place.

Cass is propping up the bar at a truck stop on the border near the game's opening area. She's heard that her caravan has been destroyed in her absence - her employees killed and their wagons burned in an attack on the road - but she can't investigate because of a bureaucratic hold-up. The man in charge of the border post, Ranger Jackson, has halted all commercial traffic across the border because of dangers on the roads - wild animals, bandits, and enemy soldiers - that the authorities are struggling to get under control.

When the player brings the Crimson Caravan's offer to Cass, she refuses on principle. Her business may have effectively been destroyed, but she's too proud and too stubborn to sell her surname for any number of messes of pottage. Convincing her requires that the player employs one of either their Speech or Barter skills - there are two options for each, requiring either moderate or high investments of skill points. Skill and Barter are the game's two Charisma-based skills, and it's not uncommon for them to appear side-by-side like this, but here, they diverge in application.

The easier Speech option is simple - the player just reminds Cass that, if she sells the business, she won't be commercial traffic anymore, so she'll be able to get across the border. She's itching to get on the road again, so this convinces her. (She will ask the player to help Jackson clear the roads for the benefit of her fellow merchants, but this is a very simple quest that they likely already completed hours ago.)

The more challenging Speech check is to tell Cass that there's no way her business can survive, so it's her duty to do the merciful thing - shoot it in the head, bury it, and move on with her life. This, naturally, brings her close to socking the player in the jaw, but she sees the truth in it. She's been holding onto the forlorn hope that there might be something left to save, but she really has lost everything. This bypasses Jackson's quest - she just wants to walk out and not look back.

The Barter options approach things differently - from the Speech options, and from each other. The more challenging one involves making some sport of the offer, challenging Cass to a drinking contest. The player has to supply the booze, and they run the risk of getting embarrassingly drunk if their Endurance stat is too low, but, either way, this will impress Cass enough that she'll sign the contract.

The easier Barter option, though, is, I think, the most interesting. It requires the player to sweeten the deal with their own money - a not insubstantial amount of it, in fact. Cass is still hesitant, though, which allows the player to make a very interesting point. With the money from the Crimson Caravan plus the player's contribution, she'd have enough to restart her business - buy new animals and equipment, hire a new crew, start trading again.

Further, the player can point out that the Crimson Caravan are unlikely to continue using the 'Cassidy Caravans' name after buying it. They're only buying her out to try to monopolise local trade, after all. If they don't use the name, they'll forfeit their rights to it - meaning that Cass can, as she puts it, take their money, give them nothing, and go back to running her business as if the attack never happened.

Cass, naturally, accepts this offer, though she's staggered that the player is so willing to sell out their employers to help her like this. (The player needn't feel any moral misgivings about doing so. A little investigation reveals that the attack on Cass's business was actually engineered by the Crimson Caravan themselves, in collusion with a crime family, in a conspiracy to wipe out their competition.)

I think this entire interaction represents how well New Vegas uses skill checks. Barter, in RPGs, is often a very barebones skill. Its use is letting the player earn more and spend less - as part of an equation determining shop prices, or in dialogue options that boil down to asking for money. It's not uncommon for Speech to be the skill of the peaceful, benevolent diplomat, while Barter is for common mercenaries.

Here, though, the Barter options actually cost more than their Speech equivalents. The player ends up out of pocket for a sizable chunk of change or at least a lot of booze. Instead, the Barter skill represents the character's understanding of common business practices and relevant laws. It allows them to convince Cass to accept a deal by finding a loophole that benefits her more than if she refused.

The equivalent Speech options, meanwhile, are effectively free, but do involve making Cass feel that little bit worse. They emphasise what she's lost, how trapped she is by her circumstances, and convince her to give up and let the Crimson Caravan win. In the long run, this doesn't make a real difference - once she leaves the outpost, she and the player can discover the conspiracy and get their revenge either way - but I think the choice does let the player say something about their character.

Part of the brilliance of this game is how little details, like Cass being stuck at the outpost, tie into other details all across the story. Caravan traffic is halted, in part, because deathclaws have nested near the roads to the north. They've nested there because the local quarry has ceased operations - the noise caused by the digging and blasting had previously scared them off.

The quarry closed down because escaped convicts raided it and stole the workers' stash of mining explosives. The convicts escaped because the government was using them for forced labour on the railroads, and foolishly entrusted them with enough dynamite to stage an uprising, seize control of the prison, and turn it into a fortress and a base of operations for banditry.

Similarly, the threads of Cass's story spread outwards, ultimately affecting the entire future of New California. When she learns that the Crimson Caravan and their allies killed her friends, Cass is furious. She wants to march over there and beat the snot out of the people responsible. The player can convince her to instead settle things legally - get proof of their crimes, pass them on to Ranger Jackson, and hope the justice system gets revenge for her.

If Cass does things her way, the criminals pay with their lives, but their bosses end up better off for it. With their regional execs murdered, the trading companies can claim that the government isn't doing enough to protect them - so, they don't have to support the government's interests, either. They withdraw trade, demand special treatment, and end up making their shortfall everyone's problem.

If the legal option is pursued, though, the evidence becomes blackmail material. The government has the trading companies over a barrel, and that lets them pass stricter trade laws. Given the choice of accepting regulation or facing criminal investigation, the crooked execs choose to stay out of jail. Those responsible for the murders technically avoid justice, but their hopes of a monopoly are dashed - and their superiors are unlikely to be pleased with them having hurt long-term profits so badly.

Cass's story is political and economical all the way through. It's about the influence of wealth on government, and the fundamental injustices of the carceral system. It's about revenge, and reform, and how to hit people where it hurts - their bottom line. And it's about how, sometimes, skills in an RPG aren't about making numbers go up - they're about how a character understands the world around them, and how they can apply that understanding to help someone out of a jam, or help reshape the trade lines of a whole nation.

[l1tw1ck]

top!amab male character x bottom!ftm reader

800 Words | Kinktober

think of whoever (endeavor, william afton, zhongli, etc)

Terminology Used: pussy, cunt, t-cock, slick

CW: Non-Con, Boss/Employee, Creampie, Daddy Kink

Your boss, the CEO of the most well known company in the country, decided that he needed a new assistant. An assistant that fits a special criteria. You applied and got hired on the spot, you barely even spoke. You were too excited to realize how bad that was. It was fine for the first few days and then he started making comments and staring at you for a bit too long. The job pays really well so you've been ignoring it and hoping he'd keep his hands off you. It was wishful thinking.

Your boss pushes himself against you, placing his hands on your hips while you make him coffee. He has his own private break room and decided to use that to take advantage of you. He leans into your neck and takes a deep breath in. "You smell nice."

You let out a shaky breath, trying to build up the confidence to tell him off. "With all due respect sir, I'm not very comfortable with this." You sound the opposite of confident. He ignores you and sucks on your neck while unbuckling your pants. "Please, sir..."

He groans. "Shh, it's okay." He touches you through your underwear, getting you aroused against your own will. Your breathing turns shallow as he spreads your legs slightly more apart so that his hand can comfortably slip into your boxers, thick fingers sliding into your entrance.

You grip the edge of the table for balance, your head hanging low as he fingers you. Your fear of his reaction stops you from telling him to stop. He could hurt you if he wanted to. You let out shallow breaths, staring at the coffee maker that just finished pouring his drink. If you could manage to grab it without hesitating, you could spill it on him. It might spill on you too but it’d be worth a shot.

He pulls his fingers out and the small feeling of relief you feel is quickly ripped away with the sound of his belt unbuckling and dropping to the floor. He pulls down your underwear, quickly escalating the situation and filling you with more fear and discomfort. You hold your breath, feeling his length in between your legs. "Sir..." You breathe out, anticipating his next move and planning your own.

He lubes up his cock with your slick and prods his tip against your entrance. Your boss groans into your ear as he forces himself inside your cunt. "Yes...so warm." He murmurs. You hiss as his fat length stretches you open. His fingers were not nearly enough to prepare you for his cock.

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, already starting to fuck you at a rough pace. You grip the table harder than before, moans involuntarily slipping out of your mouth. You lost your chance. You’d just burn your own hands if you tried now.

He lets out a dragged out groan. "You feel so damn good—" He moans your name. "You’re taking my cock so well, baby."

