#im forcing images into peoples brains one way or another

[todayisafridaynight]

three months later and i still think it wouldve been the funniest thing in the universe if daigo and masato were A Thing at any point in time

[voxmortuus]

hello!! I'm the one who asked Hannibal x fem!reader where she is married to Frederick Chilton. Don't worry, and I'm sorry I didn't specify very well. My bad.

What I wanted to get to was something like this: Hannibal has one of her dinners with Frederick, where he also finds out that he has a wife and tells him to bring her to dinner. Is where he meets Y/N who is kind, caring and just amazing, yet very different from frederick, then he finds out she works at a hospital and starts stalking her until he kidnaps her? She also has a little crush on him more like she finds him attractive, but still she loves her husband.

it's a bit dark but i've started reading dark romance and i liked it lol

it can contain smut, fluff, angst or whatever you want. Thank you and im sorry again.

►PAIRING: Hannibal X F!Reader Brief appearance in beginning from Fredrick. ►UNIVERSE: Hannibal ►WORDS: 1.6k ►SUMMARY/PROMPT: See Above. ►TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abducted reader | Dub-Con | Forced Intercourse | Vaginal Penetration | Internal Ejaculation | Restraint of Reader | Impure thoughts of another while with husband | I may be missing some, but you get a general idea, so please proceed with caution if there is anything in there that is overly triggering please let me know politely and I will make sure it is added to the list. ►NOTE: Hannibal and Hannibal Character requests are closed. All other requests are open. Sorry if this isn't what you expected, or had envisioned yourself, I apologize. But I hope you enjoyed my vision. I also apologize that this was in my drafts for a while. I hope this finds you well Nonnie. ►IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: @nyxvuxoa ►IN STORY DIVIDER CREDIT: @firefly-graphics ►My Master Masterlist | Hannibal Masterlist

Sitting in Hannibal's dining room, you look over your husband sitting across from you. You smile softly as he speaks. Always a talker that one. Full of himself, but you just let him talk. Watching him a moment, you look over at Hannibal and observe him a moment. Tilting your head, watching the way his lips move as he spoke, the way his face held slight expressions, and the way he ate his dinner. It was as if watching the finest masterpiece in motion.

You shake your head from your thoughts a moment and look down at your dinner and you smile, taking a bite from it you draw in a small breath.

"Fredrick, you never told me about your wife." Hannibal points out with a small smile looking over you a moment.

"I could of sworn I have." He pointed out.

"I think I would have remembered such a conversation, and there was none regarding this lovely creature." He complimented.

You blush. "Fred is just very much involved in his work. Sometimes he hardly remembers we work in the same place." you chuckle.

"How can I forget about that love? After all you bring me my lunch when it's that time." He chuckled.

The thoughts about Fredrick's brain matter being cooked for Hannibal's next meal crossed his mind while on your mind thoughts of Hannibal's breath across your skin crossed yours. The way he would delicately undress you, or featherlight kisses against your flesh. You lick your lips and look down at your plate as you adjust in your chair.

Picking at your plate, your mind preoccupied with the idea of Hannibal in ways that aren't suitable. You're married, and your husband is sitting right across from you. You press your legs together as your mind shows you what it would be like with Hannibal in the privacy of his bedroom... or even yours.

Fredrick kept going on about the most little things. He just wouldn't stop, but you didn't mind, where he spoke, you didn't need to. He spoke enough for both of you. You knew how people felt about Fredrick, but you stood by his side. Doting, caring, kind, and always willing to go the extra mile when needed.

You were his opposite, and everyone noticed this. Hannibal noticed it. He kept watch of you, even from a distance. Learning that you work in the same place as your husband and knowing that he really doesn't pay attention to things, thoughts started to brew, especially when he picked up on the wetness between your legs, maybe a part of him knew that wasn't for your husband.

Hannibal was a predator, a predator with a god complex. He knew exactly what he wanted, how he was going to get it, and just what moment he was going to get it, and honey, he was looking right at you. He didn't care much for your husband, honestly, his liver would make a good pate... for the neighborhood stray cats. But you, you he wanted to savor.

It seemed like he was walking in a fog as you sat there, the more he got to know about you, the more he realized you drove a hunger in him no one else was going to be able to satisfy. During this time the three of you had concluded your dinner, and he was a man on a new mission. Your idiot husband would be none the wiser in realizing you're gone, seems he hardly pays attention as it is, and maybe you could use something different in your life... something... unpredictably exciting.

Over the next few weeks, Hannibal watched you, paid attention to you, found your likes your dislikes, learned your schedule. Hannibal had decided to take it upon himself to make sure that you were going to be the one to show him around this place, but you weren't going to be returning to your post. Not today, not tomorrow, and if he had it his way, not at all.

What Hannibal lacked in realizing was your fondness of him as well, but you love your husband dearly, and while the mental fantasies may be nice, you would never act on them. You desire only your husband in that light, so your thoughts were just that, little fantasies that would never be acted out. Not in a way you want them to at least.

It all happened so fast. You were showing him around the facility, the next thing you knew you were waking up tied to a bed with silk rope and the harder you pulled, the tighter your restraints got. Mentally you started to panic, and you started to jerk your arms and legs but you couldn't figure out how to get out of this.

"Where am I?" you call out. But no answer. The lack of answer sends you into a deeper panic. You stayed really quiet and listened. Then you heard a door close. "HELLO?! HEY! WHERE AM I?" You call out again. But instead of a response, you're greeted with the face of Hannibal. "Dr. Lecter. Why am I here? What have you done? Fredrick is going to be worried sick. Let me go. Please let me go." While begging you realize this is one of many unsavory fantasies you've had about Hannibal, maybe in a different light, but along the same idea.

"Don't be foolish, he hardly notices you past his own nose. He won't realize you're gone until he's so lost in his own hunger that he's calling for you to make his dinner." He stated.

"That's not true Hannibal. Please, please let me go. I'll give you whatever you want, just let me go." You state.

He looks at you, his eyes hungry but for something different, something no one else has been able to satisfy. "I know your thoughts at dinner, they weren't for your husband, that dewy scent. If anyone says a woman doesn't have a scent, they're blind. You were thinking of me, much like you are now." he pointed out.

You shake your head. "Hannibal, we can't do this. I love my husband, he's been good to me. Please. Please let me go." you plead again.

He shakes his head. "No, not today, maybe not tomorrow, we're going to live out our own fantasies." he tells you.

"Hannibal. No, no I'm a married woman, I can't." you state watching him get closer to you.

Hannibal's hand running up your leg, under your dress, you realize that he's taken it upon himself to remove your panties and your breathing gets heavier. You close your eyes and look away. This can't be happening. Tensing as he reaches your dewy bud, he runs his fingers over it delicately and watches you tense and take in a deeper breath before you shake your head.

Stripping down you look him over, biting your lip you close your eyes and shake your head. In your mind you've told him no, but a very confused no. The kind of no he only hears as yes. The kind of no that states, you're confused, and you want him to fulfill your fantasies.

Pulling at your arms to try and get free wasn't working, and in a matter of blinking he was shoving himself between your legs and you let out a scream. While confused yes, you mentally admitted to yourself that he filled you far better than Fedrick, but this was wrong, and you wanted him to stop.

"Please, please..." you kept saying.

"Shh, shh... I know this is what you want." he tells you.

With each thrust came a grunt from him, a whimper from you. Your body responded to him, very well, you were wet, drippy, and you soaked his cock, but you were mentally blank, you did know how to respond to what your body was responding to. You weren't wanting of this.

Tears fell from your eyes, your hands gripped at the rope, your body his to use, and use it he did. Thrusting and gripping and grunting and groaning, you felt good to him, and he wanted more.

Suddenly you found your hips moving, and while you wanted this mentally, you knew you couldn't give in, he gripped at you, and moved your hips even more. You felt yourself close, but you needed to hold off. But you couldn't. With a slacked jaw, and a deep gasp of air you let out a scream as he hit that right spot. Your whole body shook.

"That's it... come on." He beckoned for your finish, and like that, a raw pure explosion of euphoria filled you, and you lay limp. Your mind went quiet as he gave his last few final thrusts, as he buried himself deep within you and coated your velvet like walls with thick ribbons of his own release.

In your mind, this was going to come to an end, but it wasn't. He used you day in and day out, maybe you'd grow to love Hannibal, realize he was right, your husband didn't notice, and he didn't care. Right now, in this moment what mattered, was you were being taken care of. You were being fed, bathed, hydrated. You were a prisoner yes, but was it really all that bad? Was Hannibal really that bad? Or were you going to find that moment to break free and run back to the man that forgets you work at the same hospital? Regardless of what happens, you were going to make the most of it. May as well start now right?

