#i have normal thoughts and feelings about this game

[pboogerswbb]

DON'T KNOW HOW

Paige Bueckers x reader In which Paige is high off a great game and wants to celebrate by fucking you in her jersey. Warnings: sexual content (SMUT, FILTHY FR BEWARNED), strap, slight humiliation, breeding kink, language, etc etc Wordcount: 4K A/C: this is my 1K followers surprise for y'all! YOU FINALLY GET STRAP ik you guys been begging for it (freaks). anyway thank you so much for all of you for supporting me and reading what i write, i appreciate it a lot more than you guys even know. never thought i'd have 1k followers on here so tysm, ily all <3 now go have some fun reading (ok especially to my moots ilysm, i am so fucking happy i met all of you i love each and every single one of you so bad and i always always always got your back, ty for being the best people in the world)

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���And it’s good, another three for Bueckers.”

“She's on fire. Been hitting those all night and making it look effortless too.”

“Seventh three of the night wow.”

The entire evening Paige had been like a sniper, shots going in with even more ease than normal. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her blonde ponytail, the wide shoulders nearly too big for the navy Uconn jersey, glistening with sweat as the fourth quarter comes to an end. 31 points. You couldn’t be prouder to call her your girlfriend.

The crowd stands up, you jumping up and down and clapping with them, the white jersey tucked into your bra to crop it, proudly carrying your girl’s name on your back. Another victory for Uconn, as your girlfriend allows herself a small smile after the extraordinary game she just played. You wait patiently. What feels like close to an hour of the blonde shaking hands, signing jerseys and giving out interviews she finally meets your eyes from the opposite side of the court, jogging towards you.

“Babyyy!” You gleam as she wraps her strong, sticky arms around you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Seven threes is crazy,” you praise your girlfriend.

“Yeah?” Paige asks, a smug grin on her face as she pulls back and looks at you. “Missed two cause my girl look so fine.”

An involuntary blush spreads to your face as the girl’s blue eyes scam your body up and down.

“You like?” You ask with a sly smile, twirling for her. Paige lets out a low whistle, hand coming to hold your waist.

“Fuck you look hot in that jersey,” she murmurs, eyeing the way it sits on your body. You can see it in your girlfriend’s eyes - the way they were darkening in the way they always did when she needed you. 

Feeling flustered, you decide to change the topic, knowing she shouldn’t be eyefucking you in front of these cameras and fans. “So are we still going out with the team tonight? We should celebrate your big win baby.”

Paige laughs hoarsely, in that fuckboy way she does. “We ain’t going out mama, we going straight home.”

You know exactly what she means. Exactly what would happen when you get home. The idea is already making your stomach flip.

“Paige… It was a big night for you, we sh-”

“No disrespect but you need to shut up,” she sternly silences you. “You really think you’re gon’ look like this and not be folded in half in about an hour? Baby, c’mon.”

-

 “Paige stop!” You giggle, her hands holding your waist underneath the jersey, fingertips against your bare skin squeezing as she kisses your neck hungrily. Your hands are fumbling with the key, attempting to open the door to your apartment. Something you were finding extremely hard as the blonde behind you presses her hips into yours, sucking a dark red mark on your neck.

“Open the door,” Paige pants, her voice breathy and hoarse. It’s more a command than a request. Finally, you turn the key and the girl pushes you in with urgency, closing the door behind you.

Before you can say a word, the blonde is throwing you over her shoulder, making you squeal and giggle. 

“Put me down!”

“No ma’am,” she laughs, long strides heading towards the bedroom fast. With a grunt your girlfriend lowers you onto the bed, landing you on the soft mattress. Both of you are giggling as she eyes you on the bed, licking her lower lip.

“Wait here baby,” she coos, disappearing into the walk-in wardrobe. Once she returns, there’s an apparent bulge underneath the grey basketball shorts. Your imagination begins to go wild, heat growing between your thighs at the idea of what she had strapped on underneath. Paige had done it before, coming up behind you, the strap poking into your ass under her sweats to let you know what she was in the mood for. It drove you completely wild each time.

“Take your clothes off,” the blonde commands from the doorway, pulling her hoodie off and throwing it on the floor. You know what happens when Paige wants something and doesn’t get it, so you kick off the boots and denim skirt you’re wearing. Your girlfriend follows every move with watchful eyes, tutting once your fingers begin to tuck the jersey off.

“Leave that shit on,” Paige says, walking over to you on the bed. You lie on your back, watching up at her in the sheer white panties and white jersey and an unbearable ache between your thighs.

Paige’s shoulders look broad and filled out in the black sports bra she’s wearing, lower lip trapped between her teeth as her fingertips brush against the soft skin of your thigh.

“Look so fucking sexy,” she murmurs, her voice low and raspy. You needed her, badly. So you bring your hand to her core and just as you expected, feel the thick, purple strap underneath the fabric. Wrapping your fingers around the bulge, you rub it as if it’s her actual dick, just like the blonde liked to imagine.

Paige lets out a low groan, squeezing the skin on your thigh. 

“You want it?” She asks. It’s not a genuine question, she knows the answer. She can tell by the way you’re squirming, rubbing your thighs together. The way your brows are furrowed in desperation.

“I do,” you whimper, biting your lip and blinking up at the girl with round eyes in the way that drove her crazy. Works every time, and this is no exception, your girlfriend letting out a breathy sigh and throwing her head back.

“Yeah? How bad ma?” She asks, hand slowly inching closer to the edge of your panties, fingertips nearly sliding underneath.

“So bad baby,” you whine, arching your back, hand still working the strap through her shorts. “Just feel,” with a whimper, you grab the blonde’s hand teasing you and slide it inside your panties.

Both of you moan, your wetness covering her fingers the second she feels you.

“Fuck, you this wet just for me?”

“All for you baby,” you whimper. “Love watching you play.”

Paige grins, rubbing gentle circles on your clit already growing puffy and sensitive from how bad your body aches for her, the idea of her strap buried deep inside you making you eager, the wait nearly unbearable.

A sigh spills from your lips as the blonde pulls her hand away, her fingers coming to your mouth and slipping past your lips making you taste yourself. Your eyes flutter shut, lips wrapping around her long digits. Paige hisses, watching closely.

“That shit ain’t fair, I need to taste you too.”

With that, Paige is pulling you to the edge of the bed by your legs, kneeling on the floor face to face with your core. With a swift movement, the blonde’s fingers hook onto your panties and pulls them down.

“Holy shit baby I ain’t even fuck you yet, why you this wet?” Paige groans at the way your cunt glistens in the light, her arms wrapping around your thighs to hold you still for her. You could feel just how wet you were, your slick spilling out of you right under your girlfriend’s gaze.

“Couldn’t help it,” you whimper, attempting to buck your hips but for nothing. You weren’t going to be touched until Paige decided so.

“Yeah couldn’t help it cause you’re such a slut huh?”

The blonde’s lips roam your inner thighs, nibbling and sucking on the skin leaving behind little red marks as a reminder of the night for later. 

“Answer me,” she demands, but it barely registers, her hot breath on your core forcing goosebumps to form all over your skin. It’s driving you wild, every inch of your body on fire for her.

Suddenly a hand reaches to your jaw and firmly grabs it, Paige tilting your face towards her.

“Answer me.”

Suddenly even more flustered, your face turns red, needing her even more. “Only for you Paige.”

“Good girl, now lie down.”

The girl lets go of your jaw and suddenly her mouth is on you, tongue everywhere in your folds, licking you up like she’s been starved for life. A loud moan escapes your mouth, hands immediately flying to the blonde, soft hair of your girlfriend. 

She’s hungry for it, the victorious game leaving her starving. Her lips wrap around your clit and suck harshly, making you gasp and yank on her hair. But she won’t quit, hands coming to spread you further apart, trying to find a way to get closer in a moment of desperation.

“Oh… fuck baby,” you whimper, legs already shaking as she eats you, tongue swirling in your folds, moving from side to side. Paige hums against you, the sound vibrating against your cunt. She has you leaking like a faucet, not wasting a single drop as she kisses her way down, circling your entrance before her tongue slides in.

“P-paige,” you cry out, overwhelmed by the pace she was moving at, not giving your body time to adjust, leaving you breathless. But she couldn’t care less about your protest, eyes rolling back as she presses closer to you, the bridge of her nose pressing against your clit.

You’re squirming, legs shaking and eyes rolling back as you tug on her hair, whimpers quickly turning more high pitched.

“Perfect pussy,” she groans, practically just to herself. Her tongue presses flat against you in long licks along your slit. Biting your lower lip you look down at the blonde girl kneeled on the floor between your legs and for a moment your eyes meet hers.

With an arrogant smirk Paige brings her tongue flat onto your clit and shakes her head back and forth skillfully, knowing it drives you crazy each time. The glimmer in her eye doesn’t help, making your back arch and head tilt back against the mattress.

“Gonna fuck this pussy,” the girl murmurs against you, the tip of her tongue speeding up on your clit, flicking it back and forth. She’s determined to make you cum. And when Paige was determined, there was nothing that could stop her.

It doesn’t take more than a few minutes and your entire body’s writhing under Paige’s mercy. She’s desperately eating you up, taking turns working you with her tongue and mouth, sucking and licking everywhere. It’s overwhelming, too much and not enough at the same time. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as her tongue circles your clit.

“You gonna cum ma?”

“Yes, yes, fuck baby.”

Your hands are tugging on her hair hard, but the blonde doesn’t mind. The moans spilling from her mouth reveal quite the opposite. The familiar pit somewhere deep in your gut begins to burn, forcing your back to arch off the bed. The jersey on your body hikes up, Paige’s hand scratching on your lower stomach as she keeps working tirelessly, like the strain in her jaw wasn’t there.

“Paige I’m go-”

“Cum for me mama.”

And that’s enough, the coil in your stomach snapping the moment her words register in your hazy mind. The heat from your core spreads all over your body, waves of pleasure washing over you. The room is filled with the sounds of your high pitched moans, and the satisfied hums of the blonde between your legs sucking on your clit. Sweat drips down the back of her neck but it doesn’t matter. She’s not even close to done. 

Paige stands up from the floor, leaving you trembling before her, still getting over your orgasm.

“Cmere,” Paige says, licking her lips hungrily and sliding her hand into her shorts to stroke the strap as if an extension of herself. Body still recovering, you do as you’re told knowing the blonde didn’t like waiting. Kneeling on the bed, your eyes flicker from the bulge under the fabric to her blue eyes looking down at you. They’re heavy and dark, her jaw prominent and chest heaving with need.

“Take em off,” she demands, your hands wasting no time finding the band of her shorts and pulling them to her ankles, revealing the purple strap underneath. Paige’s hands wrap around it and stroke, tapping the tip all over your face. Without much thought your mouth parts, eyes locked onto your girlfriend’s. 

“Push your tongue out, be a good girl,” Paige groans, brows in a deep frown as she tries to catch her breath but it seems impossible with the way your big eyes stare up at her with your mouth open. She’s dizzy with want.

The moment your tongue slips out of your mouth, Paige is slapping the tip on it and moaning as if she could feel it herself - your warm mouth wrapping around her cock.

“That’s it, fuck ma,” Paige hisses, watching your tongue circling the length of the strap. “Get it wet for me.”

Bopping your head forward carefully, you take more of the strap into your mouth, saliva quickly building up and dripping down the corners of your mouth. 

“Look so pretty baby,” the blonde coos, gathering your hair into her fist and holding it back for you. “You like sucking my cock?”

With a slight smile you nod with the strap still filling your mouth. The sight is enough to make your girlfriend moan, and her grip in your hair tightens as she forces the strap down your throat, making every inch disappear into your mouth. 

“Mmph,” you whine, tears quickly welling up in your eyes. The sound of you gagging mingle with Paige’s low grunts, your nails digging into her muscular thighs. Paige can’t look away, you look too pretty to look away. Finally pulling on your hair, she allows you a second to gasp for air before returning and guiding your mouth on her cock, never breaking eye contact until your eyes roll back. Surely the strap was wet enough already, spit spilling from your mouth all over its length. But Paige is enjoying this too much to stop.

“You wanna get that pussy fucked huh?” The blonde grunts, pulling your head back with a string of saliva dripping down onto your chest.

“Please,” you whimper, your cunt throbbing, begging to feel the plastic inside you.

“Think you deserve it? Think you deserve my cock?”

“Baby need it,” you cry out, letting Paige rub the soaked tip against your lips and face, messing up your makeup. She always thought this was the best you looked, desperate, eyes red and glossy, mascara flaking underneath your eyes and begging for her. She couldn’t resist any longer.

“Turn around,” she murmurs and you do as she says, facing the other way on your hands and knees.

“Should I take the jersey off?” 

“Keep that shit on ma,” Paige says sternly, hissing as she rubs the tip of the purple strap against your soaked folds. Already whimpering, you grip the soft sheets tightly, feeling the blonde’s hands caressing your ass and waist, lifting the jersey just enough to see your lower back. “Fuuuckkk baby,” she praises, watching as the strap begins to glisten just from the sheer wetness spilling out of you. “She crying for me huh?”

“Yes,” is all you can muster to say, stomach flipping as the tip teases your entrance, everything you wanted so close yet so far. Your slick is already dripping on the plastic, Paige letting out a shaky moan behind you at the sight. 

“Shit, this pussy loves me,” she groans, gripping your hips and at last sliding the length inside you. A loud gasp escapes your body, the stretch so intense and powerful. 

“Oh shiiiit,” Paige hisses, watching the way your cunt stretches around the strap, swallowing her up. The trembling of your body is immediate, the blonde leaning down and kissing over your shoulders and neck. “Feel good mama?”

“Y-yeah baby,” you’re still breathless, body slowly adjusting to the size. 

“You tryna get fucked?”

“Mhm,” you hum, needy for your girlfriend to begin moving behind you. But she remains still.

Her big hand grips your ass harshly, slapping the skin leaving you with a slight burn. “Work for it mama, show me how bad you want it.”

You immediately know what she wants, craving to have you whimpering and pleading before she’ll give you what you crave. Paige always had to tease you just a little further than you could handle.

So you begin to move forward and back again, slowly pressing your ass against her. The strap slips in and out easily, but the size keeps you overwhelmed, slick dripping onto the sheets as you throw it back for your girlfriend, arching your back just right.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, legs already feeling weak, hands balled into fists as your girlfriend’s hand slaps your ass again, the sound echoing around the room.

“Look at that,” she praises, letting out a shaky low moan as the vibrator against her clit buzzes. But you can barely hear, mind spinning and not a single coherent thought in your head anymore. “Such a fuckin’ slut.”

The nickname makes you whine, craning your neck to see the blonde behind you, eyes locked onto where your body is swallowing her strap up. Her mouth is wide open and cheeks burning red, she wants it just as bad as you do.

Her blue eyes travel up your spine to the jersey, grabbing a handful of your hair to hold up. To allow her to admire the way the jersey fits your body. Her name, her number on you as she fucks you. It’s enough to get her bewildered.

Meeting your eyes the blonde smirks, chest heaving with need. “You like that? When I call you that?”

You nod, maintaining eye contact as you grind your hips back into her.

Paige shakes her head in disbelief, hissing again as the vibrator angles against her just right. 

“Course you do, fuckin’ slut.”

Your upper body crashes against the bed, too tired to hold it up, ass remaining in the air.

“Paigeee,” you whine, begging for her to take control, legs too shaky to continue.

“What’s wrong mama?”

It’s almost sadistic, her tone. She knows exactly what’s wrong. But it wasn’t enough, Paige had to hear you say it, getting off on humiliating you just a little longer.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You whine again in frustration, wiggling your ass in the air. But Paige remains stern.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, making the blonde smirk and lick her lower lip.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?”

You nod in desperation, letting her pull your face up from the sheets by your hair, other hand coming to hold your hip.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” she leans down and groans into your ear. “Gon’ fuck you until you cry.”

With that, her hips slam into you, the intrusion so intense you can’t help the way your eyes roll back. You gasp, Paige letting go of your hair and standing back up behind you, both hands on gripping your waist, fucking her hips into you at such a pace it’s making you see stars.

“Ohhh shit,” the blonde grunts, watching the way your ass jiggles as her hips slam against you. The sound of skin clapping and the squelching of the strap deep inside you fills the room, only thing cutting through are your joint moans.

“Baby fuck-” you cry out, part of you wanting to push her away from how crushing her thrusts are, the strap buried deep inside your soaked pussy.

“Look at you takin it, fuck baby,” Paige groans, right hand smoothing over her last name on the jersey. Over the number she wears each game.  “Takin’ my dick while wearing my name. So fucking good f’me.”

Your cunt is throbbing, squeezing the strap making it hard to think clearly. You wanted more, wanted less, you weren’t sure. But you could feel your eyes growing wet against the sheets. Paige’s hand travels all the way up to your hair, grabbing it harshly and shoving your face into the mattress.

“You take it like a slut huh?” 

You moan, feeling your slick dripping down your thighs, surely covering Paige’s legs now as well.

“Your slut baby,” you whimper, upper body pressed snug against the soft cotton as the blonde pounds her strap into you.

“Aww fuck- good girl,” Paige gasps, the vibrations having her legs shaking. With a swift movement, the blonde manhandles you onto your back, placing your legs onto her shoulders, sliding the purple strap back inside you.

“Need to see your face,” she groans, eyelids so heavy they’re barely open as she keeps fucking you. “Need to see you cum on my cock.”

“Baby, so big,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the blonde kneels on the bed and leans forward, folding you over with ease.

“Take it so well tho,” Paige coos, bringing her face to yours, hand wrapping around your neck as she keeps slamming her hips into you. That athlete’s stamina could have her going like this for an hour. “Gonna cum inside this pussy.”

Her words leave you a moaning mess, your hands scratching at her shoulders leaving red marks behind. “Fuck,” you whimper, eyes squeezed shut.

“Fucking you so hard you’re gon’ have my kids.”

The squelching becomes louder, wetness dripping out of you as Paige’s strap hits deeper than before, making you gasp and scratch her soft skin harder.

“Aw- fuc- shit, ma that’s it. So deep in your guts,” she rambles, eyes beginning to roll back, trying to hold back on her orgasm. She brings her fingers between your legs, thumb beginning to rub lazy circles on your clit as the strap slips in and out of you, fucking into you at a rapid pace.

“P-Paige feel so good,” you cry out, gushing around the plastic desperately. Paige’s head lulls back and forth, fighting her orgasm. 

“Mama I need to cum inside you, needa fill you with my cum,” the blonde whimpers, voice growing more high pitched as she nears the edge, fucking her hips into you with such force you think you might black out. The familiar burn ignites at her words, pussy throbbing around the plastic, muscles beginning to coil in your stomach.

“Shi- baby I need you to cum on my cock,” she gasps, eyes squeezing shut, grip around your neck tightening enough to make you lightheaded.

“Paige I-” You cry out, Paige’s thumb pressing into your clit and the tip of the strap hitting the perfect spot with each stroke. 

“C’mon ma, lemme fill you up,” she whimpers desperately, legs shaking but never easing the pace. You can’t hold it anymore, letting go and allowing the fire to take over your body.

“Paige I’mma cum,” you gasp, the blonde letting out a moan of relief.

“Gonna cum inside you,” Paige grunts into your neck, as you lie underneath, helpless. Your back begins to arch off the bed, the blonde squeezing the sides of your neck and pinning you down, hips slamming into you. “Gonna fill this pussy aw- up- fuck.”

With that you’re both gasping, rolling over the edge as your climax takes over, pussy squeezing the strap tightly and gushing around it, all over the sheets and Paige on top of you.

“Oh shit-” Paige gasps, breath hot in your ear as she finishes, your mind blank as the ecstasy takes over your body, leaving you trembling underneath the girl, eyes shut tight.

“Holy shit,” the blonde murmurs, trying to catch her breath. Your chest is heaving and your face flushed. As your eyes flutter open, they’re met with the blue of Paige’s irises. She scooches both of you up the bed, crashing on top of you, the plastic still inside you, almost soothing. You wince as she pulls it out carefully, leaving you with an uncomfortable emptiness.

“You’re so great baby,” Paige sighs, resting her head in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms and legs around your girlfriend, pressing a gentle kiss onto her forehead. “My number one girl.”

“You really like this jersey huh?” You chuckle as her pink lips kiss your collarbone, neck, jawline and finally your lips.

“Let’s everyone know you mine,” she coos, nuzzling her nose into you and rubbing the skin on your midriff where the fabric has hiked up.

“All yours baby,” you hum, body worn and tired but heart fluttering with love.

“All mine ma.”

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @bueckersfive @d3arapril @bueckersbitch @rosemariiaa @makethemhoesmad @xxloveralways14 @omg-imtumbling @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @thelightknight21 @vamptizm @ohmybueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @avvwritesstufff @authentic-girl03

[midnight-scrivener]

Hi! Just reblogging this as an example of one of the more convincing AI Slop videos I've seen recently. The man looks right, the motion and the water all seem to make sense. At first viewing, this is a very normal, sweet video! I absolutely saw it 2 or 3 times before my bullshit detectors started going off.

Once you start hunting for mistakes, things start to fall apart a bit more. In the beginning, the man's leg clips through the boat's rail as he walks towards the whale. And the configuration of the railing continues to change from shot to shot.

We never see the net actually unwrap from around the whale, it just sort of.... Pulls out of somewhere behind it. And the net itself doesn't have a clear, regular woven pattern. It looks almost cheated, like a texture in a game that's trying to give the idea of a net without mapping every line.

And perhaps most egregiously, the whale itself. It's constantly moving, and it does move, yaknow, whaleishly, and the general shape seems right. But at the start of the video it has a fin coming out of its chin, and at the end its eye is in a different place and its mouth is much smaller. The ai isn't suuuuper sure how a whale's like. Skin or skeleton works either, and the front of the mouth doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and the way that the whale's underside wrinkles goes up way too high by the end of the video.

This isn't to say that if you didn't notice before that it's your fault! I didn't either. The constant motion does a lot to hide the inconsistencies, especially if you're just viewing casually. But I've been seeing this video specifically crop up more and more on my social feeds, so I wanted to say something about it!

