#i know there's things like this out there~

[suntails]

airplane!

[drchucktingle]

What do you think of people who are therian, otherkin, and alterhuman? Or, perhaps, the ideas of alterhumanity as a whole?

this is a good question had to look up what some of these things were, so bear in mind my understanding is limited and fresh, HOWEVER this one seems pretty easy for me to speak on philosophically because it falls under a BASE philosophy that i have always had

as far as identity and body, my trot is that everyone has the right to do whatever they want with their body, which includes of course things like gender affirming ways (or even humanity affirming or unaffirming aways). that also includes ways in which you identify yourself.

some otherwise well meaning buckaroos get wrapped up in things like 'well i am okay with the standard pronouns but what about neo pronouns of buds who say they identify as non human or a dang tree.' i mean WE ALL KNOW there is the old scoundrel joke about attack helicopters and the thing is this: i genuinely, sincerely, without any reservations believe you can legitimately identify as a helicopter.

who am i to say you are not one? how do we even define what a HUMAN or UNHUMAN is in this swirling mix of matter and energy? is there even really a point where i end and you begin? there are OF COURSE standard answers to this that help us get through the day in a material way, but i feel like once you start talking PHILOSOPHY AND EXISTENCE and really ZOOM OUT then you are opening things up to a grander perception of this timeline, where things like 'what even IS my body?' become very abstract

in a world where all i REALLY know is that 'i think therefore i am' i am not really ready to start imposing strict definitions of these things on other people

what i personally care about is RESPECTING others and showing them kindness. so if someone is identifying in a way that is unusual (not in the sense of bad but in the sense of literally not usual) i will always just say 'okay that is very cool and exciting thank you for telling me'. i mean HECK, as a non dysphoric trans person i identify in a technically unusual way.

it is SO EASY to just 'yes and' other buckaroos expression of themselves. it is SO EASY to just 'yes and' love and exploration. so i fully support and am excited about and whole heartedly believe in any way that buds see themselves fitting into this timeline

[cassandraclare]

Letter from Jace to Clary (for Kickstarter)

[written for Theresa]

Dear Clary,

You said you wanted me to write you a letter for your birthday, so here I am, writing that letter. At first I thought that maybe you weren’t serious. After all, we live in the same house. We are not separated by time, dimensions, or the turbulent ocean, which are the usual reasons people write letters.

 I thought maybe you were being self-effacing, that you just didn’t want me to go to any trouble, especially when we have wedding planning coming up (hopefully soon—since we’re waiting on a peace process, it could be a while). 

So I came up with the idea of taking you on a flying motorcycle to see the Northern Lights, but when I suggested it you said no, you only wanted a letter. 

I suggested we portal to the south of France and pick lavender and have a picnic, but you said no, you wanted a letter. 

I suggested we use our Shadowhunter skills to break into the Met so you could stand in front of every painting for as long as you want, but you said no, you’d rather have a letter. 

I suggested we portal to the Tokyo International Anime Fair, because I remembered you saying you’d always wanted to go, but you said no, you’d rather have a letter. 

I suggested I could find you the best, most beautiful sword that you’d ever seen, and had your initials carved into it, or a subtle message like “I <3 Jace” but you said no, you’d rather have a letter.

And then I realized that while we have had an amazing time together all these years, and  we’ve always gone around the world and seen incredible things, that things are different now. Now there is a shadow hanging over everything, the shadow of the situation in Alicante. And I realized that what you actually wanted is something you can keep with you that reminds you of hope.

So let me tell you, in this letter, why you should hope. 

Because no matter what we are facing, we are still us, Jace and Clary. We still have our friends and the people who love us. We have faced so much together, and we have always come out of the darkness into light. And in the end, I believe that love will always win out against hate, because I have faced some of the greatest evil that has ever been known, and the strength I have found in how much I love you has always carried me through. So keep this letter with you, even the in dark moments. Especially in the dark moments. I hope that it brings you comfort to know that I love you more than life itself. And if it doesn’t, remember: You could have had a flying motorcycle ride to see the Northern Lights, and you turned it down.

yours, 

Jace

[pseudowho]

It was an average Monday morning when you, Nanami Kento's wife, were turned into a cat.

"An unusual Curse," Shoko had said, "not longer than a week, surely--"

"Not--not longer than a week?!" Kento spluttered, his glasses lopsided, and, dangled in front of him beneath the arms (legs-- legs, he reminded himself)...you.

You, with two pointed ears, a long whippy tail, your many toe-beans and a perturbed little head-tilt. On the doctors' office couch, a neatly folded (if a little furry) pile of your clothes.

"Meow," you had said.

"Don't 'meow' me," Kento spluttered again, fixing you with a stern look that barely overlaid his concern. You simply stared up at him, long, and feline, and unblinking...and reached out one little paw, pressing it onto the end of his nose.

Kento sighed; a bone-deep, weary sigh. Shoko put out her cigarette, speaking through a haze of smoke.

"Like I said. Give it a week, and Mrs.Nyanyami will be back to nor--"

"What did you just call her?'

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Mrs.Nyanyami, the cat formerly known as Nanami Kento's wife, wanted for nothing.

"I think that tuna's more expensive than anything I've ever eaten," whispered Yuuji to Gojo. On the other side of the conference room, you sat upon the desk before Kento, waiting patiently for the next lump of tuna (meticulously cut into cat-appropriate cubes) to be delivered in his chopsticks.

As Kento's hand approached, you held it close with paw and claws, to steal the pink fish from him. He looked like a surgeon performing heart surgery.

"I just...dont know how he can look so serious while he's doing that," Gojo whispered back, to Yuuji's frantic nods. Still, they watched this freakish nature documentary with quiet obsession.

A higher-up sat down beside Kento, waiting for the meeting to begin. Jolting back, and grumbling, he did a double take.

"Young man-- you can't bring a cat to a Sorcerer's meeting--"

"That's not a cat," Kento snapped, frosty, "that's my wife."

And so began the rumour amongst the higher-ups, that Nanami Kento had gone mad.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"You should leave her at home--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--really, Nanami...just put the television on, she'll be fine--"

"--unequivocally, no--"

"--why not?!"

Silence. An awkward shuffle on Kento's thick chest. You peeked your head out of the pocket of the cat-carrying hoodie that Kento wore over his shirt and tie, and turned to Gojo with narrowed eyes.

"Meow," you had said, batting at Kento's strings, and hooking his tie out with your paw, to kick it to death with your legs.

"I agree," said Kento, whispering and scratching you beneath the chin until you purred, "he's wrong, isn't he? Stupid Gojo. You'd get lonely. You'd get bored. Yes you would..."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Oh my god...he's gorgeous...you should get his number--"

"--I'm not brave enough...you go. I'll get our coffees."

"--okay, okay..." The woman cleared her throat, sweeping her hair behind one ear with her best smile. Kento looked up from his coffee, with one finely raised eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" He lied, unwilling to help anyone at all before he'd finished his croissant.

"Hi, yeah, I just...can't help but notice you're sitting alone, and my friend-- well she-- she just wondered if she can have your number, and--"

The woman broke off into shrieks. Climbing up her leg, all claws and furry vengeance, was you. She shook her leg, shrieking. You hissed. Your cup of steamed milk clattered over the table, slopping everywhere.

"--o-oh my god-- oh my god, what the hell is this cat doi--"

"I'm sorry," Kento sighed, not sorry at all and dabbing his mouth with a napkin and doing absolutely nothing to help, "it's my cat. She doesn't like company--"

Hisses. Claws. Dirty feral yowls.

"Get this fucking thing off me--"

"I can't take you anywhere. No more steamed milk for you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

At times, you seemed so human. At others, undeniably cat.

Kento would wake to clattering from the kitchen, bleary and feeling around for you, only to remember, and trace his hand up to the furry, round little patch you'd leave behind on your pillow. He allowed himself just a moment of misery, before getting up.

He followed the sounds of cups and kettle and coffee machine, and leaned against the doorway with sleep-mussed hair and a squinting, teenagerish glare.

You were up on the counter, all four paws and determination. You had gotten as far as switching the kettle and coffee machine on, and heaving the cupboard open with your tiny limbs. Kento watched as you tipped your head sideways, managing to drag two mugs out in your teeth. He winced as they almost smashed upon the counter.

"Come on," Kento rumbled, his voice rusty with sleep, "let me do that."

You meowed at him, batting at the air with one angry paw when he stepped closer. Kento huffed, raising his hands in surrender.

"Fine," he tutted, "but I'll pour the water."

"Meow."

"Why? Because you don't have opposable thumbs, darling."

The fur stood up along your spine. You turned around, and around, in a circle, then sat upright. You turned your back on him while you waited for the kettle to boil. Your tail flicked from side to side, irritable. Kento waited, too, reaching out one hand to stroke your ears.

You nudged your back paw out, and pushed his mug off the side to smash on the floor.

Silence.

"...what is wrong with y--"

"Meow."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Skitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

Kento groaned, rubbing down his face. He checked the clock, frog-blinking; two in the morning. He groaned harder.

Skitterskitterskitter.

Thunk.

More distant meows.

"Please just come back to bed," Kento moaned into the hands pressed over his face.

SkitterskitterskitterSKITTERSKITTER-- rustlllleerussstle--

Directly over his face.

"Meow--"

"I am begging you--"

RustlerustleTHNKskitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I miss you."

You raised your head to look at him. Your purring hitched. Your ears tilted.

Kento had murmured, his low voice barely audible. The only light in the living room was the ever-changing light of the television screen. Laid on his back on the sofa, with you curled on his chest, Kento stroked down your back with longing.

You crept up his chest, pressing your cold wet nose to his, and purred. Nose to nose, and cross-eyed, Kento could have cried.

"I really miss you," he repeated, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Your claws dug into his chest, just a little. You rub, rub, rubbed your warm furry head along his jaw until he sniffled, and gave a choked little chuckle.

He fell asleep with you on his chest that night. In so many ways, it was familiar; home. In so many others, you were gone forever.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Meow."

Kento shuffled. His chest felt heavy...warm. His belly felt warm, too. And his lap, and--

Kento's eyes shot open, his head lifting up from the couch.

You bit your lip, naked on top of him, and smiling. Human. An angel.

"Oh, my love," Kento moaned, crushing you to him in a bear hug from shoulder to toes, "you're back-- I missed you, I was so worrie--"

You batted an arm out, swiping last night's wine glass from the coffee table beside you, to shatter on the floor.

Silence. Kento blinked slowly, looking from the wine glass, to you. You felt your cheeks grow hot, swallowing hard.

"God, I...sorry, Kento. Force-- force of habit--"

[gaymelie]

This isnt relevant often but ill relay what a friend who drives trucks told me.

If youre on a bike or similar lightweight thing and a truck who is fast enough passes you by too close you can just get sucked under it. So if youre cycling in a place where there might be trucks going fast keep a good amount of distance and be prepared for sudden wind pulling on you.

A PSA about trucks from a truck driver

I and some colleagues were talking about how we wish everyone could see the safety videos that our company was showing us, because I don’t think most people understand how traffic works in a truck. So here’s some things we wish everyone on the road knew.

- we’re not kidding about tailgating. If you’re right behind us on a straight highway? Chances are we have NO IDEA you’re there, which means we can’t anticipate any of your movements. Plus slowing down takes multiple downshifts, so we might start decreasing speed way earlier than you expect.

- We’re not kidding about any of our blind spots. WE CAN’T SEE YOU, GUYS.

- That bit about slowing down taking a while? The same goes for when you’re in front of us. Don’t cut off a truck. Oh god, PLEASE don’t cut off a truck. If you cut me off, I’m not irritated, I’m terrified. For YOU. It can take 7 to 9 seconds for us to stop. DON’T CUT OFF TRUCKS.

- Before you get mad about how slow we’re going on the highway, keep in mind that many companies govern their vehicles so they literally CAN’T go over 60 or 65. This is a good thing, I promise. Because…

- Do you know what happens when a car meets a truck in an accident? The car gets totaled and the truck needs a new coat of paint. You will not win this fight. I know nobody likes getting stuck behind a big dumb truck, but it’s not worth your life.

We are trying our best to protect you from our 80,000 pound death machines. Please help us out.

[muntitled]

Hangman

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: What's a broke girl to do when her university bills keep piling up and a sadistic Salesman offers to take all her problems away? All at one tiny little price.

Warning: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, SociallyAnxious!Reader, Blindfolds, Stalking, Knives, Blood, Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Suicide, Restraints, Anxiety, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Oral Sex (m!rec), Deepthroating, Blood Kink

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

You hadn't initially intended on slitting your own wrist. That idea was birthed almost vicariously in the moment. If he hadn't stopped you, your corpse would have been found laying on a park bench, covered in its own wet blood that would have been dripping from its open wrist like a faucet. Surely his proposition would be better than that.

With your vision obstructed by a heavy blindfold, your hearing is ten times more prominent. You hear the sound of your own breathing, as if your body was taunting you with all the life it still begrudgingly held inside it. You also heard heavy yet elegant footsteps cross a marble floor. Then you hear the scratch of a vinyl as the very sounds of an orchestra bleeds into the atmosphere.