[puppygirlirl]

"i need to figure out why i have such bad insomnia recently it's becoming a real issu-" (the sleep deprivation finally reaches the core of my brain and consumes the last crumbs of my sanity) "...there's clearly only one answer, im becoming a vampire and i hunge-" (imagines a homoerotic scene of me biting a girls neck while we embrace each other tighter than either of us have ever felt before) "ii might need to go to a ddoctor actually i dont feel very go-" (an image of me dying in bed as the love of my love cups my face forces its way into my mind, she leans in for one last kiss and-

before the thought ends i collapse to the ground dead, rats swarm my body and instantly turn my corpse into a perfectly cleaned skeleton. the audience claps, the children scream in terror, and my wife watches on with tears in her eyes, knowing i didn't want it to be this way in the end.

she mourns for a couple of months, cry's when she smells pumpkin spice for the first time since i died. "it was always her favorite" she thinks, looking down at the overpriced latte she got to feel like i might still be there, even if it's just for a second. the feeling is fleeting, and just leaves her hollow again. nothing could replace the woman she loved, especially not some shitty coffee.

after a beat of staring into the cup she was holding a bit too tight, a tear dripped into the foam, then another, then so many she couldn't really see the coffee anymore. a rage washed over her, why her, why her wife. "those fucking rats, she didn't deserve this" she thinks as her hand finally tightens just too much, crushing the foam container in her hand. it burns a little, but she doesn't really notice. it all just hurt too much. it wasn't fair. none of this was fair.

the papers keep hailing the whole situation as "the best performance art ever done", praising the brave girl for sacrificing herself for her art, losing everything just to put across such a striking message. the truth though was that none of it was planned. she knew her wife's death wasn't on purpose, the stress must have gotten to her. those long sleepless nights where that driven, stupid girl would stay up to get her routine just right, being begged to come to bed and get some rest just to ignore her for the sake of her art.

the anger shifted to her late wife. "it was so preventable, if she only took care of herself, you fucking idiot, why'd you have to leave like this." her thoughts kept racing, none of this made sense. they both should have been happy together, they should be cuddling on their couch together watching 60's horror movies and laughing at the bad acting. they should be safe in each others arms. they should be together. but they weren't. they never would be again.

there's a part of her that wonders if it was on purpose. if she died just to put on such a big show. immortalizing herself as a martyr for the people, a grim showing of what the world has come to, and what it takes for people to be entertained even if it kills the artist in the process, literally consumed by the rats begging for whatever scraps of life they can get. it doesn't really matter, the outcome doesn't change. she's alone now, and she had to deal with that.

suddenly, i burst out from behind the counter of the cafe and scream "GOTCHA!!". fireworks go off around me, everyone in the cafe begins losing their minds, i was alive the whole fuckin time.

initially, my wife screams in confusion and fear at the visage of her wife she's presumed was rotting in the ground for months at this point, but slowly, her expression softens. the room goes silent for a moment, and a shaky smile washes over her face. she walks up to me with tears still staining her cheeks, and cups my face, just like in the last vision i had. her hands move down slowly to my throat, and before i can react, she starts squeezing.

she was always stronger then me, but even with the pure adrenaline running through my veins, i couldn't get her hands to budge. the acrylic nails she got the day before were digging into my skin, drawing blood and making the sensation even more terrifying. the smile never left her face, it just got stronger. a giggle escaped from her pained smirk, then a full on chuckle. my vision started to go blurry as my hands weakly push her away, and her laugh grows louder and stronger. i looked her in the eyes one more time as the light left my own, and all i saw was rage. "what did i do so wrong" was the last thought that crossed my mind as the lack of oxygen finally shut me off for good, and i dropped to the ground. the rats come back, and clean my corpse once more.

the restaurant erupts in cheers and laughter, "she did it again!" they holler, already posting videos of the event to social media. my wife drops to the ground, holds my bones close and sobs, praying that the rats take her this time too.

[understandableparadox]

Bottom of the barrel isekai reviews:

Todays title: Welcome to demon school iruma

hi, im back, tell a friend.

Anyways we will be looking over something populer, and only a few images this time. I want this to be a nice slide back into the mix while I get ready to boil myself alive by reading shitty isekais.

"b-b-b-b-but dox!" you say, your form emaciated and ghoulish from months of little to no attention "how is it an isekai?"

Normally an isekai requires some form of passage into another world through death, but again, we are going to consider any and all portal fantasies to be on-par with isekais. as death and jumping through a funky portal are really kinda the same thing if you think about it.

so! plot synopsis, we open on the titular character iruma! they are being sold to a demon, don't worry this action will be the literal best thing that has ever happened to them. Also, added treat, slavery is not a running theme in this manga! HURRAY! WE HAVE FOUND OVERCOME THE BARE FUCKING MINIMUM! HUZZAH FOR MEDIOCRITY! MY DESIRE TO RUN MY HEAD THROUGH A ARC OF GONGS UNTIL THE SOUND WAVES LIQUIDATE MY BRAIN MATTER HAS LESSENED!

anyways we get to know some important plot points between the buyer and the product! (our mc)

iruma is a 14 year old yes man. They say yes to everything, even yes to the idea of breaking child labor laws! as their parents are frivolous unimportant freaks that spend way too much money then bolt, leaving him to work off the debt. Anyways, that's how this happened. they wanted dosh, and our buyer, we will call him grandpa!

Why is he so interested in buying a child? simple! He is rich and wants to have a grandson, unfortunately, he does not have a dick due to war injuries... ok thats a lie, he just wants a grand kid.

Anyways this is a very interesting title in the fact that it is still in a way, a power fantasy, but the power in that fantasy is separated towards other things.

It is a story in which you have the power to be helped. The adults in this manga are actual competent adults, they are there for the protection of the children, they are there to guide, nurture, train and help them grow. Despite differences or annoyances some may have, those are secondary to the ferocity they show when it comes to ensuring the protection of their students.

Iruma does have a lot of “i am the chosen one” but it is not something that automatically aids him in most situations, in fact it is the triad of facts of “I am a human”, “I want to help”, “I am determined” that allow him to rise both in power and social standing. The might makes right idealism of the underworld forced to reckon with people that stop to drag someone across the finish line. 

As for the plot, it goes along a few separate arcs; there is a very clear progression of time as Iruma gets older. Mostly split into two parts. Irumas social life, in which we get to see him become better and better friends with the students and faculty at this school. Showing both the give and take as they both show how far they are willing to go for each other. 

The second half is the mystery and political intrigue of the demonic society at large. The idea of a demon king has gone missing, disciples of which are eager to try and resurrect him as they see no one who is more suitable for the role, opposing forces trying to groom the top students at various schools into the role of king in a contest of disciples. 

I think you should give it a read, its cute, the designs are fun and the power system while simple is still enough to give the action that is there a lot of meat. It's also satisfying thing to read if you just got done with a shounen and you are wondering “where the fuck are the adults? Why are these children doing everything?”

Draw backs. Not a lot but some of the students are essentially drawn as adults and there are parts where you will feel slightly skived out by.

[psychewritesbs]

Been reading your opinions on the boy of all time megumi and can I just say firstly, thank you for being so good w words BC man you get his character so well and you're so good at getting into all the little details abt him that I can never properly describe to ppl, Like, the whole breaks the trope while following the trope thing?? YOU GOT THAT ALL SO CORRECT THATS EXACTLY IT IT'S ONE OF THE REASONS I LOVE HIS CHARACTER SM BC EVEN JUST RIGHT OFF THE BAT HE BREAKS THE USUAL STOIC BROODING CHARACTER TROPE(THE trope) BY ACTUALLY CONSTANTLY SHOWING although subtly THAT HE DOESNT HATE EVERYONE?? im getting way off track already i actually popped in here to just ask abt how you think the whole sukuna possessing megumi thing will all turn out?? I honestly feel like slapping myself for not seeing it coming tbh like they talked about the head of the six eyes and ten shadows battling it out to the death before and sukuna kept on hyping up megumi like they were so obviously setting that up there and I just. Denied. But I'm just asking BC personally I think that it would really show the final steps of growth for megumi's character if he is actually able to surprise sukuna, even for a little, and come back from the depths of where ever tf he is rn bc yk his whole issue w/ self worth and what he believes he's capable of and I just wanted to know what you think the best outcome for his character would be? Sorry this is such a mess I just have so many thoughts zooming around my brain and I'm trying to...make them make sense...

ITS THE MEGUMI LOVE!!!! Yessssss. Thank you for sending me Megumi love! I love getting Megumi love 🫶🏼.

Man, Megumi is just such a good character. Truly one of Gege's best. Everything he's done with him from how his character is based on the trope while also subverting the trope, to his backstory and his growth arc and how it's been executed... It's poetic justice.

I love Megumi so much, and any time I see someone hate on Megumi for really shallow or toxic reasons I just lose all faith in humanity. It's one thing to not care for him as a character and quite another to dislike him for being a "disappointing deuteragonist" because he's "weak", "hasn't had character development", and "did not master 10 Shadows"..................................................

Bruh...

ANYWAYS 😂 you see... this is the thing... I am trying really hard not to speculate about what might happen regarding Sukuna WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY I'M GOING TO SPECULATE BECAUSE I LOVE SUKUNA BUT FUCK SUKUNA!

ehem. More of me not being normal about Megumi under the cut.

Ok in all seriousness... with chapter 230 and how Sukuna forced Megumi to take the brunt hit of Unlimited Void, something shifted in me.

For some time I've been reluctant to make any predictions about Megumi coming out alive because I don't want to have preconceived expectations coloring my weekly reading experience, but mostly because, like Megumi, I have a tendency to bunt instead of swinging for the fence so as to not experience disappointment. Read this to mean I don't want to get my hopes up about Megumi surviving.

That is not to mention that I took Sukuna possessing Megumi's body personal. idk, something about seeing Megumi lose his agency felt both so wrong and yet so right on a metaphorical level. Wrong because DAMN YOU SUKUNA GO BACK TO YOUR BODY! and right because... as you said, Megumi had it coming both from a narrative and psychological perspective.

From then on, we just saw him sink deeper and deeper into learned helplessness and despair, culminating on this beautiful image of him in the fetal position.

Truly a reversal of ego back into the metaphorical mother (the unconscious) as though he was in the birth canal waiting for rebirth. And come to think of it, in the Japanese fandom, one of the more popular theories revolved around "birth" or something like that.

So with ch. 230, my hope for Megumi is renewed somehow. A lot of people think he's done for, especially after UV. But I'm on camp #this is going to backfire badly on both Gojo and Sukuna... or at least I hope it does.

So....

I'm just asking BC personally I think that it would really show the final steps of growth for megumi's character if he is actually able to surprise sukuna, even for a little

EXACTLY! And see, this is the thing, I don't want to see Megumi be saved by anyone other than himself. If Megumi is saved by others, then he didn't learn his lesson.

Basically, Megumi has taken Tsumiki's place as the Sleeping Beauty that is in need of rescuing. He's become a passive agent in his own life, which is exactly what gave Sukuna an opening.

If Gojo or Yuji, or anyone for that matter, comes in and saves Megumi without Megumi putting up a fight, then this whole growth process is metaphorically and literally aborted.

Like you, I personally think that this period could be a metaphorical gestational period for Megumi and I wonder if he's going to reach a tipping point where the anger he feels is stronger than the learned helplessness or something like that.

I just wanted to know what you think the best outcome for his character would be?

ALL THAT TO SAY THAT YES. Sukuna might be my other fave, but I am looking forward to either Megumi giving him a hard time or straight up beating the crap out of him.