I'm not the first person to realize it's AI; the comments are full of similar thoughts. But my hope is that by putting this in a post and tagging it, people can start to filter it out.

And also. Perhaps unnecessarily. I do just want to add that this technology is getting more convincing every day in an era where powerful people are relying on misinformation and public complacency to further their agenda. It might be feel good animal videos now, but if you see a piece of media and it looks too good to be true, it's an important time to ask if it IS, and who benefits from the narrative it's presenting.

Stay safe!

[thetxtdevil]

Hybrid TXT Thoughts

content: nsfw/smut, hybrid, human fem.reader, very vague smut, p in v, no wrap, cuddlefuck, mention of somnophilia, biting/nibbling, pool sex, outdoor sex, kai's scenario mentions mental health, let me know if I'm forgetting anything

average word count: 380 (each member)

the devil's note: thank @fairyofshampgyu for inspiring me :) I did use different animals for the boys because I wanted to be different 😎 I hope you enjoy!!!

Panda!Yeonjun 🐼

Yeonjun is a unique hybrid. It often leaves people guessing what he is as he seems docile but his body is big and broad body makes them think otherwise. It's not until they stop and admire Yeonjun’s smokey eyes, small round black ears hidden in his dark hair, and his cheeks lifting in a happy grin is when they can identify that Yeonjun is a panda hybrid. Panda!Yeonjun is a chill addition to your home most of the time laying around snacking on various foods. He’s so cute when lounging on the sofa you just want to snuggle your big bear, and he will never stop you from doing so. Panda!Yeonjun may be lazy at times but he does put in the effort to show his appreciation towards you. Yeonjun cooks for you and keeps you company. Panda’s are vocal so he wants to hear about your day and talk about everything and anything. Panda!Yeonjun doesn’t like confrontation though, so when he hears you masturbating in your room he doesn’t say anything. He’s too lazy to move and give you privacy, it's not like he would, he actually likes just listening to you, the wet sounds, pathetic whines, and your smell are nice.

However, one day something washes over Panda!Yeonjun and his tired eyes feel more alert. His body is fully awake and he’s not in the mood to just hear you. Continuously walking back and forth in front of your door, it wasn’t until you walked up to him and asked what was wrong is when he lunged at you. Big hands pawing at your body, knocking you into your comfy bed, and just like how Yeonjun is vocal in a normal setting he’s blabbering during sex. Telling you all the dirty things he wants to do to you, “Do you not realize that I can sense that you touch yourself, and how you’d be happier if you asked for my help?” His long dick pushes into your cunt hitting where your fingers couldn’t touch, and he made sure you always had relief when doing it with him. Pandas love to eat so it’s natural that Yeonjun loves to eat you out. He loves making love in the laziest ways, he was so grateful when you taught him that he didn’t have to do the most elaborate things in bed and instead, he can easily spoon you into heaven. Also, somnophilia… preferably him receiving it.

Raccoon!Soobin 🦝

Such a cute not-so-little thing. Raccoon!Soobin stands awkwardly with his ringlet tail swishing behind him as he waits for you to finish your food. You had to convince him to stop feeling like he has to eat your scraps and that he can eat freshly made food. Your heart gushes when you see Soobin’s dark circles surrounding his thankful glimmering eyes. Raccoon!Soobin is very active at night, dark eye bags worsen when he stares at the bright screen of your TV as he plays video games. You had to start inviting your friends over during late afternoons just so they could see your hybrid. You’d giggle every time your friends would gush over Raccoon!Soobin, his little ears standing up and his striped tail standing tail liking the attention of your friends. He's usually sweet and kind however, one game night with your friends he was looking for someone to demolish. Getting into arguments and winning every round simply from his annoying behavior. 

When your friends leave, you turn to your heels wanting to punish Raccoon!Soobin for his behavior, to your surprise he was sweet and cuddly again. Rubbing his head all over you, if you turned your head to somewhere else other than him, he’ll whine. Pouty lips grazing your neck, “Weren’t you impressed by my gaming skills tonight? Did I do good?” His words and the bulge poking at your leg made you realize that his behavior tonight was that he wanted to show off how good of a mate he is. You may be weak for Raccoon!Soobin but you let him have his way eating you out and making sure he has seconds and leftovers. Then showing off his length to stuff into his pretty little owner’s cunt. Little nibbles here and there but scratches a lot. Groans when your leave red trails on his back. Raccoon!Soobin is very curious about your presence in bed so he’ll be at it until dawn and then you’re trapped under his sleeping body.

Otter!Beomgyu 🦦

Such a gentle little creature, so soft so cuddly, content with life. Otter!Beomgyu’s long brown hair permanently has wet tips and the same goes for his sleek tail. If he’s not in your bathtub he’s in the apartment’s community pool. You’re happy when he’s calm and sleepy, Otter!Beomgyu gives the best hugs when sleeping. Always spooning each other, he thrives when he has arms wrapped around him. But of course, he needs to use all of his energy before he can settle. Hand in hand walking to the community pool you arrive to find it mostly empty except for one guy doing laps. Beomgyu is bummed, otters a territorial and this is his territory, the word “community” is not a thing when he’s in there. What really sets him off is when he notices your lingering eyes on the muscular man in the pool. Imagine his big dark eyes full of distraught, pink lips in a big pout, and his little otter ears bending down. Otter!Beomgyu rushes to the edge of the water and dives in begging you to watch him do tricks. He glides through the water practically racing the other guy, you feel yourself getting dizzy watching the hybrid swirl through the pool.

Eventually, Otter!Gyu’s hectic playing made the other guy run for his money, or so Gyu thought. Floating on his back, giggling to himself as he watches the man leave, his attention is right back to you. “Come on, y/n, want you to play with me!” You shake your head, and you tell him he’s been in there for too long but when you get close to the edge the otter’s paw grabs onto you pulling into the pool. You gasp at the sudden sensation, not only by the cold water but by the exploring hands of Beomgyu. Before you know it you’re pushed against the cement wall as Otter!Beomgyu sucks hickeys onto your neck letting everyone know that you’re his. And his cum in the pool will also let everyone know that the place is his… Shower and bathtub sex believer, imagine Gyu lighting candles and surrounding the tub *sigh* so romantic. Otters rub their faces and hair for reasons but Beomgyu’s reason is to turn him on. Carding your fingers through his hair will make him cum so hard.

Squirrel!Taehyun 🐿️

Such a cute hybrid but don’t tell that to his face, Squirrel!Taehyun is a feisty little thing. He might be tiny but he works out to the point that it makes you a little afraid. Watching him at the gym go from one machine to the next in a flash, jumping everywhere wanting to try something new is the most entertaining thing. When Squirrel!Taehyun is not active he likes to follow you around helping you with the most mundane things all the while making cute little noises as a sign of admiration. He is playful in a way that he likes to tickle you with his tail. The first time you got the hybrid you hugged him close and couldn’t stop yourself from giggling from the fluff of his tail. Squirrel!Taehyun doesn’t talk about his feelings much so you use his tail to translate what's on his mind. He also uses the fluff of his tail to his advantage, after an argument he’ll tickle you until you smile, when you’re cold he’ll wrap his tail around you and this gets him closer to you.

Squirrel!Taehyun loves the outdoors, the fresh green grass, the warmth of the sun, and how beautiful you look sitting next to him on the picnic blanket. Reaching your hand for the last strawberry you then run into Tyun’s hand reaching for the same thing. He’s quick to grab fruit holding it up away from you. Whining, “you had more than enough give it to me.” You climb on top of the hybrid reaching for the strawberry but in a blink, you’re on the ground with the squirrel on top of you. A little smirk creeps on his face watching you squirm, biting the strawberry then kissing you sharing the fruit. He was quite thankful that you were in a dress and in the backyard so it was easy access to fuck you right there. Since then Squirrel!Taehyun begs you to have a treehouse in the backyard so that he can have a special place to read and do other things… Don’t be surprised when he pulls you into the ultimate fuck sessions in the treehouse. Something about the outdoors just gets his instincts going. The cool breeze makes your nipples harden and the scent of wood results in Taehyun fucking you in all positions. Just imagine shelves full of books and toys.

Service Dog!Huening Kai 🐕‍🦺

The first time meeting each other was a breeze, instantly clicking, making jokes, and being comfortable with each other’s presence. Puppy!Kai is playful and cuddly, always up for adventure with you even if it's going from the living room to your bedroom. However, He gets a little too comfortable when you have an episode with him for the first time Service Dog!Kai freezes. He sensed something in the air, he knew that you seemed off, it wasn’t until you called out for him he was stunned but instantly went into work mode. Service Dog!Kai is there sitting next to you, nosing you to sense any change to your current state. Poor Puppy!Kai will never forgive himself after that moment, you try again and again to tell him that it’s okay, mistakes happen, but he’s stubborn. Service Dog!Kai is also stubborn about your health, he will not let you up until your heart rate is appropriate. He is ready for anything, pills? He has a bag full of them. Sweet treat? Has the mobile app ready. Your big, sweet puppy links arms with you everywhere you go and makes sure that he’ll never falter when you have an episode.

After a day full of stressors and being overstimulated, Service Dog!Kai leads you to your bed where you two nap until dusk. Kai can sense your resolved mood, your scent is calmer, and your heart rate is settled, you also start to cling to him more. Your gentle hands scratching Puppy!Kai’s black-folded ears causing small whimpers to escape his lips. Crawling up to you, he focuses on your body language reading that you’re comfortable. You sandwich the hybrid’s handsome face with your hands making Kai’s fluffy black tail wag wildly. You then pull him to kiss you. His whole body covers you like a warm blanket, kissing you softly, repeatedly asking “Is this ok?” “Are you comfortable?” Your kisses get more passionate and hungry, it makes it hard for Kai to hold back. Puppy!Kai quickly learns how sex reduces anxiety, he loves sensing your arousal state while sucking on your tit as his fingers play with your clit. Puppy!Kai now always asks for sex as a remedy, wanting your mind to just think of him if not fucked dumb. 

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil 🐾

taglist: @naoristerling, @inkigayocamman, @izzyy-stuff, @incogrio, @blue-moon-514, @biteyoubiteme

divider: @bernardsbendystraws

[lavenders388]

hey :) I was wondering if you could do a Dae ho fic, where he and the reader are absolutely oblivious to their feelings and Jung-bae decides to do what he can to push them together (the ultimate wing man) Thanks

~Oblivious~

Kang Dae Ho x Reader

requested 💌

a/n: this is the cutest request ever:) i love jung bae and dae ho together and this is such a sweet idea! sorry if this seems a bit rushed!! i wrote it before school:3

"during lights out, we should keep watch over the group in pairs." gi hun states sternly. he is met with some mumbled "why?"s, but out of desperation and lack of anything else to follow in the place, everyone has silently agreed to just go with what he says.

as the recorded voice echoes throughout the large, intimidating room you all will call home for the night, you look around to who could be your second for watch duty. you think about choosing maybe guaem ja or her son as they have become the closest to you, closest to friends.

"hey y/n, you watch with dae ho tonight." you hear from the bunk next to you. you look and see it to have come from jung bae, the man who knows gi hun from before the games. you've grown to trust him as well, his genuineness aiding in delivering moments of relief from the awful place you've all found each other in. you notice he's trying to hide a smile.

"okay sure!" you say with a small smile, relieved to know what the plan is for the night as well as to have someone to spend it with. the thought of not being alone relieves your fear massively, and then thought of dae ho being your partner made your twinge.

"may i stay here until it's my turn?" you ask gi hun, referring to your bunk that's across the X side of the room. "yes of course, it wouldn't be safe to walk all that ways in the night." gi hun replies. the reminder of the unsafe situation makes your skin crawl thinking about what could come throughout the night.

all you want is to just go home, but knowing that home wouldn't be much better makes your spirit falter. you've grown to enjoy being apart of your group, the community being something very starkly different than what you're used to. you had a few friends before coming to the game, but you were never super close. they probably haven't even noticed you're missing yet. as the brisk thought of them not having a clue of your whereabouts crosses your mind, you look around to the group who decided they would protect you throughout this before even knowing you. they're all talking amongst themselves, joking and being kind. its refreshing. it makes you forget all about where you are.

you decide that when you're out you wont be notifying your friends back home. you'll take the money and spend your time with the people you're with right now, the people who chose to care for you out of the kindness of themselves.

thinking about this makes you realize how much you don't want to stop spending your time with these people. your thoughts are interrupted by a soft hand on your shoulder. you turn and see dae ho.

you smile at him, and listen as he begins to tell you why he got your attention. "we should stay close together until its time for our watch. would you like to sleep in the bed next to mine?" he says with his normal confidence, all though you notice his voice faltering a bit when he asks you to sleep next to him. "of course dae ho, thank you for asking." you say smiling at him again.

"actually would you guys be okay taking the first watch, it would probably be the safest one." you hear from above you as you see jung baes head poking out of one of the taller bunks. you both agree and get out of bed heading to where gi hun designated the watch point of your little base.

after you get settled, an awkward silence falls on you. "do you really think that people will try to fight us tonight?" you ask dae ho in a whisper, trying to start a conversation but also speaking your worry in a way that might make you feel better. "I'm not sure, but gi hun said that's what happened last time. he didn't say it was every night though, so maybe we'll be okay tonight." he says in a soft but still confident tone. it makes you feel safer, knowing that fighting may not even break out tonight. his voice comforts you as well.

"what do you plan on doing with the money when you get out?" you ask him, looking up at him for the answer. "well first i would pay off some debts, then i think i would buy a house, or even an apartment depending on how much i get. and then after that i haven't really thought of anything." he says with a chuckle that brings a smile to your face. "what about you, y/n?" he asks you. "honestly the same as you. like exactly. I wanna pay off whatever I can and then settle down somewhere. and then I'm not sure." you say to him with a smile. you think its funny you both have the same plan.

"i think thats a great idea y/n." he says to you softly and genuinely. you've grown to really appreciate the way he speaks to you, to everyone. you smile at him again as another awkward silence falls over the two of you. "if you make way more than what you think you will, then what do you think you would do?" he asks sweetly, caring for your answer as well as to dissipate the silence. "I have no idea!" you say a little louder than you should've, with a hint of sarcasm. "i think maybe id get like a cool car or something i don't know." you say laughing at yourself. your laugh makes him smile.

"what would you do dae ho?" you ask him in return. "i might start up a business or something, like maybe a coffee shop or a little market." he answers. you find this endearing. "that's really interesting!" you reply. "that sounds really fun, maybe ill do that as well."

"maybe we could do it together."

he states, his mood shifting from small talk to something more.

"i would really like that." you reply.

"hey lovebirds its our turn to watch." jung bae says laughing with gi hun from behind the two of you. you wonder how long they've been standing there.

as you crawl back into the bed next to him, you begin to hope there was truth in jung baes words.

[ma1dita]

not your goddess

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader words: 8k holy shit this is the longest fic for this series so far summary: (established relationship (uhhhh, well…)) The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. Change in perspective is always good, but it makes you and Luke see your futures quite differently—you wonder if you’ll be together in it at all. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: mmmyeah this is a songfic - goddess by laufey. references to waiting for godot by samuel beckett if you squint

—

[ it always goes like this, could've predicted it || i'm so naïve to think you loved me for me, kissed as I ran off stage || you're too old to play this game, guess you're still growing up at thirty nineteen]

Once you open yourself up to someone and bare your soul to them in honesty, they get a choice whether they want to be with you or not. It’s as simple and as convoluted as that. Normal humans are complex as it is—but to be a demigod must mean to endure all of that and then some. Luke has been especially hard to reach lately, and trying to understand him feels like grappling wisps of smoke. You let him build his whole life around you without either of you realizing and suddenly the walls feel like they’re closing in. Though maybe he always knew that—Luke Castellan is always intentional, and always full of surprises. 

“We should run away from here.”

His voice breaks through the crunching of dead leaves underfoot on your trek to the stables. It’s hard to tell if he’s joking, even harder to decipher when your eyes meet in the dim light hanging above the Dutch doors that you walk through. 

The two of you move as if partners in an orchestrated dance, the steps routine and not needing instruction; you fill up the water troughs and he steps around you to grab the bag of feed while his other hand grazes your waist, beckoning you to the next task. Most days are like this now, plotted out perfectly from sunrise to sunset. 

To be content means that most of it is predictable, and some might call it boring, but it comes with the inner satisfaction that what the both of you share is only yours. 

It’s peaceful.

Neither of you has ever really had that—and in your own way, both of you want to hold onto it for as long as you have it. Like how comets are always predictable; the knowing doesn’t make them any less beautiful.

“Let’s go now then,” you chuckle lightly, not looking at him as you shut off the hose. Bowie, your pegasus, brays in thanks as he dunks his muzzle into the trough, splashing water at your ankles. The water is frigid, a chill crawling up your spine and when you look up, Luke’s already staring at you solemnly, almost blending in with the shadows that drape over the barn. He stands there leaning against the wooden fence with his sharp, stone-faced features carved out by moonlight.

“Baby?” 

Eyebrows furrowing, you take a step towards him and he’s eerily still, holding a hand out for you. His fingers don’t shake once you intertwine them with your own and he’s so sure of himself that his resolve is like a suit of armor. What a funny thought—him needing protection from you of all people, the girl he lays bare with most nights and who knows him at his most vulnerable. 

“What do you think? Do I look like I’m joking?”

Luke’s words creak like metal hinges—coming off abrasive at the sight of your resistant expression. Truthfully, he hates it when you look at him like this—like there’s something wrong about him that you’re convinced you can fix. You don’t do it on purpose, but he’d like to think that you don’t think of him as one of your little DIY projects. This is different, calculated—his plans for the both of you will map out the rest of your future.

“Are…are you planning to leave?”

Though you hate to make the comparison, he’s a lot like his father: a one-track mind with only him knowing what’s coming next. Luke just expects everyone else to keep up, and you’re left feeling like someone’s pulled the rug out from under you as he holds onto your wrists firmly in the dim light. He’s nervous, even if he doesn’t show it. You can still tell by the way his voice cracks, a melancholy sound like he’s pleading for you to understand a hidden meaning you must’ve missed in the past few months of bliss.

 “We are,” he corrects, before his voice begins to falter, “I mean we can. We…we should,” he says tentatively, and your arms jerk forward with the motion as you stumble into his grasp, “Think of it, babe. We could get out of here and do something great. Make a life for ourselves.”

You squint.

He’s not even asking, and that makes it worse, you think—it’s like he’s already got one foot out the door. You’re not sure if he even considered you possibly saying no.

Are you?

Entertaining frivolous conversations that your boyfriend has with you before bed is one thing—but acting on them? The truth is that you’ve never afforded yourself a future outside of the reality that you have now. You never thought you’d have this after everything—running across the country to find your father and make this family in nowhere New York. It wasn’t a possibility that your 14-year-old self would’ve ever dreamed of. 

But then it happened, and you count your lucky stars that it led you to Luke. This is your home; you built it from the ground up with him the day you both stepped into your roles and washed your hands of stupid pranks. And maybe what you’ve always dreamt of is something you already have now.

Is that a crime? To like your reality better because it’s tangible—not everyone needs to be the main character in a sweeping saga. You do have a life, and you’d like to say it’s pretty alright, all things considered.

“Luke,” you swallow, face scrunching up in the way it does when he knows you’re about to say no, “I mean what about our responsibilities? What about…”

It was cute back when you were fourteen, but he now finds that he hates the way your nose scrunches up when you disagree with something, and it always makes him feel stupid for even asking in the first place. Luke steps away, dropping your hands as he sighs gruffly, “That’s a shit excuse, you know that, babe.” Dust kicks up from under his feet and you think he looks like a child about to throw a tantrum. The pegasi whinny softly behind you, and if they could talk it would probably be something like, Oh shit. Like a flip of a switch, he’s erratic, something pent up inside of him is now uncontrolled.

“I mean what do you want me to say, Luke? You want us to leave? Just disappear and leave Annie and Grover… and my brothers? What then? We don’t have money or degrees, or anywhere to go to—”

“We could make do—I mean we’ve both done it before Trouble, and now we can be together without all this. We don’t need camp. Or the gods’ blessings, I mean what did they ever do for us?” 

He’s tired, you think—because the Luke standing in front of you right now isn’t anything like the one you know. Your Luke loves your campers as much as you do; he’s the type that gives piggyback rides and teaches the little ones how to swim in Canoe Lake. He prays at every mealtime—twice as long because you don’t see the point in it, and likes to fall asleep against your chest in the twinkly lights of cabin 12.

The Luke you know would never want to run away from the home you’ve both created for yourselves. Not without a proper plan. Luke always says that he loves making plans just as much as he loves you, which must mean a lot.

You already have what you want, for now. That’s the contingency of it—for now. You just don’t see it getting better than this; finding camp meant finding yourself, and that’s what your mother always wanted for you. Having a real shot of being a family, even if your dad drives you nuts, and the twins like to fill the bathtub with root beer, and Annie constantly demanding she prove that she knows the first 500 digits of pi comes with the path you chose. 

Family—it’s what you were promised.

“We’re not ready, Luke. I mean… the real world out there is a lot worse than getting a C in archery or avoiding bathroom duty. We’ve still got some growing up to do—what’s the rush?”

He’s testy now—jaw swinging the crick in his neck and he does this when he’s about to say something mean, like the words have to fight their way out of his mouth, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Luke watches you look cluelessly at him like nothing he’s saying is making sense and it’s so frustrating that it makes his head hurt. What happened to you—his free-spirited girl who would follow wherever he leads? You don’t know how crucial this all is—Luke needs to know…

He needs to know if you’ll still follow him wherever he goes, even if it’s away from everything you have here.

But maybe you both imagined growing old together quite differently then.

“You’re making it sound like I’m in over my head about this when I know you don’t like it here. Listen to what I’m trying to tell you,” he bristles, hand leaning over the wooden beam above your head, “This place is getting old. We’re getting old. I want everything with you. Can’t you see that?” It feels like he’s caging you in, and he makes it sound so simple that it makes you laugh.