"Please–" You gasp. "Mr—!"

“It's Daddy.” He runs his hand up your body, from your pelvis to your jaw. You feel yourself twitch from the unfamiliar touches. He gently grips your jaw. “Say it.”

“Da— Daddy-” You choke out.

He lets out a deep groan of pleasure. “Good boy.” He leans into your ear, his heavy breaths and groans becoming easier to hear. “Your pussy’s so tight, so warm…you're perfect.”

“It hurts-” You let out another involuntarily breathy moan. “Too fast-”

“I’m sorry, baby, but I can't slow down. You feel too fucking good.” He kisses your cheek. “You can take it.”

You shut your eyes, knowing this’ll be a common occurrence from now on. Even if you managed to escape he’d try again and thanks to the contract you signed, you can't quit yet. Not like quitting would save you anyway. He’d find a way to keep you in his grasp. He lets go of your jaw and brings his hand down to your crotch, lovingly stroking your t-cock. You shiver in pleasure as your legs start to give in thanks to that. “I can't– I can't–”

“Yes you can. You're doing so good.” He gets even more aroused by the sound of your voice. He aims at your g-spot, earning a loud gasp from you. “Right there..” He hits it again. Your cunt flexes around his length. He fucks you through your orgasm, somehow going even faster. “You're so good for me...”

“Too much– Please, it's- fuck~”

He ignores you and chases his own orgasm. “Gonna come right in your tight fucking pussy…” He moans. “Make you mine..”

He seems to like the idea of claiming you. Considering how good you feel right now despite everything, he might be able to fulfill that fantasy. And surprisingly, him coming inside you is the least problematic thing that's happening right now. Thankfully for you, he won't have much luck getting you pregnant.

He slows down, filling you up with his cum. He doesn't pull out though. Not even as he softens inside you. He doesn't want to leave your warmth, not yet.

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. setting powder.

about. whilst getting ready to meet your new boyfriend’s extended family — you learn that he knows a thing or two about doing makeup.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up to 20s, enemies to lovers, meeting the family, new relationships, brief mention of injury and hospitals, reader wears makeup and dresses, pro hero!bakugou, nurse/doctor!reader.

“we’re gonna be late, sweetheart.”

leaning against the door frame, bakugou crosses his arms over his chest — his perfect lips pulled into a suave smirk as he watches you finish your makeup for tonight.

“wha…huh? you said i had twenty minutes?” you’re still half dressed, your boyfriend’s baggy hoodie from an old merch collection draped over your sweet little dress to protect it from your foundation, your hair is tied back and away from your face so it doesn’t get in the way and though you’re still trying to blend your cream blush in with one of those sponge things — katsuki thinks you’re the most adorable thing in the entire world.

pushing himself off the door frame, he sits behind you on the bed — still watching you work at the vanity whilst he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt. “that was twenty minutes ago,” the blonde rasps affectionately and grasps your at your jewellery laid out on the bed. the rough pad of his thumb traces over the ‘K’ on the silver heart locket he’d gotten you for your birthday before he undoes the clasp and places the chain around your neck — being mindful of your hair in the process. “y’said you’d be done by then.”

you catch your boyfriend’s vermillion stare in the reflection of your mirror — his subtle smile when he sees his initials dangling from your neck. it feels you with warmth to know that no matter what, katsuki will always find you beautiful and will always love you. even with how chaotic your makeup looks when half done. “i think i spent too long in the shower ‘n underestimated how long this look would take,” you sigh, reaching for your lip gloss next. you’ll have to put it in your purse, do your lips in the car. “do you think they’ll mind if we’re any later than this?”

“my parents won’t. neither will inko. deku — i mean — izuku will, but he’ll pretend he ain’t bothered,” bakugou prattles down the list, making a note of tonight’s attendees. it was tradition that the bakugous and the midoriyas had a monthly dinner together, it had been going on since the two pro heroes were children. only now, their partners were invited since they were family too. family included you.

you hadn’t gone to U.A and you certainly didn’t know katsuki until he became an up and coming pro hero. the first time he’d saved you, by the sidewalk of the hospital you worked at, you thought he was brutish and stuck up. you’d hated him and he’d hated you. but over time, and more frequent trips to A&E after saving civilians or sometimes after being wounded in villain attacks — you’d come to appreciate bakugou’s brooding personality and observant nature.

he’d come to like you too. how much you cared for others and wanted to make the world a better place. you reminded him a little bit of izuku, in a strange way.

so one night when you were on call, katsuki brought you flowers instead of a stomach wound that needed stitches and you’d given him a kiss instead of berating him about being careful, over vanilla and chocolate pudding cups from the hospital cafeteria.

signing impatiently, you bring katsuki back to present day. “i wanted to make a good impression on your aunty and on your best friend,” rubbing your arm nervously, you cast your gaze over the mess on your vanity — expensive products splayed across them in organised chaos.

“you will. they’re gonna love you. they already do,” bakugou stands behind you now, rough palms smoothing over your shoulders. “izuku says you’ve made me less bitchy at work. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle, eyes sparkling in delight as you look at the blonde in the mirror. “really?”

“really,” he nods sheepishly. the way you look at him makes him feel so loved. it’s new to him. nice to him. “now, whaddya need help with s’we can hurry up ‘n hit the road.”

you begin to ramble on, perking up at the idea of katsuki helping with the rest of your routine.“well… i’ve done my lashes, my eyes, my base and blush… i can do lips in the car. aside from putting on earrings and fixing my hair all i need is to set my face with—“

“settin’ powder,” bakugou grabs the little pot from your vanity as if he knew where it was all along, picking up a little face cushion as well as he prepares to get to work. “got it.” he dips the cushion into the translucent powder, rubbing the excess off on the back of his hand before leaning in real close to dab at the areas he thinks you need it. like your t-zone.

your boyfriend’s touch is like magic on your face, perfectly setting your makeup while making you feel like a pampered princess. “who taught you how to do this?” comes your shy mumble, his proximity to your face causing you to grow flustered and squirm in your seat. “h-how are you so good at it?”

“keep still, i’ll be finished faster if y’stop squirmin’ sweetheart. don’t wanna mess up what you’ve done already,” pausing his actions, katsuki gives you a toothy smirk — revelling in how bashful you’ve become under his touch while he helps you with your makeup. “…grew up behind the scenes of fashion shows ‘n shoots. so i picked up a thing or two i wanted to make sure i could still do it so i watched a couple of videos on it too. ‘n i noticed…you always put so much time ‘n effort into your makeup. wanted to help make the process easier for you.”

you feel as though you could melt at katsuki’s kind words and gesture as he dabs at your face a little more — tongue caught between the tips of his pearly white teeth as he sticks it out in concentration. he’s so cute it makes you want to scream. “you’re sweet,” you coo appreciatively, stilling yourself to let him finish before he pulls back — satisfied with his work. “i love you.”

it’s not the first time you’ve said it to one another, but the three words are still new to the both of you. “i uh…i love you more,” a pink, rosey hue rises on the surface of bakugou’s tanned skin and his red, loving eyes dart away from your face bashfully. “‘m gonna get your shoes ‘n jacket ready by the door while that sits. don’t forget your settin’ spray after you brush that shit off — oh ‘n don’t take my hoodie off until you’ve done that. don’t wanna ruin your dress, kay?”

“okay,” you respond fondly, hiding your smile at his very specific instructions. “i’ll be down in a minute.”

katsuki nods hesitantly, standing up as he gathers your belongings and outerwear — ready to load them up in the car, when he suddenly pauses in place. “you look beautiful tonight, sweetness. you always do.” he adds as one last parting message, before disappearing down the hall.

leaving you wondering how you ever lucked out with such a man. one who’s not only kind and gentle and loving, but a pro hero and a makeup artist at that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[cripplecharacters]

How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special

[large text: How to Support People with Facial Differences - the Face Equality Week 2024 Special]

Today is the 13th of May, which means that the Face Equality Week has just started. This year's theme is “My Face is a Masterpiece” which is probably my favorite sentence ever said about having a facial difference. Huge fan, should be used way more often in my opinion.

Because of this occasion, I would like to share some thoughts about Face Equality that I think are rather entry-level, i.e. you don't need to know much to execute these, but you can still support us.

Stop the stare.