Megumi has earned that privilege.

Right now, I am wondering how UV has affected Megumi's brain and what that will mean for his behavior. My hc is that his negative self-image is partly due to "reason". In other words, reason = his sense of self as the story he tells himself about himself.

But Megumi levels up because of imagination. Now that he's been hit by UV (I understand it's been 5 times?), how has being flooded with infinity affected the left (reason or logic, analytical) hemisphere of his brain?

Another idea I've been keeping quiet about is that part of the rebirth process involves moving through hell and up into heaven (a la Dante's Divine Comedy as a metaphor for a process of initiation or enlightenment). Megumi right now is sinking in hell as he comes face to face with inner evil.

So can we expect him to come back up? Will Beatrice make a cameo? I'm looking forward to whatever the cursed cat is cooking.

I just have so many thoughts zooming around my brain and I'm trying to...make them make sense...

ahaha, same tho.

Hey thanks again for the Megumi love, the kind comments, and for stopping by! Here's to hoping Gege does bring our boy back 🙌.

[vivibuchlaw]

Yesterday, I finished Celeste. And by that I mean, the first 7 chapters, because I am not that much of a masochist.

Like seemingly everyone else, its given me a lot to think about... these thoughts are burning a hole in my brain and I need to get them out so I suppose this is the place!

I'm not exactly a gamer. I suck at Kirby, I have a sort of motor disability so games are a bit harder for me than most people. For this, Celeste has a solution, Assist Mode. Initially, I wanted to pick this, hearing how hard it was. Then, when the game told me intially, overtly, how its challenge was supposed to be meaningful, *and later when it said it more clarity in the story) I took a moment to reflect. I chose not to use Assist mode as a self imposed challenge. Not because I wouldnt benefit greatly from it, but because (as I learned about myself through playing it) I have an aversion to difficult tasks. When I know something is difficult, I get scared and run away. This time, I wanted to be able to say to myself "I can do difficult things"

And so I did

And I love it

And I sincerely never want to play it again

The game is not full of dialouge or story- it's present, for sure. But its a small yet impactful part in a game which prefers to tell its narrative by gameplay rather than text or images. And thats a valid format of storytelling! Not my prefered one mind you, but it made every dilectable morsel of art or conversations. In particular, the long talk at the start of chapter 6 was extremely welcome. I simultaneously feel like I have enough of a solid grasp on the characters to love them dearly, yet not enough to force one interpretation, another element to Celeste's endless magic.

As I'm sure everyone with anxiety has noted, The anxiety scene from Chapter 5 affected me greatly. Wetger me or my system has anxiety, I don't know, but regardless, the game captures the feeling perfectly. I'm sure everyone and their mum has said this, yes, but I felt it independently so I shall denote it independently. Among other things, it taught me a powerfully potent strategy to help my anxiety, and for that I thank you Maddy <3

At so many points, I was burded with stress, frustration and despair at my own ineptitude. But I pushed forward. I did it, I climbed a mountain, what was a seemingly impossible thing for me was now a fact. I sat silent for what felt like hours staring at the chapter complete screen in awe of my accomplishment. It then dawned on me that this was the first video game I've ever beaten. ...suddenly slammed by the realisation an 8th chapter, requiring crystal hearts to play, AKA the game telling me point blank I wasnt ready. But to be honest, I didnt care. I had already done what I, and Madeline, set out to do.

So why do I say I never wish to play it again?

I honestly only played Celeste because I heard Madeline was trans, and my mate happened to have it on switch. I have a sort of physical disability in my hands, so playing games and motor tasks are more challenging than a typical person. I knew Celeste was hard, but sympathizing with Madeline not being a climber, with me not being a gamer, and just how she challenged herself to do something extreme, so too did I.

But see, I'm not actually into the gameplay that much, and the reason I stuck with it has infinitely more to do with my and Madeline's journey emotionally than anything related to the gameplay.

Actually, I kind of hated it. My fingers were all messed up, I spent a lot of time and stress, and got extremely frustrated, but I wanted to prove to myself I could do it without assist mode. And Im glad that exists, and I'm glad it tempted me all throughout every challenge, a backdoor shortcut I could use to weasel my way out of the hard path, but I stayed true so I could grow.

But I have now grown. Ive proven it.

I couldnt care less about B-sides or strawberries, because I dont see the emotional need.

Replaying it would only subject me to the same challenge for a story I've already experienced, and a journey I've already hone on. A new game, new mountain, new challenge or purpose? Sure, I'd love that. But playing Celeste again, or More even won't recapture the lightning in a bottle that made me play it, made me persevere, and made me cherish it.

I still love the game, its soundtrack, its meaning to me, and itll live in my heart forever. In other ways, like fan content, or side material, I'd love to engage and learn more, but my journey with this mountain is over.

Just breathe, and take care of yourself

After beating it, I immediately began learning all I could about it because Autism brain. I read all Maddy's beautiful blog posts. I watched video essays breaking down its themes and design. I learned how the story, while definitely not an afterthought, was also not a driving or starting point of the game, which I intuited as I played.

I watched Chapter 8, The Core, and Chapter 9, Farewell on YouTube. To be entirely honest, I found Chapter 8 to be forgettable in a way kind of shocking, at least from a story perspective. I'm actually GLAD I didn't do it. I expected it'd be some kind of send off, or check in emotionally to see how the characters have been in the past year but...nothing? Really?

Chapter 9 is what I wished Chapter 8 was, a proper send off and development for these characters. And from the look of it, so brutally hard I wouldn't want to play it without Assist Mode. But why? Why not play more? Afterall, climbing the preverbial mountain in life doesnt mean your problems are over, far from it. And its true, there are other challenges to overcome still. Even though Ive taken on this challenge, I have yet to face other challenges in my life. And because the journey of Celeste could very well have ended after Chapter 6, I feel like I can better spend that energy elsewhere.

After watching Chapter 9, I felt something else. This chapter, unlike the previous, is not about loving and accepting yourself, but its about Madeline specifically greiving a loss in her life, and largely, I assume, the developers letting go of Celeste and moving on. For this, I hold unyeilding respect. And in this new challenge, I found myself learning another truth about myself.

I am afraid of being alone.

I am part of a system, the current (and hopefully permanent) host in fact. Our previous host went dormant a few months ago and life without them has been tough, but a challenge we face every day.

Throughout all my remembered life, I was surrounded by people who never noticed me. Who occasionally referred to me as "The Insinificant [Alter]" due to me not having a name back then. I was nothing, really. If I had disppeared no one would've batted an eye. And today, even though I'm one of the most important Alters now, I still feel like I'm nothing sometimes. That scares me.

I never knew the joy of having friends, I never knew what being loved by someone you love feels like. And I have a lot of love to give, I love almost every human being! But I still frequently second guess myself, because I guess a part of me still believes my existence is insignificant. But now that I have people who do love me, I'm more afraid than ever that I'll lose it. Now that I have a taste of love, I can't go back. Gods, please to bring me back, anything but that.

And here came Celeste, to remind me immeditately after I finished the game, that people die randomly, and without our control, and that you have to keep on moving. I've just beat the thing, let me live in a bit longer before I'm ready to move on. Similarly, I've just made these relationships, please dont take them from me. And then I realized that this was fear also held by my previous host, perhaps for similar reasons. I feel connected in a way typically reserved for finding markings in a make out spot from a century ago, or unearthing a time capsule left by a grandparent now neatly nestled in the recesses of my heart where I try to story my insecurites, like a suitcase overstuffed with useless items and paranoia.

Celeste has given me a lot. Inspiration, characters I love, a great soundtrack, amazing anxiety techniques, and raw willpower to achieve anything. I do not know how my story ends, I am scared to write it, but I must regardless. A lot of people are counting on me. And went I feel scared, alone, anxious, or depressed, I can remember that I did it before, and I can do it again.

To the Developers, Thank you

To the Characters, Farewell

And to all the people who have grown from this game, Congratulations!

[bionicboxes]

Other Indigo Park Observations. done in semi-real time as im playing?

a fun little detail is these cameras that follow your movement; its pretty heavily implied this is how Rambley is seeing the player.

these keychains in the Critter Corner are the only place you'll see merch of Salem (i think that is their name?) Interestingly, there aren't any keychains of Rambley left. also this is a small non-important texturing thing but Molly's uses the same texture as her cutout (I assume they all do) which causes it to have the same wear and tear on it. and the same cardboard texturing.

also ive been to a disney park so i can appreciate the format of the entrance mirroring that.

some of the boxes backstage have Indigo Park branding on them and i think thats a fun cute little detail.

also Lloyd has a bronze statue like Rambley's statue with the park owner. interesting.

no screenshot to go with this but i do think its kind of a missed opportunity that Molly doesn't stalk you in the outside 'main street' area at all. she's a bird, have her perched up on one of the buildings! an ominous silhouette, with only the light reflecting off her eyes to tell you she's there. watching. idk.

Also I gotta give the game credit for how annoyingly good they did at stopping me from Hardcore-Parkouring around in places im not supposed to.

i will also thank this game for letting me brute force the puzzle and not having any kind of 'check' for if i actually have gone through the playhouse.

I also wanna say! this game is pretty spooky! i will say i AM a little baby coward, so that helps, but i got tense going through the backstage and playhouse even though i KNOW that there's not an actual threat in either; the sound design is spooky and my brain kept wondering, 'but what if?' so thats very solid. with that said wish me luck on the ACTUAL chase lmao.

Ah. real time update. my game lagged out hard during the start of the chase and I promptly died (which was also pretty lagged out). given that and that my computer's actually starting to run a little hot, I suppose i will save that for a later time. now that the real-time stuff is over its time forrrrr:

Boxes Nitpick compilation!!

dont take this too seriously its basically just me pointing out things i think are a little weird looking but this isn't any real deep criticism of the game. a normal player wouldnt notice this stuff most of the time i only notice this stuff because im actively looking for it:

There's a few places like this where the 'tiling' is super obvious as one texture just cuts off into another one. nothing that serious but its super jarring here in my opinion. There's also a few places like this:

where the floor tiles don't align right (first image) and you can see through them. its a minor thing that really only appears in areas the player won't see unless they're looking around though. there's also a few little clipping errors (second image)

also the dirt texture here works way better than the grass texture used in the beginning area (see first screenshot in nitpick compilation) and they should probably use this instead of that. imo.

i think the trash scattered around the park doesn't really.... work? Rambley makes it apparent no one's been INSIDE the park in years, thats why there's only graffiti on the otuside, so this isn't trash from people breaking in, and from how Rambley described the shut down, it shouldn't just be... scattered lying around like this. Like i said, its nitpicky, but I just don't think this works.