“Of course I do. All I’m saying is we should think this through more. I mean…We’re demigods. I’m not saying we can’t handle it and I’m not saying no, but—”, you barely finish the sentence before Luke interrupts you again. 

The difficulty with Luke is that when he wants something, he wants it with his entire being. And he never goes down without a fight—even when its with you.

“But you’re not saying yes. Then what are you saying? That you wouldn’t be happy with me?”

Rolling your eyes, you swing yourself out from under his arm and start taking off your apron because clearly, work is not on the agenda tonight. You fling it onto the hook before spinning around to look at him.

“Stop putting words in my mouth. I am happy with you. Here. Where it’s safe. Where we have beds to sleep in and food to eat and the only real reason I have to look over my shoulder is to see if my dad’s bribing your siblings to sneak him alcohol,” you say half-jokingly, and it so badly misses the mark as you see his brows furrow deeper into his forehead. 

“Give me a break,” he seethes, your name rolling out of his lips like acid and he has more to say but doesn’t know if he should. But he’s already started something and you’re just waiting for him to finish it. He has a habit of doing this, rolling the words around in his mouth for dramatic effect. 

This is gonna hurt.

“Oh just spit it out, Luke. Don’t whine like a baby.”

“Your dad? He’s a fucking joke. Can’t stand him half the time and I don’t know how you do,” he starts, pacing around you like a boxer in a ring. You stand still as a statue, eyes lit and tracking him in the dark as he continues, “You know I’m right. He’s just keeping you busy because now that he has you, he wants to control you. And you don’t even get a pat on the back.”

“You do not wanna go there, I can promise you that.”

“Well, I am. Because I’m tired of watching you waste your potential. You used to be so…exciting,” His arms swing around him like feathered wings and Luke shakes his head, turning away from you to look at the moon, “I need you to care about our future too, okay? Cut the shit and be a real fucking person for once and not whatever this little puppet show you put on for your dad is because it drives me crazy sometimes. All the time. I’m losing it, Trouble. Can’t you tell?”

It feels like a blow to the chest and you take a deep breath to placate your feelings in case they’re tampering with his—and you find that the anger is all his own. Your words shoot out like a lit cannon in rebuttal, “This drives you crazy? I didn’t know it was so hard on you, Luke. Poor you, picking up after me when you literally offer to help,” you scoff, stomping over to get him to look at you since he’s so intent on having this conversation, “Do you think you get granted immortality for checking off campers on your attendance log?” He can’t have thought it would be that easy, can’t have imagined you wouldn’t get defensive when things don’t go your way. Because it’s been like that for a while now, and Luke’s been falling off pace with life here. He’s not the all-star golden boy he used to be. Deep down, you know that too; he only likes it here because you do. They say with anything the first year is the hardest—and although he wouldn’t change a thing with your relationship, this took work. Loving you was supposed to be his reward, and it’s as if he doesn’t know you anymore. 

He’s not sure he knows himself that well anymore either.

“Of course not! That’s exactly what I’m saying—all of this won’t help us, so why are we exhausting ourselves instead of focusing on what’s important?” He runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the curls to anchor himself to this argument. And now you just want to strike back, to be damned with the consequences. Real love is a mirror, and although it's your first big fight…sometimes it hurts to be seen better than how you see yourself, and it hurts less to inflict it upon someone else instead of admitting that it hurts you.

“Oh so I’m exhausting to be with, is that it?”

He rips his apron off and tosses it at you, “Yes. Is that what you want me to say? You want a bad guy, you’ll get one. I don’t know what to—” His anger has always brewed like a storm—quiet and rumbling under the surface until he’s ready to strike. It comes down all at once and you’re covered in it with no way out but through. You bat the fabric to the ground angrily.

“You wanna repeat that?”

He laughs, a mocking, snarling sound, “You know what, it makes sense now—you’re just like your father. It all tracks!”

Your jaw tightens, pushing through by giving him another chance, testing him. Daring him.

“You wanna say that again?”

The wind picks up at his feet as he spins around you so fast it almost gives you whiplash, “Don’t give me that bullshit.” He’s tired and angry, but you’ve never seen this other side of him before—this ferocity that was unleashed at the idea of you wanting something he might not. Maybe you both are too similar then, too stubborn to give in until someone breaks.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Castellan. I’m warning you. Just because your dad hates you doesn’t mean that mine does.”

He laughs. 

Luke laughs like you’ve just told him you’ve put Chiron in another dress and that pigs can fly but then he looks at you… He looks at you with his chestnut brown eyes and they’re just empty, boring deep into your soul.

“What happened to you?”

It’s a weird feeling, to know someone so well that you can see the other side of them they can’t see for themselves. You haven’t got a single clue.

“I grew up. You were there, Luke. You helped me do it. I wanted to be just like you—the role model, the one that people like, and what, now that I'm not just some crazy idea in your head you’re bored?” 

Your voice cracks and so does a piece of Luke’s heart. You’re too tenderhearted, too good for him, and everything about you sends shockwaves through his being. This is what he told Kronos—even if you had it in you to force the gods to kneel and listen, would you be able to make the jump? Luke blinks, tuning back into your words.

“I mean you’re not even asking. It seems like you’ve made your decision for us. What does that mean to you? Us?”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, clearing his throat. His apology feels heavier than it should, and you can’t figure out why. He won’t let you find out if he even means it. 

“No, you’re not. You don’t even know what you’re sorry for, and now as soon as we’re happy, you get bored. You wanna talk about fathers, you’re just like yours too. Happy?” 

The words come out almost explosive, a shot in the dark and you didn’t think you’d say it, but you did. Thoughtless, without care, until it sinks into him like a sharp blade. Luke’s face hardens and you’re not sure how long he’s been standing so far away.

“Are we?”

It’s almost lights out and you’re still here arguing with Luke, so today was not as predictable as you thought it would be. Unease grips you by the scrap of your neck like a merciless kitten, holding on for dear life. This isn’t a feeling you should associate with the love of your life.

“What did you say?”

“Like you said, we’re demigods,” he says whispering your name, “what do we do now that we’re happy? That usually means something worse is coming up ahead.” Luke scoffs, half in disbelief at his own realization, the other half in defeat, “We’re meant for more than just being happy—that…this isn’t enough. We’re meant for glory, not shoveling pegasi shit and taking care of children instead of planning for a future with our own. This shouldn’t be the end of us.”

Your lip quivers, tongue in cheek and you need to touch something, hold someone, to remind yourself that this is happening. But you don’t reach out to him because if you get too close he’ll see the tears in your eyes. Grabbing the dandy brush, you trudge over to Bowie and rake it through his hair, mumbling, “I’m happy. I’ve got you,” you swallow, turning to Luke, “I love you.”

He’s already in the doorway, swinging the bottom panel closed with his hip as he looks over his shoulder, frowning.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Bowie brays next to you and it sounds like someone blowing a raspberry when they’re tired of a situation—maybe you are going crazy and they do understand—but one thing you do know is that you can’t understand Luke right now. 

The truth is that love is a bunch of horseshit, really.

[ oh, were you surprised by me when you took me home? || When the glamour wore off, reduced to skin and bone || i can't even tell who you want to know || i'm a goddess on stage, human when we're alone]

Your knees hit the dirt again, falling forward onto your hands as you dry heave. In the blink of an eye, you feel Maimer resting against the apex of your neck.

“Yield.”

Clarisse La Rue has barely broken a sweat during this spar, and yet here you are at her feet feeling like today’s breakfast will make a reappearance on the arena floor. The younger girl rolls her eyes as she pulls you up by the leather strap of your chest plate, sighing at the unnatural pallor of your skin as she flops onto a bench with your dead weight following suit as your knees buckle.

“You know, I knew you said you were bad at this, but are you even trying?” she scoffs, throwing a water bottle at you that you fumble in your hands. Winning never feels as good when the other person isn’t putting up a fight. You gulp down the icy refreshment, shutting your eyes for a moment to escape the blinding sun as you mutter, “Never been a fighter unless necessary, Risse. That’s all you.”

“Alright, enough of this.”

Your eyes wrench open as you lean back on your forearms to look at the daughter of Ares. At thirteen, she’s a force of nature on her own and unlike anyone else at camp, Clarisse would never mince her words for the sake of others’ feelings. You needed someone to tell it to you straight.

“You know everyone can tell when you and Luke fight, right? I mean it rarely happens but when it does it always feels like the world is out of balance until you both fix it.”

You groan, throwing your arm over your face and unintentionally hiding from her. That couldn’t be true—the world does not revolve around whether or not a daughter of Dionysus and a son of Hermes had their shit together.

But Camp Half-Blood does.

“You’re lying, La Rue. It’s really not that deep.”

And then she looks at you like you’re stupid, which might be her customary expression for anyone else but to you—well, she at least respects you. For now, unless you keep whining like a badly written love interest.

“Gods, woman. You were so much cooler back then, what the hell happened to you?”

“Clarisse, it isn’t that easy—-” you grumble, putting your face in your hands as you stare at the dirt. Of course, you know that everyone knows, secrets run through Camp Half-Blood like running water. It slips through your fingers easily, soaking through the ground until everyone’s stuck in the mud. Your boots sink slightly into the softening earth and Clarisse realizes you’re crying before you do. 

Why the fuck are you crying? 

It was a stupid argument and it probably doesn’t mean anything but for once, you don’t know what to do. It feels stupid that your body decided to cry before your brain could come to the conclusion. This all feels so stupid.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry, weirdo,” she mumbles, unsure of what to do with a crying head counselor. Her calloused hands rub small circles into your back, and she can’t help but think you need more girlfriends your age. Scooting closer to you, she says, “What I meant was that you were way cooler when you didn’t give a shit about what people think about you, much less Luke Castellan. You’re starting to sound like you’re from 10, and I swear Sil is the only tolerable person from that cabin. Stop crying, please…”

You sniff, “Ugh… This is so dumb. Just lost myself for a second.” The statement rings true, and it bothers you more than you thought it would. There is so much more to you than playing the part of the agreeable girlfriend, the caretaker, the perfect daughter, that if you stared at yourself in the mirror you might not recognize who’s staring back. So many parts to play, and so little of you left.

“I guess, what I’m trying to say is,” Clarisse sighs, “and I’m no good at this feelings shit, but I think you need to remember that you’re allowed to be someone without him…without all of this. And you owe it to yourself to find out who that is.” You look up at her with watery eyes, tucking hair behind your ear as if it’ll help you absorb her words better. 

You can’t believe you’re getting sound advice from a thirteen-year-old, much less a child of Ares on matters of love. 

“It’s nice to be needed,” you mumble, “my greatest honor, I think. But it might also be my downfall.” 

Clarisse smiles crookedly like she’s watching you through a fresh set of eyes. There’ll be no words of this conversation once you leave the arena—the both of you have a friendship unlike most girls here at camp. Never touchy-feely, typical girl talk, but always what you need to hear. 

“How terrifyingly human of you. Yuck.”

“I can’t go on like this,” you groan, slumping further into your folded-over position and she sighs, going to take a sip from her water bottle before squeezing your shoulder.

“That’s what you think.”

[ you took a star to bed, woke up with me instеad || you must have felt so damn decеived when you made up a version of me that you thought you loved || but I am not your Aphrodite ]

When you were fifteen years old and he was just a month shy of it, you had somehow convinced Luke Castellan to run away from camp with you. 

This was back then. Just for a day—just for the tiniest taste of freedom. 

Luke had been at camp for almost a year, and Rye Playland sounded so much cooler than food service with the nymphs—which is one of the few things he would agree with you on. The both of you had kitchen duty for two weeks after getting caught attacking each other during Capture the Flag despite being on the same team, and it ended up with you ripping the fabric off the stick and chucking it into the middle of Canoe Lake. He’s lucky you didn’t lunge for his head, but the game was forfeit, and cabin 6 didn’t talk to you two for weeks because you threw the game. Including Annie, which was a surprising feat in itself.

After that day, you swore to never do anything Luke made himself in charge of and Chiron swore you two would never be on the same team again. You could remember D’s voice that day and how it boomed through the Big House, reminiscent of his father—a crackle of fury and impalpable seriousness that had Luke shaking slack-jawed in the chairs facing the mahogany desk. He’d never been told off by a parent before, much less an Olympian.

Taking it in stride even as the god threatened to turn you both into dolphins, you mimed the conversation when your father’s back turned, copying the odd quirk in D’s brow and conjuring a mouthful of grapes for teeth. You grinned at the son of Hermes like an idiot, a singular ripe sphere shooting out to make an audible thwack against D’s red Hawaiian shirt that made Luke laugh the loudest, ugliest guffaw you’ve ever heard him let out. He choked on his spit when the god jerked his head back to face the both of you like a comic-book villain.

Honestly, he might’ve peed himself a little. Just a tiny bit.

And the god of insanity himself was at his wits’ end—which is rare for him, very few things can get him to that point. Even less so with people. Pathetic, puny, little people he can drive to madness and violent death. 

But not his baby girl—you know every last nerve to step on, a lot like your mother sure, but still all him in every way it mattered. He loved it, even when he was mad at you like this. He just wasn’t good at showing it, and you knew that to some extent. Plus, you can’t take a man in a Hawaiian shirt seriously, much less a god.

So you and your self-proclaimed archnemesis (frenemy, Luke insists) find yourselves running down Farm Road before first light, leaving nothing but a trail of dust behind you as you rush to catch the LIRR at a stop two towns over.

It was a small amusement park filled with different money-grabbing oddities, tooth-rotting confections, and rickety, squeaking rides that the conductors could fold into suitcases at the end of the day.

Sketchy, but so much fun. You made Luke go on all the kiddie rides with you and screamed your head off like a lunatic; he apologized to the parents of a toddler and said you had too much sugar—but that was a lie, this was all you in your natural state. Berry chapstick, wind-tousled hair, and a smile brighter than a spotlight. And your laughter, oh, your laughter shook the walls of the funhouse even after you crashed into the fifth mirror being too busy poking fun at the wonder in Luke’s eyes because it was the first time he’s genuinely done something for fun and not out of necessity. It was nice, and so were you, for once.

It was the first time you’d let your guard down for him, he thinks back—watching you toss a ball so badly off target from milk bottles set across the booth. You twisted in his grasp (he doesn’t remember getting so close, Luke still swears he was trying to help you aim) pouting at him with those pretty plum eyes and he sighed so deeply you smelled the cotton candy on his breath. For a moment you wondered if he tasted like it too—and then the worker asked if you’ll be trying again and you went, “Hmm? Maybe he’d be better at it!”

Luke rigged the shot with the snap of his finger, all the milk bottles falling to the ground with a crash and he swore on his life he’d sell out every single one of these stupid games if it gets you to bite your lip at him like that again.

There isn’t a single hint of regret that passed that entire day—you were already in trouble, so you both figured that you might as well enjoy it. By late afternoon, your legs felt like jelly and it felt less like you dragging him around the fairgrounds and more like holding onto him for support (because there’d be no other reason you’d want to hold his hand, your stomach just felt funny…that’s all!) Luke was wolfing down a funnel cake, the powdered sugar dust getting all over his shirt and he looked up to see you staring at him with a shit-eating grin.

Hand pointed in the air, Luke simply shakes his head.

“Fuck no.”

But you always had a way of convincing him to do things (Luke is a sucker susceptible to double dog dares) and the both of you are surprised he let you because sooner rather than later, you’re sat knee to knee in a tiny, screeching Ferris wheel cart that inched 100 feet into the sky. The white paint was peeling at his fingertips and the air was warm—Luke tried to focus on that instead of the fact that he was in a metal death chamber in the sky.

“Never imagined a son of Hermes would be scared of heights,” you grinned, nudging him with your foot. You’ve folded into yourself, hugging your knees as you looked at him and he thought that he might be having a heart attack at the ripe age of fourteen and three-quarters. But the pink and purple rays of the waning sun framed you so nicely that he wished he brought a camera—he had the silly photobooth strips from earlier tucked into his pocket, but you looking like that; Luke had etched it into his memory for safekeeping. Not only was he able to breathe a bit easier, but if there was a memory he could materialize from today—it’d be you grinning maniacally through the bars of the cart, pointing at the city in the distance. 

“We’ve finally found something you’re not good at, golden boy,” you grinned, tilting your head to the side and inspecting him like he was a sad hamster in a glass ball.

“M’not scared of heights, I'm just scared of falling,” he reasoned, looking at the rusted floor. You were making your boots dance along to the beat of the fair music, tapping along to the cyclical rhythm. He was more scared of the lack of control he had at this moment—any of the other crazy rides, Luke had stood at the tiny gate next to the conductor holding the plush avocado he won for you, watching and hearing you scream for joy as the machines flung you into the air. The ones he did go on were relatively tamer, and by the third kiddie coaster, he realized that you probably whooped for joy just to make him feel better.

You kissed him on the cheek that day, so close to his mouth (but not close enough) when the Ferris wheel ultimately screeched to a stop. A necessary distraction, you said—but you weren’t sure for who. He tasted sugar-sweet and smelled like the late summer sun. You had never kissed a boy before, unsure if you’d even know how, or if Luke would even want to if you did.

The thought passed when you realized his fingers were clenched and white-tipped onto the guardrails and you…you’re terrible, so you started rocking back and forth, giggling until he yelled at you to stop, pulling you into his lap. 

The conductor thought you two were doing something way less innocent, and you both got kicked out of Rye Playland afterward—but you got your money’s worth.

Well, you both snuck in and Luke definitely pickpocketed someone’s mom.

All in all, it was a great day.

You fell asleep on his shoulder on the way back home, the Long Island Railroad car chilly with the AC. Watching you drool, he thought he might even like traveling again if it’s for fun like this, might even hate his dad less too. Luke threw his whole dinner into the hearth that night with a bright smile on his face even after Mr. D yelled at the both of you in front of everyone at the dining pavilion. After all, the only factor in his life that’s changed in the past year, an addition, if you must— was you.

[ you took me for a fool, you stole my youth, you wanted this so much || you watched me rise then killed my light || and now you know I'm not your fucking goddess ||  oh, i'm no goddess when i'm alone ]

Work is work.

That’s what you’ve both been telling yourselves throughout an already rough week gone even worse, but trying to avoid your significant other is an especially difficult task when you work together. 

It’s the simple truth—you can’t ignore someone you have to talk to primarily because of these two factors: 1. Capture the Flag teams need to be sorted by Thursday mornings to be ready to play on Friday afternoons, and 2. it is weird for campers to see you two not interacting with each other.

Well, it’s Friday now, and you and Luke haven’t talked since that argument in the barn. 

Kind of, but the times you have didn’t count—the past few days have been both of you talking around other people; not directly to each other. Last night at dinner, Chris stared at you like one does when their parents are thinking of getting a divorce, eyes flickering between you two and his cheeseburger. Luke was sitting next to you on the bench blankly picking the tomatoes off his sandwich and you were staring glumly at your slice of pizza.

“Is there something going on between you two?”

He was one of the few brave enough to be blunt about it. You and Luke were all-consuming, like a black hole. It’s hard for others not to notice the gravitational pull, but when it’s bad…. everyone and everything gets sucked in, whether they like it or not. 

“Lee was excited to hear that your cabin is teaming up with them tomorrow. It’ll be quite interesting, all of you with 7 and 9,” you said, wiping grease off the slice with a napkin. Luke’s head jerked in your direction at your words, “Dude what—Chris! I thought I signed off on working with 6? We don’t work with Apollo for a reason,” he hissed, leaning over the table towards his brother. Chris scratched the back of his neck, knowing Luke was right. Cabin 7 isn’t that good in all matters that involve stealth—the last time they worked with them, Austin was scatting under his breath and it got them ambushed by the red team. Opening his mouth to speak, you quickly interjected, “Well it’s about time to change it up—keeps things exciting, don’t you think, Chris?”

Luke sighed, redirecting his brother’s focus to him, “What do you think, man? I just think when it comes to battle strategies we should stick to what works.” Chris swallowed, raising his hand in the air; he was grappling at the edge of a cliff just trying to hold on to either of you—he looked around to see if there was a way out of this. Next to him, Ethan averted his eyes and played with his carrot sticks.

“Funny how that works for battle strategies and not other things,” you hummed around a mouthful of pizza, “Don’t you think, Chris? I just think that you never want to be predictable in these things. It makes everything boring. Or so I’ve heard,” you munched thoughtfully, daring the son of Hermes to break eye contact with you as Luke scoffed, tossing his napkin onto his plate before standing up. He walked off without a second glance, throwing everything into the hearth—plastic tray included, and stormed off toward the cabins. The rest of the table minded their business, shoveling food into their mouths. Chris choked on a french fry.

And you smirked, satisfied at the small win. 

But now, almost a day later tramping through the sodden dirt of the North Woods in heavy body armor, you remind yourself that it is so very hard to prove a point to Luke Castellan. He finds you halfway through the game as you hold onto the red flag post, standing tall at the vantage point and looking like a stone grotesque protecting the area you’re surveying. By the time you notice, a blur of cobalt whizzes towards you—knocking out the three Ares kids standing guard around the perimeter. You gasp, raising a hand sending vines hurtling toward the air until you see him hanging upside down by the ankles, wrapped in green leaves and purple bunches of grapes. Luke’s headwear falls to the earth with a clang.

“I’m not here for the flag!”

You rush over, dropping the pole and sighing, “Luke…you scared me! I thought you were with Beck today.” The blood rushes to his head as he looks at you all out of focus. Seeing you the other way around gives him a new perspective on things—the epiphany almost makes him ache, but that might also be the pressure pooling in his forehead. You brush your thumb against his cheek before letting him down slowly, and all he does is look at you.

“We need to talk.”

“Like, actually this time?” you mumble, hugging yourself as you watch the vines unravel from his limbs and sink back into the ground. You’ve always been a good actress and Luke was the best liar around—this shared penchant for fabricating the truth used to make you one and the same.

It is more obvious now that actors and liars are wholly different; actors live in an imaginary world given to them, while liars strive to create it for themselves. There’s that saying—don’t hate the player, hate the game.