"Hello," said the Man in the gray suit who had accosted you in the park. You remember the way in which he had sat beside you.

No one had ever sat beside you. Not even any of your peers that roamed the university. Everything about your countenance was so worried and severe. You wore your money problems on your sleeves and that evidently warded off any chance of a social life you had hoped to have.

The moon was shining particularly bright and the stars were twinkling little spectators to your silent meltdown on the park bench. Your eyes had been reading and re-reading the email sent to you by the university. An urgent email amongst a sea of urgent emails begging you to 'please just pay them'.

"Don't slit your wrist," he had said, "Not before you've given yourself a chance to win at life first."

You had looked up at him with bloodshot eyes from all that crying over potentially getting kicked out of university. He hadn't melted at your expression, in fact he only smiled softly. "We ought to play a game-"

"I wasn't going to slit my wrist."

"You were just holding that boxcutter for fun, then?" He curled up an eyebrow, leading both of your gazes down to the pocket box cutter that sat in your lap, the blade extended.

"I'm not in the mood to play a game."

"Not even at the cost of your university fees?" Your eyes snapped up to him then. He sat a healthy distance away from you. The space between you both was filled with possibilities so endless it was becoming uncomfortable to breathe. "How much do you owe them now?"

"That's none of your business," you were on the verge of gathering your things. Your boxcutter and your pride.

Perhaps you could kill yourself somewhere else, preferably without a man accosting you about the embarrassing state of your funds.

"I could pay for your university fees, you know," His words morphed into an anchor, keeping your butt firmly planted to the park bench. A midnight runner passed by you two. An evening breeze blew through your scalp and the goosebumps descended.

"Of course, you'd have to win first."

Anyone could see the conflict warring within your irses.

"This is how people get sex trafficked," you'd said, "Absolutely no thank you," How utterly in control you had been! A girl with a firm head on her shoulders.

He only laughed then. He laughed and laughed, so much so he had to politely clear his throat.

"You were about to kill yourself. Don't pretend to have any self preservation now," his words had struck a cord deep within the inner workings of your soul. Your face heated as you hid yourself, tucking your chin against your chest. You did suddenly feel remarkably silly and so incredibly juvenile.

"Don't worry," he had said with an almost lopsided grin, "It's your lack of self preservation that I find so incredibly intriguing, hence I'm asking for one game."

It was only one game.

One game and if you were lucky enough to win, you might coast through the rest of university stress-free. Like a normal 20 year old with normal 20 year old problems. Boyfriends. Clubbing. Whatever else all those girls did when they huddled together in their magnificent little groups. You could be a part of them. For once you had to give yourself the opportunity of feeling like a member of society.

"Are these restraints a necessary element of our game?"

As you sit in this room- a room he had brought you too- blindfolded- you tell yourself that you are giving yourself a chance to be a normal 20 year old. That's why you were currently restrained to a leather chair. The restraints held your wrists to the armrests and your and your ankles to the feet of the chair. This led to the slight and uncomfortable spreading of your legs- a dangerously vulnerable position to be in when you were wearing nothing but a university jumper and a pleated skirt.

You quickly find out that you didn't like to be restrained.

Your chest rises and falls a little higher with every sharp intake of your breath as you will yourself into calmness. Freaking out now seemed completely silly.

Almost as silly as letting a stranger bring you to his hidden location.

Had you no sense of self preservation at all?

Were you a walking piece of meat, waiting for the first predator to sink its teeth into you?

Has that predator finally arrived?

"The restraints are unfortunately a necessary element.” He says, softly, “The human body tends to get jittery when it's met with unforeseen stimuli, and I don't want you running out on me."

That lets the panic solidify itself even more in your bones. This man walked as if he was a perfectly stand up guy and that helped in your decision of letting him bring you here.

Nothing seemed particularly wrong with him at first glance.

His face has all the workings of a perfectly normal man. He looked like he was in possession of a cushy, stable job with pensions and benefits. A salesman.

He looked like he attended his kids soccer matches on the weekends.

He looked married to a beautiful woman who looks good in mom jeans and baked brownies for her Wednesday night book club.

He looked so painfully normal.

But the panic is rising, the more that ‘danse macabre’ fills the room.

"C-Could you at least play something else," You are fidgeting now and it causes him to raise a brow. "Danse macabre is just," you attempt to swallow but your tongue is completely dry, "-incredibly unnerving, right now."

You try to massage your wrists in the restraints and you breathe through your nostrils as a phantom pain shoots through your legs. The need to move was eating you alive.

"You know your classical music," The man regarded you with slight intrigue as he folded the piece of material he had once used to obstruct your vision. He places it on a tiny coffee table before you. "Interesting for a kid your age. Do you know the story behind it?"

"Of course, I do, why do you think I'm nervous?" You had his full attention now. You were almost drowning in it as he lowered himself to a leather chair directly opposite you.

You had never had anyone listen to you as intently as he does. No one bothered to hear what you had to say. The voices in your head were your only audience…

Now you have someone seated before you, so lax as he urges you to, “Go on, explain why it makes you so nervous.” It was completely addicting.

“W-Well,” you swallowed the air again. “Danse macabre quite literally means dance of death,” he sits back in his chair, his fingers tapping against his mouth.

“Why?” he asks in deeply monotony, as if you had captured him as much as he, evidently captured hou. Like you weren't the only one in restraints.

Your brows furrowed “Is this quiz apart of the game-”

“No. I just want to hear you talk.” He says as he reaches over the side of his chair uncovering a sleek black briefcase veneered in expensive leather. He assures you with a single nod of his head that he's listening as he clocks open the briefcase.

“Well,” your eyes are on the whiteboard he pulls out, “Camille wrote this symphony all dark and depressing because it's supposed to sound like it's being played by death himself,”

The suited man smiles down at his busy hands as he lays your boxcutter on the coffee table beside the whiteboard. “I-It tells us that death is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter if you have money or you're about to be kicked out of university for insufficient funds-” he cracks a small smile at that, pulling out a whiteboard marker in the process, “the dance of death is inevitable for us all. Money can't buy you out of it.” You shake your head, “It's real medieval shit.”

You watch him smile again. It's devastatingly attractive which immediately raises the alarms in your own head. This man has restrained you in a chair, in an undisclosed location. For all you knew, death was very well the thing waiting for you at the end of all this.

But he wouldn't stop you from killing yourself, only to kill you himself, would he?

You'd heard about serial killers being raging narcissists. You would virtually be a lousy victim, having already wanted to die.

That thought calms you somewhat.

“We're going to play ‘Hangman’,” he turns the board to reveal a simple drawing of a gallow and a man hanging from it.

“Are you familiar with it?”

“Of course,” you nod your head, your nerves level somewhat at the sight of the little stick figure.

Just guess a letter to a mystery before the Hangman is drawn. These were children's games.

“For every word you get right, a semester of your studies is paid in full.” He smiles, warmly, watching the awe blossom across your face. “You'll get your degree and become the psychologist you've always wanted to be.”

Your brows furrow, “H-How did you know I-”

“Of course there's a penalty to the game,” you watch him erase the little stick figure, as he draws the little lines corresponding with the amount of letters in the mystery word. “If you don't guess the correct words in time,” Time stands still. “Well… The word get carved into your skin.”

You had never been a cautious individual. When your mother would fret and nag about your safety, you would roll your eyes. Everyone else always had self preservation for you. Why would you need it? Bad things rarely happen to boring people. The news coverage worthy stuff? You?

But here you were, fucking drowning in the Bad stuff.

"I'm not playing,” You begin to try and twist your wrist out of the restraints as your panicked eyes zero in on the blade seated on the desk. “I'm not fucking playing-”

“I'm afraid that isn't an option. What's your first letter?”

Despite the soundproof padding stylishly plastered against the sleek black walls you still scream "HELP-Oh my god- HELP”

He walks over towards you in large strides, clamping his hands in your skull and pulling your head back. He's much closer now. Closer than he had been at the park. His eyes are sparkling with intensity and a manic sort of quality that escaped you on your first meeting. Where were these eyes when you were still on that park bench, still able to choose to run far, far away to the nearest police station.

Where were these wild eyes then?

“Look at how scared you've gotten...” He laughs, in your face, “A scared, terrified little Doll-”

“Please let me go-”

“I'm not the one keeping you restrained here.” He lifts his hands as if he were completely crime-free, “You decided to play this game out of your own volition. You're restraining yourself, Doll”

“Jesus, that doesn't even make sense-” you cry, “HELP-”

He pulls a tighter grip around your hair, silencing your cries as a wince bleeds out of your instead..

“You don't wanna do that,” he says, staring deep into your glassy irses, “I have a thing for little girls with pretty tears-”

“Please don't hurt me-” you didn't wanna be a newspaper girl. You didn't want to be a nobody-turned-somebody because her death was so grisly it graced the front pages of a newspaper. That isn't the way your story was supposed to go and so you plead with the humanity inside him. You search for it under all that black ink filling his almond eyes.

Nothing.

They're absolutely black.

“Guess a letter, Doll."

You steal your nerves. Your shoulders slump.

“E-Every word has a vowel in it right?” his eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips against the side of your face. He seems like he's transforming into a completely different person right before your very eyes and it set you alight with fear.

Fear and something else.

“That's it, now we're getting somewhere,”

“I'll go with ‘A’,” a tense, mortifying silence stretches between you too. He begrudgingly removes his hand from your hair, patting down your head like the child he regressed you to as he strolled to the white board.

“Correct.”

He writes the letter ‘a’ twice on the little lines. The first one of the second line and the second one on the fourth line and almost with your brain slotting into place you raise your head. you wipe a stray tear on your shoulder before saying, “I-I- know what the word is.”

He raises his eyebrow. “Already?” Intuition was a scary thing. It was like a last resort, leaving you clamouring for hope.

“Care to share,”

“Is there an ‘r’” you look up at him. “I need to be sure.” Your legs are fidgeting in anxiety. Your fingernails dig into the leather under the armrest.

He is quiet as he draws an ‘r’ over the second last line.

“Macabre. The word is ‘macabre.’”

A slow almost predatory grin stretches across his face.

“How much did you say tuition was?”

Your heart stammers in its chest.

For those few moments you don't think about death. You don't think about blood. All you think about is that outstanding amount as you murmur a quiet, “₩3,893,852.”

You had it memorized.

The number that haunted your every waking hour, bleed from your lips like a prayer.

You watch as he lowers the white board marker to uncover a phone in his back pocket. He taps a few buttons and in a matter of moments- he turns his screen towards you.

What a remarkable day this had turned out to be.

“How do you know my banking details?,” you ask, squinting your eye at the screen, “Who are yo-”

“That round was too easy.” He moves to sit back down, “Here's your next word,” your heart falls when he only draws three lines underneath the gallow.

Three letter words could be the easiest or the most difficult when it comes to a game like this.

“A?’” you ask through wet lashes. Your only option was to hammer through the list of vowels.

“Ooh-” he pouts, before drawing a Hangman's head. “Try again.”

“E?”

He's silent as he draws a stick for The Hangman's body. The panic kickstarts once more.

“Shit-”

“That's not a letter?” He jests, “One more non-word and you're Disqualified, Doll.” His knee is bouncing up and down. As if everything in him was anticipating the end of the game. Your nerves are drowing in anxiety.

“I-”

“You can't just name every vowel under the sun, Doll. You don't have very many options remaining.” He draws the stick figures first arm.

4 chances left.

“O?” Your breath catches in your lungs. You watch as he throws his head back to lift his hips slightly, as if adjusting his pants. It almost immediately lowers your gaze to the prominent bulge there. Fuck. Not only was he anticipating your loss, he was getting off to the thought of it.

“Well done.” He writes ‘o’ in the second line. Right between the middle and end lines.

“Uh- ‘c’”

He adds another appendage to the stick figure. “3 more chances remaining.” He says, standing up. His arm jitters as he picks up the boxcutter in.

“G-” you ask through tears. He kneels in front of you, his eyes are almost as desperate as yours.

“You are the most fun I've had in years,” he admits, before turning to draw another appendage.

“Guess again, Doll,” the boxcutter extends and you cry.

“You don't have to do this,” You plead and he only sighs as he places his forehead against yours.

“You are such a brave little girl, you know that-”

“Oh my god-”

“2 more guesses.”

“‘T?” You squeak out so quietly, as your eyes squeeze shut.

He presses his lips to your right cheek and you melt. The fear all disappears and it's just you and him. Even on his knees, he's so large, so towering. It sets you alight with incomparable need.

“Well done, Doll- I'm so proud of you, " he sighs, “One more word, baby.”

“P- wait, No!" the sound barely makes it out of your mouth and looks down at you, chest rising and falling.

You hold your breath, eyes wide and wet and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Y- my answer is ‘Y’.” He exhibited all the signs of a sadist. Of course his word for you word be-

“That's my answer. “Toy”

A tense silence bleeds as he brings the boxcutter into your field of vision, and you're once again writhing in your seat. “Please- please no-”

“Fuck I'm gonna need to cum-” He admits gravely. Even more grave, even more harrowing, you're squirming in your seat. Lust balling deep within your cut. You're terrified but so utterly turned on.