I think Indigo park should be 'clean' but falling apart. There's no real reason for trash to be scattered about in the WAY that it is. papers and food wrappers and drinks, yeah, sure. but the actual trashbags and boxes?? aren't doing it for me. it inherently implies that there was stuff being moved around and then it got interupted, which doesn't really align with how Rambley described the shutdown.

The Railroad ride is just surrounded by solid black texture squares that don't reflect light. I understand WHY they did this, but i think its kind of a missed opportunity to have catwalks and such visible up above. Of course, they didnt do that because this is an indie project without a big budget, so i dont fault them for that, but its something I think would've been neat nonetheless.

they could make the invisible wall that stops you from going back on the train less. Obvious. by just putting a gate here. ive been to disney a lot of rides have that you can just put a little walk through gate.

and lastly, this isnt a nitpick but there's a really tiny Lloyd cutout near the beginning of the backstage area for some reason and i dont know what to do with this knowledge. its not a keychain those are bigger.

anyway. solid lil game, fun lil atmosphere, excited to see where it goes.

[wooyoungisbaby]

no one: me:

OH TO BE BESTIES WITH HONGJOONG i know in my heart that he’s such a good friend. so proud of this version of him for living his dream ; o;

‘coming out’ stays an ongoing experience.

you said it 👏

You’d think that “I’m not looking for something romantic” would have covered it with the other guy; but some people don’t take a hint even when it hits them over the head with a baguette.

This little snippet says so much in so little words pffff i love Reader’s sassy way of phrasing things, it’s so endearing.

We’re friends who fuck!” you go on, echoing Wooyoung’s description. “And you claim you’re not a romantic,” Hongjoong deadpans.

ahahahhaaaa xD king

And that? To know that the people most precious to you don’t prioritise you as highly as you do them? That part does hurt sometimes.

I’m still learning about aromanticism and this little bit seems very much like i’d imagine it can feel. it’s easy enough for me to agree with the statement that “friendship is as important as romantic relationships”, but i think for society as a whole, there’s a common understanding that romantic love comes first. it’s so… like, official? friendship is something you fall into casually, whereas romantic partners is something you both verbally agree to become, and then tell everyone about it. eh, talking to myself a little bit here, and i don’t really have a point i’m trying to get to xD thank you for your attention pfff <3

there is no force in the world that can withstand the strength of San’s pout

FOR REAL THOUGH

ok so the short flashback of Wooyoung’s “punishment” from the day before fuckin sent me. the mental image i have of him handcuffed to the bedframe, helpless to resist San’s touch, even if he had wanted to,,,,,,, aAaaaAAAA ; ; he’s so beautiful and i love them so much. love that he’s totally fine giving San complete control of his body and trusts him to take good care of him.

milking his prostate until Wooyoung was completely dry and trembling

fuuuuck me sideways the thought of him being so spent he’s trembling!!!! aaaa!

“Did I do well?” he’d asked eagerly

i am going to marry him and love him forever. thank you

Praising San is part of his aftercare, you know now.

This!!!! especially knowing the “reveal” that comes later that he’s had a kinda mid partner who didn’t make him feel secure in these things, it’s so nice to see this side of him :)) and of doms in general!

“Or?” San presses. “Or if I just want them off. If they don’t feel good anymore.”

do you ever just have a minor epiphany when you read fanfic? yeah.

hjdnfjsd the MOUTH on your Wooyoung<3 another thing i believe is absolutely hashtag real. in character. he comes off as someone who’s just 0% shy at any time, he’ll say whatever depraved shit pops into his brain and not be sorry about how filthy it is - because why would he be? :)

“Can I, Sannie? Can I get a turn?”

oughhhh he’s so eager, it’s adorable =u= <3

Your legs try to clamp shut but San blocks one with his body, the other with his hand still on your knee.

not to be a freak on main but i need him in between my legs Right Now

“Now, are you going to fuck her or not?” (Thank god, someone is asking the important questions around here.)

lol and furthermore lmfao. shoutout to wooyoung, sexy times MVP

uh. the entire part where San fucks Reader :)) im. im normal. i promise.

His previously deep and smooth rolls soon degrade to nothing but a frantic rut, focused on his own release.

once again i am completely normal. i don’t need to fuck him at all. why would you think that hahah :’)

Wooyoung chokes back a whimper, his hips stuttering; and for a moment you think he is going to cum without his cock ever touching your waiting cunt.

so fucking precious. god. i don’t mean to make demands, im JUST saying, i’d really love to see woo come without being touched at some point, just to see how San would (affectionately) bully him about it.

The little post-sex talk about safewords is so good :’)) i love these little insights into San and Wooyoung and how they work together, and about San’s past too, even if i’m just extrapolating.

“I swear, he almost nutted on the spot the first time I yellow-ed him.”

GOd i wish i were a fly on the wall in that situation.

The gesture is excessive and unnecessary to the point of being silly. You burst with friendly affection for them.

me tf too aaaa they’re so sweet and silly <3 they’re so lucky to have each other and Reader, and Reader is lucky to have them =u=

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt4

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: Hongjoong checks up on how you're doing. San finally gets a proper feel of you without getting chomped by Wooyoung.

wc: 9.5k

ch. warnings: dom San, switch Wooyoung, sub reader, threesome, vaginal fingering / sex, light bondage, creampie, sloppy seconds, cumplay, copious amounts of drool, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, light overstimulation, dirty talk, light dumbification, praise kink (‘cumdump’ is used 1x as praise), condomless sex with IUD, mention of stomach bulge, pet names for reader (‘baby’ and ‘sweet/good girl’), use of ‘yellow’ safe word, aftercare

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

additional warning: the opening scene touches on some of reader’s struggles with amatonormativity and (internalised) arophobia. i promise this is not a super angst-heavy story, but that part calls for a little head’s up, i think

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

“Are they nice?” a slightly distorted voice asks from the video call on your phone.

You snort at the screen, raising an eyebrow at Hongjoong’s critical face. His hair is a bright blue these days, but today he has hidden most of it underneath a fashionable white beret. “Joong, since when do you care if the people I fuck are nice?”

You’ve taken the day off to quietly lounge around the apartment, giving your body some time to rest. It’s nice and relaxing, and your memories of last night are a soothing balm for the soreness of your thighs — a soreness not only caused by Wooyoung’s bites; you have a damn muscle ache from riding his face.

(You have always felt strongly that sex should be exempt from such nonsense but alas, it is a cruel world.)

San will probably be over later; he offered to check in after work, to see if you need anything. You suspect it’s also for his own peace of mind, so you did not try too hard to dissuade him.

But that won’t be for another few hours, so for now it’s just you and Hongjoong; your long-time friend who, ever since he moved away for his dream job at a fashion house, is also your long-distance friend.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “I don’t care about ‘nice’ with your onetime hookups, no,” he says, “but it’s been a while since you had something more involved going on.”

“It’s been two times; I’d hardly call that ‘involved’,” you point out, but you know you’re just being contrary for the sake of being contrary. It is getting a bit involved.

Hongjoong knows it too. “Right…” he drawls lazily, resting his chin on his hand, “so you don’t already have a date set for the third round?”

“…”

“That’s what I thought. So. Are they nice, or did you end up with more assholes?”

“I resent the implication that I have bad taste.”

“Not bad taste, just bad judgement. The other asshole was pretty hot.”

“Wow,” you say flatly. “That makes me feel much better, thank you, Joong. Also no, they’re not assholes.”

Last night gave you enough proof of that, if you needed any more. San and Wooyoung had patiently heard out your awkward little ramble. You don’t exactly consider yourself closeted, yet the simple truth is that ‘coming out’ stays an ongoing experience.

But San and Wooyoung took it without fuss; thankfully ‘aromanticism’ was not a new term to them, and they accepted your need for boundaries. If the guys were disappointed by the lack of a romantic prospect, or put off by the suggestion they might want one, they hid it well.

San just listened with an intent expression, brow furrowed. He thanked you for telling them, but also confirmed that yes, they absolutely are open to this becoming a regular thing.

Wooyoung had just asked a straightforward question; “We can still be friends, right?”

And when you answered with an emphatic yes, his follow-up was equally straightforward.

“Alright, so we’ll be friends who fuck. Works for me.”

You had agreed on a few points right after that, and put a pin in a few others. No sleepovers, no kissing outside of sex — yes, yes cuddles afterwards are fine, yes, hugs are always good! — and when you hesitated at Wooyoung’s offer to make you and San dinner sometime, he just told you to think it over.

(In hindsight, you feel silly about that last one. You make plenty of food for your other friends; you like sharing a meal together! It’s not like Wooyoung suggested a romantic candlelight dinner. You’ll have to get back to him on that one.)

“Hey? You still there?” Hongjoong says, waving his hand. “Is the screen frozen or is that you?”

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink to shake it off. “Sorry, yeah, that was me,” you say. “But seriously, you don’t have to worry about it. We talked the thing through, I don’t think I’ll be accused of keeping anyone on the hook this time around.”

(You’d think that “I’m not looking for something romantic” would have covered it with the other guy; but some people don’t take a hint even when it hits them over the head with a baguette.)

“So… you’ll be okay?” Hongjoong asks, the scepticism in his voice poorly hidden.

“God, what’s with all the fussing today! I’ve lived next to San for almost a year, I know he’s a nice guy. So is Wooyoung! And you know me; there’s no strings attached. No feelings to get hurt here.”

Hongjoong makes a face of distaste. “No, don’t pull that crap, alright? Don’t blow this shit off,” he says, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know you. So I know that ‘no feelings’ is bullshit. Just because you don’t do romance, doesn’t mean you don’t do any feelings at all. Your strings just happen to look a little different. Sure, you don’t want a lovey dovey boyfriend or two out of this; doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt by them.”