I know it's fun to stare - or so I guess, at least - but maybe you shouldn't. Next time you see someone who has a scar or who's face does not move the same way as yours, just mind your business. We can tell when you're “discreetly” looking.

Don't call us deformed. 

Knowing how the people you're trying to support actually call themselves should be an absolute first step, but most people still fail here. Most of us don't appreciate being called “deformed”. I certainly don't. Say “facial difference”, or “disfigurement” if you must. It's 2024. Leave “deformed” to medical reports from the 70s.

No more “What happened?!”s.

If you aren't a doctor, there's a high-to-100% chance that it's none of your business. It's cool that you're curious - keep it to yourself.

Stop insinuating that we are ugly.

“Support people who are ugly!” isn't very supportive. I would say, not in the slightest. Say “people who don't fit the current beauty standards” if that's what you mean. 

Or, to go with this year's theme, “people whose faces are masterpieces” : )

Use critical thinking online.

Is the reaction photo actually funny, or is it just a person with a craniofacial condition? Is the meme actually a meme, or is it just making fun of a person with a facial disfigurement? Is body-shaming suddenly hilarious to you when the person shamed has strabismus? 

If the entire punchline is “lol they have a disability xd”, it's ableism. Plain and simple.

To go with the point above - your joke is probably not funny.

We get it! You can't help telling us how "you're going to hell for laughing" (which yeah, probably) and how we remind you of the ugliest character you have ever seen. I guarantee you that we heard it, and that you are behaving like an edgy middle schooler who hasn't "found out" yet. It's boring and annoying. Also ableist, but you're aware of that already if you're saying that you're going to hell.

Stop with the goddamn trigger warnings. 

We aren't “body horror”, we aren't “gore”, we aren't something that you need to advise your viewers to use their discretion over. Every “graphic footage: child with neurofibromatosis” and “#tw burn scar” is a sign of ableism and disfiguremisia. People with facial differences deserve to be seen. Ableds can survive seeing a person without a nose.

Do a basic reading on what disfiguremisia is.

New word! And a pretty damn important one. It's a brand of ableism that intersects with more or less everything, and it means discrimination and hatred of people with facial differences/disfigurements. The bullying, harassment, endless name-calling, and microaggressions are all results of disfiguremisia. The ways in which everything is harder for us isn't some unchangeable rule of how the world works, it's just an extremely prevalent type of discrimination.

Understand that we are people.

I know, revolutionary - and yet impossible for so many people to get. We can be a visual representation of evil when it's necessary, we can be a feel-good inspirational story on a morning talk-show, but not much else, it seems. In reality, we are complex, we have our own lives, we can be happy and sad and have the same exact joys and worries that you have.

Hey, artists - facial differences don't make you evil.

Title stolen from a great essay by Lise Deguire (link). When's the last time you saw a positive character with a facial difference that wasn't inspiration porn? I mean a character that's not edgy, full of angst, a murderer, or a villain. Based on what you see in the media, you'd think that having a scar renders you evil on the spot, but in reality it just makes you loathe how artists apparently think you are like. It's boring, it's overdone, it's ableism. Stop doing this, and start noticing when it's being done. Point it out if your friend is writing their new villain to be an evil burn survivor. This kind of portrayal needed to stop ages ago, but tomorrow will be a great time as well.

Before you reply with “I've never seen this” - Darth Vader, Lion King’s Scar (subtle name, great thing to teach kids!), Freddy Krueger, Voldemort, we could be here forever. You're just not paying attention.

Pay attention to where we are not included.

As discussed, there are some places where you see us all the time. But where do you not see us?

Advertisements (unless it's for a scar-removal cream, of course). Fashion shows. Magazine covers. Romance movies where we are the main character.

We deserve to see ourselves in what's around us in the same way able-bodied people do. Trying to make it seem like we don't exist - that's deliberate. 

Interact with our art.

We draw, write, sing, act in movies, we do everything! Support us in the most tangible way - leave us a nice comment, read our books, listen to our songs. Watch movies where actual people with facial differences star, not pseudoinspirational stories about how “being disfigured is ok” where they shove an able-bodied actor into a full face prosthetic just to not have an actor with a disfigurement on set.

Include us.

As this year's Face Equality Week calls for, include us. In art, in movies, in books, in your life. Show us as positive people who are valuable, who are a part of your community - I guarantee that we are in every one that's out there. The world is hostile and unwelcoming to people with facial differences - be the change, wherever you are!

I know that it is different from the usual posts I make, but I hope it was somewhat educational. I just like to use every occasion that I can to force Face Equality into people's heads. To make this at least a bit about writing to keep the blog's theme, I will say that if you want to write about us, you need to care about us in real life as well. Otherwise, it's shallow and pointless.

Below the readmore are some links/resources that you can click to educate yourself further. A lot of them lead to Face Equality International because they have just about everything you should know. If you want to be a better ally to people with facial differences, I heavily recommend them!

#MyFaceIsAMasterpiece

mod Sasza

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/why-i-will-not-hide/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/disability-is-diversity/202111/hidden-community-the-movement-face-equality

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2022/05/facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/advertising-excludes-women-with-faces-like-mine/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/burn-community-bookshelf

https://faceequalityinternational.org/about-fei/international-face-equality-week/

https://faceequalityinternational.org/2023/04/hidden-from-view-women-with-facial-differences-in-the-media/

https://www.phoenix-society.org/resources/i-dont-see-your-scars

whoa thanks for actually clicking the readmore!!

[signedkoko]

Signed with Love - Hazbin Cast

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely readers! Its valentines/love letters from your favourites 🖤

Characters - Adam | Alastor | Charlie | Cherri | Husk | Lucifer | Lute | Pentious | Vaggie

Series Parts Overlords & SIns - Here! Helluva Cast - Here!

Sup bitch,

Looking for a valentine, cupid told me ur my soulmate, so how about you be mine?

You know I love teasing ya babe, but really, I got a reso for that restaurant you love, I'd tell you what to wear but the less the better.

Lova ya hot stuff

ORIGINAL DICKMASTER

Salutations my lovely doe!

Another opportunity to show my dear just how much I love them, what more could I ask?

I'd offer my cooking, but I know you don't have quite the palette for venison. Instead, I've prepared a private dinner, catered to by a lovely cafe a good friend of mine runs.

I'll be there to get you at half past two,

A.

Hiii ❣

I hope you don't mind me asking but I REALLY wanted to be the one to ask if you'd be my valentine?

I haven't decided what we should do yet, I was thinking rock climbing, or how about a fancy dinner? Ahh I have so many ideas! We can talk about it later!

Thinking of you always,

Charlie (Morningstar, Princess of Hell, Manager of the Hazbin Hotel (now booking!!), potential valentine of you!)

Heya girly,

I'm not one for holidays, but I know you reallllly wanted to try this one out. So! be my valentine?

I'll bring you to that great viewpoint I hang at, maybe show you how I make some of my arsenal. Just dress comfy, it's going to be a lot of moving!

You better be swooning already!

Your favourite 💣

Hey,

I'm thinking this year we could try something new. As stupid as it sounds, will you be my valentine?

I've got a stack of rental movies and one empty ass theatre room. Still sure no one realized we even have one, but what the hell, right? Let me know what you think and we can go pick up some drinks before.

Looking forward to it,

Husker

Hiii ❣

I know you told me not to go crazy this year, but how could I not! So, valentine...

I left a bag with this note, it's got a few outfits for you to pick that will match mine! Just be ready by 6 tonight, we've got a lot of stops. Drinks, dinner, a performance at Ozzie's, and a reserved spot in my bed tonight.

Happy valentines day,

Yours truly

I pray this letter reaches you,

Maybe you don't expect it of me, but you deserve to feel as special as everyone else this valentines.

So, I've got a surprise dinner set up for us this valentines. If you are willing, dress nice for four tomorrow and I can take you for a flight before it. Just don't wear anything that might fall off.

Your angel,

Lt. Lute

Dearest serpentine,

It would be ever so joyous to accompany you this valentines, if that is okay of course!

My egg bois have insisted upon serenading us and treating us to a nice dinner in my war machine. I promise you it is in prim and proper shape for such a day.

Yours sincerely

(Future) Overlord Pentious

Hey hun,

You've talked a lot about valentines recently, and while I know we said we'd overlook it, I feel like you deserve to know how much I love you.