Is masochism a symptom of loneliness?

“Please-”

He presses the blade to your leg and you both watch as he sinks the tip down onto your skin. For all those moments, you revel in the pain. The blade breaks skin and you cry out as droplets of blood grows pregnant along your thigh. Danse macabre crescendos and tears fall. As he swipes his finger along the drop of crimson.

“D-Did I not get it right?"

“”You got it right,” he admits, undoing the buttons of his blazer as he stands to his heavy feet once more. The menacing shadow of a God. He's humongous and you crane your neck back to look at him.

“my little winner-” he mumbles, planting a heavy hand on your head as his other hand rubs over his erection.

“I-If I got it right,” you mumble through your sniffles, “Th-Then why did you cut me?”

He looks down at you. The hand planted on your head moves down to the side of your face as he unzips his pants. Your heart is banging out of its cage as he lowers his pants just enough to have his hand slipping into his boxers.

He watches the blood smudged across your thigh.

“I just-” he curses as he uncovers his fully erect cock, leaking precum,“I just wanted to see your blood.” he admits gravely before bringing his cupped hand to your lips.

'Spit.’ He commands.

You're unable to look away. The precum beading the head of his cock slides down the thick veins along the length of it- all the way to the base. You want him in your mouth. Inside you. The need and the pain is an avalanche of contradictions.

He makes you feel so scared, so wanted.

“Don't make me ask again.” He says darkly, tilting your head up to look deep into his eyes.

His fingers prod at your lips and your mouth falls open as his hand delves inside. “Tongue out.” He whispers hoarsely, cursing once again when you roll your tongue out. Somehow incredibly obedient.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, Doll?” He asks, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips. You nod cautiously, feeling yourself descend into a state of mind you'd never been at before. You feel so pliant with his hand still on your cheek as he guides his cock into your mouth. You feel completely reckless. Someone like you who spends her time studying and worrying. Right now you were made to feel completely empty.

“That's it-” he coos, looking so utterly pained as his cock slides against your tongue, “That's my Doll,” he thrusts in and out of your mouth and you just sit there. Quite literally a doll. You let him use you, feeling more useful now than you've ever felt in all your years of living. There is beauty in submission that has a wet spot forming along your panties. You writhe as he begins to fuck your throat, drawing out a moan from him in the process.

“Shit- you're such a good girl-” there's fire in his eyes as he thrusts in and out. His hands move to the back of your head, forcing you down deeper on his cock. The sounds of your struggle -the gagging- it has his cocm twitching in your mouth

“Fuck-” he grunts, breathing so heavily as you begin to writhe in your seat, needing air.

“I knew you were special, Doll- I knew you were so far beyond self preservation- it borders pathetic” the saltiness of his precum trickle down your throat and you attempt to stomp your feet as your cries vibrate around his cock.

“Look at your hips moving baby,” he says, “You like this as much as I do. You're on my side. Even if you think you aren't.” Your hips are circling as if you're searching for friction along the chair as he groans. “Tell me you're on my side.”

He pulls your mouth off his cock and you breathe in deeply. You're coughing as droplets of spit run down your mouth. Spit and tears. Your face shows it all.

Your voice is hoarse. “I'm on your-”

“F-Fuck- I'm gonna cum-" He brings his cock back to your lips, “All over that pretty fucking face- fuck,” your tears fall as he strokes cock, emptying cock over you face. You keep your eyes shut, letting the sound of his pleasure-filled groans shoot straight to your puffy clit.

“I'm not letting you go,” his thumb moves over the cum coating your face. He moves his thumb past your lips, letting the cum seep into your mouth. Saltiness and need.

He needed you.

“You're not?” You ask petulantly, sucking on his thumb like you've regressed right before him.

“I'm not.” He confirms, “My little winner.”

[kateschi]

back in action

synopsis: being the wife of bakugou katsuki comes with multiple benefits, one of which is a front-row seat to his scrumptious back.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i know at least 2/3 of you have seen that figurine

you swear there’s no better sight in this world than katsuki bakugou’s back.

not the view from your honeymoon suite in santorini, not the sparkling ocean from your vacation in okinawa—hell, not even the perfect strawberry shortcake you baked last weekend.

no, none of that compares to the sheer beauty that is your husband’s ridiculously broad, wonderfully sculpted, unfairly muscular back.

the way his muscles shift under his skin when he moves? art.

the ripple of strength as he stretches? divine.

the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders after an intense workout? a masterpiece.

and, as if the gods of attractiveness hadn’t blessed him enough, the scars that mark his skin only add to his allure.

each one tells a story of battles fought and won, of heroism that the world praises but he humbly shrugs off. to you, those scars aren’t just symbols of strength—they’re proof of his resilience, his dedication, his heart.

so, yes. you are absolutely obsessed with your husband’s back, and no, you don’t care how shameless that makes you.

“katsuki,” you call from the couch, chin propped up on your hands as you shamelessly watch him rummage through the fridge.

he’s in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt? nowhere to be found.

a completely intentional choice on his part, because he knows exactly how weak you are for him like this. “did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the best back in the entire universe?”

he pauses, a carton of orange juice in one hand and an eyebrow raised in your direction. “you tell me that every damn day.”

“well, I mean it every damn day.”

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother hiding the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re such a weirdo.”

“damn right,” you shoot back, grinning when he snorts. “come here. let me look at it properly.”

“what, my back?” his expression is one part exasperation, two parts amusement as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “the hell do you need to ‘look’ at it for?”

“because it’s a work of art, obviously,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “and I haven’t had my daily dose of admiring you yet.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face like you’re the most exhausting person on the planet, but he still walks over to you without another word. you can tell he’s secretly enjoying this, though.

“alright, idiot. knock yourself out.” he turns around, presenting you with the full, glorious view of his back.

your eyes immediately light up. “oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“it’s a back,” he deadpans.

“no, no, no. it’s the back,” you insist, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers along the curve of his shoulder blades.

he tenses slightly under your touch—his body always reacts before his mind can catch up—but quickly relaxes as you continue your impromptu “admiration session.”

“you’ve got no idea how unfair this is,” you mumble, running your hands down the defined lines of his lats. “how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like this?”

“you’re ridiculous.” he’s shaking his head, but you can hear the way his voice softens, the way the edges of his usual gruffness smooth out when he talks to you like this.

it’s a few days later, and you're lounging on the couch, flicking through your phone when you hear him coming from the hallway, the sound of his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

katuski’s been in the gym for a couple of hours, and you can already hear the deep exhale he lets out as he moves closer, his breath still heavy from the workout.

"guess who's back," you say, looking up just in time to see him walking into the living room, wearing only a towel around his waist, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.

he pauses for a moment when he sees your face—wide-eyed and full of admiration, already zeroing in on that perfect, chiseled back. his muscles tense as he moves, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"really?" he says, voice dripping with disbelief. "you still on about this?"

“can’t help it,” you say, setting your phone aside and leaning back against the cushions, fully prepared to watch him, unashamed. "I’m just amazed that someone like you exists in the world."

katuski rolls his eyes, but there's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his indifference. "yeah, well, quit starin'."

"I can’t help it," you reply, your voice a playful purr as you look him up and down. "I mean, who else looks this good after a workout?"

he tilts his head to the side, his signature scowl starting to form, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“quit actin’ like I’m some kinda showpiece, alright?” he grumbles, though you can hear the lighthearted edge to his voice.

you laugh, clearly enjoying yourself too much. "sorry, can’t help it.”

later that week, you and katuski are out on patrol, both suited up in your respective hero uniforms.

it's business as usual—rescuing civilians, stopping some petty criminals, and making sure the city is safe.

the sun’s setting, painting the skyline in beautiful oranges and purples, but you're still laser-focused on one thing: his back.

it's a total accident—really, it is—but when you're standing next to him after you’ve just subdued a villain, you can't help but sneak a glance at the broad expanse of his back.

you feel that familiar pull to reach out, to trace the powerful lines of his shoulder blades again.

“don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and gruff as he catches the glint of mischief in your eyes.

you smile innocently, taking a step closer. "what? I was just going to—"

"not here. we’re in the damn public," katuski growls, his sharp gaze snapping to yours as his fingers tighten around his gauntlet. "you really think I’m gonna let you paw at me in front of everyone?"

you laugh, unbothered by his obvious annoyance. "I’m not pawing at you, I’m admiring you. there's a difference, katsuki."

his jaw tightens as he glares at you, his usual frown deepening. "that’s the same damn thing."

you can’t help but grin, even though he’s clearly not having it.

but, deep down, you know that katuski secretly loves it. sure, he’s tough and grumpy in front of the public, but you both know how soft he gets when you're alone, how he indulges you without hesitation.

so, you take one last daring step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush along the fabric of his uniform.

he’s about to bark at you to stop, but you just flash him a quick, mischievous grin, and that’s all it takes for him to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath, "unbelievable."

and katsuki was right in his reprimand cause you were breaking the headlines the very next day.

for all the wrong reasons.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[l-in-the-light]

This cultural mechanism of denying humanity of certain individuals (most often villains) has a name. Rene Girard wrote about it in his book called The Scapegoat. I tried finding ANY reblog of this post which actually mentions this, but despite scrolling through at least half of reblogs, I couldn't find it, which means even if someone did point it out then it still went pretty much unnoticed.

We all know who or what a scapegoat is. It's that thing or that person, the root of evil, the source of chaos, the troublemaker, the trickster disrupting the long established safety and order (which is, ofc, the ultimate good). If you only get rid of the problematic individual, everything will be okay again. That's how it works. But there's a problem with it. There's never one scapegoat. After one comes another, and another, and another, till you get hundreds and thousands of them and you can't fit them in one neat grave or prison anymore. They keep coming and there will be more and more of them, this will never stop, because it's a cycle. A cycle of violence. If you really want for "things to be okay", you need to break that cycle, instead of finding YET another scapegoat, yet another villain to bury for all of our sins. By sacrficing another villain, another victim, another scapegoat on the altar of society, you only support the cycle to keep on going.

Yes, you heard me right. Villains are scapegoats. But victims ARE scapegoats as well. Anyone we forcefully silence and refuse to give agency to is the scapegoat. The homeless, the LGBT, the mentally different, any disabled people etc. Anyone who fits into a very broad category of "otherness". But here's the catch. Because this category is so broad it's very easy to become that "other". That's why people are willing to go to extreme lengths just to make sure no one sees them as "other". They will deny their disabilities, they will deny they're not like those "others", they will even deny their own struggles, just to fit into the safe mold of "normal". And if you silence yourself just because you're afraid you might be the next one victimized or villainized, you're also a scapegoat, btw. Your inner life and self-consistency is the sacrifice on the altar of society that doesn't care if you actually have a heart. All it cares about is for you to make sure you're "normal", which has a very murky definition too. Who's normal? The one who acts like the majority of others? The one who has the applause? (applause can be shortlived and depends on trends, it's dangerous, you're dancing on the edge). Every time we see someone as the "other" we judge, we're scapegoating them. Yes, all of us, by succumbing to our fear of being judged, contribute to this mechanism. Otherwise the seams of the society might fall apart and we can all turn against each other, we can rip apart the system, they warn us of anarchy, you might get killed in the middle of the street, there will be no police to guard the order, no prisons to keep the bad eggs away from you. Stay quiet, endure, it's for the safety of all of us.

No one should have to carry that weight of the whole world on their own shoulders. Not like this. But we do, every single day.

We're all capable of being bad people and often are. But we also all want to believe we're good. People think if someone didn't get love there's a reason of why they didn't receive it. That belief didn't come out of nowhere. It's internalized violence and judgemental mentality. You prefer to doom someone else as long as it saves yourself from being doomed. You're not only hurting others with it, but YOURSELF as well in the process. You get rid of your true empathy for others, you decide whose pain or suffering is the one "worthy" of acceptance and which is not and needs to be condemned. You can't afford that empathy for anyone else than you after a while, after all you live in constant, silent fear of "being next" if you just stop for a moment and look too long at the scapegoats buried around you. And what you fail to see is that you're also a scapegoat. If we all accept each other and ourselves as "others", if we're all just different people and no one is normal anymore, will this finally break the cycle?

You want to feel like a good person? Of course, we all do. But you can't achieve that if you're too afraid to look into the abyss/mirror and realize you also do bad things. You also need to redeem yourself. You can do better, but it's not easy. You know what's easy instead? Finding a scapegoat and blaming them for their own misery. Literally requires no work, the world will applause you and all you need to do is repeat same words after others. The mechanism works like a perpetuum mobile at this point, it will mostly do this job for you. Just take a stand, deem the villains, blame the victims, ignore the struggles and pain of others.

But here's the catch. If you're too cold, you're also gonna be judged and called a psychopath. That's also a no-no, you're becoming the unacceptable "other" again. You have to show, in specific, allowed circumenstances, that you feel sorry for others. That you know how to choose the "right" side. That you understand "good" needs sacrfices and sometimes you're even expected to cry for them. And if you see those sacrfices as not-human "others", it's easier to accept it all.