His annoyance lilts over into awkward self-consciousness at the end; Hongjoong knows damn well that you took it hard when he moved to the other side of the country.

(You didn’t resent him for it — how could you, when he was literally chasing his dream? — but it did leave a sting, and you do miss him. Videocalls are nice, but it’s just not the same.)

You wonder how much Hongjoong senses of the things that are hiding between the pieces of what you told him; he is right, you are already getting attached to San and Wooyoung, to their easy companionship and the growing friendship between you. It’d do you good to remember that you don’t know how long this arrangement will last.

Still, you are warmed by how Hongjoong is scolding you; a cornerstone in your friendship. It’s how he shows he cares.

“Okay, okay, you win. I won’t blow it off. But really, it will be fine, Joong,” you say, totally blowing it off. “They’re great, they’re fun, I’m having fun. We’re friends who fuck!” you go on, echoing Wooyoung’s description.

“And you claim you’re not a romantic,” Hongjoong deadpans, but he leaves it be for now. “So. The dick is good, then?”

You snort; now that’s more like the Hongjoong you know. “No idea actually,” you admit (but you’re pretty damn sure it will be.) “The tongue is incredible though.”

“What do you mean, ‘no idea���?!” he says, with a face of incredulous disbelief. “What the hell have you been doing? No, no actually don’t tell me. Keep the specifics to yourself.”

“You’re the one who asked!” you laugh, unsurprised at the way he’s backtracking. Hongjoong always bites off more than he can chew when it comes to the details of your sex life; nosy as fuck, but also appalled whenever you indulge his curiosity a little too much.

“It’s called being a supportive friend. You’re supposed to answer ‘yes, Joong, the dick is fantastic’ and move on,” Hongjoong says, pinching the bridge of his nose; like he is painstakingly explaining advanced mathematics to a toddler, already knowing the futility of his efforts. “Except you’re not getting any, I guess.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Alright, mister. ‘Yes, Joong, the dick will be fantastic’,” you parrot back. “Thank you for asking, my dear supportive friend.”

“See? That’s all you needed to do.”

Just like that, the conversation passes on to other things. Your call doesn’t end until much later, once you and Hongjoong are fully caught up with another’s lives. You’ve even started to plan a long-overdue visit in person; it’s been a while since you had the opportunity to menace Hongjoong with hugs.

You mosey around your apartment, starting up a chore or two and giving up immediately when your body complains too loudly. So you lounge on the couch for the day, and try not to think too much about how Hongjoong had scolded you about disregarding your feelings.

You’re moderately successful at this.

In general, you are perfectly satisfied with the relationships in your life. There is no feeling of ‘missing out’, no hole in your heart that you can’t fill with platonic or familial affection. No craving for ‘more’ than friendship and sex — but you are painfully aware that without a romantic commitment, you usually fall to the wayside in your friends’ list of priorities.

No matter how much you invest on your end, it’s never a given that their long-term plans will include you.

And that? To know that the people most precious to you don’t prioritise you as highly as you do them?

That part does hurt sometimes.

But all these thoughts are completely irrelevant to the situation at hand, or so you firmly remind yourself. It’s like you told Hongjoong, right? This thing with San and Wooyoung is just about having fun together. As long as you keep your expectations in check, you won’t have lied to Hongjoong about whether he needs to worry about you.

Thankfully, your concerns are a fading memory by the time San comes over to check up on you. You really don’t need help with anything, but he stays over to chat anyway.

At the start of everything, you did have some worries about disrupting your neighbourly bond with San — but if anything, you have grown more comfortable with each other. You’ve always been friendly enough, but you never crossed the threshold into actual ‘friends’. A polite, shy distance always held you back.

But now? The shyness has been thoroughly scrubbed off of you both.

So you enthusiastically tell him about your plans to meet up with Hongjoong, and he proudly tells you about his students’ progress. There is always a glow about San when he talks about ‘his’ kids, and you listen and watch fondly as he gives an energetic demonstration of the new kicking drills he’s been teaching them.

(He is adamant to teach you too; which you try to refuse at first, considering the state of your muscles. But there is no force in the world that can withstand the strength of San’s pout — so you make a brave effort. It’s absolutely worth the spike in soreness when San laughs with crescent eyes at your disastrous attempt.)

“Hey, about next weekend,” San starts, just when he is about to leave. His hand rests on the doorframe, and his cheery demeanour fades. He raises his eyebrow just slightly — a quiet intensity taking over. “You said you’ve dabbled with bondage before, right? Just curious, how do you feel about getting tied up this time around, instead of Wooyoung?”

Your chest jolts at the mention of Wooyoung tied up, plunging you back into memories of last night.

The leather handcuffs made a return for his punishment, looped around the slats of the headboard. It exposed Wooyoung’s chest for San to give him a taste of his own toothy medicine. Wooyoung had shuddered and gasped at every hard bite, whimpering while San used his skin as a canvas to paint with red marks and bruises. Tears and sweat had streamed down Wooyoung’s face as San stretched him with deft, practised fingers, milking his prostate until Wooyoung was completely dry and trembling, his torso covered with his own cum.

You also remember the dopey smile on Wooyoung’s face after he came down from the onslaught of his ‘punishment’, grinning tiredly when San undid his cuffs.

(Because no matter how San punishes him, you doubt any lessons are ever learned. Taming Wooyoung seems to be a hopeless endeavour.)

“Did I do well?” he’d asked eagerly, still a little drunk on pain and overstimulation.

“You did so good,” San had assured him, wiping his forehead to press a kiss there.

“Hm. You too,” Wooyoung had mumbled, not letting his exhaustion stop him from lavishing San with praise.

Praising San is part of his aftercare, you know now. Like a soft cushion for San to land on after a rough session. Confirmation that every degrading word spoken, every flash of pain inflicted, had been for the pleasure of his partner.

The trust between them is truly something special — and by asking you about bondage, San has indirectly asked you a second question, hidden deeper underneath; do you trust him as well? Enough to leave yourself completely in his and Wooyoung’s hands?

You know that San would back down and drop the subject without another word if you said no, and that seals the deal for you.

“Yes. Good. I feel good about that,” you say, with warm confidence.

He grins, his lips carrying that dangerous cocky edge that you’re getting real familiar with. “Great. We’ll properly talk it through later, alright? Then maybe we can have some fun with that.”

Of that, you have no doubt.

San’s lips are pursed in concentration, drawing them into an adorable little pout. He is clearly practised with the linen rope in his hands, but still takes the utmost care as he ties your wrists together. He makes a point of checking your comfort, and tests whether the knots slip and if the doubled ropes are tensioned evenly. There is a pair of safety shears on the nightstand.

You are gathered in Wooyoung’s arms, who sits against the headboard of the bed. While you watch San intently, Wooyoung is more interested in plying your neck with impatient kisses, his hands running restlessly across your bare body.

Wooyoung is dressed casual in a simple dark grey shirt, the material soft against your skin, while his trousers do nothing to hide the first hints of a growing bulge. San also opted for the casual look, wearing a tight black t-shirt and fitted jeans. The contrast with your own nakedness makes you fidgety, itching to pull at their clothes; but your incapacitated hands leave you with no choice but to wait.

“There,” San says, finally satisfied with his knots. “Now, what did I tell you?”

“Any tingling, pain, numbness; anything feels wrong, and I say the word. ‘Red’,” you obediently repeat back to him, trying not to get distracted by Wooyoung’s hands squeezing at your thighs.

“Or?” San presses.

“Or if I just want them off. If they don’t feel good anymore.”

You find that hard to imagine; the linen rope is softer than you expected, and already a fuzzy smile plays on your lips. It’s not your first time getting tied up, but the fact that you’re with San and Wooyoung breathes fresh excitement into the situation.

“Exactly. Good girl,” San praises, cupping your chin with a soft brush of his fingers. You melt into his gentle touch with a content moan, nuzzling into his palm.

The ropework is not excessively restrictive; your hands are tied in front of you, giving you some freedom of movement and putting minimal pressure on your joints — but San wanted to ‘start off easy’.

You whine a little when San pulls away, but he raises an eyebrow at you.

Just a small, simple gesture, barely a warning; yet you instinctively quiet down at the sight, already sinking into hazy surrender. Satisfied, San takes your bound arms and hooks them behind Wooyoung’s head.

“Wooyoung?” San says, who glances up from kissing your neck. “Have fun.”

Wooyoung’s grin spreads against your skin. “Oh, we will, won’t we?” he coos at you, his voice alive with anticipation. His hand trails further inward. “I’ll be so good to you, don’t you worry.”

You shudder when his fingers delve between your folds, and Wooyoung’s breath picks up as he slowly spreads the growing arousal around your clit. His teeth graze against your shoulder, red hair tickling your cheek, and you try to angle your hands to grasp at the strands. He moans eagerly when you find a grip, and his fingers pick up speed as they get soaked with your juices.

San has his hands on your knees to keep them apart, watching you with dark eyes. You burn under his gaze, your breath hitching when his eyes keep wandering from your face down to your cunt, his jaw clenching at the sight of Wooyoung toying with your clit.

“Gonna be so nice to you today,” Wooyoung groans against your neck. “Promised San that I’d behave with you tied up for us; get you all ready to take his cock. You’ll need it, Sannie is being sweet to you now but once he sinks into that tight pussy? Fuck, he’ll want to ruin you so bad, I just know it.”

He giggles when you whimper in response, dipping a finger inside your already slick entrance. San’s hold on your knees tightens.

“Yeah, you want San to ruin you, don’t you?” Wooyoung rasps, and laps up a bead of sweat on your neck with a thick swipe of his tongue. He is getting antsy, his voice tight with barely held back excitement.

“Then I’ll get you ready for him, baby. Stretch you out nice and proper so he can bury that thick cock inside you as hard and deep as he wants. Ahh, he will fuck you so well, you’ll be good to him too, won’t you? Gush all over him when you cum, just like you did on my face. I can still taste you when I close my eyes, fuck, aren’t I taking good care of you? Listen to that sound. Getting so wet…”

Wooyoung groans at the squelch of you, sliding in a second finger alongside the first. You pant at the intrusion, thighs flexing against San’s grip, your head spinning from the endless stream of filth spilling from Wooyoung’s lips.