When you get the chance, I've got a bottle of wine and a free night to decide what we want to do. Just swing by after eight?

See ya valentine,

Vaggie

Authors Note - Ahahaha can you tell I don't write Adam much? Either way, part one of the valentines series 🖤 If you don't have a valentine this year, please allow me to be yours! Or let me know which of these folks you'd accept a letter from 🤭

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Student!Gun Park for the First Time: Part 1

Part 2! G/N. 3.2k. Remember when Gun wanted to get his GED? Well. Stranger to~ Masterlists

"How old are you?"

"20."

Press X for doubt, you think, and that's the exact meme you send over on chat.

"20 like 20 or 20 like you're mid 30s and planning your mid life crisis 20?"

You know you're being rude and making a terrible first impression. It's the first day of a new school year, of a new school in fact, and for some reason the class is held on video call and you're all forced to pair off with a classmate for an icebreaker introduction.

It’s already cringe worthy and awkward enough, icebreakers must have been created as a form of torture. To add insult to injury, you're sure this guy is bullshitting you.

"I'm 20." He deadpans.

Momentarily, you’re stunned into silence. It stretches almost a tad too long before you manage to choke out, “My bad. Sorry."

Wow. You're torn between thinking that's a rough 20, this guy has easily got 40 years under his belt and oh no, when is your puberty and hormones gonna kick in like that.

And that's also the exact moment this 20 year old Gun Park takes a drag on a cigarette and you decide that it's definitely a rough 20.

"So what do you do for fun?" You probe, and you have the distinct feeling he might say something like alimony, planning his third marriage, investing in the stock market - whatever someone in their 50s might say but-

To your surprise and glee, his body language turns shifty. 

He likes to game he says, like it's a dirty little secret. Amongst other things. Mentions something about training and martial arts and you fight to keep a straight face as it turns out you were also right about investing in shares and the stock market.

Gaming, however, is what you latch on to.

"Cute. I bet I could kick your ass."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yes."

And this is how you ended up at 4am on a school night, playing Tekken with your new classmate and getting your ass kicked.

"One more!" You screech down the mic, after the KO sign appears on screen, mumbling something about cheating and how if you can time this combo just right-

There's a huff of laughter coming through your tinny headphones and an amused "Fine."

.

.

Dark circles under your eyes grow. It's been a week of straight losses.

You blame the sleep deprivation on Gun Park, though really you have your own stubbornness to blame.

He never tends to say much during the gaming sessions apart from the odd expletive and you rant enough after each of your defeats for the both of you.

Sometimes this will earn you a chuckle and he will snidely add that you asked for this, you were the one who was supposed to kick his ass. This would piss you off enough for another game or three in the hopes of defeating him and getting to gloat.

Which unfortunately has not happened yet.

With a sigh, you hope your camera quality this morning is bad enough and pixelated enough that your poor sleep habits don't show.

You scan over your classmates, the few that have their camera turned on and find him.

Gun looks completely fine. He looks completely fine in what must be 4k and ugh, you scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

You keep an eye on him through the class. Observe how he's usually paying rapt attention, scribbling and typing up notes every now and then.

It's impressive how studious he is.

In comparison, you're daydreaming. Thinking about lunch, other combos or characters to play to counter his own when you catch on to the back end of a sentence as your teacher mentions ‘this’ is something to pay attention to as it will be on the pop quiz.

Huh? You blink a couple times. What is ‘this’? Unfortunately she swiftly moves onto another topic.

You type out a direct message to the only person you know.

You: I missed that, what did she just say?

Gun: You should have been paying attention.

You: Fuck you man!

You see his eyes dip to the bottom of the camera screen, briefly moving as he presumably reads your message.

He smirks.

That night he kicks your ass again.

Then as consolation, reveals what will be on the pop quiz.

.

.

If Gun looked like that in 4k, nothing could prepare you for how he looked in real life.

You're setting up your laptop and notepad in the classroom, the first actual in-person session, when someone takes a seat next to you.

Initially you feel a surge of irritation that they could have sat anywhere else and chose to sit next to you, then you look at the offender and-

Hold on.

You double, triple-take-

Is that?

It must be.

Shit.

It's fucking Gun Park.

You don't entirely regret your initial comments on his looks because this guy definitely does not look 20 but goddamn he looks-

He chooses that moment, when your jaw is on the floor, to turn to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement.

"Y/N."

"H-hi." You manage, and even to your ears it sounds like a simpering fool.

He must have thought so too if the quirk of his lips is anything to go by.

The cherry on top is that you expected this guy to smell like stale smoke, instead all you get is fresh laundry and something faintly dark and heady like leather and cedarwood.

Fuck.

Control yourself, a disapproving voice in your head says. Even that sounds vaguely like Gun.

It does nothing to stop your wandering gaze, peering at him in your periphery when you think he's not looking.

After you have taken your chance to not so discreetly run your eyes up and down his form, the only thing that makes you feel better is his hair. Because yeah he might be hot, but holy shit that must be a gallon of hair gel in there.

.

.

The other thing, as it turns out, that makes you feel a lot better is that he doodles.

It’s utterly charming.

Someone like Gun Park doesn't look like he doodles, but in between lines of his chicken scratch (seriously, who can even read that), there's little stick figures.

Maybe all the time you thought he was being studious he was just drawing-

Wait. You squint at the picture.

Is this guy for real?

"Are they fucking?" You whisper, using your pen to point at the page.

He doesn't answer straight away. There's a moment of surprise as he reacts like this is another secret of his he has unwittingly let you in on before his nostril flares and his eyes narrow and you grin in response.

Your grin grows when he grits out an answer. "No. Fighting."

He doesn't call you a dumbass but you can hear it loud and clear tacked on at the end.

"Whatever, pervert." You counter. You guess if you squint even harder then you suppose they could be fighting. Although the way one is lying on top of another is very suggestive. You don't hesitate to point that out to him.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

Even without a seating plan, one forms.

Places taken by chance on the first day becomes a regular arrangement.

You exchange a few words with your classmates, familiarise yourself somewhat with their names and faces. Pieces of their backstory, why they're here studying for a GED but take your spot next to Gun regardless.

No one really talks to him, you've heard them saying he's menacing and intimidating. Yet when your first encounter of him was mistaking him as someone about to hit mid life crisis, how intimidating can he really be.

Besides, he still doodles his lewd figures that he insists are not in any way shape or form comprising sexual positions. So no, you don't find him intimidating at all.

.

.

Gun, as you have come to know, is a man of few words. He is also unsurprisingly not great at literature.

What you don't yet know is he likes to say what he means and mean what he says. His patience only extends to The Art of War, so all the flowery prose and poetry only serves to irritate him.

If Gun glared at you the way he's currently glaring at the textbook, you think you may either burst into tears or burst into flames.

Luckily you do neither of those things but you do take pity on him. Leaning over, you ask him quietly if he needs help.

He doesn't respond but the pen he's clutching in his right hand snaps in half.

Alright then.

Half an hour later, when the class empties out you ask Gun to follow you to the library.

He hesitates, and you add "if you've got time" to give him an out. In the end he doesn't take it and trudges obediently after you.

You very quickly learn that he really doesn't like literature. You're explaining and working him through the analysis and also mildly offended at the bored look on his face.

"This is a waste of time," he interjects and there's a sullen undercurrent to his words.

"Just memorise the analysis then." Exasperation tinges your tone, "That's all you need to do to pass."

He arches a brow at your words.

"They're testing your memory. So just remember what our teacher says."

There's an angry air of resignation as Gun nods, and you slide your notes over for him to copy.

.

.

Not long after, you have your first minor evaluation on the literature material.

You notice during the test that while the vein in Gun’s temple is prominent and he’s clutching his (new) pen tighter, there’s barely any pause as he fills in the answers.

A few days later, the graded papers are handed back. There's a sigh of relief from Gun.

He gives you a smile, small and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corner.

"You owe me one," you tell him jokingly though he takes it to heart and gives you a stern nod.

.

.

Gun repays his debt, with a coffee.

He places the paper cup on the desk in front of you. Logo of the coffee house to the side but still visible. It's new, expensive, and there’s regular lines around the block.