Many people claim how scary it is to face certain truths, like "victims can turn into villains too", but the real truth no one wants to face is actually this: we allowed this to happen. We allowed the villains to be formed, all of us. Every time we engage in judgemental actions, every time we police someone dealing with their pain "in wrong way", every time we call someone "born evil". Every time we point a finger and call someone a villain, a victim, a barbarian, the other. By doing that we trap them in endless world of pain and suffering and abuse. They also want to be out of that cycle, but we keep trapping them, by silencing them and adding our own narrative on top. They suffer for our sins. Because they're our scapegoat, the sacrifice we made to keep on going, thinking how good this world is and how much worse it could have been, just look in the right places. Just don't look at the scapegoats too long. They corrupt. Maybe their otherness is even contagious, so stay as far away from them as possible.

You're allowed to be mad about this, btw. Anger is a neccessary emotion, it points at injustice done to you. But the society wants you to throw that emotion away and supress it, so you're tamed and silenced. It might even create a "safe space" to vent it out, by encouragig you into physical activities or taking part in some entertainment, so you can lose your steam in a way that doesn't challenge the system. It's a distraction. (the point here isn't to condemn sport or popculture btw, it just serves as an example, ok?)

All communities work like this. We're all trapped in endless cycle of violence. We bury endless scapegoats under our communities, they become our foundations. After all, nothing unites different people better than finding a common villain, it's us (the good) vs them (the evil). Wait, did I just say "different people"? But we're supposed to be all the same! No, that's a myth. We were all always different. We just have to choose who is "more different than others", so we can unite ourselves against them.

You know what that reminds me of? "We're all equal. But some are more equal than others". Animal farm was about power structures. By accepting easy scapegoats, by abiding to this mechanism, we support the power system that oppresses us. Think about it. Our civilisation is build on this and it would not thrive the way it did without the scapegoats.

And all of you blaming christianity for this instead, you need to understand one thing. What Jesus taught was actually the reverse of scapegoating. “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her”. This is literally Jesus telling people "you all have sinned, so why are you judging them if you don't judge yourself?". What you all mean by christian/puritanist beliefs is how christianity got distorted and institutionalized into a power abusing system called religion. Swallowed up by what it tried to fight against. Always identify the actual source of abuse, instead of doing more scapegoating. I'm in no way inclined to defend christianity (not in the form it exists now), but also if we keep on muddling the truth we will always make the same mistake, so, always dig deeper to avoid it. Thank you.

not to post even more Villains Discourse on main but it really bugs me how people read giving villains tragic backstories as inherently excusing their actions and/or demonizing trauma survivors.

the actual message of Tragic Villains is (almost) always “people who are never taught or given any healthy, constructive outlets for their emotions will often find unhealthy, destructive outlets.” it’s that people who are traumatized and never learn how to cope with that trauma can become a danger to themselves and others. the message isn’t “trauma makes you evil!!!!” or “genocide is okay if you’ve been sad before!!!!” it’s “people need compassion and help to recover from trauma instead of becoming increasingly angry and harming themselves and others in the process.”

this site takes an alarmingly behaviorist and punitive approach to everything and it’s literally the most annoying thing. y’all have this concept that “if we just punish people hard enough, if we just scare them enough, if we just make them feel guilty enough.” that people just Do Bad Things Because They Do Bad Things, I Guess, and Because We Didn’t Threaten Them And Shame Them Enough. but humans are an innately social species. at our very core, we need compassion and kindness. we need healthy relationships with other humans.

you can keep looking at traumatized villains and being like “haha this dumb pathetic sadboi thinks murder is okay because his parents died” but as a survivor myself, unaddressed/untreated trauma absolutely can make you ragey and destructive. i was lucky enough to have support and eventually get the treatment i needed. but it’s not hard at all for me to imagine how, if that hadn’t been the case, that could’ve been me. obviously not on a movie-villain scale like murder or war crimes, but it’s so irritating as someone whose trauma has always manifested as anger to watch people on this site be like “this is just bad writing!!! real survivors/good survivors don’t end up like that the writers just hate survivors and want the audience to condone murder!”

[hyunsuloves]

omg girl I'd just seen your "squid game women with a timid s/o" , could you do the same but for men? thanksss 💖

super shy.

synopsis … squid game men with a timid s/o ꨄ︎. (or a part two to this.)

pairings … myung-gi, dae-ho, jun-ho, thanos, nam-gyu, min-su x fem!reader (separately)

warnings … fem reader, non game au, some may be ooc but what else is new, i apologize for any typos !!

lovely notes … the post i did with the female characters did surprisingly well omg..

꩜ [ 857 words ]

myung-gi / player 333 is so similar yet so different from you. he’s not a candid person, but he doesn’t always keep to himself.

he tends to keep under wraps but isn’t opposed to speaking out around others.

he encourages you to speak up for yourself, though he’s joking the majority of the time. he likes to tease you way too often for comfort.

“you know you can speak up for yourself, right?” “myung-gi, leave me the hell alone.” “this is what happens when i try to help you. so ungrateful.”

he orders for the both of you, so even if you weren’t so shy, he’d take upon the task himself either way.

he makes fun of people in awkward social settings to ease your worries. he’ll whisper the dumbest jokes ever to make you feel less awkward around the large crowd of bodies.

the both of you just stay near one another while in public. there’s nothing better than the proximity of a loved one when in the worst possible social setting.

dae-ho / player 388 is your polar opposite. he’s very social, energetic, and forthright.

he’s a social butterfly wherever he goes, and you have the misfortune of constantly being dragged along.

he’s always ready to go when you are. even if he isn’t finished socializing, he’s saying his farewells as soon as you tell him that you’re ready to leave.

“hey, you ready to go?” “we’ve only been here a few hours. go have fun, baby.” “no, let’s go. i wanna go home with you.”

despite dragging you to every social event ever, he’ll speak for you without even thinking about it. even if you can speak for yourself, he talks for you. he always feels slightly guilty for dragging you out of your humble abode to accompany him to his affairs.

he speaks up for you every time, without fail. he defends you, orders your food for you, the whole deal.

jun-ho is your contrast, as he’s far from shy. he isn’t always outspoken.

while he has a more free-spoken personality than yours, he has moments when he’s just as reserved as you are.

he’s the first to your defense when he sees someone troubling you. even if you weren’t his partner, he’d rush to your defense nonetheless.

“hey, tell me if they say anything else to you.” “of course. thank you, jun-ho.”

the way this man is so protective over you is so nonsensical. he’d be defensive nonetheless, but especially with your timid nature.

thanos / player 230 couldn’t be more different from you. he’s the most eccentric and outgoing person you have ever met.

from social gatherings to parties, to any get-together he can find, you’ll find him there. of course, he drags you along to wherever he’s going.

he urges you to speak for yourself more often than not. although he doesn’t mind speaking for you, a lot of the time he’ll put you in situations in which you have no choice but to verbalize.

“señorita, learn how to speak for yourself.” “stop talking to me, su-bong.”

to no one’s surprise, he’d fight over you if needed. if you’re being targeted, he’d attack the individual without a second thought.

his favorite thing to do is fluster you. compliments upon compliments is all you hear from this man, and it’s all to see you act all diffident.

nam-gyu / player 124 is, like thanos, your polar. he’s a very extroverted person, opposite your timid demeanor.

he’s a very lax, social type of person. he likes to relax when he’s at get-togethers, similar to you.

he loves to flatter you. it’s not even to fluster you, he just wants you to be so conscious of how much he loves you all the time.

“you look so pretty, baby.” “leave me alone, nam-gyu.” “what? i mean it.”

he’s the first person to come to your defense, as expected. even though he’s the type to let himself be belittled, he’d never let it happen to you.

he’s the kind of person you can sit in silence with and not have it be awkward. silence with him is quite comforting.

min-su / player 126 is literally your twin. the both of you are the most reserved people known to man.

the amount of times you’ve just sat in silence, enjoying the other's presences is too much to count. the two of you simply sit in quietness.

if it comes to something like ordering food, you often take the initiative because min-su is way too shy for his own good.

“can you order for me?” “of course, love. i got it.” “thank you so much. where would i be without you?”

the only person either of you is comfortable around is the other. you’re a wreck around others, but it’s absolute tranquility when you’re with one another.

if it came to defending one another, you’d come to his defense without hesitance. he’s more tentative to defend either one of you, so it usually comes down to you doing it.

the both of you are a shy pairing and a very likely couple that surprised no one.

[madamechrissy]

Yandere Roomie Gojo

MDNI- NSFW- Satoru x you

CW: there is obviously yandere content here, look at the title lol. Videoing w/o consent, being psycho and controlling, oral sex (f recieving) breed kink like a MF, manipulation, reader rolls w/ it bc it's Gojo, don't read if you don't like darker things, I have plenty of sweet Gojo stories here

Yandere Roomie Gojo who may or may not have bribed your landlord to kick you out, just so you'd have to live with him, but don't worry, you're better off this way, he knows what's best for you!

Yandere Roomie Gojo who is your 'best friend' such a good friend that he drives you wherever you need to go, when your car keeps mysteriously breaking down (hmm, couldn't be him removing parts could it?)

Yandere Roomie Gojo who smiles and blinks his beautiful blue eyes on you when you show him your outfit for the night. 'oh, going out? where?' he asks so casually, you flush a bit as his eyes slowly asses your body, you wish he would ask you out, but you think you're probably just friends. 'a date.'

Yandere Roomie Gojo holds back his anger at the thought of anyone touching what must be his, but he puts on another bright smile, raising a thin white brow 'ya need a ride, sweets?' 'no, he's coming to get me, don't worry!'

Yandere Roomie Gojo surely can't just let you go on some date alone, what if something happens to you? Sure, he has a tracker on your phone, but he decides to follow you there, sitting in his fancy sports car as he spies on you, your date and you are sitting outside and having drinks, making him furious when the guy touches your thigh.

Yandere Roomie Gojo sees you tense a bit, staring at your phone, and the guy is getting too handsy, he sees your text then, and his heart thuds from his chest. Satoru, I'm so sorry are you busy? he needs no further reason to get out of his car, smiling and sauntering over, hands in the pockets of his slacks, as you look at him with shock, mouth wide open.

Yandere Roomie Gojo has you in his car next to him, you're torn between asking how he got there so fast and just being relieved he's here. 'Toru...' fuck that nickname ruins him. 'yeah, sweets?' You lean over and press a kiss on his cheek. 'thank you for coming to get me, I just... didn't like his vibe I guess'

Yandere Roomie Gojo has you back in his house now, you live in a fucking penthouse with this gorgeous, tall man, and the couple of drinks you've had loosen you up too much, Satoru wants to fuck you so hard you remember he owns you, but he needs it to be your idea, so he just kisses your forehead. 'get some sleep'

Yandere Roomie Gojo is stroking his cock as he watches you strip in your room, of course he has cameras in there, you're being stubborn so far and won't let him see what's his. You sit on your bed then, in some lacy slutty panties and a bra, spreading your thighs and thinking of him, of Satoru, slipping your fingers down your slick cunt, playing with your throbbing clit now, all while Satoru watches, fucking into his hand and picturing you.

Yandere Roomie Gojo hears you cry out his name then, clear as day, blinking rapidly, your fingers are pushing in and out of your little hole, you're not trying to be quiet either, and then he can't fucking take it, it's like you're facing the camera on purpose but you couldn't know. he continues to watch you until he can't take it, slipping up his boxers and walking to your door.

Yandere Roomie Gojo realizes you left the door unlocked, and you gasp when he enters, but you don't cover yourself up at all, no you spread your thighs, revealing your soaked panties your little hand has slipped under. Satoru glares at you now. 'what are you doing, huh? playing with what's mine?' You tremble a bit, sucking yourself off your finger then. 'then show me, Satoru'

Yandere Roomie Gojo doesn't realize how badly you've wanted him, and how you've noticed some things, you noticed the little camera in your room last week, and you got off on him watching you. You know he's probably fucking up your car, and you didn't even wanna go on that date, but it's all to get him to finally drop his act, and drop it he does, when he kisses you over your lacy panties, tongue lapping at you now.

Yandere Roomie Gojo has his hair being pulled by you, fingers enwrapping in silky white locks, as you yank him against you, crying out while he's making your flimsy barrier nothing. He rips them off you then, revealing your soaking wet cunt. 'show you that you're mine, all mine, pussy only will be touched by me, got it baby?' you just nod eagerly, earning his sadistic laugh as he swipes his tongue up your slit, making juices pool from your little hole.

Yandere Roomie Gojo devours your pussy in the quiet room, filled with the sounds of his slurping, your squelching wetness and both of your moans then. He sucks your clit in his hot mouth, blue eyes looking under snowy lashes while you fall apart for him, drenching his face with your arousal, which he laps up every fucking bit, until he leans up smirking, shoving two fingers in your tight hole, whsipering 'never fucking anyone else, got me baby?'