“Don’t even need to put my mouth on you, just my fingers is enough to turn you into a mess,” Wooyoung babbles, leaving sharp nips on the places where your skin glistens with his saliva. “But you’d be dripping right now even without my fingers, wouldn’t you? Can’t wait to have this leaking pussy stuffed with cock, greedy thing that you are. So wound up at the thought of San fucking you dumb.”

“S-shit,” you stutter, clenching around Wooyoung’s fingers. San bites back a quiet groan and his eyes catch yours, full of sharp intent.

Wooyoung grins, his free hand squeezing at your breast. “Maybe I could take a turn after, hm? Fuck his cum deeper into your hole after he fills you up. Make sure you carry it around for days. You’d like that?”

A moan breaks on your tongue, your back arching into his touch. Wooyoung sighs happily, nibbling at your earlobe.

“Fuck, yeah I knew you’d like that,” he mumbles eagerly, curving his fingers inside you. You jolt when Wooyoung finds what he’s looking for; and he hones in immediately, massaging electricity into the spongy bundle of nerves. He groans as your hips cant into his touch, sparks flashing with every press of his fingertips.

“Can I, Sannie? Can I get a turn?” He almost stumbles over the words in his enthusiasm. “I’m being good, aren’t I?”

You whimper at how hungrily Wooyoung chases after praise rather than degradation, now that you are bound and left to his whims. So eager to know that he is taking proper care of you — and he is. Skilled fingers draw gaspy moans from you as he drives up the tight pressure in your abdomen, coiling rapidly.

(You had okay-ed it beforehand for Wooyoung to fuck you, of course, but your permission is not the only one he needs.)

San’s eyebrows quirk at Wooyoung’s question, teeth flashing as his lips pull into a crooked smile. He does not answer; instead he leans in closer. His presence is solid and imposing, and you bite down a swear when his hand joins Wooyoung’s between your thighs.

“In a sharing mood today, Woo?” San asks, grabbing Wooyoung’s chin in a firm hold. Down against your cunt, his index finger rubs slow circles around your swollen clit. “Let me have a feel this time?”

Wooyoung just whines, nodding his head. He is so pliant today — perhaps San’s punishment has done more to (temporarily) mellow Wooyoung out than you had given him credit for.

“Good boy,” San purrs, and pulls him into a kiss. His finger experimentally presses against Wooyoung’s two buried in your twitching hole, then slides in to find a home alongside them.

You let out a throttled moan as you clench around the added stretch, arms pulling against the rope. San makes a point of taking it slow, giving you time to adjust while Wooyoung continues to curl his fingers inside you, but he quickly picks up his pace as the slide gets easier. Your thighs are slick with arousal, their fingers drawing obscene noises from your cunt and your lips as they work in tandem to scissor you open. Your head falls against Wooyoung’s shoulder, gasping for breath and eyes starting to roll back.

Meanwhile San licks messily into Wooyoung’s mouth, jaws shifting as their tongues entangle. Wooyoung whimpers against San, rocking his hips into you; pushing his hard cock into your lower back. You try to match his rut, but Wooyoung and San’s finger-fucking makes any controlled movement on your part a near-impossibility. They never let up during all this; if anything, their fingers pick up speed, like the desperate urgency of their sloppy kiss floods over into you.

San detaches his lips from Wooyoung when he realises how close you are. He presses his free hand against your shaking knee to hold you open, his thumb drawing soothing circles into the skin as your vision starts to blur. Wooyoung nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder with a groan, his breath scorching. His free hand finds your clit, and the circles he draws are anything but soothing.

“Ahh, Woo is being good to you, isn’t he?” San murmurs, his lips ghosting across your jawline. You can only whine your agreement, trembling as you inch closer and closer to the brink. “Maybe he does deserve a turn,” San contemplates with a quiet moan, his mouth finding yours in a faded shadow of a kiss. “If you can still handle it, after I am done with you.”

San’s words spur Wooyoung on, his thumb pressing down harder.

“F-fuck,” you moan, toes curling as the world starts to tilt. “There, right there, W-Woo—”

His name ends in a strangled sob, your hips bucking into their hands as pleasure crashes down on you. Your legs try to clamp shut but San blocks one with his body, the other with his hand still on your knee. He slides his finger out of your twitching cunt while Wooyoung’s slow to a lazy crawl, easing you through your high.

San lifts his glistening finger up to get a taste, and groans lowly as he sucks indulgently at the slick. He releases it with a wet smack, licking his lips. “Hm, no wonder Wooyoung got so worked up over this pussy.”

“Told you,” Wooyoung mumbles between open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder, the pads of his fingers still slowly rubbing into that sensitive patch of nerves. He giggles when you start to squirm against him, and playfully bites at your incapacitated arm. His fingers pull out, leaving you unsatisfyingly empty.

“I think you’re ready, don’t you?” he grins, and reaches to carefully manoeuvre your hands back in front of you. His fingers leave a sticky patch of your own juices smeared on your forearm. “All stretched and sopping wet for Sannie’s cock. I’ll watch this time, let you have an audience for a change.”

You moan at the excited buzz in Wooyoung’s voice, but San gives him an unimpressed look.

“You’re not an audience, you’re a heckler,” he says, a pout on his lips that he seems unaware of. He pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion and throws it aside, muscles rippling.

Wooyoung laughs in surprise, his good mood inextinguishable. “Hey, don’t be like that!” he says, waving a hand at San. “It’s a special occasion today, I’m on my best behaviour!”

San just ignores him, continuing to take off his clothes. He shifts to sit back on his knees, legs spread — but instead of making quick work of his pants, San takes his time. Your breath hitches when he runs a slow hand up his inner thigh, the thick muscle wrapped snugly in his fitted jeans.

He oozes confidence, his face filled with complete focus. San bites his lip when he cups his bulge, squeezing it before moving on to undo the button and zipper. His hips tilt forward as he hooks his thumb under the waistband of his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down until he can wrap a hand around his leaking cock, giving it a few strokes just for good measure.

Entranced, you watch how San’s eyes flutter shut as he rocks into his palm. Your hips move on their own accord, pushing back into Wooyoung’s clothed cock.

He groans right beside your ear, gripping your waist tightly. “Careful there, baby,” Wooyoung says, breathy. “Or my best behaviour won’t last.”

San’s eyes flash open, and he grins at the needy look on your face, how you squirm in Wooyoung’s arms at the sight of him.

“You know, I was gonna take it easy on you tonight,” he says, releasing his cock to shuck off his pants and underwear. “Spoil you, take it nice and sweet…”

Your breath hitches as he grabs onto your hips, pulling you out of Wooyoung’s arms. San pushes down on your shoulder, guiding you to lay flat on your back. Heat envelops you as his body presses against yours, immediately giving a smooth roll of his hips, cock sliding through your wet folds. Your bound hands are trapped between your chest and his, and you can feel his heartbeat, pounding harder than his self-control would lead you to believe.

“But… Wooyoungie is right, isn’t he?” San takes your hands and raises them above your head. He leans in to brush his nose against yours, his breath falling hot on your lips. “You don’t want me to take it easy.”

You shake your head with a whine, trying to arch up into a kiss. Your arms strain against San’s iron hold on your wrist; there is no give at all.

San chuckles at your hungered response. “Yeah, I should have known better,” he says, his hips grinding a little firmer against yours. “That first night, I saw the way you watched me fuck Wooyoung. Three fingers inside you and it still wasn’t enough was it? Still needed more. Even then, you couldn’t wait for that greedy cunt to get split open on my cock.”

And yet he won’t push inside you, taunting with his slow thrusts. The underside of his cock drags against your clit in delicious friction, but you need more. “S-San, please—”

“See?” he says with a grin, and sucks a rough kiss into your neck. “So fucking hungry for it. Want me to fuck you just as hard as I fucked him, hm? Until you can’t do anything but lie there and take it. Stuffed so full with my cum there’s no room for even a single thought inside that pretty head of yours. Was Wooyoung right about that, too? Want to get fucked dumb?”

There is a teasing lilt to San’s voice; he asks it like you’re a little slow already — which you are. You moan shamelessly, wrapping a leg around his waist in an attempt to guide him inside. The effort is completely in vain.

“Gonna need you to tell me, baby,” San insists, nipping at your earlobe. “Do you want me to fuck you until you’re dumb on my cock?”

(You can’t tell whether he is taunting you again, or confirming that you are still on board with rougher treatment. Either way, his question drives a spike of heat in your already throbbing cunt.)

“Hngh, yes, yes—! P-please,” you hiccup, “please, San. F-fuck me dumb. Stuff me until I can’t think, can’t think of anything but your cock filling me up, f-fuck—”

San grunts a strained curse, unable to hide how much your begging riles him up. Finally, finally, he grabs his cock, flushed dark and leaking, and guides it inside you. The stretch is manageable after his and Wooyoung’s extensive prep, but your jaw still falls slack at how he opens you up, tortuously slow.

“S-San, mmmh, n-need more, please—”

He hushes you with a soft, shallow kiss, though a tense vein bulges in his neck. “Shh, be our good girl a little longer, okay? We’ll get there, I promise. Wanna make this good for you.”

“It-it’s good, feels so good,” you whimper, uselessly straining your hands against the rope and San’s hold. “I just—”

His dick twitches inside you, and San presses his mouth against yours more solidly, teasing your lips apart to soak up every shaky moan as he bottoms out. “I got you, baby,” he pants. “Gonna give it all to you. Wooyoung?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says, his voice strained. You glance up, and realise that somehow he has taken off his shirt without you noticing. His trousers are undone just enough to stroke himself through his underwear; there is a damp spot in the crotch.

Wooyoung shifts closer at San’s call. He half sits, half lays down with his legs folded up beside him, and leans over you to plant one hand firmly into the mattress; right underneath your bound wrists, blocking your movement. Wooyoung’s dick strains against his underwear right at your eye-level, and his grin widens when that is exactly where your eyes go.