Of course it would be from there.

The issue is, who repays a debt with an espresso. He didn’t even ask for your drink of choice!

"Thanks for this thimble of coffee," you remark as Gun sniffs in distaste at your comment, placing his own matching cup in front of him and saying something about how it's the best untainted way to drink it.

Of course he would also be a coffee snob.

You tell him you usually like it with a bit more cream and a lot more sugar and he mutters that you sound like Goo.

You think that's an insult.

"Well, at least Goo has good taste," you snipe back with a grin.

Gun closes his eyes and counts to ten.

.

.

You: Are you doodling or actually writing notes?

You: Cos on camera you look very studious but I’ve seen your notepad

Gun: None of your business

You: Still drawing your disgusting pornographic stick men then

Gun: They are not-

Gun: Whatever

.

.

You: Ok, maybe that espresso wasn’t terrible

Gun: I know

You: Who’s Goo anyway?

Gun: …

Gun: No-one

You: Suuuure

.

.

You: Tekken tonight?

Gun: Aren’t you tired of getting your ass kicked?

You: >:(

.

.

You: Do you wanna go over the new lit material in the library this week?

Gun: Ok

.

.

Gun: Thanks for your help

You: :) 

.

.

Gun: You’re tired. You should game less.

You: Spoken like a coward!

Gun: Dumbass

You: Hey!!

.

.

Gun: I’ll bring you an espresso tomorrow. You need it.

You: Does it have to be an espresso?

Gun: Yes

You: …Thanks

.

.

To anyone else, the figure standing in the doorway is just smoking. To you, it suspiciously looks like they’re waiting.

It's not a crime. Gun Park can wait for whatever or whoever he wants.

What really throws you off is his smoking. You've seen him casually take one single drag before throwing the whole cigarette away. Even to you, it seems like a waste.

However, this time he smokes one all the way to the filter before stubbing it out. Then does the same to a second, and third.

Strange, very strange.

You approach him. Taking gentle steps, in case he might get spooked and bolt which is really a ridiculous notion for someone like him. Nevertheless, you keep your footsteps light, yourself clearly in view and you wander over to him.

"Hey," you say, with a somewhat forced smile. He doesn't acknowledge your greeting apart from a brief nod.

"... Everything ok?"

It's a perfectly normal question to ask but a vastly bizarre one for Gun. He doesn't look like the type of person where people casually enquire about his well being.

He must have thought so too if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

In response, he stubs out his cigarette (his fourth!) then asks, stilted and stiffly, if you want to come back to his for a game of Tekken.

At least that's what you interpret as he seems to be crazy cryptic.

"Are you interested in Tekken?"

"...Yes." You wonder what on earth this question is because did you hallucinate all those games you played together?

"Then meet me. After class." 

"Where? Here?"

"No. At mine."

"Where's that?"

"..."

He gives you another look, as if you're the one trying to coax a secret out of him despite him offering.

Gun dips forward, murmurs quietly into your ear his address and some vague directions like it's highly confidential information.

You nod along, thinking what is with this guy. 

.

.

So firstly, what the fuck.

Then secondly, what the fuck.

Don't think you hadn't noticed the designer brands Gun wears. If they're fakes, they're very convincing fakes. But you're almost certain they have got to be counterfeit when he brought you over to a junkyard claiming this is where he lives.

You've seen films like this. Granted, it's less in a junkyard and more in the middle of nowhere in America where college kids meet their gruesome ends in fantastical ways.

You never thought this would happen to you. You have sorely miscalculated. 

Is this Gun Park (if that even is his real name) going to butcher you and leave your body on top of a pile of scrap metal in the corner?

Instead of a night of gaming where you’re the one KO-ing him, he’s actually the one that’s going to chase you around wearing a mask and wielding a knife or axe?

"You’re here. Come in," Gun says, opening his front door just as your inner monologue begins to truly spiral out of control and you're considering doing a runner.

"Eh?" You grunt like an idiot, not noticing when the shack appeared nor when you stepped onto his porch, or the side eyes Gun had been giving you.

He gives you another look, likely regretting inviting you at all, and leaves the door ajar for you to either enter or turn back and go home.

.

.

"This is... nice," you lie, through the skin of your teeth.

Gun sees cleanly through your white lie and exhales a huff of amusement.

It's sparse. Peeks of luxury here and there - the extensive PC gaming rig, the entertainment system and consoles, to name a few.

Apart from that, it's barely a home.

"Take a seat." He offers, and it sounds more like an order. Obediently you sit on his sofa, feeling very much a guest.

"You're not in danger," he says, bemused at how awkward you are in his domain, how tense you hold yourself.

'That's exactly what a killer would say,' you think and when you hear a low chuckle, you realise that you said it aloud.

"Don't worry," Gun reassures and it doesn’t really help before he strides off to somewhere in his house and leaves you sitting alone.

He returns back minutes later as you’re in the middle of admiring his entertainment set up and going through his vinyl collection (because obviously someone like Gun has vinyls) with a coffee for you that looks much more milky and to your taste than the usual ones he offers. 

“Thanks.” you take your drink and return back to your seat.

Taking the first sip, you finally manage to relax. Sinking into a sofa that is much more comfortable than at first glance and you take in your surroundings a bit more.

Sort of. You actually take in Gun Park more. 

He’s casual, in a way you have never seen or even considered. Dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair floppy and the only styling is done with his hands running through his hair now and then to keep it back.

Even during the online classes, he is usually dressed up in an open collared shirt.

If you thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to now. There’s an air of domesticity, the drink he made for you cradled in your hands, and the distinct feeling that not many people have had the luxury to see Gun in his natural habitat, so intimate and vulnerable.

You wonder if this is how he looks all those nights you’ve been gaming together.

You catch his eyes, having been caught checking him out and he raises his eyebrows at your blatant staring. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks as he chuckles into his own espresso and takes a sip.

.

.

"Holy shit, I won!"

You're familiar with the KO screen. What you're not familiar with is being on the side of victory. You're usually a hair trigger away from rage quitting, from throwing a tantrum down the mic.

Finally. All your hard work has paid off. Time spent thinking of combos, attacks and defences (which would have been better spent studying) is coming to fruition.

You peer over to Gun, expect the controller he is clutching to maybe have been crushed into pieces with his freakish strength. Expected nothing except for a vein throbbing on his temple.

What you do find is-

Gun looking at you, fondness in his eyes. He's taking in your grin, letting your gloating slide.

Doesn't do more than roll his eyes when you perform a victory dance of sorts around him.

And when you get in his face to tell him that you're the winner, you're the best-

(More words are on the tip of your tongue but your gaze drops to his lip, drawn to the small smile he wears.

It sinks in.

The patience he has, the attention he gives, the way he has opened his home to you.

From the very first meeting, the even-handed way he has dealt with your insults, entertained you to the early hours of the morning on Tekken.)

Gun reaches out, tugs your hand and pulls you into his lap and agrees.

"Yes. The best."

You think it's a lie, an embellishment.

But the way he holds you - tender and precious, and the way he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours - soft, like you might break - can't be anything else but the whole truth.

(Update! Part 2 here!)

[shomixremix]

THE ALTAR OF ADORATION ♥︎

recently i've been getting more and more into my zhongli brainrot (even though he's been one of my fav characters since forever lol) so here you all go!!

oh also tysm for over 1k notes, 100+ reblogs and 50 new followers!! you guys are the best <3 i really didn't expect that kind of support on my last post - turns out everyone likes some dragon men!! so i decided to write some more, here you lovelies go!!

tags: Zhongli, female! reader, dragon! zhongli, religious themes, sacrificial offering, smut, fluff, mating, breeding, creampie, monsterfucking

-> you have been chosen as a sacrifice to the great geo lord rex lapis, during a period where everyone believed he was mad at mortals. scared for your life and trembling, you now realize there was another problem troubling lord morax.