Yandere Roomie Gojo is curling his long fingers in your gummy walls, pressing that spot that blinds you, you cling to him, back arching, he yanks your tits out with his other hand, they bounce gently as he smacks them then. 'Answer me, now' 'only want you, Satoru... I already know you... w-want me...' he glares, leaning over you, so big and intimidating, as he's scissoring his fingers in your sloppy cunt. 'what's that now? can't hear you over your slutty pussy'

Yandere Roomie Gojo watches as your eyes roll back in your skull, watches you twitch as you soak his hand. 'I know, Toru... I know you w-watch me, psycho' he snorts then, yanking his fingers out, making you whine 'n-no, more please!' he shoves his fingers in your mouth, watching you suck your juices off them eagerly. 'you get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?' you nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. 'then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?'

Yandere Roomie Gojo grins as you weakly nod, filling your tight hole in one stroke, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you. He loses his contol then, gripping your thighs and leaning over you, blue eyes dilated and fucking insane as he fucks into you, slamming your poor cervix as you try to wriggle, you can't even breathe, he's everywhere. 'this what you wanted, me to show you how much I want you?' 'show me, please'

Yandere Roomie Gojo fucks you so hard you couldn't care less about how insane he is, not when he's got you on your tummy, filling you prone bone, not when he's cumming so deep and filling your cunt, and certainly not when he's got you on his face, his cum and yours pooling as he laps you up. And definitely not when he's using you like his little fuckdoll, slamming up into your eager hole, smirking as he watches the bulge in your tummy, the way your cute fucked out face looks, the tears of overstimulation in your eyes.

Yandere Roomie Gojo lets you know then 'gonna breed this pussy, put babies in you, k-keep you here with me' you should probably be scared, but it's Satoru Gojo saying it, and you just whimper in response, while he fills you again and again, to the point you're passing out from so much pleasure, and he's still pushing you further, like he's not even human.

Yandere Roomie Gojo the next day is back to being sweet it seems, smiling and having made you breakfast, you wince as you sit down, aching and throbbing all over. You nibble on it, humming to yourself, then see your phone unlocked on the counter. 'you have my phone, Toru?' 'yeah sweets, period tracker. threw out those birth control pills too, don't worry. also... do you need that job anymore?'

Yandere Roomie Gojo watches the shock on your pretty face, but you soon forget it when he's got you spread wide on the kitchen table, plates clattered to the floor, and he's laughing at your poor puffy lips, your abused little hole. 'mine' he murmurs, as he eats his breakfast, you.

Gojo drabbles here - Gojo long oneshots here

Being yandere isn't cool unless you're Gojo, that's the PSA- I am making this a whole oneshot.

Perma tags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric 🩵 perma tag for gojo: @haruhatake @strychnynegirl @chiyokoemilia 🩵

request from @watermelonslut but I made him yandere lol

[queeniewithabeanie]

The Psychic (kinda, not really)

Dpxdc Prompt #4

holy shit i am so fucked right now

That's all that was on Duke Thomas's mind as he stood in the middle one of Bruce Wayne's (Batman! because apparently the butts do match) ball rooms, ready to be the entertainment for a gala.

how did my life ever come to this point?

At least he had an answer to that question. What do you get when you throw Danny Fenton and Duke Thomas together? An accurate psychic team that can bullshit their way into making enough money to keep themselves off the streets.

Honestly they hadn't really planned for it, but they made a pretty accurate psychic team. Danny could go invisible and intangible which was very helpful in gathering information about clients. He could talk to ghosts as well and if they weren't you know trying to attack him on sight (which was apparently a thing? that ghosts did to Danny?) they were pretty good sources of info. Finally, he new how to do all the generic psychic things like palm reading, tarot cards, tea leaves, ect.

"My friend Sam taught me!" he said, when they were realizing this plan could actually maybe work. "She never believed in it, i didn't, still don't, believe in it either but it could be useful if we actually decide to do it."

If Danny was the one with all the psychic knowledge where does Duke come in you may ask?

Danny couldn't tell a lie to save his life and couldn't get through a palm reading without bursting into laughter because of how crazy it sounded. Duke had a good poker face, learned quickly to lie on the street, and most importantly could see Danny when he was invisible thanks to his own meta ability.

They bought a tent, a deck of tarot cards, a cheap crystal ball (that was really just plastic), and some psychic-ish robes that were warm enough to double as blankets.

And so Danny and Duke started their farce, telling people scarily accurate visions and advice. They started getting invited to more events, high society ones at that, to serve as entertainment. They paid well (no matter how much the condescending nature of everyone attending irked Duke to no end) and everything was great.

They got an apartment, could actually eat 3 meals a day, and had a steady source of work.

Then Duke told someone who murdered their wife and the Bats were interested in him.

Duke and Danny, of course, didn't know this at the time so when they got invited to a gala at Bruce Wayne's (the richest man in Gotham) manor they accepted without a thought.

And then when Danny was scoping out the place after they arrived he found the Batcave because Bruce Wayne was Batman and invited Duke soley to investigate him.

Man did he wish that he could turn invisible like Danny. Maybe then Batman's piercing stare would go through him instead of straight at him.

[ut-reblogs]

I strongly disagree, in favor of it being because of him trolling everyone who ever calls in relation to a service. See tags for more, bc I’m too lazy to retype them all out.

Rodimus is not allowed to answer the phone on the lostlight because he keeps falling for the spaceship insurance scams.

[pacofprunes]

let me help ya’ relax.

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — noncon, public (voyeurism), tears, kissing, use of the word bitch, use of the word rape, pussy kissing, choking, slight / barely but manhandling,

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

“hey beautiful.”

“the hell?”

standing right in front of you, or rather over you, player 230. it was night and everyone was asleep or sitting in a corner somewhere. you didn’t know this guy beside seeing him the first two games and seeing him act like a fucking lunatic. you sit up and gather yourself.

“what do you want?”

“oh you know, just wanted to talk to a pretty girl.”

he does a cheeky smile. you stare. what do you even say to that. thank you i guess…?

“uh—”

“no need to thank me, it’s what i do. just such a great fucking guy right?”

he picks at the cross on his neck before pulling a pill out and holds it out to you.

“you use?”

“what?”

“drugs. do you do drugs? or have you done them before?”

how the fuck did he manage to bring his shit in here for one, and for two; why the hell is he more worried about doing drugs rather than living. that’d be the last thing you’d be thinking about.

“no. i dont do them and i dont have any interest in that.”

he does a fake pouty face.

“come on babe, loosen up ya’know? don’t wanna stress your pretty little face out.”

he pops the pill in his own mouth. where was this guy going with this? he clearly wants to stay here, hence the big blue ‘O’ on his jacket. so if he’s bored he should go talk to the people on his side. how the hell could you relax watching people you’ve gotten close to or even have just spoke to once die? meanwhile this dudes been jumping around having the time of his life while he’s been here. if this game ended tomorrow, he’d join it again a million times over. or maybe he wouldn’t but the drugs in his system sure as hell would.

“yeah, no… i appreciate your kindness but i don’t even know you and i think i’m just gonna lay back down.”

he grabs your hand and starts shaking it aggressively.

“my names thanos, it’s great to meet you! now you know who i am.”

he smiles again. you just stare. that’s not how it works at all. you could tell he was waiting for you to introduce yourself but you just brush it off and tell him again you’re going to lay back down. before you get to turn over and lay though, he grabs your face with both of his hands and presses your lips together into a deep kiss. he holds you there for a good while, and it felt like you were suffocating.

“what the fucks wrong with you?”

“baby, you could be my new drug! change that ‘X’ into an ‘O’, we’d be absolutely unstoppable!”

“this is real life you idiot, not some fucking video game!”

you slap his hand away from you and try telling him to get lost, but he just grabs your wrist and pushes you back onto your bed. you yell at him to get the fuck off of you but he just presses a finger up to your mouth hushing you.

“sex is a great way to relieve stress. just let me make you feel good. don’t be too loud though, unless you want the others to see us. but by all means, do it. it’s only making me harder.”

he laughed and winked at you. you suck the air through your teeth and he still holds onto your left wrist with one of his hands while letting the other one push at his chest. you’re more cautious with your voice level now and in a whisper you try again to get him to go.

“i don’t want to have sex with you, can you just go? go jack off in the corner or mess with literally any other girl here!”

he ignores you for the time being and goes to push your pants down, but with your free hand you grab his hand to stop him.

“gee babe, how sweet of you to wanna hold my hand! but uh, i kinda need it to get to the fun part.”

he ignores your hand continuing to grab at his, not proving to be much of use at all besides annoying him. he pushes your pants down, and then your panties to your ankles; acting as sort of some form of restraint. it would prove to be somewhat more difficult to kick at him now as your footing would get caught in the pant legs. he sits up off of your chest finally and starts to pull his pants and boxers off. you wanted to scream at him so badly to get off of you, to scream for some help, but you knew nobody would and all they’d do was watch. it wasn’t anybody’s problem and they weren’t going to make it theirs.

he cups your sex and starts rubbing circles at your tiny little hole to get you all soaked and ready for him. he leans down and he kisses it. he was literally about to start making out with your fucking pussy.

you squeezed your eyes shut and a couple tears come sliding down. god, first you’re in this game that seems normal, then people around you start getting shot, nobody wants to go home, and now you’re getting rapped by some crazy ass drug addict that calls himself fucking thanos. thanos! you’re pulled out of your thoughts when you feel his thumb on your face and him wiping your tears. you slightly open your eyes and he kisses you again. this time with your free hand you push as hard as you can at his face. he moves back and he makes an ‘ow’ face and rubs his forehead. he grabs your used to be free wrist and just pushes it to your side and holds it there.

“it’s always the prettiest bitches that play fucking hard to get.”

he lines up his cock with your somewhat wet hole. he maybe would’ve spent a little more time prepping you but you just ticked him off and he wasn’t going to help you anymore than he already has.

“it’s alright, i’ll have screaming my name and this whole place will know it by the time we’re done baby!”

oh god you were gonna be sick. you feel the sudden intrusion and you immediately tense. biting your lip back from screaming and shaking your head, tears flying left and right. you try to bend and claw your fingers at his hands that are holding yours down but it proves to be futile. you yell at him, while still keeping your voice down to stop and that he’s gotten enough and that he should go.

“agh—please—”

“please? you—fuck’—you want me to please keep going? well you don’t have to tell me that, i was already going to!”

he keeps a fast pace going, and the bed might as well of slid off of the shitty bars it was being held up on. everybody sleeping above you could definitely feel the whole thing moving. you try to fish your legs out of your pants legs to at least have some sort of way of pushing him away but it proves to be slightly harder than you thought.

“fuck babe—you feel so—fuck- so fucking good.”

he sucks the air through his teeth breathing heavy, while you’re doing the opposite and holding your breath.

“god you’re so tight, and you’re so — m’- so hot. i wish i could feel every inch of your — agh - you’re body but you’re too much of a fucking bitch, so i gotta keep ya’ still.”

he stops at an in thrust and moves his face down to yours, causing his cock to go deeper in you and causing you to bite back a moan and squeeze your eyes shut. he press his forehead to yours, your sweat causing them to almost stick together. he whispers to you while keeping perfect eye contact.

“but your my fucking bitch right? you’ll be my dumbed out little whore, baby. should get a tattoo on ya’ that says thanos’s bitch.”

he laughs moves down to your neck, starting to kiss all over it. leaving sweet marks all over as he starts thrusting into you again. you just feel his heavy hot breath against your neck and you just stare up at the bars above you and hold in the choked up sob threatening to come out. you feel his cock tense in you, threatening to shoot his load out and your eyes widen. he starts thrusting harder. he lets go of both your wrists and before you can even breathe out, relieved from the slightest bit of less pressure, he wraps both his hands around your throat and looks you in the eyes the whole entire time.

“come on bab — fuckk’- babe. look at me pleas- come on, watch how good you — you make me feel.”

you start to scratch at his his hands and his arms. he’d most definitely be marked up all over by the morning. finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe. you finally decide to look him in the eyes, sending him a pleading look to stop and to quit choking you, your face slowly starting to turn a shade of blue. upon your eyes looking at him, seeing those teary orbs and pleading face, it sends him over the edge. he sends a curse your way before he surprisingly pulls out his load going all over the bed. he lets go of your neck and pulls up his boxers, falling on top of you. his weight making it hard for you to completely catch your breath. you start to choke and hiccup on your own tears before he looks up at you and strokes his hand across your face, catching a few tears in his hand.

“i told you it wouldn’t be bad at all. don’t you feel a little more at ease now? are you prepared for the games tomorrow?”

not at all. was he fucking delusional? he lays his head back on your chest, looking up at you like a child, and rubs his hands up your sides.

“tomorrow when we vote, you better change to an ‘O’. wouldn’t want my pretty girl to betray me after all.”

he does a fake pout at the end of that. you go to sit up to pull your pants back up but he stops you.

“uhm, allow me. wouldn’t want you to do any hard labor! i’ll take care of it all for ya.’”

he pulls your panties and your pants up and sits up off of you, getting his own pants situated. he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the top of it, looking at you in your eyes with a smile, your eyes still watering. and you send a glare his way.