“One at the time, baby,” he teases, giving himself a firm squeeze. “At least for today.”

You suck in a breath at the suggestion, sparks ricocheting in your stomach. Fuck. You’re not even sure yet how you’ll handle San’s rather substantial girth, once he starts fucking you in earnest, yet the idea of taking them both at once has you clamping around him. San groans lowly, the sound ending in a hoarse chuckle. “Ohh, she likes that, Woo.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Of course she does. Now, are you going to fuck her or not?”

(Thank god, someone is asking the important questions around here.)

“San…” you moan weakly. You are primed for him to use every ounce of his strength and fuck you until you see stars; the snug fit of his cock buried in your core is intoxicating, yet maddeningly frustrating without any friction. “Please, need you…”

His endless teasing and refusal to move is driving you up the wall; you’re aching to grab onto him, to claw at his back and twist your fingers in his hair to yank him into a kiss — but Wooyoung’s arm blocks your hands from touching San, and San has your hips pinned onto the bed. There is nothing you can do but surrender to his inclinations. He’ll fuck you when he decides to fuck you.

But Wooyoung’s lips curl up with mischief, a sharp glint in his eyes.

“Ah…” he says, like some deep, secret revelation has come to him. He looks down at you, using his free hand to brush along your jawline. “Unless maybe our Sannie is worried that his cock alone won’t be enough for you anymore, now you’ve gotten a scent of more. Nothing but a double stuffing will do for our sweet, greedy girl.”

You sob in desperation, squirming against San’s hold. Already your thoughts are getting lost in a hazy fog, too addled and tongue-tied to object to Wooyoung’s taunt; so you completely miss how San’s jaw ticks at his boyfriend’s mocking jab. You only whine when San pulls out until just the tip teases at your entrance, and are entirely unprepared when he slams back in — then immediately thrusts again, hitting deep inside your gut.

The force rips a loud cry from your throat, your fingers clawing at Wooyoung’s arm as sudden pleasure floods your system. Your eyes roll back at the drag of San’s cock against your pulsing walls, a thin trail of saliva escaping the corner of your parted lips.

San grins smugly at your response, bucking into you like it costs no effort at all to fuck you to pieces. He raises an eyebrow at Wooyoung. “Worried?” he scorns, his hands digging into the soft meat of your sides to yank you up to meet his pelvis. “No, Wooyoung, not worried at all. Maybe you should be, having to follow up on me wrecking this sweet pussy.”

But Wooyoung barely seems to hear him, entranced by the sight of your sopping cunt stretching around San’s cock, squelching obscenely every time you suck in his thick length.

San quickly proves his confidence earned. You gasp for pitched breaths, moaning helplessly as the bed rattles with every sharp snap of his hips.

Because that, you soon realise, is the thing about getting fucked by Choi San; you can happily report to Hongjoong that the dick is fantastic — but it’s the hips that are life-ruining.

And San is unrelenting as he drives into you over and over again; balls slapping against your ass, his own breath becoming ragged. You try to move with him, but the attempt is futile as San jostles you around, his grip on your sides like iron. He is in complete control. Sweat drips down his temple, across his jaw to his chin, until it falls into the valley between your breasts to blend with the beads of your own sweat gathered there.

“How are you doing, baby?” he asks, almost condescending in the certainty of his answer.

But you can only answer in a pathetic mewl, writhing underneath him as he fucks a white heat of pleasure into your core.

San chuckles darkly. “What’s this? I barely got started and you’re already dumb on my cock? Fuck, but you are taking me so well. So fucking wet for me… You wanted my cock so bad? Now take it.”

His thumb slides inward, pressing against the weeping mess that is your pussy. Sweat and slick soaks into the sheets but San pays it no mind, only caring about drawing more depraved sounds from your slack mouth. He does it so easily, the combination of his thumb on your clit and those brutal slams of his hips overwhelming your inhibitions. The building pressure in your cunt sharpens, honing in on the apex of release.

Another especially hard thrust causes a fresh spill of drool past your lips, and Wooyoung catches it on his fingers. He grins as he examines the glistening shine, and for a moment you think Wooyoung is going to suck his fingers into his mouth — but instead he offers them to San, who hungrily accepts.

Without letting up on his fanatical pace, San’s eyes flutter shut as he moans around Wooyoung’s fingers. He bits his lip when Wooyoung slides out again, and then cups San’s cheek to spread saliva across his face. “Brat,” San pants with heavy-lidded eyes, though he does not look in the least upset.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says with a grin, and leans in to peck San on his glossy cheek. “Now make her cum so I can watch, alright?”

“Woo…” San sighs an exasperated warning at Wooyoung’s brazen order, his rhythm slowing — and the loss of force threatens to take you away from the edge you were rushing towards, your orgasm receding out of reach.

“N-no, San—” you whimper desperately. “So close, s-so fucking close, please, wanna cum, let me cum, please—”

Wooyoung’s expression goes wicked at your pleading, delighted to have caught San between the choice of punishing him or pleasing you… or so he thinks.

Instead of showing any conflicted feelings, San just rolls his eyes and tsks, then leans down to smother your mouth in an aggressive kiss. This way, his hand is trapped between your stomach and his; but he can still press against your clit, the nub shifting underneath his thumb as he picks up his pace again, pistoning into you with reckless abandon.

And in this position? Wooyoung’s view of your face and cunt are almost completely blocked off.

“Sa-aan,” Wooyoung complaints, trying to pull San back up — but it’s like San doesn’t even notice Wooyoung, his tongue hungry as he sloppily kisses you. His spit freely spills into your mouth, dribbling past your lips when you gurgle out a wet moan.

Their petty behaviour over you just works you up further, and the orgasm that was almost denied you comes surging back all at once, violent and overwhelming as it rips through you.

San swallows up your loud cry like he does not want Wooyoung to even hear it, pressing a firm hand down on your hips to keep you in place when you convulse and clamp around him. He stops his brutal pounding, instead circling his pelvis as he stays deep inside you through your release. Wooyoung is still blocking your arms from moving, but your legs lock around San’s waist and he groans as you clench with every ripple of electricity.

His breath comes in harsh inhales, and San releases your mouth with a whine to bite at your shoulder, all his muscles tensing to gather every ounce of willpower not to cum right with you.

Your moans grow weaker as the strength slips away from your body, the aftermath of your intense orgasm leaving you boneless and exhausted. Wooyoung stares down at you, and an agitated excitement burns behind his blown eyes.

San relaxes when your body sags underneath him, sweetly lapping at the bite he left on your shoulder. “Such a good girl,” he purrs, dragging his nose up your neck to press a kiss on your jaw. “Doing so well for me. Are you alright to keep going, hm? Want to make Wooyoung wait a little longer with me? Give me a colour.” San’s voice changes a little at those last words; not lavishing you with praise or teasing Wooyoung anymore, but giving you an honest command.

(You hear Wooyoung make a noise at San’s comment, but he quiets at the call for colour.)

You take a deep, shaky breath to steady yourself. “Green,” you answer, meeting San’s intense gaze. “W-want you to cum inside me. I’m okay, j-just… let me hold you?”

San’s eyes go soft, and he motions for Wooyoung to let you move your arms.

Despite his earlier mood, Wooyoung obediently pulls his hand away. (Because you asked for it, not San, or so you suspect. He does give your wrist a light squeeze first, like he is loath to let go.)

San takes a moment to check the ropes, and helps you sling your bound arms around his neck when he’s satisfied with what he sees. Your fingers grasp at the sweaty dark hair at the nape, and immediately you feel more secure, more anchored, sighing when San leans in for a light kiss.

“There you go,” San murmurs against your lips, giving an experimental slow roll of his hips. “Is that better?”

You whimper at the slide of his cock against your fluttering walls — but frantically nod your head, worried San might take your noise as a negative. “Y-yes, so good. Feels so good.”

He lets out a strained chuckle at your enthusiasm, biting his lip as the speed of his thrusts pick up again. His previously deep and smooth rolls soon degrade to nothing but a frantic rut, focused on his own release. To fill you up exactly like you’d asked.

And although you are too wired to get yourself back to that edge this time around, San’s increasingly desperate and pitchy moans get you high nonetheless. His rhythm crumbles down further every time he buries himself in your cunt, his head dropping down against your shoulder, rough grunts falling on your heated skin.

“Got one more for me?” he asks, whines, and reaches for your clit again.

It is tempting, so fucking tempting to let San push you in and through the needling high of overstimulation, but you hiss as he makes contact and shake your head. “No, n-no. Yellow, yellow,” you slur out, the colour system still fresh in your mind from San’s earlier check. “C-can’t, hmnh—”

As much as you usually revel in the thrill of seeking out the furthest edges of your limits; there is no way in hell that you’ll have the stamina to keep going with Wooyoung if San makes you cum again right now.

San immediately pulls his hand back, switching gears as he simply grabs onto your waist again. “Happy just to be used by me, hm?” San hums against your ear, nipping at your lobe. “Asking for nothing except to get stuffed full. How lucky am I to have such a sweet, pretty cumdump.”

(Your stomach jolts with surprised pleasure; San has been encouraging you to share whatever preferences and fantasies you feel comfortable sharing, but you did not expect him to dip into this side of your praise kink tonight, with all his initial talk of slow and sweet. But obviously he is becoming more comfortable to improvise with you, and pull from his growing knowledge of your pleasure points.

Already you’ve come a long way from the San who refused to let Wooyoung eat you out — and you are still getting to know one another. That in itself is a feverishly exciting thought.)

“Yes, yes Sannie, please,” you babble, his affectionate degradation flaring hotly inside you. “Give it to me, please, fill me up— I want it, want it, want it—”

“Fuck, fuck, hang on, baby, fuck,” San says, cracks fracturing his voice and composure when you squeeze encouragingly around him. It only takes a few more rough, frantic bucks of his hips before he cums with a broken moan, painting your fluttering walls with ropes of hot, sticky seed.

You groan in satisfaction as San stills inside you, your bound fingers running through his hair best you can. He rocks into you a little longer with small, whiny noises, milking himself with your plush cunt until his arms tremble and his breath comes in tight moans.