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

great lord rex lapis roamed the earths and heavens for centuries, ruling the land of geo and its people through the thick and thin. they were very devoted followers, obeying his every wish.

however, the height of his reign has long passed, and people simply stopped caring about their archon. until recently.

crops began to wither, mines dried out, contracts were getting broken left and right - rex lapis has had enough of their careless behavior. his people have disappointed him, and this was a sign of his fury. if something wasn't to change, he would abandon them completely.

the people of liyue decided to recommit to their religion, prepared to offer the geo lord a sacrifice of any kind, just so he'd once again bless them. you, even though born in a time where people lost their respect for the geo lord, have always been a devoted follower, praying to him each day and leaving flowers and beautiful crystals under his statue of the seven.

already being a believer of the geo archon, you were chosen as the ceremonial sacrifice.

while nobody knew where rex lapis resided, the site of the ceremony was chosen to be on mt. hulao. as the crowds of people gathered from all over liyue around the lake on the top of the mountain, you stood in front of them, shaking. while you were a follower of morax, you didn't feel it was right to die for the sins of your people.

"it's time to pay our sacrifise!" yelled one of the townsfolk, holding your wrist in an iron grip as he he slit your palm with a sharp knife. you screamed out in pain as maroon blood dripped down your hand. the man who slit your hand placed a valuable cor lapis stone in it, watching as the orange stone quickly became stained with your red blood.

you held your breath as they placed you on the highest point of the mountain and pushed you off, chanting morax's name over and over.

falling seemed to last centuries, even though it was just seconds. you waited and waited for your body to hit the ground, tightening your hold on the cor lapis and in your head praying:

"rex lapis, if you're here, if you hear my prayer, please, i beg you, save me!"

suddenly, your feel onto something, tightly closing your eyes. was this... death?

you open your eyes and realize this wasn't any kind of afterlife - in fact, you were very much still alive, spread on top of the back of a large dragon. your mortality was confirmed by the sharp pain you still felt in your left hand.

"..r-rex l-lapis..?"

the dragon stayed quiet as you clutched his mane, holding on to him for dear life. he only let you get down once you were inside a large cave, seeming like it wasn't a part of the human world - no, this had to be an adepti realm.

an uneducated mortal maybe wouldn't be certain just who was standing between them, but you knew oh so very well. his goldenish brown scales, the big, honey-colored eyes and the tail which ended in a mosaic of clouds all gave him away. standing before you was the geo archon, the adeptus who saved your life even though you were a peace offering.

he stayed quiet, removing you from his back like it was nothing and moving to a completely different side of the cave, laying down on the cold ground with his back turned to you.

he was in no mood to talk, you knew, but you had to thank him for saving your life.

"lord morax..?"

he grumbled in response, steam coming out of his large nostrils.

"i cinserely thank you for saving my life... i was supposed to be a mere sacrifise, yet you still showed me mercy.. i.. just, thank you so much.."

the second the word "sacrifise" leaves your lips rex lapis perks up, turning to you with frantic eyes. he grabs your hand to inspect the still slightly bleeding cut, tearing a piece of your skirt to wrap around your wound as a bandage. morax tightly ties it, then quickly moves from you.

"it should stop the bleeding," he grumbled low, never turning to look at you, almost as if he was completely uninterested, "i will bring you to the villege tomorrow, little mortal. now sleep. your body needs rest"

how could you rest after such a traumatic experience? after almost having your life, all your hopes and dreams, unfairly thorn from you?

"no, i.. i can't return! they will all know that i failed, that i wasn't the sacrifise they all needed to save liyue from your punishment!"

morax huffs, his tail hitting the ground with a loud thump.

"then you can tell them all that i do not wish for a sacrifise. spilling innocent human blood is not only unecessary but also completely repulsive to me."

your eyes widen as he says this, your body instinctively moving a little closer to him: "you.. do not wish for a sacrifise, my lord? then how should we repay you for our sins? how can we ever make you forgive us for losing our faith in you..?"

rex lapis growls lowly, his body tightening like he was in some kind of discomfort or pain.

"the lack of my blessing isn't for the reasons your kind believes," he growled, "i'm not upset at you humans. now sleep." you knew well that that was an order, and an order coming from an archon must always be obeyed. yet, you didn't, scooting closer to him.

"the only thing to be upset about is that they sent you as the offering. how unfair it is to send one of my most devoted followers to die for my amusement.."

you hold your breath, afraid that he was actually considering killing you.

"i've recieved all the little treasures you leave out for me and have heard your every word. you're a persistant little one, aren't you?" even though you couldn't see him, you could feel the smirk on his face.

the knowledge that he has seen and heard how you worship him makes your heart thump loudly in your chest, a pool of pride and flusterness swirling in your belly.

suddenly, morax smells the air sharply, then started writhing on the ground in pain, cursing out a deep yet broken"fuck..!".

"are you in pain, my lord? can i do something to help?" you ask eagerly, wishing to help your saviour.

"move away!" he roared, steam coming out of his mouth. "go to sleep and stop talking to me when i ask, mortal!"

you frigtenedly to as told, laying down on the ground and turning away from him, squeezing your eyes shut. suddenly, you hear little muffled whines and cries coming from him, which immediately makes you look at him again.

his large head is completely flushed red, his lungs heaving up and down quickly. he panted out short little puffs of air, his eyes bloodshot ready and his body trembling slightly. you didn't know what was wrong with him, he acted like some kind of a wild animal in a rut-

"lord morax, are you.. in a rut..?" it was a shameful question to ask the archon, yet your curiosity got the better of you.

he huffed out, more and more in pain with every passing minute. "i haven't... hah... i haven't been in centuries... it's inevitable i go through it every couple of hundred years..."

morax groans, visibly in a lot of discomfort.

"and of course that when i'm in a rut they just have to send me a gorgeous woman as a sacrifice to worsen my state..."

your cheeks darken as he murmurs this, blood rushing to your head.

"how do i worsen your state..?"

"your arousal" he rasps, "i can smell it, little mortal. i can smell you, and it's torture. it pains every muscle in my body to resist you, but i have to; it's my duty"

your heart aches at his words.

"i can help" you breathe, unsure what you were even offering. his sharp eyes turn to you, piercing you with his gaze.

"no", his answer is short but stern, "i could kill you, i could harm you and leave you not remembering your own name. i cannot do that to my most devoted follower. not to you, y/n"

your heart stops, dropping to your feet.

"how do you know my name...?"

he groans as he explains: "i often wander around the mortal world in my human form, to feel closer to your kind... i have met you a couple of times during your prayer at the statue of the seven. i cannot use your pure body to breed when i know how much respect and hope you have in me. it would be betrayal to you, and you would never see me, nor my human form, the same"

"it pains me to see my archon in pain" you whisper as you get closer to the large dragon, your stomach stirring. you gently touch the scales down his back and feel how he shivers under your touches.

"i want... i want to help you, if i can... i want to help you through this.. you have helped me through the darkest points in my life, and even though i don't know who your human form is, i have a feeling i'm close to you even then... i just desire to help you, lord morax..."

"do you even understand what kind of help i need? what i will do to you if you allow me?"

you smile, running your hands through his shiny mane.

"yes, i understand. use me however you like, my lord."

his self control snaps, big paws pinning you down on the ground. he's panting like a dog as he nuzzles his head against your neck, tearing the rest of your skirt off. only left in a pair of underwear and a thin shirt, you tremble under the archon's touches.

"hm.. such a beautiful mortal..." he hums as he tears the rest of your cloth from your body, leaving you completely bare. you try to cover yourself with your arms, yet morax grabs them and pins them by your sides.

his large mouth comes in contact with your skin, licking, kissing and biting as he moved down. morax grazes your skin with his teeth, never biting down hard enough to draw blood from your veins. you had already done your sacrifice, more blood wasn't needed. his tounge moves from your neck to your exposed breast, swirling around your hard nipples, earning a little whimper from you.

then, he moves even lower, nipping at your stomach. he forces your tighs apart, burying his large head to your folds and forcing you to hold on to him by his horns. rex lapis tastes you eagerly, lapping up any slick your body oh so willingly gave him. you moaned and whined as he fucked you with his tounge, making you come almost instantly.

"ohhhh!! m-morax~ ahh..." you moan as he helps you through it, sharply tugging on your sensitive clit with his sharp teeth, always careful not to hurt you.

"celestia" he sighs into your slick folds, earning a tremble from you. "you taste devine, my dear. i haven't enjoyed such a sweet taste in centuries"

he shows you no mercy and continues to eat you out as if you were his last meal, one paw holding down your wrists and the other secured on your hips, not allowing you to move at all. after about three delicious highs he pulls from your frail body with his tounge, you start begging for the real thing. you knew his rut wouldn't be over unless he fucked you, and you were kinda hoping this torterous foreplay would be over soon...