“ouch babe! you hurt me here.”

he smacks his chest a couple times where his heart was.

“i’d stay here and sleep with you, but my friends will want a piece of you too if they find out that’s what i did tonight.”

you shudder at the thought of that.

“but dont worry. i’ll see you tomorrow. i’ll see ya at breakfast, yeah?”

he pulls you in for one long kiss and you push him away and he almost falls into the next bed over. he grabs at his heart again dramatically.

“ugh, i don’t wanna leave you. we’ll talk tomorrow though, kay? maybe have some more fun too.”

he winks at you again before turning over his shoulder and literally skipping away, running with his arms in the air and his hands in fists. you just hug your knees, crying into them, and now more than ever you wanted to go home. god this was so fucked. you just wanted to go to the bathroom and wash all over yourself but you knew they wouldn’t let you in. you just keep a tight grip around your knees, trying to find some sort of solace while you’re stuck here.

[toothfa-1-ry]

YOU STILL LIKE IT THOUGH

GENRE: Fluff, crack fic ish?

PAIRING: Choi su-bong/thanos x preg!fem!reader

FEAT: Nam gyu as the supportive bestie (that he never rlly was)

A/N: this fic i based of a request from anon !! Tbh i changed ALOT of the request (haha- sorry 😞) because I felt like it was a little repetitive and idk i just can't write rlly emotional scenes with Thanos for some reason (??) ALSO I feel like there are parts where Thanos seems ooc? Idk.. i wrote this instead of studying in the span of 30 mins

"Whoo!" You hear Thanos shout on the top of his voice while he high fives nam gyu as they both jump up and down as if they were children in elementary school after winning a play ground game

You manage your groan, suppressing it while you stare at them from afar, of course that crazy fucker managed to pass through the first game.

You hated to admit it, but a part of you was relieved,

You always had a thing for psycho guys, and your ex boyfriend? The one with the brightly dyed hair who was now doing some weird dance seemed to proudly embody every part of that sentiment.

You carefully watch from afar, not wanting to catch his eyes, your hand unknowingly lay over your stomach while you move uncomfortably in the bunk bed

Fuck, your feeling dizzy all over again

You hear a thud against your bed post, you look up slowly, your eyes slightly squinting to see the purple haired boy with a usual frown on his face

"Hey" his eyebrows raise "are you okay"

"I thought I told you to get lost earlier"

Your mood swings weren't really helping either

"Geez woman" thanos tchs but sits beside you in your bed anyways "im just trying to help" grumbling under his breath but the cautious expression in his face saied otherwise

"I came here to brag about how amazing i usually am but seeing you like this is just killing the vibe yknow"

he makes a hand gesture in the air, leaning face closer in an attempt to make you smile which does not go wasted as the smile you tried to supress escaped your face

"Fuck off you loser" your still kneeling, your hands over your knees and your face hiding behind your knees but he hears the smile in your voice anyways.

He wouldn't want to admit it, but he was relieved

He always had a thing for girls with pretty voices and you? The girl right next to him had to have one of the prettiest voices he had ever heard. Ofcourse who would better know than a rapper like himself?

"I thought I told you to stick close to me, instead you leech to that crazy old man" thanos says as he points towards gi hun who sat far away in the opposite side

You immediately slap his hand, causing him to wince while retracing it back, rubbing it softly

"How many times will I tell you! You shouldn't point your hands at strangers especially to people who are older" you scold him rather loudly causing him to wince even more

"Agh" thanos ruffles his neon hair while complaining "why don't you shout louder so that everyone will hear and laugh at me?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes upon his childish manners, he really didn't change

Thanos suddenly bangs the top of the bunk with a loud sound, taking you by shock

"Oi" his voice loud and almost threatening "nam gyu" calling out the man above the bed

Immediately your taken by shock once more when a man's head pops upside down, with black oily hair falling all over his face from above the bed

"Yes Thanos?" Nam gyu quickly inquired while sparing you a quick glance which didn't go unnoticed by the scowling man next to you

"Did you hear her telling me off?" He points at nam gyu before quickly adding "careful, there's only one correct answer"

Nam gyu pauses and thinks which seems to be the wrong thing to do as it just annoys Thanos

"Whats wrong with you, tell me quickly!"

"N-no! Not at all! Infact nobody heard anything!" Nam gyu quickly says, obviously lying but this seemed to please Thanos who now held a haughty face

Wow, this is was supposedly the father of your unborn child. Shame you and your taste in weird guys

Before Thanos could open his mouth to say something, a group of pink guards enter the room with large containers

Straight away you freeze up, shrinking behind the bed while your heart hammered, fear spread across your face

Noticing your expression on your face, instinctively Thanos covers you with his back, shielding you with his arms which covered your sides while his expression, though you could not see was filled with wariness

The pink guards open the large containers they were carrying as everyone watched quietly, scared as they were unsure of what to expect, you included

The pink guard with the white circle lifts up a piece of bread and milk "lunch time" announcing in the same robotic voice like all the other guards

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as your shoulders relax, unlike you Thanos still shields you, covering your face with his back

You hit him with a thud on the back of his head

"What the hell man" thanos turns around, his eyes glaring at you

"Stop trying to act like a hero you shameless prick" you frown even though his actions did leave you with a warm feeling in your heart

"Your acting so protective after all the stunt you pulled before we broke up" you continue "seeing you act all so protective is just pissing me off even more"

Thanos throws his head back, groaning "give me a break woman. You know I was going through a hard time"

"Bullshit" your fold your arms, as if it was act to protect yourself, and the unborn baby in your stomach.

The poor thing was only 2 months old

The both of you hear nam gyu cough from above the bed, forgetting that he was there in the first place

Again Thanos bangs the top of the bunk, causing you to give him a look

"Stop doing that" you scold him

"doing what?" Thanos raises his eyebrow before banging the top of the bunk again while sticking his tongue at you

Nam gyu pops back down again, upside down, the sight would have been hilarious only if you weren't experiencing the pain in your stomach and the sight of the man sitting beside you

"Go get lunch for me and my girl" thanos tilts his head towards you while avoiding your eyecontact while you tell yourself not to think about the fact that he still referred to you as 'his girl'

"go fast what are you still doing here" thanks reprimanded nam gyu

Nam gyu awkwardly stood unsure of what to say "but it's just one bread and one milk per person"

"Then give her yours" thanos said simply "and go steal someone's lunch for me"

"Then what about for me?" Nam gyu asked dumbfounded which caused Thanos to pause and think for a while

"That's not my fucking problem man- now go" he pushes him away, leaving you with a heavy sigh

"I don't want to eat"

"Don't talk bullshit" thanos eyes you "you think i'm gonna let you starve? I never did, and i wont be starting now"

Again with the whole protective boyfriend act, fuck, why did it make your heart race a little?

"Your still such an asshole, you didnt change a bit" you huffed as you leaned behind, resting your back against the wall

"Well you changed" thanos says which quirks your curiosity

"How so?'

"I don't know" he shrugs "something is different. Something happened, i can't exactly ppint my fi ger at it though"

Your eyes dart away from his while your breathing started to fasten slightly

"Oh yea? How so?" You ask, your voice slightly higher than it was which Thanos picks up immediately

"Ohoho" he grins "did I get it right? Did you get something done?" He glances you up and down which leads you to hitting him

"Ow- i was just joking, you still take everything so seriously" he grumbled holding your hand from hitting him "I wish that part had changed'

Your other hand comes swinging which he again grabs softly

"jokingg" he says in a sing song voice before letting both your arms go leaving you with a scowl and him with a satisfied smirk in his face

"Asshole" you mutter which stretches his smirk even more

"You still like it though"

You almost swear you heard a hint of vulnerability in his tone, prompting you to glance at him quickly just to catch him already looking at you

"So? Aren't you gonna ask me what has changed?" You ask slowly, in your head trying to process whether your doing the right thing or not,

You first found out you were pregnant with your baby right after you and Thanos broke up.

The following days, whenever you went to pay him a visit, he was always missing, causing you to believe maybe it was better for him not to know. And then you suddenly meet him for the first time after your breakup during the squid games

The timing was almost comical

"Why?" Thanos continued still with an amused face "you still seem the same on the inside"

Your hand immediately goes to your stomach, slowly tracing along it from above the green track jacket which everyone wore

"Don't tell me your sick or something" thanos asks with his voice slightly raised as he notices your action "fuck are you?"

His eyes slightly widens as he frowns "hey" he snaps his finger upon your zoning out "are you sick?"

"Hm?" You ask confused

"What the fuck" he swears under his breath with a anxious expression on his face while his hand runs through his finger "is that why your here? To win some money for your treatment?"

"Su Bong its not like that-" All your attempts of correcting him seemed to be futile as he sweared loudly, getting out of the bed

"Shit shit shit!" He grabs his head while he paced around the floor, a sight you had seen a few times over the span of your relationship

"ofcourse that's why your here, you would only be here for a sensible reason"

"Oh, su bong" you attempt to appeal to him, reaching your hand out, pulling his closer towards you while he hands were still over his head, eyes lowered

"Fuck baby I'm so sorry" he breathed out "shit i never should have left, i thought" he paused "I thought I'd win some money and get you back, give you the life you really deserve but"

You watch his dazed expression while he rambled, you bit you underlip, hesitant of whether to tell him the truth still

"Fuck, i didn't even know that, i didn't even know you were sick-"

Before he could continue again you grab his face , forcing him to look at your face

"I'm not sick, that's not why im here"

Thanos breathed heavily, everything felt so real suddenly, he felt his cross necklace strapped around his neck, his fingers itching to pop a pill in his mouth to sooth his nerves

"I'm not sick" you shake your head as you lean your forehead against his "su-bong"

You can still feel his strained breaths and darting eyes

"I'm pregnant"

And it all stopped,

You held your breath, afraid of what would happen if you let go, your could heart your heartbeat from your ears, feel the realisation setting inside thanos,

You were scared. Scared of how he would react

He breaks away first, slowly and gently. Staring at you with no expression in his face,

"And it's yours" you rapidly feel the need to add, taken back by his silence which didn't not suit him "and i know having a kid was never in your plan, and i know things are over between us but-"

Your body is wrapped by his arms and his face nestles in your neck, pulling your deeper in his embrace

"Holy shit" thanos whispers in your ear, you can hear the giddiness radiating off his voice "im a dad"

"Yea you are" you laugh a little as you say "your a dad"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I never got the chance to"

Thanos furrows his eyebrows but doesn't press any more "will you let me be our baby's dad?" He ask

"You know I grew up without a dad, this kid doesn't deserve that" he pokes your stomach with a soft grin which looked slightly odd against his eccentric features "I wanna be in this kids life"

You nodd softly, hearing his words

"And yours too" thanos looks up to you, grinning while he winked at you "senorita"

"You corny bastard" you laugh shaking your head

"You still like it though"

You nodd your head, with tenderness in your eyes and voice

"I do"

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ extra scene pack !!

"Thanos!" Nam gyu came running with 3 pieces of sweet bread and 3 packets of milk "I got it! Do you know how much trouble i went to get all these-"

"Give it here " thanos grabbed all the bread and milk away "why did you take so long anyways"

Nam gyu held his hands as he pouted "I mean- i had to fight like 2 guys for bread and milk for us-"

Thanos brushed him off as he opened all the packets of bread and poked in the straw of all the milk packets

"Uhm thanos" nam gyu apprehensively called out "What are you doing?"

Thanos hands you all the bread and urges you to eat while he holds the packets of milk in his hand, ready to feed you

Thanos gestures towards you who was sitting in the bed, now wrapped in not only your jacket but his aswell "can't you see the lady is pregnant"

Nam gyu scratched his head "pregnant? With who?"

Thanos shakes his head, exaggerating his actions "dumb ass, she's pregnant with my baby ofcourse" he announced like it was the most obvious thing in the world

"Holy shit!" Nam gyu gaped his hand covering his mouth as he stares at you while you sheepishly smile at him

Thanos let out a small laugh which then slowly grew louder

"What? Why are you surprised? Ofcourse i succeeded in my first try- fuck" he kneels down in pain after being striked by you in the stomach

Nam gyu pulls a face in behalf of Thanos as he pats his back sympathetically while he whispers to you

"Don't worry. I know it probably wasnt his first try or anything- ow" nam gyu kneels on the ground after being hit in the stomach by thanos

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

"What... what are you guys doing?" You question as you approach Thanos and nam gyu who were huddled up in a corner, in a long rather quiet conversation which seemed like an unusual activity for both of them to part take in

Both in the 'discussion' and 'quiet' part

Thanos loops his arm around your with a proud smirk on his face while urging nam gyu to announce what they were discussing

Nam gyu nodds eagerly as gets up in his two feet quickly, standing straight and tall with a loud and confident voice "we have decided the perfect name for the baby !!"

You see thanos's broad smile and nam gyu's confident voice, uneasiness settling in your stomach for whatever name they picked out

"These is the name that Thanos and i have personally given a lot of thought for and chosen after much contemplation !!"