Luke finds that he’s starting to hate all of it.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “we can’t keep ignoring this, Trouble.” It takes a special kind of sadness to feel lonely even when you’re with someone. You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your spirit sink into the ground below you, almost resigning yourself to what will happen next. All the petty backtalk, the times you’ve crawled into bed with him already pretending to be asleep— it all comes down to this. There’s this French word that Annie had taught you a few days ago when you spent extra time snuggled up in her bunk, partially to catch up with your favorite girl and partially… to waste more time before going home to him. 

Énouement—-The bittersweetness of having arrived in the future and seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.

“Luke…” you start, watching him sheath Backbiter with a casual flick of his hand, “Would you go back if you could? Before…” Barely able to string your words together, he notices your lip quivering, “Did you like me more back then?”

“Baby…” he sighs, going to wrap his arms around you and you hold onto him in return at arm's length.

“I’m really trying…” you choke out, pressing your lips to hold in the onslaught of things you want to say. To understand? To apologize? The words die out on your tongue.

“I know. You’re always trying, Trouble. That might just be the saddest part.”

Wind whirls through your hair, pushing you against him for shelter as you gather your thoughts. In the silence of the woods, you wonder how many moments you’ve spent drawn to him like this for comfort. Luke’s always there for you, whether you like it or not. For better or worse—you wonder if there won’t be a lot of chances to hold and be held, and you can’t seem to let go.

“I didn’t change, okay? I’m still me. People don’t change, just like the gods don’t. I just don’t see us away from this,” you swallow, tracing a finger over his bicep to distract your burning eyes, “we can’t escape who we are Luke. Me and you. Isn’t that enough for now?”

He lets out a sigh and you know his answer; his shoulders sink low enough that your hold on him loosens ever so slightly. At this rate, you think it’d be easier if he’d just pull the trigger—maybe it would hurt less than this.

“I’ll change the gods’ minds and make them agree. They’ll know us, babe. The glory—”

Everything around you blurs as you hone in on your anger. This whole forest could go up in flames and you wouldn’t give a damn,”Oh FUCK glory! Just love me and that’s enough! Why can’t that be enough? Why can’t you stop running from me for once, Luke!” Your plea comes out like a wail and you push him away, feeling disgusted by what’s come of this conversation. You were never a beggar—the only thing left to do was kneel in the dirt and beg him not to break up with you. Before you can think of the irrational thought any further he shakes his head, almost growling, “How do you still not get it? It’s because I love you is why I can’t.”

“Listen, I love you too, babe. I just…don’t know if I like you right now.”

That’s not fair. He’s sacrificing the entire trajectory of his life and you can’t figure out if you like him? You don’t know the lengths he would go to, can’t fathom the obstacles he would conquer just to make sure that you and him have it all. And you’re not even trying to see it his way—to even imagine that he could make it possible.

Things couldn’t stay the same forever, that you could both agree on.

“You’re all talk, you know that, Trouble? You’re just mad that I want this life more than you. And you know I’d actually do what I need to do to get it. Would you?” he nudges you roughly, “Talk to me! This is your time to get it all out of your system. Say that I wouldn’t do anything for you. You know I would.” Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks; he hates watching you cry. It’s the whole reason he signed away his soul—he wants the world you live in to be a place where gods bow down to you and dry your tears, not cause them. Luke would topple Olympus in an instant if it meant you wouldn’t look at him like he’s a lost cause.

“That’s not fair, you haven’t even answered a single question I’ve asked you. It’s like you’re not even listening to me, Lu—”

“Not fair?”

Groaning, you turn away from him. The flag post you dropped earlier is long gone now—the game is still on and the world keeps spinning whether you like it or not. But you’re disinterested in all that now.

“Do you even hear yourself? To you, I’m still the girl on the Ferris wheel,” you sniff, wiping your nose with your sleeve. His hands squeeze your shoulders, begging, pleading for you to understand, “Is that a bad thing? You tell me you haven’t changed—I’m protecting her because you won’t. I’m getting her the hell out of here because I know she deserves more than this. Look around you,” he whispers your name against your neck, “We could forget all of this.” 

But that’s just not who you are. Your shoulders tremble as you hold them up under the pressure. Sure you could see what he’s saying—there isn’t a single future you can imagine without Luke in it. The house, the kids…but more than that you just want to belong somewhere. And Camp Half-Blood is where you belong. With him. 

“I don’t want everything, Luke. I just want you. And if you don’t want this, I need you to tell me now. Because I’m tired,” you warble, digging your nails into your palms, “ and I’m sick of this game. I feel like neither of us are winning.” You take a step back to look at him—sunlight filtering through his hair, eyes wistful and contemplative.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

And there it is. He’s already made his decision, whether he admits it or not. A horn blares overhead, followed by the sounds of cheering. You don’t know who won, and you don’t really give a shit if we’re being real right now. 

“Does it even matter?”

There’s a frozen look on your face like you’ve been struck by lightning, half between a crooked smile and subtle surprise. It’s a knowing look, Luke thinks, what he can see of you through half-lidded lashes and grief. He thinks years from now, if he even makes it that far, it’ll all come back to this moment in the North Woods, and you, the girl he was in love with at nineteen.

“It’s not even worth it now I guess,” he whispers. It makes you laugh—even your laughter sounds sad now. 

It seems that even breaking up with you is an inconvenience.

You sniff, wiping your face and looking around. Everyone’s gone already and Chiron will be looking for you two soon, “Then it’s not worth it. Because you say so… and we’ve got work to do.” Your watch beeps. 

Dinner service starts soon, but before you both head over to the pavilion, you and Luke are expected to set up the bonfire. He nods, loosening the straps of his chestplate, just something to do with his hands, “I know.”

“I don’t want to go. I’m not ready to leave this all behind yet. I’m still needed here.” Until your coming of age ceremony. Until your heart calls you elsewhere and your family can stand on their feet. 

Until then.

Somewhere, you hear Annabeth calling out to you, the melody of both of your names traveling through the trees. You and Luke turn your heads in that direction, before looking at each other once more. He licks his lips, “I know that. We should get back to it, then.” There’s no use doing this all alone, he thinks. And there’s a part of you that thinks there is no use for you when you’re alone.

“We should.”

Neither of you move. 

The winter solstice is tomorrow and there is much work left for the both of you to do.

—

I don’t understand how he grows colder from the same love that warms me. I didn’t know we loved differently—him partly, less and less, and I entirely. - JNH / @shatteredjuvenileday

[dearcauti0n]

Let's see

My current username is actually the third and final username I will ever make! I created it one day somewhere back in 2020-2021 or something like that based on a word I started to like!! "Caution" or at least the symbol. I mostly used the symbol in Roblox games because I didn't really feel like using a normal name

And the word "dear" actually came from an oc I love dearly and their name is Dear Dearest Darling!! And for that random "0"? Eh I wanted to be cool

I do like my current username because it just fits unlike the last two, that were both phases. The first is based on a fnaf YouTuber and the second was based on a phase I thought I could stick with. And that was slendytubbies (gosh saying that again brings back memories)

But yeah, I like my current username, not really based on anything specific so I don't feel the stress of keeping my art in one place for one fandom

Because hey

I do really like a lot of other things besides animals jam

I mean let's do a list, for my sake, just woke up too:

I like uh:

Animal Jam

Cookie Run

Skyrim

Dandy's World (sometimes)

Slendytubbies (sometimes)

Any creature game (it depends)

Favorite childhood horror games

And original stuff that I sometimes have :]

That's about the Lore dump it'll get

I won't tag because uh, I'll feel bad :,]

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[yuikomorii]

I love Yui she's such a nerd, honestly your blog is the whole reason I even like Yui now, I never disliked her but I never cared about her because she seemed kinda the basic " Nice girl " trope ( and I watched the anime first ) so I just ignored her but your blog put more light on her personality and now she is so much more interesting to me. I honestly wish we would get some more background info on her about her old life before the Sakamakis, we do kinda but not much.

When I thought Yui was a bland Nice Character only to realize she's a Clusmy, kinda slow, obsessive girl in love and somtimes just as crazy as the Sakamakis, like girrrl I've seen those Bad endings, Shuu More blood brute?? Ayato bad endings? Our true queen, say delulu in love Yui ❤️

// Haha, I’m glad to hear that. 💕💕

I don’t have anything against the “nice girl” trope, as long as it’s executed well and the girl has more depth than just being “too good for this world.” Yui might come across as your typical nice girl at first glance, but even outside the endings, she occasionally does or says things so unexpectedly problematic that you can’t help but wonder “What’s wrong with her?”. That said, she’s not meant to be a normal character, since this is a game made for people with masochistic fantasies, and we’re supposed to either play as her or put ourselves in her shoes. It’s pretty clear Yui has always had some underlying masochistic tendencies. After all, she started enjoying the bites during the Dark section of the HDB chapters, which isn’t exactly something a “normal” person would do… well, not so fast. 👀

Yui is a kind and stupid girl in general, but she can also be cunning and even worse than the Diaboys when mad, so that’s what makes her interesting. Honestly, I’m glad she’s crazy too, if she weren’t, I’d feel way too bad for her. At least this way, she shares some of the twisted traits of her men, which makes her dynamic with them feel more balanced. 😂😂

Speaking of those endings, every time I think about them, I get chills. I can understand the “I’ll get rid of everyone for senpai because he’s my precious senpai and mine alone!” type of Yandere you see in anime, but the ones who do something truly horrifying to the person they claim to love are on a whole other level of disturbing. At least in Shu’s one, she “only” stabs him and locks him in a dungeon to turn him into her one and only blood slave. But in Ayato’s ending? She literally paralyzes his entire body out of jealousy, leaving him unable to move or speak yet fully conscious of what’s happening, while she carries him around like an actual DOLL, and then she uses him for pleasure. It’s practically an allegory for reducing someone to a living sex doll—an object meant solely to look good and fulfill someone else’s desires, which is just next-level of messed up, lol.

Credit to: dialovers-translations

I even remember this screenshot from the Chinese edition where Yui says to a paralyzed Ayato, “Ayato, don’t go anywhere.” Girl, where was he even supposed to go?? You literally took away his ability to do anything. Even Karlheinz got creeped out! 😳

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Good day!! Can we have some HCs of Mochi? Thank you! 🌽 I really think he's got a cute design but now i just feel sad because i just realized that he's often not included or recognized 😭

Mochi should be included more! Here are my hc's for him

Refuses to fight girls and actively tried to avoid Senju during fights they were both in.

When he's grocery shopping he normally gets asked by people to reach things on the higher shelves, he always gets them what they need.

Has an arm wrestling club with Draken and Pah in the good timeline

Corn is actually a comfort food for him, he ate it a lot growing up

Would love to have a dog (also has a fondness for cats)

He frequently steps into fights that he feels are unfair like a group teaming up on one person (as long as they're not a target for his gang).

When he gets bored he looks for someone to fight

Loves festivals, especially the games at them

As a partner he's incredibly gentle, carefully holding your hand and placing soft kisses on you. He's very aware of his strength and careful with it.

Similarly to Pah and Mikey, Izana once fell asleep on Mochi

Doesn't like that he isn't a fast runner (mainly because Shion and the Haitani brother's sometimes tease him over it)

He didn't like his life in bonten much, it wasn't what he thought it would be like

In the good timeline, after he joined toman and realised Angry was scared of him, he tried to be friendlier towards him (usually by bringing him a drink to meetings)

He's very good with the kids in the future timeline, they love climbing all over him and how happy he is to play with them.

Very good at ball sports 

Growing up, his father was a police officer who often wasn't home and worked overtime. His mother was always kind to him and they were very close but she died when he was a kid, he ran away after that. 

One time he managed to catch a balloon a kid accidentally let go off before it got too high, he felt like a hero that day.

Likes cooking and will often share recipes with Kakucho 

Is very bad at keeping surprises from his partner, he just gets so excited to share gifts with them or tell them about his plans. 

Frequently carries his friends home on nights out when they get too drunk (Rindou is the most common)

[dexteri0us]

now i’m breathin' like i’m runnin' 'cause you're taking me there; don’t you know you spin me out of control?

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: reader is a freak, mentions of corpses, smut - dom!dexter (but he's soft<3), sir kink, oral (f and m receiving), some slapping, some pussy slapping, bondage, knife play, brush play, wartenberg wheel (all sterilized of course).

summary: you, being an annoying girlfriend, and dexter, being an incredible boyfriend. (be careful though, he might as well just off you one day if you keep asking for it).

w/c: around 7,280

a/n: no pun intended. if i forgot any warnings, let me know, my brain is kinda fried

Dexter hadn’t exactly told you that he was a killer. A murderer, a criminal, or whatever label fit his particular shade of darkness. But he also never denied it when your insinuations crept too close to the truth. He knew that you knew, and that was enough for you. Knowing that he was okay with that was enough for you. Well, until recently.

He’d given you a blurry picture of what he did to his victims. Not because he offered it, but you had a knack for prodding, especially when you sensed he was buttered up just enough. You knew a crime scene or a sample of blood brought a smile to his face, but you didn’t exactly have that kind of power to bring those things to him. You found your own ways to make Dexter smile. Leaving a post-it note on his coffee machine that read “Kill the day”. Buying him a new shirt for work or a romantic dinner. Making him a playlist for his late-night boat rides. Or you’d plan a quiet night with nature docs to stimulate his intellect.

And if you were feeling bold, you’d cook. Well, try to cook. Homemade pizza was your speciality. Your best and only. Dexter never complained, though, always giving you a small, approving nod as he chewed slowly.

Still, he didn’t give you the exact answers either. He might roll his eyes, sigh heavily, or offer a cryptic one-word response, but you could always tell when you’d hit the nail on the head.

“Do you have a special place where you do it? Like a basement or something?”

Roll of his eyes. No.

“Do you ever regret it? Like, afterward?”

No.

“Do you stalk them?”

Side eye. Yes.

“Do you talk to them first? Like, try to scare them or mess with their heads:”

...Yes?

You played this game as if it was the most normal thing in the world, without batting an eye. It was fun for you until you headed in an unpleasant direction of the questions.

“Does it get messy? What do you use to clean up? What about their clothes? Do you get them naked before getting rid of the body?”

Yes.

Oh. “…Before killing them?”

Yes.

The wheels in your head began to turn, your thoughts spiraling into uncharted territory. “Even the women?”

Yes.

Huh. Suddenly, the game wasn’t so fun anymore. You didn’t know how you felt about that. You pictured the men and women you didn’t know, beautiful, vulnerable, dead. It was stupid to feel jealous of corpses, but you couldn’t help it. It clawed at you.

For a while, you stopped asking questions. Not because you didn’t want to know, but because you were too distracted by the answers you’d already gotten. And maybe you were afraid of what else you’d uncover.

If you were jealous of them before, now that jealousy skyrocketed into different dimensions.

You were in the middle of baking banana bread, working the batter longer than necessary. It was your fourth loaf this week, and you’d already had to give a few away to Deb and Joey, because you weren’t capable of eating all of it.

You were happy that Deb and Joey appreciated it because Dexter didn’t even like banana bread that much. He ate it because you made it. Which was sweet. But still, he seemed to enjoy talking to naked strangers more than eating your baked goods.

What the fuck is his problem?

“Another banana bread?” Dexter’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “You know, it’s gonna lose its sweetness if you keep mixing all the frustration into it.”

Normally, you’d snort at the deadpan delivery of his stupid joke, but now was really not the time to remind you of the mood you were trying to suppress.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked is all seriousness now, coming over to you and leaning one hip against the counter. You didn’t look at him, keeping your focus on the batter. “Okay, you’re not. What can I do?” he asked, waiting patiently for you to open up.

“Nothing.”

He stood there and you felt his eyes on you, probably trying to read you. You still didn’t acknowledge him, but his presence pressed against you and it was starting to make you uncomfortable. He knew better than to push; it would only make you more frustrated, but he wasn’t one to just walk away either. Besides, he knew you’d crack eventually. And you did, dropping the spatula into the bowl and turning to face him.

“Why don’t you like my banana bread?”

He squinted his eyes, trying to decide if you were joking or not.

“I like your banana bread. Just… an appropriate amount. Not five loaves in a week.”

“Four,” you corrected.

“Five,” he countered, not missing a beat. “You made two yesterday, one on Monday and one on Wednesday.”

Shit, he was right. But could he blame you? He was driving you nuts. Well, you were driving yourself nuts, but it was because of him!

“Hey, I know my brain is limited, but is that really what’s bothering you? Will you help me out, or should I try to piece it together on my own?” he said softly.

He always did that, giving you space but never giving up on saving you from the sea of worrisome thoughts, never ignoring your closed off behavior. He’d always told you that you were like a puzzle to him. And he claimed he liked puzzles.

But you didn’t want to be a puzzle this time. You knew keeping him guessing wouldn't be healthy, so you spilled it out. You told him about your stupid insecurity and the stupid jealousy, the anger and frustration that boiled over when he told you about how he stripped his victims naked. And he couldn’t have had a more baffled expression on his face

For the first time, he told you a little bit about his hobby without you having to pull it from him. He reassured you that there was no sexual motivation behind it whatsoever. None. That the people he killed were disgusting and vile human beings who didn’t deserve even the faintest semblance of intimacy. Well, not that kind of intimacy. They deserved nothing but to die.

“I promise,” he said as he brushed his thumb over your cheek, “the only body I admire is yours. It’s an unhealthy obsession, really. Unhealthier than the other one.”

And with that, he finally made you laugh and roll your eyes at him. You gave him a playful shove, making him smile as you turned back to your batter. He moved closer one more time, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, then your cheek. As he stepped back, he gave your triceps a playful pinch, leaving you to your baking.

You didn’t have a reason not to trust him. Even though he held onto a big secret, he never outright lied. He just never told you the whole truth, and you respected that. He’d told you it was better this way, something about plausible deniability. And yes, you made it a little hard for him, but what can you say, you were nosy.

Later that night, he went out of his way to worship your body, to prove that you were truly his number one obsession. He looked you in the eye as he fucked you, making you see how you made him feel and showing you every ounce of devotion he had for you. When he put his tongue on you, he didn’t stop eating your pussy until you had to push him away.

Afterward, you lay on your stomach while Dexter rested beside you, propped on one elbow, his other hand tracing invisible shapes on your back.

He let you guess what he drew or wrote with his fingers, and you both giggled when you guessed something ridiculous when he drew something completely simple. It was your favorite kind of peace, lying in his arms, your warm skin against his. You almost couldn’t believe that these same arms were capable of something else.

It wouldn’t be you if you weren’t greedy, though. And sometimes, when your mood was just right, that greed turned you into a bit of a brat.

You were on your way from the farmer’s market, the basket of fresh carrots and strawberries balanced on your lap as Dexter focused on the road, one hand casually resting on the wheel.

You were just telling him how you wanted to have a garden of your own one day, grow your own fruits and veggies, maybe even have a little flock of chickens.

“Can you imagine? You’d have fresh eggs for breakfast every morning, and I could make you a fruit salad to take to work.”

He glanced over, just briefly, before fixing his eyes back on the road. “You’d want me to share that with you?”

You felt a small tug of your heart. It made you reach out to gently tug the short hair behind his ear. He liked that. He’d said it was soothing when you played with his hair, especially around the ears, and you made a mental note to do more of it later tonight.

“Dex, you’re stuck with me. You’ll need to kill me to get rid of me,” you joked and he shot you a look, but you giggled at your own quip.  

Truthfully, it broke your heart sometimes, the way he thought so little of himself. Sure, he was confident, sometimes even a little too sure of his skills, and it could momentarily turn him into a smug asshole. But you worried that he’d never feel how loved he actually was. How many people cared about him.

Before you could spiral too far into those thoughts, his phone buzzed. He was being called to a scene, and he initially wanted to drop you off at home, but you convinced him there was no point. It was literally on the way, and you could just wait in the car.

“Alright,” he said as he gathered his things, “half an hour, tops.” You nodded and he stepped out of the car.

You watched him work from the car, though you could barely make him out through the crowd of people that gathered at the scene. Still, you admired how focused and precise he was, the way he was handling the camera and the lifeless body.

It was impossible not to think about how those same hands had touched you, traced every curve and dip of your skin. Fuck, you were sick. He was professionally documenting death for Christ's sake.

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander elsewhere, wondering if he handled them with the same care. So, once you were back on the road, you couldn’t help yourself.

“You know, I thought of a way you could prove your ‘obsession’ with my body.”

He paused, glancing at you with furrowed brow, confused. “I thought we were past that.”

“Well, you know, it does something to a girl, knowing her boyfriend’s hobby involves working with naked bodies.”

“I can’t believe that that’s what bothers you about this whole situation.”

You shrugged, letting the silence hang for a moment.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you have in mind?”

“I want to experience it.”

“'It'. Try to be a little more specific.”

“You know… the setup. Like, a roleplay kinda thing. You’ll be you, and I’ll be your victim. Or like a 'draw me like one of your french girls' kinda situation."

You honestly thought that it was a good idea, but you just proved to him how much little you understood about the whole serial killer thing, which he let you know quite candidly.

Don’t get me wrong, he adored you, but he didn’t have a problem with calling you out on your stupidity and reminding you how close you sometimes got to crossing lines you didn’t fully understand. That’s what made your relationship great.

“First of all, why would you think they are French?" he asked, confused by the movie reference, but you jusrt rolled your eyes. "And second of all, I actually wonder whether it’s you or me who’s sick in the head here,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he went on to tell you that it wasn't a fucking game that you played. He is a serial killer. “I actually like your body intact.”

“But you wouldn’t actually –”

“No.”

“Come on, wouldn’t you like to see me all tied up, immobilized, completely at your mercy?”

His jaw tightened just slightly before he answered. Oh?

“No. End of discussion.”

“Fine,” you groaned with a sigh, sinking back into your seat like a scolded child, your fingers idly tracing the ridges of the basket in your lap.