"m-morax... please.." you whimper, squeezing your legs around his snout. he grumbles low, giving one final lick to your greedy pussy.

"i have to loosen you as much as possible so you could even try to take me. preperations can take up to days."

your eyes open wide and your mouth partens. you couldn't wait days to get him to fuck you, and you certainly didn't know how you'd survive days worth of eating out!

"but i cannot wait that long" he smirks, rubbing your outter tighs and ass. in one swift motion he flips you over so you were on your knees, face down and ass up. you feel his length rubbing up on you; even though you couldn't see him, your eyes went wide in shock. you felt how impossibly large he was, both in size and girth, almost being comparable to your legs.

but another thing surprises you - the head of his cock is poking at your tight entrance, but another thing is poking at your ass! you turn your head in shock, and he reassures you.

"i am different than a mortal, my dear"

you let out a loud scream of his name as he harshly thrusts both of his heavy cocks into you. he thrusts as far as he can, entering your cushy womb from how big he is and almost ripping your ass apart. you scream and cry and writhe yet he doesn't budge, letting you get used to him inside you for a few moments before he starts thrusting.

he starts moving without a warning, dragging you back on his cocks. you turn into a sobbing mess as each one of his thrusts so pleasantly tease your g-spot, bullying your tight walls.

"ahh.. ahhh! mphhh! mmphshs! m- mor... ah! ohhh!"

you cry and cry, not even knowing your own name out of so much pleasure. you feel like your holes are completely loose and yet, clamping down on him greedily. he tugs your head back by your hair, snuggling his nuzzle in your neck so you'd hear him better.

"shh, don't cry... you've asked me for this, little mortal. you asked to be fucked like this, hm? look at you, so pretty like this. so no need to cry, you will be fine. i allow you as much pleasure as you need. "

you couldn't stop yourself from coming, squirting your juices all over his cock. he watches this in amusement, fucking into you harder and faster. in one moment, he threw his head back in pleasure, making a loud roar.

"fuck, y/n..." he groaned as you hiccupped your sobs, finally giving a harsh, last thrust and stilling inside. you felt an impossible amount of warmth spread through your body as he filled you with seed, spilling a wave after wave of cum in your womb. he had filled you so much that it spilled from you, leaving you entirely breathless.

as soon as he's done he pulls out, letting you fall to the floor. he picks up your limp body, curling himself around you and cuddling you close.

"it's alright, my dear... you did perfect. you were just devine, and you've felt better than anything i've ever felt in all my years. rest, now. i will take care of the rest tomorrow."

your head hazy, your mind fuzzy with pleasure and your eyes heavy, you lay curled against him and finally get the much needed sleep.

the next morning, you wake up with a human, veined arm around your bare waist.

"there you are... you are too adorable in your sleep" a deep voice said from behind you, and you turned around, expecting to see the geo archon.

yet, you were faced with a man you knew all to well - the man you had deep feelings for ever since he first arrived in liyue harbour.

"mr. zhongli?!"

he hums out a laugh, tightening his hold on you.

"yes, if i'm correct, we've met in my human form a couple of times?"

you blush deeply, reminiscing on the few blissful times you talked to him. he was a very handsome, successful young man, with great wisdom and a clever mind - and you admired him very much, so much that you couldn't help but fall in love.

"you look dissapointed... are you not fond of me after finding out who i am?"

he asks, his gaze softening and looking almost saddened. you quickly reassure him:

"no, no, i'm not dissapointed! more like stunned.." you blush and he notices, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers.

"oh? why is that? i have always assumed we had a fairly good relationship, y/n. you have always been so nice to me"

"i.. i've had feelings for you for quite a while..." you say shyly, almost embarassed of the fact.

his lips curl into a genuinely happy smile, his arms pressing you closer to his bare chest.

"then everything turned out alright"

you smile, but everything suddenly dawns on you - that zhongli seemed to be okay with your feelings for him, that you almost died yesterday as a sacrifice, that zhongli is morax and most importantly, that oh, you fucked the geo archon, in his dragon form no less!

"am i pregnant now..?" you ask quietly, reminded that the act of a rut is mainly to breed and create off-spring. zhongli laughs at your question, leaving a quick peck on your forehead.

"no, most likely not. but you will be, in a few hundred years, once i have to go through this all over again" you almost choke on your own spit as he says this.

"but... i won't be alive in a few hundred years... you will have to find another to help you through this.."

as soon as you mention him sleeping with another woman his face turns into one of disgust, his strong arms gathering your entire body in his hold.

"as my mate, you will live as long as i do, and i'm immortal, my dear."

"your mate?!"

"yes. by helping me through my rut, you have become my mate. of course, only if that's what you wish" he says, pressing a loving kiss to your eyelid. "and do not worry, my dear, dragons mate for life"

he almost purrs into your warm skin, making a referance to what you said about him sleeping with another woman.

"...being your mate.." you sigh, cuddling into his chest.

"it's like what you humans call "relationship" except a stronger bond, sort of an unbreakable contract between the two of us. a forever promise of care, love and loyalty."

"i think i would like that" you humm into his chest, "but, let's take it a little slow?"

he kisses you full of warmth, his hands soothing your sides.

"of course, my dear. i will take you on a proper date when we get back. for now, just lay there and let me thank you properly for your help last evening..." he sighs as he kisses your shoulder over and over again.

yesterday at this time of day you were supposed to be nothing but a sacrifice to the geo lord, and now here you were, getting your body worshiped by him, forever safe and secure in his arms as his mate.

[raphaelsrightarm]

Could we get a little something on the spicy side, maybe Raph just taking care of himself during a particularly annoying mating season, hes yearling after reader (who’s his bestie) and he’s feels all types of wrong but the more he does it, the worse (all too real) his desires get for him.

Watch

Ok so like usual this one got away from me, I played a bit further into the "all too real" than I had intended, I hope you enjoy!

Words: 1362

Warning: NSWF 18+, implied attraction between characters

Three weeks. 

The pulsing ache that burrowed inside of him would leave after three weeks. The tension in his muscles would slip away, his irritability would return to its normal state, and life would resume as normal. Or as normal as it ever was. 

Raphael usually stuck to his weight set for hours at a time before returning to his room to attempt to ease the stiffness that built up after a single day. That had become his routine whenever this time of year came around, and though he knew it was going to be a reoccurring thing, he dreaded it every time the weather started to warm. 

Yet something new has happened since last year. Something that had brought a new complication into this tortuous few weeks. You.

They had met you by accident, and you remaining so close to them hadn’t been part of the plan either. Some days Raph felt so grateful that such a thing happened to them that it overwhelmed him, and he usually had to distract himself for a bit until the fullness inside his chest slipped away.

Other days, he cursed the world for it. You had opened a door inside him that he had locked for years. The feelings that he never thought he would have to deal with in his lifetime, now being something that trailed behind him closer than his own shadow.

He liked to believe he might be haunting you the same way. There were moments between the two of you that he labeled as your close calls. Times when you had brushed against him, times when you grabbed his arm while laughing and your hand lingered on his skin, thumb brushing briefly before leaving. Times that left him wondering if this was something more or if he was creating something new entirely. 

Now, when he felt the beginning signs of springtime, he knew it was going to be worse. The thoughts that floated back to you used to be mostly harmless, now they dug into him like blades. 

A few weeks ago, he had told you some bullshit excuse to keep you out of the lair while they were able to push through the weeks of unbearable horniness. He felt bad lying to you, but he felt it might be easier than to remind you of just how unhuman he was. 

On one of the first days, he abused his punching bag until the chain broke. He lifted weights until his limbs burned, waiting until just before the sun set to touch himself. 

When that time came around, he shut himself in his room. He slowly undressed, then lounged back on his bed. With his eyes shut, he slipped into the easy motions he had gone on many times before. 

His cock was already hard just by the thought of what he was about to do. He wrapped his hand around it, his head falling back just from the feeling that provided. 

He stroked himself slowly at first, squeezing his hand around the head to use his precum as lube. 