Thanos nodded his head with a content expression while he winked at you, assuring that you'll like it

"Ahem" nam gyu clears his throat "before I announce the name that we have chosen, i would like to give recognition to the name we almost chose aswell !!"

Thanos immediately began clapping his hand loudly "waaah, I never knew you could speak so well "

This comment made nam gyu's chest fill swell with pride as he puffs out his chest a little

"I shall now, announce the first runners up, the name that almost was given to the new born baby"

nam gyu pauses which prompts Thanos to make the sound of drum rolls

"Nebula" nam gyu announces as he and thanos clap loudly.

Seeing your still figure both men urge you to claps aswell

"Nebula?" You mutter under your breath "where have i heard that name before?"

"And now, the name that has been selected over numerous selection test and discussion, the name of the baby is" nam gyu points at your stomach

"Gamora"

Thanos whoops loudly, both nam gyu and him clapping their hands in the air while you stand off handedly as it hits you

"Your naming our child after the daughter of the purple alien monster from a superhero movie?!"

[cherryxbooo]

I’ll do anything to make you happy

Summary: You were excited for winter break to start because it meant one thing: spending more time with Lando. But little did you know, that was the one thing you wouldn't be getting.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff/angst

Winter always held a special kind of charm for me.

The frosty mornings, cozy blankets, and steaming cups of cocoa had always made this season my favorite.

But this year, it held a different promise: Lando finally had a break from racing.

After months of hectic schedules, jet-setting across the globe, and stolen moments in between races, I was looking forward to having him all to myself.

At first, it was everything I’d imagined and more.

We spent lazy mornings tangled in bed, with me teasing him about his messy hair while he pulled me closer, claiming I was his personal heater.

Breakfasts turned into brunches because we couldn’t stop talking or joking around.

We watched movies, baked cookies that turned out terrible, and played endless rounds of Mario Kart, which I always managed to win.

“You’re only winning because I’m letting you,” Lando said one evening, his grin teasing as he tossed the controller onto the couch.

“Sure you are,” I replied, laughing as I grabbed my victory snack from the table.

Those first few days felt like we were in our own little world, where nothing else mattered but us.

But soon, reality began creeping in.

It started innocently enough.

“Babe, Max just called,” Lando said one morning, leaning against the counter with his coffee mug in hand.

“He’s organizing a karting session. Shouldn’t take long.”

I smiled, my heart swelling with pride.

Racing was his passion, and I loved seeing him happy. “Go have fun. Just don’t let him beat you.”

“Never,” he said with a wink, kissing my temple quickly before heading out.

That day, I didn’t mind the quiet. I worked on some projects, caught up with friends, and even took a long bath.

By the time he got home, his cheeks were flushed with cold, and he couldn’t stop talking about how much fun he’d had.

But karting soon turned into golf.

Golf turned into poker nights. And poker nights turned into outings that stretched late into the night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he’d text, always with a heart emoji. But “soon” became later and later each time.

I told myself it was fine. He deserved this break.

He’d worked so hard all year, and if spending time with his friends helped him unwind, who was I to complain?

But as the days wore on, the house began to feel emptier, and so did I.

One evening, I decided to surprise him with his favorite dinner.

I spent hours in the kitchen, setting the table with candles and dimming the lights for a cozy atmosphere.

When Lando walked through the door, his expression softened as he took in the setup.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“I wanted to,” I replied, smiling up at him.

“You’ve been so busy, and I thought it’d be nice to have a quiet night together.”

“That’s so sweet,” he said, leaning down to kiss me.

“But the guys are waiting for me. I promised I’d meet them for drinks tonight. Let’s rain check this?”

My smile faltered, but I nodded. “Of course.”

He kissed me again and was out the door before I could say anything more.

I sat down at the table, staring at the empty chair across from me.

The candles flickered, their light reflecting off the untouched plates. I took a deep breath, telling myself it was okay.

But deep down, a tiny crack had formed in my heart.

Days turned into weeks, and the cracks only deepened.

Lando’s absence became more noticeable, and I began to feel like a ghost in our own home.

One evening, after scrolling through endless photos of him with his friends on Instagram, I called Mia, my best friend.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the moment she picked up.

I sighed, the weight of my emotions pressing down on me.

“It’s Lando. He’s been spending so much time with his friends lately, and I feel like I’m… invisible.”

Mia was quiet for a moment before saying, “Y/N, you’re not invisible. But you need to talk to him. He’s not a mind reader.”

“I don’t want to seem clingy,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not clingy. You’re his girlfriend. He should want to spend time with you. Talk to him.”

Her words gave me the push I needed. That night, when Lando came home, I gathered my courage.

“Can we talk?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Of course,” he said, sitting down next to me.

I took a deep breath.

“I’ve been feeling… neglected lately. I know you’re enjoying your break, and I want you to have fun, but I miss us. I miss you.”

He frowned, reaching for my hand.

“Babe, I’m sorry if it feels that way. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

I nodded, but his words didn’t ease the ache in my chest. Before I could say more, he kissed me and stood up.

“Max needs help with something,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Love you!”

And just like that, he was gone. Again.

I tried my best to push away all negative thoughts until I thought about the positive ones.

Our second anniversary was just days away, and I held onto the hope that he’d make it special.

I told myself the late nights didn’t matter. He was probably planning something incredible for our anniversary.

The next day,

The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft golden hues.

I stretched lazily, a content smile curling my lips as I reached across the bed.

My fingers met cold sheets. The space beside me was empty.

I frowned, the giddy excitement I had woken up with faltering.

Today was our second anniversary.

I had imagined waking up wrapped in Lando’s arms, whispering sleepy “Happy anniversary” wishes before sharing breakfast together.

Instead, he was gone.

I also realized that I hadn't heard him come back last night.

He told me he was just helping Max out with something, but he probably went out partying with his friends afterward, again.

I tried to shake off the disappointment as I climbed out of bed, brushing my hair out of my face.

Maybe he had planned a surprise and needed to step out early.

A flutter of hope lifted my spirits as I grabbed my robe and headed toward the kitchen.

The scent of coffee greeted me, but there was no sign of Lando.

Instead, on the counter, I found a note written in his familiar scrawl:

“Gone golfing with the guys. Be back later. Love you.”

My heart sank. Golfing? On our anniversary?

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, trying to focus on the fact that he had said he’d be back later.

He wouldn’t forget our dinner, right?

We’d planned this evening together weeks ago, and I’d been looking forward to it ever since.

I folded the note and placed it aside, telling myself not to overthink it. He would be back in time.

He promised.

After a quick breakfast, I set to work preparing for the evening.

My heart thudded with a mix of excitement and nervousness as I laid out my plans.

Lando had been so busy lately, and this was my chance to remind him how much I loved him, despite everything.

I spent hours in the kitchen, cooking all his favorite dishes: his go-to pasta, a roasted chicken dish he always requested, and even the dessert I’d failed at three times before finally perfecting.

The smells of herbs, garlic, and chocolate filled the apartment, making it feel warm and inviting.

Between stirring pots and chopping vegetables, I took breaks to set up the dining table.

I draped it with a soft cream tablecloth, adding candles and a scattering of rose petals for a romantic touch.

Fairy lights hung along the walls, casting a cozy glow that made the space feel magical.

On the counter, I carefully placed his gift, a sleek watch he had admired months ago but never bought for himself.

Not forgetting to attach a handwritten note to the box.

With everything ready, I checked the clock.

It was almost evening. So I had to hurry up to get ready.

I slipped into the dress I had chosen weeks ago, a soft, fitted number I knew he loved on me.

My makeup was simple yet elegant, and I added the finishing touch, a spritz of the perfume Lando had gifted me for my last birthday.

I felt beautiful, excited, and nervous all at once as I sat on the couch, watching the clock.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

By the time twenty minutes had gone by, I grabbed my phone, texting him a quick, “Hey, are you on your way?”

No response.

An hour later, I texted again. Then called. Still nothing.

My excitement turned into a gnawing worry that sat heavy in my chest.

Where was he? Had he forgotten?

Two hours passed.

The candles on the table had burned down halfway, their flickering flames reflecting off the now-cold plates of food.

The fairy lights, once magical, now felt like mockery.

Finally, three hours later, I gave up.

Tears stung my eyes as I blew out the candles, packed away the food, and removed my dress, exchanging it for soft pajamas.

My makeup was smeared with tears by the time I climbed into bed.

I grabbed my phone one last time, and my heart shattered when I saw the Instagram story.

It was one of Lando’s friends, showing a clip of him laughing, drink in hand, surrounded by his friends.

He looked happy. Carefree.

And completely oblivious that tonight was our anniversary.

The tears came faster, hot and uncontrollable. I buried my face in the pillow, the ache in my chest overwhelming.

I had been so sure he’d come back, that he’d remember. But I was wrong.

Later that night,

The apartment was cloaked in silence when Lando opened the front door, the click of the lock echoing faintly in the stillness.

He stumbled inside the weight of exhaustion and faint traces of guilt tugging at his chest.

The soft glow of the streetlights outside illuminated the darkened space just enough for him to make out his surroundings.

Something felt… off.

He reached for the light switch, and as the room was bathed in warm light, his eyes landed on the dining table across from him.

He froze.

The table was beautifully decorated, candles placed strategically, now melted into small stubs, surrounded by rose petals that had been artfully scattered.

Plates of food were neatly covered with lids to keep them from going bad, but even from a distance, Lando could tell they were his favorites.

He took a tentative step forward, his stomach sinking further with each movement.

Resting near the center of the table was a small, wrapped box with a note attached to it.

The sight made his chest tighten, a creeping realization clawing at the edges of his mind.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the note. Unfolding it carefully, he read the words in her familiar handwriting:

"To my Lando, the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for being my partner, my love, my everything. Happy anniversary, baby. Love, Y/N."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart sank as the full weight of the evening’s significance crashed over him.

Anniversary. He’d forgotten their second anniversary.

Lando stood there, the note still clutched in his hand, his throat tightening as shame washed over him.

He thought back to the past few weeks, to the times he’d brushed you off or come home late without so much as an explanation.

He couldn’t even recall the last time you two spent real, quality time together.

You had tried to talk to him about it, about how you felt neglected, and he had dismissed your concerns every single time.

Now, standing there amidst the evidence of your effort and love, he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Lando exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as regret threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

He glanced around the room, noticing how quiet it was. He knew you were asleep.

His eyes landed on his phone, dead from the night’s events.

With a heavy sigh, he plugged it into the charger, pacing nervously as he waited for it to turn back on.

When it finally lit up, the screen was flooded with notifications, missed calls and unread messages from Y/N.

The time stamps told the story of your evening:

“Hey, are you on your way?” - 8 p.m. “I’m waiting for you… everything’s ready.” -8:30 p.m. “Lando, please call me.” -9 p.m. “Are you okay? I’m starting to worry.” -10 p.m.

The last message was hours old, her tone shifting from hopeful to concerned.

Each notification felt like another jab to his heart, the guilt almost unbearable.

He dropped his phone onto the counter and made his way toward their shared bedroom.

Pushing the door open quietly, he stepped into the dimly lit room.

His gaze immediately found her curled up under the covers, her face half-buried in the pillow.

His breath hitched when he noticed the faint streaks on her cheeks, traces of tears she hadn’t been able to hide.

The sight made his heart clench painfully. She’d cried herself to sleep, and it was his fault.

Lando approached the bed slowly, kneeling beside her as he took in her tear-streaked face.

She looked so peaceful yet so vulnerable, her chest rising and falling softly with each breath.

Guilt swirled in his chest as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with regret.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, lingering for a moment as if hoping it could somehow convey all the apologies he couldn’t say while she was awake.

His thumb grazed her cheek, and he sighed deeply.

“You didn’t deserve this,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

“I’ve been such an ass… the worst boyfriend. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I love you so much.”

She stirred slightly at his touch but didn’t wake.

Lando watched her for a moment longer before standing, his mind racing with plans to fix what he’d broken.

Tomorrow, he vowed, would be all about her.

The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my chest, my body heavy from the night before.

My eyes were sore and puffy from crying myself to sleep.

I glanced at the empty side of the bed, already prepared for the familiar sting of disappointment.

Figured he’d leave again before I woke up, I thought bitterly.

Dragging myself out of bed, I moved to the bathroom to freshen up.

The cold water on my face didn’t do much to wash away the exhaustion or the emotional weight from the previous night.

With a sigh, I tied my hair back and made my way downstairs, expecting another day of hurt to unfold.

Halfway down the stairs, though, something unusual stopped me in my tracks.

The smell of coffee, rich and inviting, wafted through the air.

There was another scent too, pancakes? My brow furrowed in confusion.

"That can’t be right. Lando doesn’t cook... does he? Who am i kidding he can't even boil eggs."

I cautiously descended the rest of the stairs, each step filling me with equal parts curiosity and hesitation.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I froze at the sight before me.

There he was, standing by the stove, flipping a pancake with a focused but slightly clumsy determination.