You wanted to be petty about it but instead, you decided to be on your best behavior. The reason? You’d definitely gotten into his head. You didn’t know if he’d started fantasizing about you like that, or if he was coming to the realization that you might actually need a psychiatric evaluation. You hoped it was the former, so when you caught him lost in thought, his gaze lingering on you as if he were in a trance, you resisted the urge to poke the bear, only sending a sweet smile his way.

The sex had gotten more… intense. Also more frequent, and you had a theory that it correlated with his early returns from his hunts. He never seemed to be satisfied, always came home frustrated with himself and he took it out on you. He’d take you against the nearest surface he could find; the couch, the kitchen counter, even the floor. You thought there wasn’t a single surface in his apartment that wasn’t defiled.

Once, when he’d gotten home before you, he threatened to take you outside in the external corridor where his neighbors could see and hear everything. Well, you wouldn’t mind, but he was a flying-under-the-radar kind of guy.

Either way, you’d struck a chord. And while you still hadn’t gotten exactly what you wanted, you couldn’t deny you enjoyed the way he’d been lately.

You just got out of shower, slipped into your pajamas and plopped onto the couch, turning on some white noise on your phone as you pulled out some notes for your upcoming exam. No, you weren’t capable of studying after you changed into your sleeping attire, but it was better than doing nothing.

Your eyes skimmed mindlessly across the words when you heard the door unlock, revealing Dexter in his khaki henley and cargos. You greeted him with a smile, sending him into kitchen where his take-out was, before turning your head back to your notes.

You didn’t register him moving closer to you, until you felt the nylon of a cuff around your wrist.

“What the fuck?” you murmured and looked at your wrist. It wasn’t your first time he used bondage on you, of course, but this was weird. You tugged instinctively at the chain, but his firm grip on the other buckle didn’t allow you much movement. “Dex, I don’t have time for this now.”

“My victims don’t really get to pick when their time is up.”

You looked at him, the confusion apparent on your face, but then when you locked eyes with him, it started to gradually dawn on you. Your eyes flicked from his face, to his clothes, to the chain around your wrist.

Was this what you thought it was? You didn’t want to celebrate too early.

And just like that, Dexter gave a sharp tug on the chain, pulling you to your feet.

“The first thing that usually happens,” he began, leading you to the bedroom, “is the weight of their tranquilized bodies pulls them to the ground.”

Before you could react, he slammed the door shut behind you and in one swift motion, your back hit the hard wood. Your other wrist was caught and cuffed too, the chain between them yanked taut as he raised your arms above your head, hooking the chain on the hook mounted on the door, leaving you stertched out.

It was too high and the position forced you onto your tiptoes, your whole body arching and making your ass press firmly against the door.

Dexter grabbed your jaw and kissed you aggressively, your teeth clanking against each other and your tongues tangling together, making your mixed saliva drip down your chin.

He looked at you with that signature intensity, eyes hooded and plush lips parted slightly. His hot breath fanned across your chin as he spread the spit over your cheek and jawline, massaging it into your skin.

You admired the way his hair curled at his forehead and around his ears, it gave him this innocent vibe that put him into contrast with those strong features of his face.

Then he kissed you again, this time more softly, snaking his arm into the space between the door and your arched back, pressing himself against you and making you feel the hardness in his cargo pants. His hand slid lower, over the curve of your lower back, slipping beneath your shirt to cup your ass firmly. His fingers kneaded your flesh before grasping the hem of your panties and tugging up, the fabric pressing tightly against your pussy.

The pressure sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you, the cloth stimulating your clit as he gave it individual tugs. You whimpered into his mouth, your body writhing against him even though it was almost physically impossible. To amplify the pleasure, Dexter's thigh slid between your legs, the textured fabric of his cargos creating a delicious sensation.

When he was satisfied with the wet spot you created on his pants, he dropped to his knees. He teased you some more, licking along the hem of your panties, placing wet kisses on your thighs and burying his nose against your heat, telling you how good you smell.

“Dex,” you whined. Your cunt screamed for release as well as your strained arms. You wanted nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his hair and grind yourself against his mouth until the dam broke.

He had told you before that his face was made for you to sit on. Once, Deb had jokingly called him a chair, which turned out to be a thought her therapist had passed on to her. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to the nights when he made you sit on his cock as he went over his subjects. He blindfolded you each time, naturally.

And from the look on your face, Deb knew instantly where your thoughts had gone, and said that she didn’t need that mental image in her head. You both laughed about it later. Honestly, you two loved sharing your sexcapades with each other.

Dexter found out through Quinn, because of course Deb would share, especially if you gave her inspiration. And he couldn't resist taking a jab at Dexter.

“I didn’t know you were such an animal, Dex,” Joey had told him with that smug grin of his.

Dex had given you an earful about how you had kind of compromised his privacy. It was only a matter of time until Masuka learned about this, and he was already exasperating. Dexter was afraid Masuka would take it as a shared hobby, something they could finally, really talk about with passion, like two guys. Ugh, the thought alone made him uncomfortable already.

But you'd told him that Deb was your best friend, and that girlfriends just had to talk about this stuff.

“It’s like therapy.”

“Don’t you say that about sex too?”

“Depends on the circumstances. Besides, it’s good for tips. You should thank her. If you thought making me squirt was all your talent, think again.”

After that, you made a deal not to bring up your sex club discussions in front of Dexter, and Deb made Quinn promise he wouldn’t say a word in front of Vince.

However, you did joke about the chair thing often, because he did provide the best seat in the house, whether it was his lap or his face.

But this time, he wasn't giving it up so easily. He wanted to make you earn it, but you couldn’t do anything except to wait.

When he finally did put his tongue on you, he didn’t take your panties off. He made you cum with them on, licking your clit over your panties, sometimes brushing his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves before sliding to your hole and pushing against the cloth, to the point your underwear became uncomfortable from how soaked it was with your cum.

Then he finally pushed your panties aside, the wet material sticking to your skin. He shuffled closer, his forehead grazing your stomach and his hair tickling your skin as he looked down at you, sliding his fingers through your folds and over your sensitive clit. you begged him to make you cum again, thinking he’d finally eat you out properly, but he just used his fingers.

He stayed on his knees for a while, admiring your shiny pussy and grazing his fingernails over your clit, teasing you, before standing up to his full height and properly fucking you hard with his fingers.

He wrapped his arm around you once again, bracing himself to your side as he started snapping his palm against your clit, two of his fingers sliding in and out of you and filling the room with wet sounds.

When you started cumming again, his other hand, that was resting on your hip reached down and tugged on your panties again, positioning the crotch back between your pussy lips and pulling, wiggling it to create stimulation against your clit.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lower jaw dropping down as he admired your squirming body.

You cried out from the sensation, your head banging against the door and one of your legs bending in the knee as you pressed your thighs together, trying to escape from the overstimulation.

You were so consumed by coming down from your high that you didn’t expect Dexter to unhitch the chain from the hook on the door, making you lose your balance. You would have surely fallen to the ground if Dexter hadn’t been there, but he was ready to catch you.

He shifted your body, picking you up bridal style. You thought that he’d lay you down onto the bed and fuck you there, but instead, he opened the door and headed out of the room. And as you rested in the comfort of his strong arms, your head against his shoulder, you noticed that his shirt smelt differently. It wasn’t the usual sweat and blood, or different human remains. It was a laundry detergent, meaning he truly did this just for you. It was your night.

He carried you through the living room, making his way toward his desk where he sat you down.

Unlike every other day, the computer was gone, as well as the photo of him and Deb. In fact, it was completely cleared out.

How have you not noticed that?

He stood between your thighs, working the cuffs to separate them from each other before pulling your sleep shirt over your head, leaving you exposed to him. His hand reached out, pinching your nipple as he kissed you, sharing the taste of your pussy with you. He pressed himself against you, the button of his cargos grazing your clit and making you moan. You were still sensitive, but you loved every second of it.

He leaned into you, forcing you to lie down, the coldness of the desk hitting your back and spreading goosebumps over your skin. He positioned you to his liking, moving you up so your feet rested on the top of the desk.

“I make sure they can’t escape,” he continued his description of the way he’d done things, pulling out another set of cuffs from the desk drawer and clasping each around your ankles before cuffing them to your wrist cuffs. You weren’t unfamiliar with any of this, but then he pulled out two other clasps and attached the ankle cuffs to the D-rings built in the desk.

Were those always there?

Now, you were all spread out for him, your nipples stiff for him to feed on, your legs bent in the knees and putting the outline of your cunt under your ruined panties on full display. You were capable of minimal movement with your ankles attached to the desk and your hands dependent on the movement of your legs. You weren’t going anywhere. Not that you wanted to.

“Are you good?” he asked, making sure he wasn’t doing anything you weren’t up to.

“Yes.”

“What’s your safe word?”

“Magazine.”

You watched as Dexter moved around the apartment, disappearing from your sight to retrieve a black, flat bag. When he returned to the kitchen counter, he seemed to unroll the bag, his back to you. You had to crane your neck to see, the vertebrae in your neck squishing together as you tried to get a glimpse of what lay inside. Something steely caught the light as he pulled it out. Then Dexter turned around, a pointed tool spinning under the force of his index finger. A Wartenberg wheel.

Your throat tightened, chills coursing down your spine as your body shifted in anticipation. Nothing could have prepared you for the next set of events. You were sure the next time you and Deb swapped stories, she would be the one taking notes.

Dexter tortured the fuck out of you.

He started with the pinwheel, rolling it all over your body. The pins were sharp enough to prickle your skin as they trailed along your arms, but it didn’t hurt. At first, it was even nice, relaxing almost. Then he moved to your chest, the wheel gliding from the hollow of your neck, down between your breasts and over you stomach.

As it neared the waistband of your soaked panties, you thought he’d continue further down and toward your aching pussy. But just as it reached below your navel, the wheel disappeared, making you huff.

That was your mistake. You’d worked yourself up by stupidly thinking that he’d go there right away. Foolish.

“I cut them up.”

You flinched at the sudden sound, startled, but he didn’t comment. The pinwheel resumed its path, drawing invisible lines across your wrists, elbows, shoulders, mimicking incisions. You closed your eyes, letting your imagination take over.

“Into evenly cut pieces,” he added.

Now the tool traveled lower, grazing your legs, running from your ankle to your bent knee, then up the sensitive skin of inner thigh. You trembled under his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

You reveled in the thought of this man, this predator, choosing to worship you instead of discarding you. Who knows, maybe one day, he would snap. But the possibility only made your body quake more.

He noticed, stopping the wheel just where your thigh met your hip. “Are you scared?”

“No.” you said, though your voice betrayed you, shaking on the single syllable.

But you really weren’t. If you were truly scared, you wouldn’t have misbehaved just now.

Before you could think about what would happen next, his hand struck, his palm landing sharply against your clothed pussy, and it was just then that you noticed he had put on his gloves, the leather making the sting more searing. You gasped, your hips jerking from the impact.

“If you thought you’d get a free pass, you were sorely mistaken.” He leaned over you, his hand sliding from your core to your thigh, squeezing the flesh. “Let’s try again. Are you scared?”

“No, sir.”

Other times, if you failed to call him sir right away, you’d get a warning. Maybe a slap to your thigh, or a firm squeeze of your neck. Never your pussy. Not at first.

“Such a brave girl.” This time, he ran the pinwheel slowly from your waist toward your chest. He altered its course, pressing it against your breast, applying more pressure as he reached your nipple, the sharp points dragging over it. “See? They could never measure up to you.”

Dexter turned the wheel again, guiding it slowly down your heaving stomach. You swore one of the metallic points grazed the bow on your panties, but he halted the motion, the wheel twisting 90 degrees to trace the hem of your underwear instead. Your hips tilted upwards instinctively, a desperate attempt to bring your pussy closer to his hand, but it was useless.

He continued to tease you, switching from one thigh to another, running it so close to your center, but never quite touching it. You kept waiting for that moment, but it never came.

“This is getting boring. I’ll go get something else,” he said nonchalantly, making his way toward the counter. Fucker.

“Wait,” you blurted without thinking. “I mean, please, sir…”

His footsteps paused, then drew closer again, stopping beside your head and smiling down at you.

“Did you want something?”

“Can you please touch my pussy?”

“Of course,” he said, a mocking lilt in his voice. “I just have to make my hands free,” he replied, taking a step toward the counter again, but you were quick to react.

“No!” You immediately regretted your words as he returned to the same spot. Dexter’s hand tilted your head, his gloved fingers squeezing your cheeks. The leather was firm and hot against your face. “I’m sorry, sir,” you added quickly, your voice muffled under his grip.

He leaned in closer. “You’d better realize your place, sweetheart. Or I’ll make sure this won’t be a fun experience.”

You apologized again, not forgetting the title, and he released your face, giving you a nod.

“Can you please touch my pussy with… that?”

Fuck your pride, right?

He raised his hand in front of his face, inspecting the pinwheel as though it had just appeared in his hand.

“Oh, this?” he said, feigning ignorance, clearly mocking you. “You want me to–” He moved the tool lazily through the air above your body, stopping just over your lower half “Touch you here?”

With a swift motion, the wheel skimmed between your legs, the pins grazing your panties. You didn’t even have the time to register it before he removed it again, but the electrifying sensation that came and went made you moan as your clit pulsed with excitement.  

“Yes, please.”

His nose brushed against yours as he leaned over again, and you thought he was going to kiss you. Instead, he mocked you again, his voice dripping with condescension as he cupped your chin. “Aw, you’re such a dirty girl, huh?”

His head dropped, his hair tickling your cheek as he glanced downward, watching his hand between your thighs. He made another contact with your pussy, slowly this time, focused. A mix of relief and hunger flooded you as he ran it up and down your wet underwear, the prickling sensation shooting through your nerves. “You want me to fuck you with it too? Are you that sick, hm?”

When you didn’t respond, he stopped and his head snapped towards you. His gloved hand left your face, only to land a slap across your cheek. The sting spread across your face, your skin burning under the impact.

“I didn’t fucking hear you.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

What can you say? Slapping didn’t really work on you. He knew that, it’s the reason he did it. So he could do it again.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He slapped you again, this time harder, the leather stinging even more than his bare hand.  

“If that’s what you wanted, sir, I’d take it.” You managed to keep your voice steady despite the heat in your cheek.

His lips curved into a smile. He stood up, walking towards the counter. “Jesus Christ,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re lucky you found me. Anyone else would’ve committed your ass to a psychiatric hospital.”

“Fate,” you commented, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t punish you. Meaning you made him smile.

Dexter returned with a knife, and he dragged it across the chains, the clinking sound of metal scraping against metal echoing in the room.

He focused on your pussy now, rubbing the flat side of the knife against your clit, occasionally tapping it against you, and you half-expected he might nick the skin of your thighs if he wasn’t careful.

Then, Dexter flipped the knife again, teasing you with its blunt edge before bringing it to your breasts. He drew circles around your nipples with the tip of the knife, sharper than the pinwheel.

His body moved again, positioning himself behind you. His face, upside down, loomed above, gently cupping the underside of your chin, tilting your head back. The leather of his gloves gave you an unnerving sensation as his fingers held you in place. You felt the cold steel of the knife at your throat, running from one carotid to the other.

“Sometimes I cut their throats. But it’s not really my favorite style,” he said, the blade left your neck, drifting downward until it hovered over your left breast, settling directly above your wildly beating heart. He pressed the tip of the knife just enough for your skin to dip under its force. He could do anything to you. He could kill you right then and there.

“I love you,” you confessed for what felt like umpteenth time.

Dexter smiled, leaning down and placing a tender kiss on your forehead, all while controlling the force he still had on the knife.

He straightened, moving to your side again. His gloved fingers trailed over your stomach as he slid the knife under the hem of your underwear. The sharp edge pressed upwards, and you felt the fabric give way with a faint snick as the first small tear formed.

He moved the blade lower, repeating the motion. Each cut widened the tear, revealing the top of your clit. He shredded the panties until they were completely off, leaving you slickness glistening in the dim light and dripping onto the table beneath you.

Dexter removed his gloves and slid his fingers between your pussy lips, coating them in your wetness, before he brought them to his mouth. He just made you cum with his mouth, surely he wouldn’t–

But before you could finish your thought, he bent down over your torso and in a millisecond, his head was between your thighs. Mouth wide open, his tongue resting on his chin as he pressed it flat against your clit, and his upper lip collecting your juices straight from the source.

It was a single, devastating taste, but it was enough to make your legs tremble, the chains stopping you from closing them.

“Shit, I might as well eat you out again.”

Yeah, he might. Without anything in the way this time.  

It was just stroking your ego. It really made you proud, how his tongue was addicted to your pussy.

He brought the final tool of the night – a small brush that looked like it belonged in a makeup kit. It also looked like the softest instrumentof the night, but turned out to be the most torturing one.

The bristles touched your clit with featherlight strokes, maddeningly soft. The individual bristles tickled and stimulated every single nerve ending, sending vibrations through your entire body.

You gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily. Dexter worked the brush in slow, torturous circles, teasing your clit to the brink. Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, he stuffed two fingers inside your hole, wiggling them inside to massage the spot that made your eyes roll back in your head.

The synergy was overwhelming. Your body writhed against the chains, chasing the orgasm building rapidly within you. But just as the climax was about to crash over you, he stopped. His fingers withdrew and the brush disappeared, your back arching in desperation as you felt the pleasure simmer out, leaving your abdomen hollow and aching from the loss.

“Please, sir, can I come?”

“Of course you can,” he said in a soft voice.

But he didn’t let you. He edged you again and again, pushing you to the brink, only to yank you back. He was playing with you, letting you know that your body wasn’t yours tonight. It was under his control. You were his.

The brush was drenched in your juices at this point, ruined just like your panties and your throbbing cunt. A few tears slipped from your eyes, mixing with the sweat slicking your skin. So you begged, desperate for the release. You begged until he finally finger-fucked, plunging his fingers into you and pumping them relentlessly. His thumb rubbed your puffy clit, sending you spiraling into an earth-shattering orgasm.

You came hard, your juices spilling over his hand and splattering onto his watch. He only pulled his fingers out to spank your clit, amplifying the intensity of your orgasm. At one point, he reached for the discarded glove, fisting it and placing harsh smacks against your sore pussy. You screamed, and after he landed his last smack, feeling you were nearing another orgasm, he switched the rough sensation of the leather for the softness of his tongue, firmly pressing against you and shaking his head from side to side, letting you cum into you his mouth.

You could barely take it and you were scared he might pull out a vibrator, because he liked to do that when you came twice in the span of two minutes. But he didn’t, removing his glistening face from your center and standing up. You just laid there, your body a racing circuit for the endorphins and oxytocin at this point.

Dexter gave you only a few second before he undid the chains, the clinking of metal barely audible over the pounding in your ears. He didn’t let you move, though, keeping you sprawled on table as he shifted your body higher until your head hung off the edge.

He stood in front of your face, and you knew what he wanted. You reached for the button of his cargo pants, undoing them and pulling them down along with his underwear. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy. Gorgeous. You didn’t waste a moment, leaning forward, licking the bead of precum from his tip before taking him into your mouth.

Dexter groaned, the sound vibrating through you. Soon, he took over, thrusting into your throat as he held you down. One hand pressed against your neck, feeling the way you swallowed his cock, while the other pinched and tugged at your nipples.

You gagged around him, bubbles forming in the corners of your mouth as you struggled to keep up. This time, your eyes outright stung from the tears that were forcing their way out, but you didn’t stop. It wasn’t until you coughed, your throat tightening involuntarily and squeezing around him, that he pulled out with a groan.

You gasped for air, your chest heaving, but he didn’t give you long to recover. His hand gripped your neck and yanked you up, forcing you into a kneeling position on the table. You just sat there, dazed, your hands resting in your lap like the picture of innocence. Messy hair, glassy eyes, and swollen lips.

Dexter kissed them, shoving his tongue into your mouth, tasting himself and making you taste yourself again. His beard scratched against your sensitive skin, adding to the long list of stimuli.

You dared to sneak your hand away from your lap, circling your fingers around his cock and stroking him slowly. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head and he moaned into your mouth before his head fell back. You leaned forward, your lips brushing against Dexter’s neck, sucking on his pulse point and grazing it with your teeth.

You moved your hand up and down, and Dexter’s moans and gasps grew louder and more frantic. You quickened your pace, his hips jerking into your hand as he chased his own orgasm. You twisted your hand, and he came with a guttural groan. His cum spilled onto your stomach, warm and sticky, and his hand shot out to grip the hair at the back of your neck, yanking you into another kiss as he came down from his high.

When his breathing slowed, you awkwardly shifted your legs over the edge of the table, letting them dangle as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You pulled him close, burying your face in his chest, a content sigh escaping you as you enjoyed the warmth, the softness of his body.

He cupped your head, his thumb brushing small crescents against your scalp with returned tenderness as he let out a soft sigh of his own, his chest rising and falling against you.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t pull away to look at him, your body too spent to do much more than to snuggle deeper into his chest and squeeze his torso.

“Better than,” you mumbled.

“I know this wasn’t what you wanted,” he said.

That made you lift your head. You looked at him, your brows drawing together in confusion.

“But this,” he gestured to the table, his brow raising, “is the only table I want to see you on. The only restraints I ever want to see on you. And I need you to get it through that thick skull of yours that there’s nothing sexy about what I do.”

“In my dreams there is,” you said, your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“YN,” he warned.

“I know,” you relented with a roll of your eyes, his brows raising, daring you to be a brat in this moment. “For the record, it was better than what I wanted.”

You smiled and he kissed you again, silencing any further rebellion. When you shivered against him, he pulled back and cleaned you up before ordering you to throw on a shirt.

“Yes, sir,” you replied cheekily, adding a playful salute for good measure.

“I will spank your ass if you don’t get it in the shower in ten seconds,” he said, pulling his own pants up. Would that be so bad? You bit your lip to keep from grinning and headed into the bathroom, while he cleaned the table.

By the time you switched places, you felt refreshed, fucked out just right as every muscle in your body ached with a sweet kind of soreness. You heated up his dinner while making yourself a quick sandwich. Just as you set his plate down, he walked out of the bathroom. You grabbed your sandwich and set down, with Dexter soon joining you.