That was when his mind strayed to you, and though he feared it would be unavoidable, it still made him feel like he was crossing a line he could never come back across. He had imagined being with you, of course, he craved to know what your legs would feel like slung over his shoulders. He wanted to know what you sounded like when you came, what you tasted like.

But something felt different about this. His hand moved faster as he imagined being inside of you. Your face buried in a pillow, muffling your cries for him to fuck you harder. He imagined cumming inside of you. How it would spill out of you when he pulled out, how full you would be of him. 

He thought of your voice, smooth and beautiful. Your moans would be just as sweet, full of lust and pleads. He thought of your smell, something that managed to remain anywhere you touched just to taunt him. He could imagine it now, the silky aroma that drifted off of your skin. It felt so vivid to him now, so close to him it drove him crazy. 

He was so close now it was nearly unbearable. His stomach had tightened, a cord stretching further and further. He heard your voice saying his name, and he pushed himself further into the fantasy of you touching him, of you yearning to see him cum, and he whispered your name in return. 

Through his closed eyes, he noticed the room brighten a bit. When he lifted his head, his first sight was you. At first he thought he had imagined you there, eyes wide as you watched him. Reality sank in shortly after, and he jerked to sit up.  

He blurted your name out in a panic.“What are you doing here?” He grabbed his pants off the floor and brought them over his lap. His blood roared in his ears as he waited for you to respond, to do anything but stand there. It was horrible of him, but the sight of you made his cock twitch beneath his clothes, reminding him of the visions he’d seen, how close he was just moments ago.   

You were silent for a moment, before stepping inside his room, and, to his complete shock, closing the door behind you, pressing your back against it. 

“What are you…” His words trailed off, breaths heaving. You clasped your hands together, but not before he noticed a slight tremor.

“You said my name. I heard you.” Your voice was quiet, and though you tried hiding it, he could tell you were nervous. “Were you thinking about me?” 

 Raph was silent, eyes wide. But you looked at him, waiting. After a moment, he nodded, still unsure if he had imagined you there at all. 

“Can I watch?” 

His heart nearly stopped, his body felt like it turned into clouds. He answered you by slowly taking the pants from his lap. You moved carefully, not taking your eyes off of him, and sat in the beanbag chair against the wall across from him. 

He began stroking himself again, moving slow until he felt himself fall back into the motions. He found the rhythm he enjoyed, squeezing his fist at the head. At first he avoided looking at you, but he could feel you watching him. 

He opened his eyes to see you leaning further back, your legs spread slightly, hands gripping your knees. He desperately wished he could know what you were thinking, but the rich smell of your arousal reached him from across the room, answering most of his questions for him. 

It pushed him further, the fact that he could get you like this without even touching you. That just seeing him like this had gotten you wet. His hand began moving faster, he could hear you lean forward. 

“Were you thinking about me touching you like that?” 

A chuckle escaped him. “‘Was thinking about a lot more than that.”

“What else?”

“Fuck,” He put more pressure around his cock, feeling flares shoot down his legs. He saw the muscles in your legs clench, hands tightening into fists. “Thought about having you any way I want. Makin’ you say my name while I fuck you. Makin’ you cum.” He let out a sharp breath. He was almost there, the cord nearly snapping inside him. “I’d have you all to myself. Nobody else would ever fuckin’ touch you. 

You slid your hand up your thigh, your voice a dreamy whisper. “Raph,” 

Fuck.

His head fell back as he came. Ropes of cum landing across the back of his hand. The quickened rise and fall of his chest slowly began to settle

He wasn’t sure what was going to happen after today, but at the moment, with his brain clouded by the mix of his  afterglow and his own instincts, as well as the undeniable need radiating off of you, he couldn’t care less. 

“Come here,” His voice was low, eyes so intensely focused on you. 

Without hesitation, you obediently stood, taking a step toward him.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen act with their bookworm s/o

requested by my dearest 🍒 anon!

masterlist

seungcheol

just. buys you everything you want. bookmarks, books, book signing tickets, bookshelves, hell he'll even build you your own library to house your books if that's what you want. he'd buy u anything you want anyway tbh, but he knows how much you love reading so his gift-giving tendencies have shifted towards the side of fully letting you indulge in your hobbies. what can he say? he likes seeing you happy. 

jeonghan

sometimes he'll just sit there and watch you read bc he thinks that you're just really cute. likes to watch all the different facial expressions you make whilst you're reading through different passages, and laughs when you give horrified gasps whenever the characters make terrible choices. gets bored whilst listening to you explain the plot, but Loves when you explain the drama to him like you're teenage girls gossiping over the latest drama

joshua

doesn't know how you have the time or patience to just sit there reading words for hours, but he supports your hobby for sure. sometimes when you're feeling down, he'll take you to the nearest bookstore and buys every single book you so much as hint at having an interest in. buys you handbags that are big enough for books to fit inside so when you two go out with others, you can bring ur emotional support book for when things get too boring 🫡

junhui

goes “ooh what are u reading???” when he catches you holding a new book. you tell him the title and the genre, but as soon as you begin explaining the plot, his eyes are glazing over and he's already clocked out of the conversation. he tries his best to listen, he really does!!! but he supposes it just isn't for him :(( watches the movie adaptations w you if there is one tho and let's you rant about the deviations the directors made from the novel

hoshi

gets insanelyyyy jealous when you find a new fictional character to fixate and fawn over bc like, hello???? your boyfriend is literally right here????? why are you crying over some character that doesn't exist????? but then you argue that you put up with his tiger agenda so he can at least put up with this. doesn't like reading the books, but loves you explaining it aloud to him, hand gestures and all. he thinks it's really cute. 

wonwoo

entertains all your theories about the lore and character backstories of the novels you've been reading lately. you could look like that one guy in the corkboard meme with the red string and he'll just smile indulgently and ask you to tell him more. he's bought you about 70% of all the books you own, and he's not stopping any time soon. he'll stop when you run out of books to read, probably. and by the looks of it, that's not happening any time soon.

woozi

absolutely loves all those fantasy/ dystopian kinds of books the most. at first he was like “:// no thanks i have work” when you first asked him to read some books but now he likes reading them in his free time bc he gets to discuss lore with you in the evenings. likes watching the movie adaptations if they exist, bc then you both get to either applaud the accurate adaptation or complain loudly at the horrible inaccuracies that distort the plot beyond repair

minghao

forces you to take rest breaks every now and then when you're going on a whole reading binge bc it is Not good for your eyesight okay and he worries about you >:((( brews theeee best tea of all time for u and he'll sit down next to you in bed with his own book as you both read throughout the rest of the day. those are the best kinds of days, tbh. nothing gets better than sitting next to the person you love most and doing the thing you love most too

mingyu

he's the type to watch you with soppy eyes as you're reading your book beside him in bed. raises an eyebrow at you fondly when you finally finished, the “how was it?” clear in his eyes, and he just laughs delightedly when you simply explode with all the pent-up emotions as you rant to him about the ending and all the drama and tension that went on in the lead-up to it. loves that you're so passionate about your books. thinks it's super endearing. 

dokyeom

asks for book recs every. single. month. then adds them to his list before promptly forgetting about them and asks for recs again. thinks that everything you read sounds like theee most interesting thing in the world which is why he's always asking for the titles, but he's just always so busy you know?? he did somehow actually read ‘the song of achilles’ bc of your rec, however, and cried over it for 2 days straight

seungkwan

likes to have, like. a mini book club between the two of you where you both read the same book bc then he gets to fully understand your rants and also bc he actually gets kind of invested??? his favourite genres are those modern slice-of-life ones bc then he gets to trash talk with you about all the bad decisions the characters are making in their lives

vernon

you read books, he plays games. the both of you can sit together in complete silence and be utterly content, and the arrangement works for you both. (seungkwan thinks you guys are crazy for just being able to sit there with your respective hobbies and Not Talk.) he bought you a kindle for christmas which turned out to be the best present ever bc now you never go anywhere without it. you thank him for it at least 3 times a day. 

chan

thinks your love of books is one of your biggest charms. he met you on the train where he made the mistake of asking what book you were reading and ended up sitting through a 25 minute explanation and missing his stop, but it was okay bc he liked hearing you talk and ended the day with your number in his phone, so he counted it as a win. definitely a win in his opinion bc now he gets to listen to your book explanations as your boyfriend <3

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