Plates of food lined the table, croissants, fresh fruit, juice, and what looked like store-bought pastries.

It didn’t take long to figure out most of the spread wasn’t homemade, but the effort was unmistakably his.

“Morning, love,” Lando greeted me, his tone soft and tentative, his lips curling into a nervous smile.

I raised an eyebrow, my arms crossing instinctively. “What’s all this?”

He put the spatula down and stepped closer, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“It’s breakfast... and an apology,” he said, his voice earnest.

My eyes flickered between him and the spread on the table.

I could see he was trying, but the hurt from last night still lingered like a heavy cloud over my chest.

“Come sit,” he said gently, pulling a chair out for me.

I hesitated for a moment before sitting down, my arms still crossed defensively.

Lando grabbed a plate, placing a pancake in front of me before adding a small pile of fruit and a croissant on the side.

I eyed him suspiciously as he poured me a cup of coffee, then sat across from me.

“What are you doing, Lando?” I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of confusion and frustration.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met my gaze.

“I messed up, Y/N. Big time. And I need you to know how sorry I am.” His voice was steady but filled with regret.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Last night,” he began, his brows furrowing,

“I forgot our anniversary. I forgot the one day I should’ve been making you feel like the most important person in the world. And it’s not just last night, I’ve been neglecting you for weeks. You told me how you felt, and I brushed it off like an idiot.”

His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and I could see the weight of his guilt etched into every line on his face.

“I’ve been selfish, caught up in my own world, and I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. You deserve so much better than that, Y/N. Better than me.”

I felt my throat tighten as his words sank in. The sincerity in his tone chipped away at the walls I’d put up.

“I was so hurt, Lando,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I waited for you all night. I planned everything because I thought… I thought you’d come home and we’d celebrate together. I stayed up, hoping you’d walk through that door with a smile, ready to tell me how much you love me. But you didn’t.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I continued.

“I saw that video of you and your friends. You were laughing and having fun while I sat here, alone, on what was supposed to be our night.”

Lando’s face fell, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if grounding himself from the weight of my words.

“I know,” he whispered.

“And I hate myself for it. Seeing what you did for me last night, the decorations, the food, the note. I realized just how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I never want you to feel that way again, Y/N. You’re the most important thing in my life. I need you to believe that.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice softer now, though my heart still carried the sting of last night.

“Open it,” he urged.

I carefully lifted the lid, revealing a delicate necklace with a sparkling pendant.

The intricate design caught the morning light, making it shimmer.

“Lando…” I trailed off, overwhelmed.

“It’s not enough to make up for what I’ve done,” he said quickly,

“but it’s a start. And today, it’s all about you. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, we’ll do it.”

I stared at the necklace for a moment before meeting his eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

“But,” I added, my tone firm, “this doesn’t mean I’ve fully forgiven you yet.”

“I know,” he said, nodding.

“And I don’t expect you to. But I’ll spend every day proving to you how much I care, how much I love you. I won’t stop until you believe me again.”

The determination in his voice made my chest tighten.

I wanted to hold onto my anger, to make him feel the depth of my hurt, but seeing him now, vulnerable, regretful, and desperate to make things right.

I couldn’t help but feel the smallest crack in my resolve.

As the morning unfolded, Lando’s sincerity shone through.

He insisted on clearing the table and cleaning up, stealing small glances at me as if trying to gauge my mood.

I wasn’t ready to let go of all the hurt just yet, but for the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

The morning's heartfelt apology set the tone for what became one of the most memorable days Lando and I had spent together in weeks.

While I was still guarded, I couldn’t deny that he was trying, really trying, to make things right.

As I got ready to leave the house, he was already by my side, holding my hand, his other arm slung casually around my shoulder.

“I promised today would be all about you,” he said, giving me that signature soft smile.

“So, where to first?”

We started with a trip to the mall. At first, I felt a little awkward, hesitant to fully enjoy the experience.

But Lando was like a lovesick puppy, following me from store to store, holding my bags, and insisting I buy anything that caught my eye.

“Do you like this dress?” I asked, holding up a flowy sundress against myself.

“I love it,” he said without hesitation. “But I’d probably love anything on you.”

I rolled my eyes at his smooth comment but couldn’t help the blush creeping up my cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope,” he replied, grabbing the dress and adding it to the pile of things he’d insisted on buying.

From clothes to accessories, he didn’t say no to anything.

When I protested, saying he was spending too much, he brushed it off.

“I’d spend everything on you, Y/N,” he said with such sincerity it made my heart ache.

Afterward, he took me to my favorite café for lunch.

The cozy little place was one we often went to in the early days of our relationship, and the nostalgia hit me hard as we sat down.

“I missed this,” I admitted as I sipped my coffee.

“Me too,” Lando said, reaching across the table to hold my hand.

“And I’m going to make sure we never lose this again.”

Next, he surprised me with a visit to a local pottery studio.

I couldn’t help but laugh when Lando struggled to shape a vase, the clay slipping through his fingers.

“Okay, you’re supposed to keep your hands steady,” I teased, leaning over to guide him.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert?” he joked, though his grin softened as I showed him how to shape the clay.

It was messy, chaotic, and perfect.

By the end, we both had clay smudged on our faces, and we were laughing like we hadn’t in weeks.

From there, we stopped at a flower shop.

Lando picked out the biggest bouquet of my favorite flowers, holding it out to me with a boyish grin.

“For you,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops today, aren’t you?” I teased, though my heart swelled as I buried my nose in the fragrant blooms.

“Only the best for my girl,” he replied, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

For the rest of the day, he didn’t leave my side.

He held my hand as we walked through the streets, his arm draped protectively around me whenever we stopped to rest.

He peppered me with kisses at every opportunity; on my cheek, my forehead, my temple.

“You’re being extra clingy today,” I said with a small laugh as he pulled me into another hug.

“Making up for lost time,” he murmured, his chin resting on the top of my head.

Bit by bit, the walls I’d built around my heart began to crumble.

His efforts felt genuine, and I found myself smiling more easily, the hurt from the night before slowly fading into the background.

By the time we got home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

We were both tired but happy as we curled up on the couch together.

Lando tucked me under his arm, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my shoulder.

“Y/N,” he said after a long moment of silence.

His tone was serious, and I looked up at him curiously.

“Yeah?”

“I need to say this again because you deserve to hear it,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’m so sorry for everything, for neglecting you, for forgetting our anniversary, for making you feel like you weren’t my priority. You are my priority, Y/N. You’re the best thing in my life, and I hate that I made you feel otherwise.”

His words hit me straight in the chest, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his hand cupping my cheek as he looked into my eyes.

“But I swear, I’ll spend every day proving how much I love you. I’ll never let you feel like that again.”

My heart felt full as I reached up to hold his hand.

“You’ve done a lot for me today, Lando,” I said softly.

“And it’s helped. I can see how much you mean it.”

“So... does that mean you forgive me?” he asked, his tone hopeful but cautious.

I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Yeah, I forgive you.”

The relief on his face was almost comical, and he immediately began peppering my face with kisses, my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, even the corners of my lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured between kisses, his joy infectious.

Just when I thought the day was over, Lando suddenly sat up.

“Wait, I have one last thing,” he said, standing and disappearing into the other room.

I frowned, confused, as he returned with a small envelope in hand.

“What is this?” I asked as he handed it to me.

“Open it,” he urged, a playful but nervous glint in his eyes.

I carefully tore open the envelope, and my breath caught as I pulled out two plane tickets.

My eyes widened as I read the destination: Maldives.

“Lando… are you serious?” I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.

He grinned. “You’ve always said you wanted to go. So, I booked us a two-week stay. Just you and me. No distractions.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, overwhelmed.

“You didn’t have to do this…”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly, pulling me into his arms.

“I’ll do anything to make you happy, Y/N. Anything.”

I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his chest.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I love you too,” I replied, my voice muffled but sincere.

We settled back into the couch, cuddled up together, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting.

After a long silence, I broke it with a playful smile.

“If you ever neglect me like that again, I’m breaking up with your ass,” I teased.

Lando laughed, his arms tightening around me. “Fair enough. But don’t worry, I won’t. Not ever again.”

And for the first time in weeks, I believed him.

The end

[mysaldate]

Doesn't that sort of make sense though? Why would the characters make a big deal out of it if it's normal for them? It's kind of an issue I have with a lot of fantasy series, the characters are all from this world where magic exists but they have to act surprised and clueless about it for the audience's sake? That has always felt cheap and kinda lazy to me. Yes, act like it's normal because it is normal for you. Don't make a big deal out of it and let us figure it out. Yes, you run a risk of a lot of fandom glossing over it but imo, it's much better than breaking character just to coddle your audience.

On your age point... no, that doesn't really work. The game is originally a joseimuke, meaning for working-class women. Just because Aniplex and Disney US decided to dumb everything down for the English release doesn't mean teenagers are suddenly the intended audience. The characters are those ages because that's a popular trope and that's it, they might be 30 or 50 and they wouldn't change because the age label on fictional characters is arbitrary as they are not real. Yes, Disney JP still keeps certain things censored/safe but far less than whatever is going on in the EN release. In a similar vein, the whole "respect women juice" thing was added in the EN release while in JP, it was left at the fact that women are intimidating and more physically imposing which led to Leona and Ruggie trying to appease them even outside of their own culture (we wouldn't exactly call that respect, now would we? We don't say women irl respect men when they go out of their way to appease them because they are physically stronger).

This isn't about whether or not Jack has a knot lol. This is about how many features the characters do have that the fandom just explains away or even straight-up ignores. And it gets worse when it comes to cultures. The hyenas are mistreated in Sunset Savannah because they have a bad reputation (yes, it is a part of what happened with Scar but also for biological reasons) which then leads to them having to scavenge for food and use trickery which furthers the stereotypes even more. Leona's palace guards are all women because lionesses are usually the ones guarding a pride. Leona does roar or growl in the story on multiple occasions (and a roar is even one of his battle lines iirc).

Malleus was literally born from an egg, that's a pretty big thing imo, people even like this, they just don't like thinking about what that might mean for Meleanor. Also, dragon fae only being able to conceive with their true love? That's a pretty huge difference. The fae in general communicating by hisses and chittering noises? Yes, it's a language for them but at the same time, that's a pretty non-human thing to do. And despite Lilia adopting Silver, he never taught him the language so there's a question of whether full-blooded humans can even learn it.

I agree with you that this is a prevalent problem in media, I just don't think twst is as devoid of it as you seem to suggest. Yes, fandom is always there to explore things more and push them to their logical limits and conclusions but, again, I think twst gives us a ton to build off of. It makes sense to me that they don't make a big deal of it, much like they just off-handedly mention other parts of their world that are normal to them but alien to us, simply because it's no big deal or it is common knowledge for them ("By the Seven!" is an easy one. Nobody feels the need to explain it but we all know why that is, another example would include Mozus' off-hand mention of the discrimination against beastmen in the past, and obvsl there are more all over the place).

Anyway, this got long, sorry. I like discussing this sort of thing even if we don't come to an agreement. Personally, I like the way twst does it but I do get why people might want more obvious explanations and followups on things in way that are harder to disregard.

I need. Twisted Beastmen and the like. To be more animalistic. Not necessarily like, physically, I don't meant that in the furry sense. I mean that in the 'they're part animal and it'd not just for show' sense.

I want beastmen with claw like nails. Where the cat-like ones tend to walk on their toes when not wearing shoes because it feels right. Where their eyes and pupils reflect the animals that they're partly of. With fangs and teeth appropriate for their species.

Ruggie making laughing noises at the active prospect of food. Whooping when in a fight and needing backup. Lowing when excited for a fight.

Leona roaring to get the whole dorm's attention. Chuffing in greeting at people he considers part of his pride. (He'll sometimes grunt at Cheka like a mother would to her cubs but will deny it.)

Jack barking at danger to warn others and howling to try and figure out where his pack is (he forgets they can't howl back, but Ruggie will sometimes low at him and Yuu definitely tries to howl back.)

I want to see Azul with the tips of his limbs in human form retain some of his octopus natural ability to camouflage. I want to see his hands always moving, grabbing something, holding something. Azul who might not have bones in human form with how flexible he is??

The tweels who aren't very active naturally during the day but get really hyperactive at night. Who bare their teeth at people when excited.

Che'nya who lounges in the sun on lazy days. Who's great at stretching and popping everywhere in his body if he needs to, to a concerning degree.

GIMME FEY WHO DONT ACT HUMAN

Malleus who snorts smoke when he's angry. Malleus who wear gloves because he got claws. Malleus who has a tail and wings outside of his dragon form sometimes.

Lilia who gets just a bit too excited at the prospect of a fight and spilling blood. Who can recognize a person by the smell of their blood. Who makes inhuman noises when too excited and gives off a very eldritch horror kind of vibe if he lets loose.

Sebek who can be found eating rocks sometimes. Who finds quiet in thunder and lightning. Who can move so smoothly and silently you don't know he's there until he opens his maw. Who has a lot of really sharp teeth for someone with a human mouth.

Just- gimme some animal, like, REALISM. PLEASE.