When you finished your meals, the two of you migrated to the couch. He rested his head on your stomach, while you draped your legs over his shoulders.

Your fingers played with the freshly washed hair, soft and silky from the shampoo. You twirled the strands around your fingers lazily, and his quiet purrs filled the room as you trailed your fingertips along the curve of his ears, scraping gently at the sensitive spots behind them. That sound, half sigh, half growl, might’ve been your favorite thing in the world.

You bent down, the movement uncomfortable and your muscles protesting as you pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. But the way it scrunched affectionately under your touch made the discomfort worth it.

[carnalcrows]

DISOBEDIENCE - INHO

pairing: inho x dom! male reader

synopsis: When the normally composed Front Man disobeys, his lover steps in to deliver a firm but intimate punishment, breaking his pride and leaving him vulnerable—only to patch him back together with tender, loving care.

content warnings: 18+, sub!inho, spanking, a little aftercare at the end

word count: 0.8k

A/N: I forgot where the request went my bad g

The control room was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the monitors displaying the games in progress. You sat behind the large desk, watching the feeds in silence. Across from you stood In-ho, the Front Man, his mask clutched tightly in his hand. His usually commanding presence was subdued, his shoulders slightly hunched, his gaze avoiding yours.

“You know why you’re here,” you began, your voice cold but steady.

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I do.”

You leaned back in your chair, your gaze sharp and unyielding. “Then tell me why you thought it was acceptable to disobey my direct orders.”

He shifted uncomfortably, his grip on the mask tightening. “I… thought my decision was the better one,” he admitted reluctantly. “I was trying to—”

“You were trying to what?” you interrupted, your tone cutting through his excuse like a blade. “Undermine me? Prove that you’re above following instructions?”

“No,” he said quickly, his eyes darting to yours, desperation flickering in their depths. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“But that’s what you did,” you countered, standing and walking around the desk. Each step you took echoed in the tense silence, the air between you heavy with anticipation. “You’re supposed to be my right hand, In-ho. My enforcer. If you can’t follow orders, what message does that send to everyone else?”

He didn’t reply, his head bowing slightly as shame crept into his expression.

“Look at me,” you commanded, and after a moment of hesitation, he obeyed. His dark eyes met yours, a mix of defiance and vulnerability swirling within them.

“You’ve made a mess,” you said quietly, stepping closer. “And now, I have to clean it up. But first, I need to ensure you understand the weight of your actions.”

His breath hitched as you reached out, brushing a gloved finger along his jawline. He held your gaze, though his hands trembled slightly at his sides. You could see the tension in his body, the battle between his pride and the guilt that gnawed at him.

“Take off the jacket,” you instructed, your voice low but firm.

In-ho hesitated for only a moment before shrugging off the sleek black coat of his uniform, letting it fall to the floor. His crisp white shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the collar, his stoic mask slipping to reveal the man underneath. The vulnerability made him seem almost human—almost.

You guided him to lean over the desk, his hands gripping the edge tightly. The room was silent except for the sound of his breathing, uneven and shallow. You slowly pulled his pants and boxers down before your hand came down with a sharp smack against his ass, the sound echoing in the confined space. He jolted, a quiet gasp escaping his lips, though he didn’t resist.

“This is about trust,” you said, your voice firm but not unkind. “And you broke it.”

Another strike, more deliberate this time, drew a stifled groan from him. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the desk harder, his composure slipping with each stinging blow.

“Do you think I enjoy this?” you asked, leaning close to his ear. “Do you think I want to punish you like this?”

“No,” he choked out, his voice strained. “I— I understand.”

“Good,” you murmured, your hand lingering for a moment before trailing up his spine, a touch both punishing and comforting. “Because if this happens again, the consequences will be far more severe.”

Another, after another, the sounds of your hand striking his ass filled the room, with him counting every single one.

“Fuck– that’s ten, sir,” he whimpered, feeling the sting all the way to his cock, making his brain go mushy.

“I hope you’ve learnt your lesson from this In-ho,” you said sternly, your hand massaging the flesh before striking it once more.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he nodded, his breathing ragged. “I won’t disobey you again,” he whispered. “I promise.”

You straightened, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I know you won’t,” you said softly, the edge in your voice replaced with something gentler. “You’re better than this, In-ho. Don’t make me doubt you again.”

He turned to face you, his usually stoic expression crumbling into something raw and exposed. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

You reached out, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re forgiven,” you said, your thumbs brushing away the faint traces of tears. “But don’t forget why this happened.”

“I won’t,” he vowed, his voice steadier now. “I swear it.”

You nodded, offering him a faint smile before pulling him into an embrace. His body relaxed against yours, the tension finally melting away as you held him close.

“You’re mine to trust,” you whispered into his ear, your voice both a promise and a warning. “Don’t make me regret it.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.

[wlwsoccerfics]

We always have eachother(AlessiaRussoXEllaTooneXBronzeReader)

Warnings: mental health struggles, Breakup, Asthma

Summary: it's always the three of you. whatever happens you always protect one another.

It was the first day of national camp. you arrived together with Alessia, which made sense. You were best friends and Arsenal teammates after all. She told you a joke which made you laugh. "Having fun without me, i See!" Ella said as she jumped right in your way. The two of you laugh and you pull her in for a hug. "Barely!" You told her. "We missed you!" Alessia answered. "That was the right answer, losers!" Ella replied. You and Alessia couldn't help but laugh.

The two would be rooming together while you were rooming with Beth. Which you didn't mind at all. You two were good friends after all. Altough you are a bit surprised that you are not sharing a room with your older sister Lucy. "Baby Bronze!" You hear someone yell, turning around you saw that it was Beth. "Meado! Hey. Looks like we are roommates!" You tell her, and hug her. She hugged you back. "I know! Great News! But please have your little Girl group meeting somewhere else! In the room these two weirdos share!" She pointed at Ella & Lessi, grinning softly. Of course she was only joking. "Hey!" They both yell out at the same time, which made you giggle. "Promise! But those weirdos are my best friends! And i am a weirdo as well! Normal is boring!" You told her. Placing an arm around both of your best friends. "They are my Lifeline!" You said. "We can't survive without eachother! Alessia answered. "Everyone knows, kiddo! And i agree! Normal is indeed boring!" Beth replied.

You went to put your stuff in your room while Less & Toone did the same and you promised to meet up in an hour in the gaming room to hang out with the rest of the team. Beth already went there so it was just you in there. You were about to put away your sneakers when you got a Text Message from your girlfriend:

Hey y/n,

I am breaking up with you.

Have been seeing someone new.

You are free to do whatever now.

So am i.

Bye.

You stare at the heartless message of your now ex girlfriend. When you tried to call her you found out that she had blocked you. Tears were forming in your eyes. You really thought she was the one and even had brought a ring cause after Camp you wanted to propose to her. 3 years down the drain. You texted Less & Ella right away. Sending am SOS in your group Chat cause you could feel a Panic Attack coming. Or possibly an Asthma attack. All you knew was that you struggled with your breathing. Your chest hurt, every single breath you took felt like you just ran a marathon.

Your two best Friends were alarmed and dropped everything as soon as they saw your text. running to your room. Pushing the door open to find you sitting on the floor, leaned against the bed. Holding your chest, your breathing was more like a wheezing sound now. "Y/n!" Ella yelled out. "Where is your inhaler?!" Alessia asked, the Panic in her voice was evident, cause she knew what your Asthma attacks looked like. Both of them did cause they have witnessed a few of those. "Can't find." You somehow managed to get out. "I have one in my Backpack!" Ella replied and went to grab it from the room she shared with Lessi. Alessia tried to help you. Making sure you don't freak out even further and that you were sitting up as straight as possible cause anything else could make breathing even harder for you. "It all will be okay, y/n! I promise! I won't let anything happen to you." She said softly. You were quite thankful for your best friends. They are your platonic soulmates that's for sure. Ella came back running in. Kneeling down in front of you, placing the inhaler in your mouth, pushing down on it while you sucked in some air, thankfully the inhaler was working cause If that wouldn't have worked anymore you would have had to go to the hospital, which probably was your least favorite place on earth.

Alessia and Ella helped you to sit down on the bed a few minutes later because you still were quite weak on your knees after the asthma attack. "Good thing you have one of my inhalers for emergencies in your bags or that would have been a hospital trip!"you tell Ella. "I am glad you don't have to go to the hospital. We both know how much you hate them!" Ella replied. "Yeah and we can't really blame you for that! But y/n? What caused this Asthma attack?" Alessia wanted to know. You looked down and started biting down on your bottom lip. Trying to keep the tears in. Handing your two best friends your phone to show them the text from your ex. They read them while you tear up again. Alessia pulling you close and into a hug. Running a hand over your back gently. The two knew about your plan of proposing and how much you Love your now ex. You were hurt right now and they could feel your pain. "She doesn't deserve you!" Ella answered. "You are the best girlfriend anyone could ask for and it's her loss because she won't ever find someone as funny, cool and pretty as you! Not to mention your talent! You are one of the best football players of this generation!" Lessi told you. "hell yes to what Lessi said!" Ella stated. "You two really are the best." You answered.

You laid inbetween your two best friends. They were holding you, you were sleeping. Beth walked in with Lucy though cause they wondered why the three of you were missing out on team hangout in the gaming room. Both Beth and Lucy could tell that something had happened. Because of you sleeping in the middle of the day and your best friends being awake. Cause you did nap together sometimes. But usually you would all be asleep. The Situation right now obviously was them being protective of you. "Hey, what's wrong with Y/n?" Your older sister asked, she was quite concerned. "She had an Asthma attack." Lessi told her. "Oh my god, why didn't you tell me?" Lucy wanted to know. "We handled things. She is resting now!" Ella answered. "Thanks for helping her. Next time please let me know though?" Lucy stated. Alessia nodded her head in agreement ."What caused this asthma attack?" Beth was curious, wanting to make sure to keep whatever trigger it was away from you. "She needs to tell the two of you on her own!" Toone explained.

You did tell people the story about what was going on and explained everything to them, including the planned proposal. Before you told the whole Team you had a private talk with Lucy & Beth about it.

The next few weeks have been good for you. Everyone helped to cheer you up. Your biggest supporters have been your two best Friends. Like always...well and a certain blonde, tattoo loving FC Bayern Munich player. Georgia was really putting in the work to make you feel better. She got you flowers, went on walks with you, partnered with you during drills...little did you know that by the next Camp you two would already be together as a couple. Lessi & Ella did see it coming though.

[notdotspot]

Dp x Dc We Meet Again

Masterpost

Tim was waiting impatiently in his normal corner of the Bat Burger. He finds it difficult to sit still when he is so close to clues about his dreams. Despite his anger at Bruce for benching him, the ten hours of sleep did grant him reprieve from his visions. He thought sleeping would have reawoken the nightmares, but Tim had dreamless sleep for the first time in years. In retrospect, he does not even have clear memories past the forty-eight-hour mark, so his research after that time was nothing but jumbled thoughts. At least now he is not plagued with paranoia and that creature lurking in the outskirts of his vision. He could take the chance to get some fuel in his body, though Damian would argue a burger and fries are not sufficient nutrients for their nighttime activities, and put his rest towards quality investigation. 

The door chimed as new customers walked in. Tim glanced up to see Jason walking towards him. Tim would have directed his attention back to his food if he had not noticed Jason speaking to someone behind them. Leading the mystery person to the table where he was sitting. 

“Trust me he is chill. He might actually be able to help.” Jason’s attention turns to Tim. “I brought someone for you to meet. I do not think he is working for Ras but I think he knows something about the Lazarus Pits.”

“Hi, I am Phantom,” says a boy as he pops out from behind Jason.

Tim freezes the second their eyes meet. Those green eyes sent him right back to the clearing he found himself in four nights ago. The black figure whose whole being radiated fear and death. A glowing green aura and eyes to match. Eyes he has seen a thousand times since his dream. Eyes that were burned onto the back of his eyelids. Eyes that he thought he escaped after sleeping off his exhaustion. Eyes he had nearly chalked up to being a fictional dream and a symptom of delirium. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, but the darkness does not cover the blazing green of those eyes. His ears are ringing and his heart is pounding out of his chest. A firm hand grips his shoulder and his eyes spring open, meeting Jason's clear blue eyes. 

Tim finally registers his voice, “Hey, Timmy! Are you good?”

A voice off to the side speaks quietly, “Is he okay? Should I  leave?”

“No!” Tim forces out, quickly. “Stay. I need answers.”

The boy, Phantom he remembers, hesitantly slides into the booth.

“I can try.”

“What are you?” Tim asks with a bit too much aggression. Jason smacks him on the back of the head. 

“Do not be rude, dipshit. He is willing to help and he does not seem like a threat.”

“Were you not just chasing him through the city earlier?” Tim accuses.

Phantom interrupts, “Yes, but it was all fun and games. I try not to interfere with human realms.”

“So, you are not human?” Tim’s scrutinizing gaze tears through him. Jason goes to slap him again but Tim catches his hand, giving him a dirty look.

“Be nice.”

Tim raises his hands in surrender but his guarded posture remains. “Okay. Okay. Can you, please, queue us in on your existence?” 

“Sure! I am a ghost from a different realm,” he says, casually, “It can not be that crazy. You have a Kryptonian on your planet and he is a ghost, too.” Phantom points at Jason.

“I mean, well, kind of. Not in the same way that I am but he reeks of tainted ectoplasmic residue. He has seen death. I can feel it.” 

“What? I am a ghost?”

Phantom turns to Jason. “Not quite. It is like the difference between fish and aquatic mammals. Ghosts, or for the sake of this analogy fish, survive within water. They rely on it for habitat and food sources, but they also breathe it. You are like an aquatic mammal, you seem to also rely on the water, or ectoplasm, for survival, but you do not breathe it. If my inference is right, you require your human functions to be alive but without ectoplasmic energy, you would unravel. You would be like a beached whale, still alive, but slowly shutting down without water. There is likely a more scientific approach but no way to know for sure without a lab.”

“Cool.” Jason stands from his spot. “Good enough for me. I am getting food. Your usual, Tim?”

“Sure,” Tim says blankly, eyes never leaving Phantom. 

“Anything for you, kid?”

“Not a kid, but I will take a number three. Thank you.” Jason walks around the corner to place the order. Tim’s eyes harden.

“My turn. Why are you haunting me?”

“I am not. Haunting is not a real thing. Just some GIW propaganda to make people subconsciously fear ghosts. A haunt is a ghost’s safe space and a term stolen and twisted by humans,” he replies, cooly. There is a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

“Okay, so why did I see you in my dreams? What is the GIW?”

“The GIW stands for Guys in White. Some secret government organization under the guise of public security. They research and hunt ghosts. To the dream question, I do not know, but I am flattered.”

“I am serious. Night terror level dreams.”

Phantom seemed to soften. “Look, I really do not know. Maybe you had a recent brush with death. Sometimes close encounters wear down the line between our realms. I am sorry. They will go away with time.”

Jason slams the food tray down, sliding into the booth next to Tim. 

“Thank you, uhh?”

“Red Hood,” Tim answers for him, seeing as Jason had already slid back his helmet for a bite of burger. 

“I am Tim.”

They eat silently as Tim and Phantom’s eyes flicker back and forth. Jason finishes quickly, and with his helmet back in place, turns to Phantom.

“So, is the Lazuras Pit ectoplastic?”

“Ectoplasm? Umm. Do you have a picture?”

Tim wipes his hands and grabs his phone. He takes a moment to scroll and type before turning the screen, displaying a picture of a glowing green pit.

“Oh. One hundred percent ectoplasm.”

“Is there a way to fix me? Should I swim in it again?”

“Again? No. You never should have in the first place. It looks dirty. I can infuse you with fresh ectoplasm. With the right amount, it should last you about the same time as a normal human lifespan. I would need a few days to do the calculations and maybe consult some colleagues.” 

“Colleagues?” Jason questions.

“People I know. They would know more than me about ectoplasm specifics. I will make the trip soon.” 

Tim speaks up, having tucked his phone away, “Could you get rid of the Lazarus Pit?”

“I think so. It would need some purification but, theoretically, I could send it back to the ghost zone.”

Tim turns to Jason, “I think you need to brief B. We could solve more than one issue with Phantom’s help.”

Phantom’s phone begins to ring. He pulls it from a pocket that was definitely not there before.

“I have to take this. Thank you for the meal.” He exits the booth, answering the phone. 

“Hey, Frostbite. Perfect timing! I have some questions for you.”

As Phantom neared the door, already engrossed in his conversation, Tim calls out, “How will we contact you?”

“I will find you!”

-----------

Linked the master post bc I am lazy and don't want to link each part individually

I can't stop writing. I am about to get busy with personal work, so updates may slow down. I was posting a chapter a day but I don't know if I can keep up with that as this story gets longer. I will try to find a schedule quickly!

Thank you for reading!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hey! wanted to say i appreciate you talking about how malleus doesn’t appeal to you :,) he doesn’t quite appeal go me either, but i couldn’t find anyone that didn’t either hate or love him, both sides often mischaracterizing him. i felt like i was going mad. but you put my feelings about him into words in a really eloquent and well thought out way, so, yea! thanks for saying your honest opinions on the internet haha

[Please check my pinned post’s FAQ section if you’d like to read about why I personally dislike Malleus!]

Thank you!! It’s not often that you get gratitude for being critical of a character (as opposed to, like, outright praising them) so this ask genuinely took me by surprise.

I find that Malleus is one of those characters that’s quite difficult to talk about. Because he’s so well-liked by English-speaking fans (fandom-run polls consistently show that he is liked by at least 50% of responders), his presence has become almost stifling… which formed a counterculture (ie hate) against him. In any case, whether you think negatively or positively of Malleus (or feel nothing at all for him), that can really color how his words and actions are perceived. But sometimes it feels like you can’t even talk about him without walking on eggshells. People tend to feel so strongly about Malleus and you never know how they’ll react to the thoughts you express.

It should be recognized that both extremes will blindside you. The most ardent Malleus lovers will make everything about him or enable and defend him to the bitter end even when Malleus has done reprehensible things. The most passionate Malleus haters will nitpick what are just normal or innocent actions as The Worst Possible Thing Ever or claim he’s aggressive all the time. Neither truly compasses who he actually is.

As I’ve mentioned in other posts, I’d like to think that even though I dislike the guy, I try and give him a fair shot 😅 Some of the issues I have with him are no fault of his own and result from the narrative’s failure to capitalize on his intrigue or the nature of gacha games and the main story being limited. Other issues I’ll admit are completely my own annoyances and gripes (like how I take issue with OP characters with few setbacks, how I don’t like characters that try to force their views onto others, or how I have had bad Malleus-related fandom experiences). Then there’s just the objective truths, like how Malleus is extremely arrogant but is rarely called out for it or rarely faces consequences for his actions in-universe (or from the fandom). He’s still a complex character, just… not one I enjoy.

Looking back on it 💦 I almost can’t believe I have like… 8 or 9 posts detailing my frustrations with Malleus, and each of them expressing significantly different issues from the last. I’m glad that this blog can be a space for me to discuss my thoughts and opinions without angry fans of X or Y character coming at me 😭 I unfortunately can’t say that this is always the case… But for the most part, it’s pretty peaceful here and I really appreciate that!

I’ll close this post off by shouting out the Malleus fans who don’t take it personally when someone else says they’re not a fan of their blorbo. The Malleus fans who are willing to come to the table and listen, the Malleus fans who acknowledge his imperfections and faults, the Malleus fans who accept that others can choose to dislike him for any reason, whether big or small, and don’t push for “correcting” the “wrong” opinion. I know that it sounds like such a low bar to clear, but trust me when I say I’ve witnessed and experienced much worse behaviors (from a loud minority of Malleus fans) and would not wish that upon anyone.

[iratempestatis]

Heyy! How are u? I hope you’re doing well i saw you wanted some requests for xiao and i thought of an idea so we know xiao’s true form is a bird right? How about xiao’s s/o one day discovers it by an accident? Like maybe the s/o is an adventurer and was exploring around liyue in the night and happened to hear the whistling sound we hear in the game in liyue (the one where xiao calls for his dead friends) and the s/o goes to see what the noise is the rest is up to you

Entwined.

Xiao x gn!reader, 5.5k words. Some angst and then all fluff, it may not have been exactly what you wanted but I do hope you like it! I love bird Xiao <3 Feel free to send more Xiao asks! Rest assured I will write them even if it takes some time :3

Being an adventurer is hard work.

Find a suitable commission (which never happens), figure out any additional details (clients never provide enough info, especially the rich ones), plan your schedule, budget and equipment accordingly (it often falls short thanks to their unreasonable demands), finally carry out the commission (it often turns out to be far more frustrating and time consuming than you anticipated), get angry when the client stubbornly refuses to cough up the original sum of mora (this thankfully doesn’t happen as much), nurse your wounds (ouch) and worry nonstop about any sudden emergencies (what if you get injured? What’s going to happen when you get old?) You sometimes wish you listened to your family and became a scholar instead.

Anyway, you’re currently locked in a bitter battle with a rank one (1) asshole, so maybe you just have an unreasonably short fuse right now.

Some days past an old, rich Fontainian posted a commission at the Liyue branch of the Adventurers guild. And you were lucky enough to snag it. It was a stroke of sheer fortune, quite literally, too- if you could meet the client’s demands, you’d end up with a completely inane amount of mora. You planned on doing this mission solo- after all, any expenses incurred would be more than covered by the heaps of mora you’d be swimming in soon enough.

But some conniving liar told Katheryne you’d agreed to pair up with him- and she believed him before you could confirm it, so now you’re officially partners… which means you’re forced to share the spoils.

You’re so tempted to drop the commission altogether, but-

“But that’s what he wants,” you hiss, hiking up the trail along the beautiful mountains of Jueyun Karst. Normally this would be a soothing trip- Jueyun Karst is so glorious you sometimes wonder if the gods picked a random mortal’s preferences to model it after (yours), but today you saw only the bad, like the still smoking fires left behind by some careless brigands, and a dead mouse. You consider bringing it back to Changsheng as a twisted joke- no, she’d paralyse you. Best to focus on the task at hand. You go over the details.

The commission was vague (rich, old man), although a bit sad (old man). If you really did find what he want though (unlikely, vague request, but if partially fulfilled, you get half the mora) you wouldn’t have to work at all for perhaps the next six months (rich man).

Apparently, a long, long time ago, the rich old man saw a beautiful apparition in the form of a woman. Lost in the foggy mountains on a rainy day, he saw her seated on a tree nestled deep somewhere in Jueyun Karst. She apparently rescued his life, by appearing on a different tree each time he got too close, leading him out the valley. When he asked for her name, she responded with a mere scoff, then vanished for good.

You’re pretty sure that’s either bull or some ghost. Sounded disturbingly like an Inazuman tale you heard once. Either way, she doesn’t exactly sound like a normal person.

And he wants you to find her.

How are you even supposed to do that? The old man is decrepit, according to Katheryne, who (bless her bionic heart) tried her damnedest to convince him it was something out of the ordinary, and that he should give up. You agree with her- you’re pretty sure it was either a ghost (no finding it), an adeptus (no finding them) or an actual mortal woman (Xiao’s influencing you too much. You could’ve just said woman. Also, if it really was just a woman, which she wasn’t, she’s probably dead by now.)

But you didn’t really have the heart to tell the old man that. Or maybe you got a little greedy. But hey, he can afford it! And you just might end up end up giving his broken heart some closure, right?

You figure you’ll ask around, look for the grave. So far you’ve had no leads, besides some blue haired kid (with the ugliest haircut, you think, then feel bad for thinking that of a kid) lying to your face in an attempt to prank you. It’s so strange, because you’re pretty sure you’ve seen her-? Him? With someone important, in silks and brocade. You just can’t remember who… but you digress.

You’ve checked everywhere you could think of in the past two, almost three weeks. Nothing. You’ve even been to Mingyun Village- again, nothing. Right up until a child in Qingce told you she saw a similar pretty woman, on a tree in Jueyun Karst. Really.

You’ve spent days in Jueyun Karst, craning your neck and nearly stumbling down mountain slopes, eyes throbbing from the light, spine burning. But nothing. You considered taking the easy way out and telling him it was Cloud Retainer, but you’re an adventurer with morals and besides, anyone who’s met her knows she never stops talking. But on the subject of your quarry, why did that bitch find a nondescript tree to sit in every time? Was it so hard to just go sit on the big, glowy one?

“Old hag,” you mutter. Your calves feel about as solid as almond tofu right now, and your brain just as smooth. You have no idea how you’re going to do this, but. The mora.

You glance at the note Katheryne gave you. It told you just a few things- a dark haired woman in a tree, with hair that fluttered like downy feathers in the wind (poetic old man. Also rich, you remind yourself), pale, in a tree, nothing more.

You sigh.

At least Jueyun Karst is pretty at night.

And comfortable enough to camp in, you figure. Granted, there’s some treasure hoarders and monsters, but it is the abode of the adepti after all.

You shrug, and trudge upward along the winding paths. Darkness is gathering, but your eyes adjust.

Eventually, the lingering shadows cease to lengthen and melt into the darkness enveloping the mountain as a whole. You’re disconcerted as you start to make camp in a copse, but reassured by the small blaze you’ve lit to warm yourself at some distance.

Upon making camp, you settle down on the grass with a snack. The wind rustles through your little copse and you see the moon emerge, denuding its robe of clouds. Silvery fingertips trail across the land, painting, muting Jueyun Karst beneath its touch.

It’s peaceful, yet haunting.

What’s more haunting though, is the soft, yet somehow piercing, keening cry that wafts through the air.

It’s slow at first, just a trilling hum that gets clearer and higher with every moment before lilting and fading away.

You blink. You’ve never heard such a sound before. Is it a musical instrument? A bird of some sort?

You hear it again. It doesn’t start slowly this time- it’s high, all at once, then a low humming before rising in a wail once more. It sounds like music. It sounds like weeping. And for some inexplicable reason, you feel your chest tighten and feel hollow, all at once.

This is a bad idea, you tell yourself as you scrabble to put out the fire. You remind yourself of the same once more as you pack all your things (after you just made camp, too), fingers trembling, dropping things. Perhaps this is it, the maiden you were looking for.

You sling the bag across your bag with a force that makes you stumble, then start making your way up the hill.

Maybe this really is it, you think. In the distance you see tiny glows, nestled away across the vale. Probably treasure hoarders. For some reason, your heart aches.

It feels like you’ve been sitting stagnant for too long. Everything around you has grown. When you pull your hand up to wipe away a tear, you see it shrouded in spiderwebs. They reach past your ribs, to your elbow, to the rest of you. Force their way gently into your mouth, into your ears. They’re in your nostrils. You cannot breathe.

Arriving near the source of the sound, you sit onto the grass for a moment, to rest. The webs are swaying, scratching uncomfortably across all of you. Tightening and loosening and tangling, keeping you in place. You cannot move.

You’ll cut yourself.

Get a grip. Oh, Morax.

There’s a lull in the cries and your head feels lighter all of a sudden. You blink, then start to get up- utterly nonplussed, what are you doing here-

A sobbing, recoiling cry abruptly sounds from before you, the maker contained away in the hurst right before you, overlooking the valley. The moon skips ahead, weaves between the clouds.

Steeling yourself, heart racing, you enter the thicket peek behind the tree and look up towards the sound.

It’s a… something. A mess of tattered wings and bloodied feathers and too many eyes. In the night they all look black and silver, but realisation hits you with the force of a thousand spears- this is Xiao.

It’s Xiao.

Keening, weeping, alone. Seated on a tree, cradled in its branches. Shielded by its crown. He’s crying.

He’s crying.

He sheds no tears in his avian form- large gold eyes turned to the moon, muscular neck lain limply across a branch. You see his throat move and his eyes shut- eyes that are still gold, even in the dark- as he lets out another cry.

You can see his back and tail- the rest is covered by multiple sprawling wings. They’re dark. Looking at them feels as though looking at a human bruise on an oil painting. Disconcerting. The smoke coming off them makes them smudge into the dark, become one with it.

He’s beautiful.

But he’s crying and you’ve never known you could feel such anguish at someone else’s grief. Pain, sure, but this is something eyes. Tears well in your eyes to compensate for his current form. One runs down your cheek and it snaps you to your senses- what are you doing, just standing around?

You step towards him, arms outstretched, his name on the tip of your tongue. Your mind’s a mess. Vaguely, you can tell there is something amiss. Voices slither inside your head, voices that don’t belong, filling it up with murmurs in a tongue you don’t understand. Full of vitriol, they ignite emotions within you you didn’t even know existed. Grief so intense you feel as though your heart really is bleeding into your chest. Fury so immense you can’t help but slam a palm into the trunk of the tree next to you and gasp. They twine and twist into shapes and colours you cannot see. For just a moment, you’re blinded, agony blooming across your body. You shudder, gasp.

Something is wrong.

Your vision turns hazy- you glance up to see the bird descend before you, wings magnificently spread, beak- no, mouth now- open, crying out in alarm. You collapse into his outstretched arms and it feels like too much and nothing all at once. Warm water- warm tears- fall onto your temple as your knees buckle. You feel vertigo when he instead has lowered you gently to the ground. Just as you faint, you see him- mouth open, gritted teeth, face damp with tears. You say his name- at least you try-

When you come to, you’re in Bubu Pharmacy.

You feel so unencumbered all at once- the flames across your skin extinguished, the voices silent, the webs gently spooled away. Thank Baizhu. And you can see again, see normally, blind once more to the auras and colours mortals mustn’t see- or perhaps you hallucinated it all.

The old man from the funeral parlour- Zhongli, you recall- is seated on a chair next to you. His posture is a little slack. Sitting up with some difficulty, you see that his eyes are shut. The harbour is silent.

You glance out the window only to see the cheerless night sky mirror the inky ocean below.

Oh no.

You cannot delay. What are you doing here? How long were you asleep? You’re wearing loose, white clothes- who changed you? No matter. You need to find Xiao, because he was crying and your lungs feel like they’re folding in on themselves, and by Morax, he’s probably all alone once more, and you’ve added to his pain by being foolish and interrupting him as he vents in a moment of catharsis-

You stumble out of bed and look around to gather your things, then decide to just come collect them later. You’ve no time to waste. You hear Zhongli inhale deeply as he suddenly awakens- why was this guy in here with you anyways- and quickly bolt, locking the door behind you as you do so.

Sorry, Mr. Zhongli.

You regret not taking his talks about Karmic debt as seriously as you should have. You’re not worried for yourself- you feel much better already (you lift your vision up to your heart. You’re beyond grateful- it’s the only gift the gods have ever given you, their only gift that matters) but Xiao must feel abominable guilt right now. You must reach him, tell him you’re fine, tell him it’s not your fault.

You’re halfway across the main bridge on the northern side of Liyue harbour when you realise it’ll take way too long to find Xiao like this. You could call out his name, of course, but you don’t want to accidentally make him teleport and exert himself in the middle of a breakdown.

You run your hand through your hair, almost pulling it out as you do and glare out at the sea. From the corner of your eye you see the Millelith guards standing by the gate shoot one another unnerved glances, then turn towards you. What’s their problem?

Now irritable, you make your way towards them to politely ask what the matter is- but they clutch one another in terror and immediately start shrieking. You yelp and duck, looking around frantically for the danger. The guards continue babbling and pointing, then screech again as you panic and frantically crawl towards them. Maybe you’re a bit more disoriented than you thought you were, because the only people you see on the bridge are you and the guards pointing at you- oh.

You stop crawling and look at them, pushing back the hair from your face as you stumble to your feet. The buffer guard has the smaller one planted firmly before himself like a shield. You sigh and they squeak. Then the bigger one cries out-

“Adeptus Xiao!”

This bitch. You probably are delirious because by now you’ve lost any semblance of self control and feel nothing but fury. Xiao’s going through something right now! You’re not a ghost! Isn’t this supposed to be an era of mortals?

“COWARDS!” You howl, launching yourself at the duo and throw aside the shorter guard with a strength you didn’t know you possessed. Before you can grab the bigger one and clamp his lips shut with your bare fingernails, however, you feel slender, firm arms wrap around your waist and tug you gently back against a warm torso.

Xiao’s long, elaborate sleeve drapes over your front as he holds you. You feel his breath against your neck. You’re immediately consumed by worry so potent you can barely recall what you were even angry about. He leans into you a little and you press your palm against his cheek.

He seems exhausted.

✦—————————————✦

You ended up taking Xiao home that night- or was it morning? You wish you knew. All you do know is that he slumped against you and you half walked, half dragged him home, providing no explanation to the Millelith guards (they didn’t demand one either.)

Xiao drowsed off as soon as you got home and once you’ve sufficiently fussed over him, cocooned him in layers upon of blankets (it’s cold out) and put copious amounts of snacks and water on the bedside table, you make your way over to the couch and crash out.

Just in case.

Sleep takes you easily, pushing past your desperate, incoherent rambles, bringing your body some much needed rest. You awaken when you feel the sun jab rudely at your eyes with its bright, unswerving fingers.

It’s nearly afternoon.

You push yourself up slowly till you’re seated, checking for tiredness or any injuries. None. You’re positive this time- you’re in your right senses.

Your face flushes when you recall what happened yesterday. Or was it today? No matter. Praying to never see those guards again, you slide off the couch and make your way towards your bedroom.

Xiao’s upright, alert and giving his ungloved hands a glare so severe you nearly flinch. When he turns towards you, though, his eyes soften to a degree that might make one doubt him even capable of anger. You can’t help but mirror his softness.

You can’t help feeling a bit downcast, however, and you suspect it shows. Racking your brains for something- anything- to say, you part your lips, but only end up exhaling. You’re having trouble meeting his eyes. You suspect he feels the same.

You stand at the threshold for several moments before finally making your way in, and Xiao’s off the bed in an instant. You feel hands grip your heart and twist when he moves wordlessly across the room, away from you, gesturing towards the bed.

You hate it.

Xiao lives in terror of losing his loved ones- paranoia makes him check in on them from afar, gift amulets, slay any evil that might hurt them. Scores of times he’s caught you before you fell, warned you of danger, reminded you to take care of yourself before you even noticed something amiss.

You know him keeping his distance is him ensuring your safety. Him showing you he cares. It serves only to heighten your anguish.

This has been among your worst fears since the moment you began to care for him- that he’d consider himself a danger to someone he loves.

“Xiao,” you whisper, and your voice wavers more than you wanted to, is softer than you intended. He meets your eyes at that, finally, finally and your chest constricts at his wary gaze. You’re tempted to make light of it- tell him you’re fine, banter a little- but you know that’ll only leave him with a heavier heart, wondering when he’d hurt someone next. You need to address this now, for his sake.

“Hey.” You smile. Good, your voice didn’t waver this time. “Are you…” You trail off. How do you even begin to talk about this?

This isn’t awkward, this is a minefield, except it’ll blow up in his face if you mess up somehow. Your heart quickens.

You try to calm yourself. What does Baizhu say? Don’t borrow anxiety from the future? The future is in motion right now, Baizhu! Useless man.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink rapidly, nonplussed. “What—”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, in a tone so repentant you almost respond with a hurried ‘it’s okay’ despite him having done nothing wrong. Despite it all, a tiny laugh bubbles up in your chest.

Baizhu, that silly old man (he’s your age). You suppose he is right sometimes. (Always.)

You’ve both lived too long, have survived too much to worry about something as small as this. Sure, in a vacuum, it is scary- but truth be told you feel fine- in fact you think you have an even better understanding now of the agony that has become his everyday, that he has endured for eons. This is something you can fix.

You smile and make your way towards Xiao, draw him into your embrace. He makes a quiet sound of protest that’s promptly muffled by you pushing his head affectionately into your shoulder. He exhales, then kisses it and remains in your arms but makes no move to wrap you in his.

That’s fine. You exhale . Xiao feels your breath waft over his ear, your warm, chapped lips as they brush over his face, landing tiny kisses. Your heart continues beating.

You’re there, right with him. Safe. Alive. Alright.

You sway gently, just holding him until eventually he places his palms on your waist and draws you a bit closer, ever so gently. As though you were the soft, powdery wings of a tiny butterfly in the dry summer months.

Before he can apologise- you do. You’re composed at first when you murmur an apology and explain how you came across him- but quickly become teary eyed when you recall how he looked up in that tree, mourning, all alone. His heart hurts. He hates seeing you cry, hates that he caused it- but he finds it difficult to dwell on anything else but the fact that you saw his monstrous, contaminated form and thought him beautiful. That you instantly wanted to hold him close. He feels dizzy.

“And,” you continue, sniffling, “I couldn’t think of anything else. I just felt overwhelmed. I just wanted to- to comfort you.” You’re not going to mention the voices and the pain. Maybe in a few decades. Maybe on your deathbed when it won’t matter anyway. You hear Baizhu’s ‘tsk tsk’ in your head and some vague speech about trust and communication, but you don’t care enough about that right now.

“And then I fainted.” You shrug. “Then I’m guessing you brought me to Baizhu? But I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault at all. I should’ve known to be more careful-“

“Please don’t lie to me.” His voice is soft, strained. He wishes you’d tell him the truth. Was it that much worse? “Tell me what else happened. Did it hurt? Do you feel better now? I’m so-“

You clamp a hand over his mouth. “It’s not your fault!” You protest. “What if some Inazuman wrestler guy threw me at you and you broke your arm, that wouldn’t be my fault- shh don’t interrupt me.” You put your other palm over the first and he exhales, warm breath wafting over your knuckles. You feel calmer already. The wonders of Xiao’s hugs never cease to impress.

“And… yeah, it hurt a bit. There were voices in my head.” He looks stricken. You consider making a garbage joke to cheer him up, but remember you were trying to be a mature adult and sigh. “My body hurt, too. Is that what it’s like for you? All the time?”

He hesitates, but nods with a sigh. “I’ve had centuries to get used to it, however.” You wait for him to draw you even closer, but he’s just looking, taking in your features. He looks as though he’s reassuring himself but not with much relief in sight.

You draw closer on your own instead, with a snort. “It all happened so fast, though. And it… it sucked honestly, even if it was just a couple of minutes. I’m sorry it’s like that for you every day.”

“It lessens with good company.” He finally looks relieved- apparently enough to even jest a little. “Which is likely why it worsens with you.”

You gasp in mock outrage. Maybe Baizhu was right about this whole communication thing. This is going well so far- or maybe not, because the next thing to come gently out Xiao’s mouth is a request to not approach him if he’s having a breakdown henceforth.

“Sorry, no can do. Nuh-uh.”

You swear you see question marks form over his head. “This is not a ‘nuh-uh’ situation, (Name). You could die or develop chronic health issues.” He frowns. “I don’t think-“

“I grasp the gravity of this situation,” you retort, a bit frustrated too. “I’ll stay away if I see or sense the Karmic debt- I will make some other adeptus come to you, though-“

“You cannot make the adep-“

“I will.“

He sighs.

“And,” you continue, “I’ll keep an eye. From afar, but I’ll keep an eye on you and wait for it to be over, before I can come to you again. And if you’re ever sad in a more ordinary sort of way, I will not leave your side, no matter what.” You press your forehead to his with a quiet sigh. “Because I love you. And it hurts when you’re in pain.”

There’s a pause, with neither of you moving. You hear a group of teenagers laugh outside and run past the house. You wonder if that blue haired brat from earlier is with them.

Xiao exhales, then finally (FINALLY!) wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, impossibly so. You rest your cheek against his as he gives you a rueful smile. You’ve won! Ah no, what was it Baizhu said? There’s no individual victor in relationships? Damn, you’re a good student.

But seeing Xiao so close once more… you’re certain you’ve won regardless.

✦—————————————✦

The next couple of hours are spent relaxing, unwinding and examining one another for injuries (this is why you’re perfect together. Mutual respect? Mutual affection? Yes, but also mutual anxiety). A worried Baizhu also comes to pay a visit. He’s angry about you vanishing without notice but cools off quickly as you and Xiao assuage his worries. Changsheng is not so easily mollified and turns even more furious upon being called an ‘angry little noodle’ by you.

Come noon, you and Xiao make your way to Wanmin- neither of you are in much of a mood to cook.

Besides, your consolations have worked wonders and Xiao looks considerably calmer than he did in the morning. Not exactly cheerful, but a happy display is a rarity even on the best of days, so you acquiesce. He’s still careful and is being extra-gentle with you, but you’re glad he’s not blaming himself for not noticing you sooner anymore.

Unbeknownst to you, though, his eyes are on you constantly. Truth be told, he’s only really agreed to dine out in order to observe your movements, reactions to light and the crowd to check for any lingering effects of his Karma. You’ve decimated his morbid expectations though (much to his immense relief)- cheerier than ever, you buy bread and meat for any stray animals you come across, happily greet the friends you bump into and tilt your face upwards to bemusedly watch the clouds form increasingly obscene shapes (what are you up to, Retainer?)

He's a little stunned at how quickly everything happened- he expected his culpability to haunt him for much longer and feels guilty for getting over it so fast. It’s not that he doesn’t care- you matter to him more than anything in Liyue and were anything to actually happen to you because of him, he would truly would have lost the strength he used to cling to his brittle life.

It's just… a bit absurd. You haven’t raised a fuss at all about yourself, besides complaining a little initially. You comforted him instead, and were confused when he tried to reciprocate because “it happened, but it’s over. It’s not your fault and I really am okay now.” You seem to have meant it when you told him it was a terrible but distant memory. In your defence, the ordeal did take only a couple of minutes before he teleported you abruptly to Bubu Pharmacy (he still owes Baizhu an apology for dropping a whole human being into his arms and bolting).

So he allows himself to relax (the voices in his head tell him to split himself on his spear. He hurt you once, he’ll do it again. He imagines you screaming at them to piss off and ends up smiling softly instead).

He shakes his head when you ask what he’s amused about, bright eyed and curious and he gives you the fondest of expressions when you glance away and up at Katheryne. Xiangling teasingly gags at him from behind you, then yelps and runs into the kitchens to dodge Shenhe’s glares.

Xiao wishes you picked a table in the back- the Adventurer’s Guild is plainly visible from where you’re seated and something up there clearly has you distracted. No matter. At least now he can take you in without interruptions.

You look invested- eyes narrowing with amusement first, then further to slits with annoyance. Startled, he turns to see exactly what evoked such disdain from you, and his eyes meet that of a dark haired man, presently engaged in conversation with an elderly gentleman dressed in Fontaine’s fashions. Maybe. Those shoes aren’t fashionable anywhere, he’s pretty sure. Menogias would’ve wept.

The man that’s earned your ire happens to appear quite exquisite by mortal standards- handsome and tall and- Xiao shoots you a hurried glance. Yes, that’s anger, thank the skies-

“You see that guy over there?” You bring the glass to your lips for a sip before lowering it with more force than is necessary. “He’s the jerk I told you about. The one who’s stealing half my commission.”

Xiao blinks. “But he hasn’t found anyone according to the description, has he?”

You frown. “Obviously not. If she really did- hm?”

He turns in his chair to see Katheryne and the men approach- one barrel chested and tall, the other slight and elderly, shuffling along with the pace and gait of a caterpillar. When they get a bit closer, however, the old man stiffens, then breaks into a rapid hobble, before pausing right before Xiao and bursting into tears.

What the- this is fine. He’s not too close. Xiao is still and wide eyed like a startled deer. You bite back the urge to kiss his face all over, then fight the momentary urge to punt the old man as he reaches out to touch Xiao’s face, still bawling. Xiao jerks and stands. The man turns to you as you grab his arm and try to gently sooth him, smacking you away.

“Oh,” he blubbers. “So many nights you’ve haunted my dreams. How I’ve waited all these years. I knew- I knew-“ he coughs, vehemently shakes his fist to keep the rest of you away. “Don’t come closer! I know her- that’s the love of my life!”

Mortals.

The lovely maiden in a tree being Xiao did not surprise you in the slightest. It was a bit startling but you feel incredibly foolish for not connecting the dots earlier.

Pretty maiden up in a tree.

“Really, who else could it be?” You bite into the muffin you bought on the way home.

“Xi- Cloud Retainer.”

“Oh. Is she pretty?”

Xiao tilts his head. He’s adorable. You resist the urge to haul him back down the road for another meal- what a miserable date, that was.

After finally catching Xiao the old man first wept into his chest (he reminded you of an unused hair tie with how scrunched up and tiny he was. The old man, to be clear, not Xiao. Xiao is tiny bit firm), then clasped his clawed hands within his own soft, wrinkly ones (you’re glad Xiao didn’t forget his gloves and you can tell he’s even gladder) and begged Xiao to go with him to Fontaine.

Xiao’s answer being an alarmed, emphatic ‘no’ only succeeded in making the man cling tighter and cry harder.

You did start feeling terrible for the poor guy by that point, so you gave him a handkerchief and some water, sat him down and once he was finally calm and lucid, you explained to him that this was not the maiden he saw all those years ago, but in fact, your beloved.

Your kindness evaporated fast though when he smacked you in the face with your own hankie and swore to never pay you your commission. You left to eat elsewhere at that point. That sounded like a problem for your (rather distressed) ‘partner.’

Presently, though, you’re waiting for Xiao to tell you more about Cloud Retainer. You’ve surmised two things from his slip ups; she lives in the harbour nowadays, and her name starts with “Sh.”

You’re honestly convinced it’s Shenhe, and even more so when Xiao tells you she’s more imposing than pretty. When you tell him your guess, though, he gives an uncharacteristic laugh, so bright and warm. You want to store it in a bottle to sip it on the cold days.

When you tell him so upon reaching home, he just laughs again (!) and kisses your entwined hands. He prays you won't let go.

[ally1uvsu]

But when he loves me (I feel like I’m floating) | Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x Nam-gyu

⨉⠀⠀─⠀⠀Series .⠀›⠀Trans Namgyu Week 2025⠀‎ꪆৎ day 3; emotional hurt/comfort — Day 1 | Day 2

·⠀warnings info⠀· NSFW — . wc; 3.5k

summary; The second Nam-gyu left those games, He thought he'd be the happiest person alive. But no, as he was tossed out of the van with some random player, the chilling air hitting his half-naked body, Nam-gyu realized he might be wrong.

info; Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Anorexia, likely ngl, trans namgyu, Alternative Universe - Everyone leaves (Squid Game), Post Games, throwing up, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Well shared kiss, Cuddling & Snuggling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Happy Ending, Theyre so gay I hate them: (, Choi Subong I Thanos Lives, Soft Namgyu (Squid Game), Soft Choi Subong I Thanos, Excessive binding, Bruises, Namgyu is probably depressed ngl

notes; IM SO COOKED OH MY DAYS 😭😭 I’ve been stressing over janitor AI and personal shit that i forgor ab the week challenge.. I SAEAR I’LL POST DAY 4 AND 5 AS SOON AS I CAN MAYBE IN A FEW HOURS BOTH WILL BE OUT TRUST

The second Nam-gyu left those games, He thought he'd be the happiest person alive. But no, as he was tossed out of the van with some random player, the chilling air hitting his half-naked body, Nam-gyu realized he might be wrong.

As they both managed to free themselves, the reality seemed to reach Nam-gyu. He only really managed to leave alive because he was high the whole fucking time.

The player whom he had been dropped with and him exchanged a brief goodbye once they were both dressed, Nam-gyu normally wouldn't care less about saying his farewells but.. that place made him feel a bit more different.

His mind was reeling as he walked, realizing that maybe.. hell, not maybe. This money he had was dirty, this money was someone's life. Every million won was someone's life.

Nam-gyu was pissed in the beginning when after the fourth game the people who wanted to leave won in the voting, even if they each left with a billion won. Few players left alive, thankfully, Thanos included. He remembered both of them high off their asses and complaining over it, but only because of that ecstasy pill.

Walking back home with the chill of the wind hitting his face made reality suddenly hit him, he killed people. So many people were dead because of what he did.. well, because of lights out and everything.

He wondered if Thanos was okay, at least. He was sure of the fact that the purple haired man was somewhere in Korea, tossed out of the car and maybe on drugs, Nam-gyu surprisingly couldn't stomach the thought of getting high.

He felt miserable as he walked towards his overly small apartment, he'd sleep for tonight, pack up, and maybe buy a house big enough for him to live with this money? Find something he was good at and stick with that.

And that's what he did, one would expect things to go well after moving, but Nam-gyu kept getting worse.

He couldn't stomach eating, remembering hwo the meals were served after a practical massacre of people, the food he was eating was paid with the money that cost someone's life.

His stomach didn't even have the strength to rumble anymore, even if Nam-gyu felt weak, he just couldn't eat. Normally, everyday he didn't even bother taking off his binder, even if breathing got a little too hard.

That's when he decided to go to a bar to drink his worries away, drinking in an empty stomach wasn't the best idea but Nam-gyu was desperate to just.. forget.

He didn't bother looking good, just in some sweats and a hoodie and some converses, his hair was slightly greasy from the constant procrastination of whether he should wash it or not, but Nam-gyu really didn't care.

He didn't even wonder what did he do to deserve this, he wondered what did he not do. It's something that plagued his mind everyday, no matter where he was, he always seemed to remember the bodies of people falling everywhere.

A curse fell from his lips as he stumbled inside the bar, tucking his hair behind his ears as he sat into one of the stools, head down and ordering a bottle of wine. The bartender seemed surprised, maybe they felt like they were mistaken when Nam-gyu asked the the literal bottle, but didn't question further when Nam-gyu slammed the bills onto the counter, probably having a bit more than needed but he couldn't care less, nor the bartender.

He was never a wine guy, he found it a little too bitter for his liking but today he was drinking it like he needed it to survive. It was barely past half an hour when Nam-gyu was on his fifth glass and halfway down the bottle.

He hiccuped, face flushed red as he looked at his phone, contacts empty, everything was empty. For a moment, Nam-gyu missed the constant threat he got from the people he owed before those damn games.

His vision was turve, stomach rumbling but he kept on pouring himself wine until he reached the very last drop of the bottle. The wine was coating his taste buds, as disgusting as it felt.. it felt comforting.

Although it felt good, the effects of drinking so much in an empty stomach began getting to him, he grabbed his phone and stood up straight out of the stool he was sitting in. Swearing he could hear a very familiar 'Nam-su!' Cheerily ring in his ears, that place was coming to haunt him again, wasn't it? The thought made his stomach churn, it was completely unlikely he and Thanos would ever meet again.

There were many things Nam-gyu wished he could tell Thanos, but he never did. It was foolish to fall for someone inside a death game, even if they'd both known each other, albeit barely, before.

He decided to solely focus in the feeling of something strong and burning coming up his throat, his eyes slightly stinging as he rushed out of the bar. He could still hear his name wrongly said by Thanos, it never felt so vivid before and Nam-gyu hated it.

His mind was spinning, but at least he had the decency to not puke inside a toilet.

Turning around the very corner of the bar where the parking lot was, Nam-gyu didn't hesitate to double over, hand leaving his mouth and instead squeezing his stomach as he threw up everything he drank, vision hazy as he saw the purple liquid fall.

Everything burnt, it was hard to breathe, his eyes were stinging and he slid down to his knees.

His mind was messy, scattered and trying to pick up pieces of whatever was going on, he knew he was puking, just wasn't sure how his surroundings were.

Not having much time to think again, another wave of nausea hit him and everything was coming out, but this time, he felt hands rub against his back.

Warm, gentle hands holding his hair back a little even if it was pretty short, just so it wouldn't fall in his face.

And amidst all of that fog, Nam-gyu could make out a familiar voice. Slightly unfamiliar too from how.. soft it was.

"Hold on, my boy. Let it all out." Nam-gyu could hear the person say.. was it Thanos?

He panted once he finally was done, turve vision finally falling back into place as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "There you go, good job, boy. I knew you had it in you."

Nam-gyu lifted his head, slightly shaky, and he was met with Thanos' face. Thanos was here, the unlikely probability of ever meeting him again was now.. becoming just a simple what if in his mind. His mouth opened to let put anything but he just let out a choked sound.

Maybe it was how his stomach was so empty, but Nam-gyu felt weak. Black spots filling his vision as Thanos' face became nothing but a blur, the feeling of him shaking his body lulling him into unconsciousness. Maybe this was his karma for killing people, surviving and living off of money that was someone's life. Maybe he'd finally die a slow, miserable death like he knew he deserved.

But the universe was insisting in not letting him die, Nam-gyu knew that it was the second he peered his eyes open with a bursting headache. A hand fell on top of his head as he propped himself up on his elbows.

He wasn't in his house, that's the first thing he noticed. The bedroom was a little too full of vinyl disks and discographies for it to be his house. To be quite fair, Nam-gyu was so out of energy lately that he didn't bother getting anything other than the basics. A bedframe, mattress, kitchen utensils and self hygiene products.

"Nam-su, my boy! You're finally awake!" Thanos chirped as he walked into the room with his sleeves pulled up, so it wasn't a dream after all.

Nam-gyu nodded, and Thanos furrowed his brow. Nam-gyu was off, and thinner than he was in the games. It worried him- Nam-gyu left with a billion won, like him. So why?

"I ran you a bath, you look like you need one, no offense." Thanos began with, shoving a towel towards Nam-gyu's way. "I didn't know where you lived, so you'll just have to stay here." He shrugged, and without letting Nam-gyu speak, he left the room.

He didn't have a choice, did he? Well.. he could just lock the door and stay in here, but Thanos probably had spare keys, who knew?

Nam-gyu stood up shakily, feeling his body shiver but he was also burning up. His stomach was weak but the thought of eating made it churn further.

Opening the bathroom door, Nam-gyu was met with the bathtub filled with water that looked a little steamy, maybe it would do some good to the cold Nam-gyu felt.

His clothes felt sticky as he began stripping them off, he closed snd locked the door, feeling colder snd colder at the thought of having to get naked.

In the end, he was just in his boxers and binder as he stared at himself in the mirror.

Pathetic, he looked pathetic and wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot, deep eye bags under his eyes, he looked a tad paler than usual and maybe a but more skinny.

Nam-gyu always hated how his body looked, but today it was worse. Having to face the consequences of what he was doing to himself.

Everything felt like he was being punished by the universe, from his self hatred, to his guilt, to.. just existing.

He curled his hands into fists, controlling himself to not smash the mirror in front of him. Nam-gyu would rather stare directly at the sun than the mirror.

A sob came out of him without permission, and that's when Nam-gyu knew there would be no thrning back. Tear after tear, everything began leaving his chest since he left. He was crumbling apart, falling on his ass and wincing as he hit his back against the toilet. His chest heaved, and suddenly he became aware of how much his ribs hurt, hell, they were probably full of bruises that Nam-gyu would just hate even more despite not being able to stop.

He curled his knees close to his chest, sniffling and feeling sobs mixed with hiccups leave his lips, as much as he wanted to- he couldn't keep quiet. His anxiety ring couldn't cease down the feeling of a huge lump in his throat, nothing could stop the ugly crying.

A knock from the other side came to reach his ears, but Nam-gyu didn't bother to reply. He was gross, everything hurt, and existing felt like a burden. He just wanted it all to stop.

"Nam-su? You alright in there?" Thanos asked, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear a thudding sound and a wince. At first, he just came by to give Nam-gyu a fresh pair of clothes, but the sounds coming from the bathroom weirded him out a bit. "I'm coming in, okay?" Thanos said as he tried to open the door, but instead of the door knob twisting open, it twisted until barely halfway and din't open. The door was fucking locked.

"Shit.. Nam-su, what are you doing in there?" Thanos called out a little bit louder, cursing under his breath as he didn't hear a reply, just the sound of hiccups and sobs.

Pulling away from the door, his feet heavily padded against the floor as he rushed through the hallway towards his bedroom. Door flying open as he began to search inside one of his drawers frantically, finding the keys and immediately yanking them out without bothering to close the drawer.

As quickly as he could, he ran back inside the room and began fumbling with the keys to open the door. Thanos was unsure why he was so frantic and maybe slightly anxious as he tried to reach Nam-gyu, he always thought this weird feeling whenever they played together in games were just due to being high.. he couldn't have feelings for Nam-gyu, could he?

Shaking those thoughts off, Thanos yanked the door open. Finding Nam-gyu sitting on the floor, half naked and basically drowning in tears.

Thanos froze, he wasn't sure how to approach this situation.. well, he never was the best with comforting or dealing with being comforted, but everything had its first time, right?

Carefully and tentatively, Thanos kneeled down in front of Nam-gyu. It was weird to see him like this, and the sight made something tug at his heartstrings. "Nam-gyu?" He called out. "Hey, boy, you okay?" That was a stupid question, damn it! Why Thanos couldn't just.. be good with his words?

But then again, he was always best at showing his feelings through actions than words.

Carefully, he wrapped his arms around Nam-gyu's torso, feeling him flinch and slightly tense up at the touch, and Thanos stayed put, barely even breathing.

And then, Nam-gyu melted against the hug. Clinging to Thanos as if he was the only thing grounding him into reality, face buried into his shoulder as he cried like a lost little kid. Thanos' hands ran through his hair, rubbing circles on his back as he felt his shirt get basically soaked.

"I can't do this anymore- I can't— I- it's.. this money.. it's all someone's life- I killed people in there, I—" Nam-gyu choked out, and Thanos shushed him gently, pulling back just slightly to look at Nam-gyu in the eyes. "Whether or not you did, there's nothing we can do about it. That place does things to people, Nam-gyu. Even if this money is dirty, you can't let it drag you down. Especially when you fought so hard to survive." Thanos said with a small frown in his lips, and Nam-gyu nodded. Even if he didn't believe it much, he nodded along.

His breath was heavy as he sniffled, sobs subsiding within a few minutes that none of them bothered to really count. "You should.. get this off, it looks like it's constricting your chest." Thanos said as he jerked his chin towards the binder Nam-gyu was wearing.

Now that he mentioned it, Nam-gyu noticed that Thanos didn't care about the binder or him being transgender in the slightest, or he simply didn't know.

"I'll leave and you can shower, I left some clothes for you in the bed." Thanos said as he sighed, standing up and pulling Nam-gyu along. Catching the faintest glimpse of bruises underneath the binder due to the flexing skin. "The shirt's big enough, don't wear this crap. Plus, it's slightly sweaty." Thanos said with a grimace more due to trying to give the conversation some sort of happy mood than disgust.

The second Thanos left, Nam-gyu let out a heavy sigh. Closing the door and stripping off his binder and boxers. His body still shivered, maybe he was sick? It would make sense, having eaten nothing but ice in the energy drinks he bought. It was a surprise Nam-gyu hadn't passed out in the middle of the street before.. but maybe not eating was just discounting its signs on how badly his hair was falling and how he was growing weaker.

The warmth of the water engulfing his body made him feel weirdly good— dipping his head underneath the water for a bit, Nam-gyu came back up swearing he could sleep in the bathtub.

But he didn't, Thanos would probably just pull him out and he didn't feel like being seen naked by him.

So, instead, after washing himself properly, Nam-gyu unplugged the drain of the tub and got out, changing into the clothes Thanos separated surprisingly neatly in the bed. And he was right, the shirt was indeed big enough, but then again Nam-gyu's chest wasn't that big.. he just was a tad paranoid about it.

He left his clothes in the corner of the room, getting out and looking to either sides of the hallway that the bedroom led to. Thanos left him alone without giving Nam-gyu directions.. tch, asshole.

Nam-gyu decided it'd be best to follow the humming sounds that Thanos was producing, as much as he hated to admit it, it was surprisingly calming.

He carefully and quietly stepped down the steps, following that same humming sound until he reached the kitchen, and Thanos was.. cooking?

He could see mashed potatoes set inside a small bowl in the counter, and the familiar smell of chicken reached his nose. He stood staring for a bit, until Thanos turned around and gave him a big smile, and Nam-gyu's stomach churned again.. but not out of disgust. Rather, something he refused to acknowledge.

"Hey! Nam-su! Come sit down!" Thanos called out, and now Nam-gyu was sure he got his name messed up on purpose.. moments ago was calling him seriously by his name correctly.

But despite that, he sat down on the stool nearby the counter. Raising his brow at the bowl shoved in front of him, mashed potatoes, veggies, and.. chicken.

"Eat, you must be hungry." Thanos said with a proud smile, and Nam-gyu just stared at the food. All of a sudden remembering everyone who died, the people he killed and... "Nam-su?" Thanos called out, and Nam-gyu came back to reality. "Sorry, not hungry."

Thanos gave him a frown, furrowing his brows and crossing his arms. "Bullshit, your stomach was rumbling when I brought you here. And you.. threw up pure wine, you haven't been eating, have you?" How the hell did Thanos get the story straight? Nam-gyu would never know. But he froze, just staring at Thanos with wife eyes. Then, Thanos sat down by his side. Grabbing the bowl, a spoon and chopsticks, and then finally, looking at Nam-gyu tentatively. "Just a bit, you don't have to eat everything." Thanos suggested with a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"Come on, my boy. Just a bit!" Thanos said with a huff. And then he seemed to have an idea, filling the spoon with mashed potatoes and bringing it in front of Nam-gyu's face.

Nam-gyu didn't seem to quite like the idea, face heating up when Thanos practically shoved the spoon in his face. But Thanos probably wouldn't let it go regardless of anything, so he just sighed snd opened his mouth.

The taste of mashed potatoes filled his mouth and Nam-gyu swore he could feel his tastebuds burst with the flavor, so different from bland ice and drinks. He was surprised about how he didn't feel like throwing it all up, maybe it was because the food was really light, Thanos really could be thoughtful when he wanted to.

They repeated the same process until halfway through the food, and then Nam-gyu shook his head, not being able to really take any more bites. Sitting in silence with Thanos was always comfortable, but this time it felt different.

"I wish they dropped me off with you, y'know." Thanos said with a heavy sigh, leaning both arms on his thighs. Nam-gyu's eyebrows shot up at that, how come? He would have wanted to ask, but preferred to stay quiet. "I would have made sure you were okay, and have eaten sooner. I don't think you've been.. eating well lately, you're thinner than you were back in the game and we were fed small ass portions of food." Thanos then looked at Nam-gyu in the eyes, and in the moment, Nam-gyu felt his breath being sucked away.

Thanos' eyes, normally blown from drugs and normally wild, were weirdly soft. For a moment, the room fell into a comfortable silence, just the two of them staring at each other, as if spiritually asking each other for things none of them could vocally express.

And then, Thanos was moving closer in front of him, giving him one last glamce before their lips met in a passionate and yet desperate kiss. It was as if both of them were longing for that for a long time.

Once they pulled apart, Nam-gyu met Thanos' eyes again and he swore the weight of the world was in them, and then all of a sudden Nam-gyu found out why his stomach churned at the sight of Thanos.

Tugging at Thanos' shirt, their lips met again, and again, and again. Every time they pulled back, not seeming to get enoigh of the feeling, their lips always found its way back to each other.

Thanos had his hands settled on Nam-gyu's waist, Nam-gyu had his hands tangled in Thanos' hair as they both moved to the couch.

And then, their lips parted one last time. Nam-gyu was practically draped all over Thanos, head on his chest and Thanos' chin rested atop his head. Silence reigned over them, until Nam-gyu broke it, only for a split second. "Can you.. hum that song again?" He asked, closing his eyes. He didn't get a yes or a no, instead, he got a humming. Maybe it was from how peaceful Nam-gyu felt, but falling asleep was easier this time ever since he left the games.

Maybe all he needed was someone who would get it, someone who would be just a little patient and help him come forward rather than staying stuck in the past.

[altocat]

I’m back for more how about Lucrecia and/or Hojo for the hc game

I'll do both.

LUCRECIA

Headcanon A: Lucrecia is, realistically, not perfect mother material, at least in the way Sephiroth envisions. She would need a LOT of therapy in order to help her become a better parent to him if she were involved in his life. She would have loved her son. But she would have needed a lot of help and support.

Headcanon B: Lucrecia has a tendency to get tongue tied whenever infodumping all in one sitting, resulting in a bunch of cutely jumbled nonsense and mixing her words around. Grimoire thought it was adorable and it never failed to make him laugh on a bad day.

Headcanon C: Lucrecia suffers from heavy depression-anxiety disorders. Due to her stubborn nature, she refused a proper diagnosis or treatment, convinced she could pick herself up on her own. She threw herself into her work and refused to allow herself to breathe and recuperate, further escalating her negative feelings. Unfortunately, Sephiroth comes to inherit a lot of her illnesses as an adult. And neglects his needs as well.

Headcanon D: No one ever refers to her as "Lucy" in canon but lots of fic writers including myself have collectively decided that this was her nickname lol

HOJO

Headcanon A: I actually do think that Hojo holds SOME level of affection for his son, albeit in an extremely fucked up narc sort of way. Idk I love the idea of him being pure evil, but also having some realistic complex emotions about Sephiroth as well. He's Sephiroth's greatest abuser. But he's also his father. He is an irredeemably evil person, but there are some grayer aspects in there as well.

Headcanon B: Hojo actually bathes. Fairly regularly. He just looks greasy and nasty because that's just his rotten core leaking out to reveal what he REALLY is under the surface lmao

Headcanon C: Hojo acts completely normal on the surface after Sephiroth's supposed "death" in Nibelheim. Business as usual. But the truth is that he actually suffers some level of depression, unsure if his Reunion Theory will hold firm, unsure if Sephiroth will ever truly return. He copes by projecting onto Cloud and Zack. And builds Chadley out of some twisted sense of guilt and possession, wanting to reclaim a bit of the boy he raised just to fill that presence in his life again.

Headcanon D: Still riding high on my Vincent-dad-theory-truthing lmao You can't stop meeee Hojo doesn't deserve a son