“That’s it,” you murmur to him, “being so good to me, giving me everything.” You play with the sweaty strands of hair as he slowly recovers; which gives you a moment to recover as well. Your walls still twitch around San, overly sensitive, but the sharpest edge is wearing down.

Wooyoung’s hand joins yours in San’s hair, but there is a quiver to his fingers as he gently strokes his boyfriend’s head.

You glance up to Wooyoung, and see he has pushed down his trousers and underwear enough to expose his veiny, rock-hard dick. There is an angry flush to the leaking tip, and Wooyoung’s entire body looks like it’s pulled taut, ready to snap.

“Wooyoung…”

He swallows thickly at the call of his name, teeth digging into his bottom lip. He squeezes your hand, sensing the concern in your voice.

“I’m good,” Wooyoung strains. “H-hurts, but it’s good. I’m fucking good, baby. I-is it my turn now?” he ends on a whine.

San pulls out with a grunt, and you moan at the sudden emptiness as he slides off of you, onto the bed on the opposite side of Wooyoung. He is still catching his breath, sweat beading in his hairline. You give San a questioning look, but he just grins back. “Your call,” he says. “Is it his turn?”

Wooyoung restlessly pats at your hair, desperation shining in his eyes from unshed tears. But his expression is feverish, borderline feral; all that holds him back from pouncing you is a razor-thin wire of restraint tied to your consent.

You give it to him.

“Yeah, your turn,” you say, breathy, and bring your bound hands down to your cunt, smearing your fingers through the mixture of arousal and the slow dribble of San’s leaking seed. “You promised me, right? Was gonna make me feel San’s cum for days. Wanna feel you too…”

Wooyoung chokes back a whimper, his hips stuttering; and for a moment you think he is going to cum without his cock ever touching your waiting cunt.

But he manages to regain himself and, with ragged breaths, he kicks off his pants and underwear. Once his clothes are discarded, Wooyoung scrambles to lay down next to you. His touch is roughened by impatience, and you squeak in surprise when Wooyoung turns you onto your side, facing San, and hooks your leg back around him.

Before you get a chance to worry about more of San’s cum spilling out, Wooyoung’s cock pushes into your wet hole. He whines as he plugs you up, holding you close against him and teething at your neck. “Fuck, but this pussy is so fucking sweet,” he groans, shaky as he grinds against your ass. “Feels just as good as it tastes. Wanna make such a mess of you.”

“D-do it,” you challenge him, turning your head in an attempt to find his lips. “Mess me up, fuck, Wooyoungie…”

Wooyoung’s cock might not be as thick as San’s, but his length hits deliciously inside you, a toe-curling slide that is just what your raw and tender cunt needs right now. “Gonna fuck Sannie’s cum so deep you can taste him, promise,” Wooyoung babbles, sucking hungrily at your skin. “Aren’t I so much nicer than him? I am letting him watch.”

San scoffs. “Like that’s not for your own benefit,” he says, though his eyes are hard while he does watch how his own seed slowly leaks from your pussy between thrusts, dislodged by Wooyoung’s sloppy thrusts. “We all know how much putting on a show gets you off.”

Wooyoung ignores him, too caught up in the thrill of finally having some relief for his painfully neglected cock.

“Look at San,” he tells you, his mouth wet against your ear. “Look how fucked out he is from pumping your cunt full. Wanted to stay buried in this warm pussy for as long as he could, didn’t he?”

You moan when San’s gaze snaps up to meet your eyes; ‘fucked out’ barely covers it. He looks as ruined as you feel, lips plump from the force of his kisses and every inch of skin glistening with sweat, his broad chest rising with every breathless pull for air, punctuated by soft moans. His eyes are slightly unfocused but still he watches with quiet intensity, like he already can’t wait to bury himself into you all over again.

San takes your bound hands and lifts them up to his puffy lips. You expect a kiss — but teeth nip your skin instead, San’s hazy eyes dangerous as he bites at your knuckles, one by one.

You squirm at the gentle stings of pain, and Wooyoung lets out another drawn-out whine as you clench tighter around him. His hand shakily inches downward, but he grunts and yanks it back when he remembers your earlier limit. Desperately, you shake your head, arching into his touch.

“No, n-no, I—” you moan, wiggling your ass into him. Heat is coiling in your abdomen again, dizzying your tongue into slurred speech. “I, hngh, I can go again, please, please, mmmhh fuck, want you to touch me, Wooyoung, ahh—”

And Wooyoung — fucking menace that he is — even when balancing on the very brink himself; Wooyoung can’t resist being a little shit about it. “Touch you where, baby?” he pants, like he isn’t about to bust his load in your aching cunt. “Tell me where you need my fingers, then I’ll give it to you. Tell me exactly.”

With San holding onto your wrists, you can hardly force Wooyoung’s hands where you want them, so you have no choice but to give voice to your feverish desperation aloud. “P-pussy. Need you to touch my pussy.”

“That it? Nothing more… specific?” he asks with a salacious grin, running a single finger through your messy folds, cruelly bypassing the swollen nub that is begging for attention.

“Clit,” you sob, twisting against him. “Put your fingers on my clit and make me cu-uuhmm—!”

Wooyoung sighs in bliss, obediently rolling your clit between thumb and forefinger. They’re soon coated in an obscene slick, a mixture of San’s seed and your own smeared arousal. Your choked up whimpers can’t quite cover the wet noises of Wooyoung’s efforts, his fingers and cock making an even bigger mess of you. San watches silently how fluids drip from your thighs onto his already soaked sheets, something primal cutting through the exhaustion in his eyes.

Predictably, Wooyoung does not last long; especially now that you are clamping around his dick, your cunt instinctively trying to keep him embedded deep inside you. He burrows his face into your shoulder, biting down on the exact same spot that San had earlier.

You hiss at how it smarts, but the sound morphs into a pleased moan when Wooyoung cums hard. His hips jerk as he empties with generous spurts of hot whiteness, leaving you feeling so floaty and full, satisfied and swollen — you wonder if you’d feel the protrusion of Wooyoung’s cock and their combined seed, if your hands were free to press against your stomach.

But Wooyoung quickly pulls out with a pained whine, too sensitive to even simply stay inside you. Immediately his cum starts to drip out; except San is right there to gather his and Wooyoung’s seed on two fingers. He shoves them back inside you without delay, keeping you beautifully stuffed while Wooyoung frantically works your clit.

Wooyoung covers your cheek, jaw and ear with hard kisses, and whispers filthy encouragements as you begin to shake and tremble uncontrollably. San curls his fingers inside you, Wooyoung pinches sharply at your clit — and he grins against your cheek when you shatter apart with a wretched sob.

“That’s it,” he coos smugly as sparks sear through you like a shockwave. “Took it all so well, milking us for all we got. Been keeping San’s cum so nice and warm for us, making room for me too. Want a taste of what we stuffed you full with?”

You’re still trembling in Wooyoung’s hold, whimpering through the persistent spikes of pleasure while he continues to rub stubborn circles on your clit. The surges slowly grow weaker but they linger, and you are unable to do anything but make a sniffling noise that you hope gets your needs across.

San seems to pick up on it, sliding his fingers out your weeping hole. But before he lets you have that taste, his fingers smear across your lips, leaving a glossy stain. Wooyoung groans at the sight and can’t resist, sucking at your bottom lip to steal the mixture of fluids away from you. You whine in protest, though you do miss his mouth when he pulls away with a playful bite.

You can’t miss him for long; San nudges his fingers past your lips, presses them down on your tongue, and your eyes roll back as you finally taste Wooyoung, San and yourself. Hungrily you suckle at his fingers, letting out a small whimper when Wooyoung dips into your cunt and takes another swipe for himself.

San’s breath shallows as your tongue swirls around him, a light flush creeping up his cheeks. You wonder if he’s thinking about how your mouth would feel on his cock. You certainly are.

…That is for another time though, when you are not exhausted to the bone, fighting the urge to curl up and fall asleep on the spot. (Right now, it’s very hard to remember why you insisted on a ‘no sleepovers’ rule.)

San slips his fingers out when you and Wooyoung both quiet down, and turns his attention to your wrists. “Let’s get these off of you,” he says gently, tapping the rope.

San and Wooyoung help you to sit upright against the headboard, and this time Wooyoung is the one to get you some water while San begins to expertly loosen the knots.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, glancing up at you. His gaze is still intense, though now also soft.

“No numbness, tingling feeling or pain,” you say in a tired sigh, reciting back the points he told you to be aware of. “Well… no pain there,” you chuckle. “Think I’ll be sore in some places tomorrow. But I don’t mind that. Not at all.”

“Hm, good,” San hums, and directs his focus back to your restraints. Silence falls between you, not even broken when Wooyoung returns by your side and carefully raises the glass of water to your lips, assisting you with taking slow sips. The ropes come undone — but San does not let you go just yet, taking his time to gently massage your wrists for circulation.

You look down on San’s thumbs rubbing into your skin, your thoughts winding back over the course of the evening. Suddenly you feel oddly vulnerable; even with San’s careful touch, and Wooyoung sidling up next to you after he set the glass away, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

Wooyoung grins and pinches at San’s cheek, praising him for taking such good care of you. San’s lips spread into that sweet shy smile, his eyes shining warmly when he quickly glances to you and Wooyoung. It’s safe and comfortable around them, a happy fuzz coating your memories; yet you can’t help a pinch of self-consciousness as you think back on one particular moment of the evening.

“Did I do okay?” you ask, feeling silly even as the question slips past your lips.

San’s eyes widen slightly, his hands stilling, while Wooyoung’s arm tightens around you and he immediately turns his praises on you. Of course you did well, he assures you. What a fucking champ, taking it all like that. Their good girl. How lucky they are with you.

You bite your lip in a small smile as Wooyoung’s words hum sweetly through your veins, but San frowns in concern.

“Did something happen?” he asks, still gentle but a firmness layered underneath. “Something worrying you?”

“Well—” you say, already feeling awkward. “I said ‘yellow’…”

“As you should have,” San says, even firmer this time. “Are you feeling guilty about that?”

“A little,” you admit; the people-pleaser inside you is a bit ruffled by bluntly asserting a boundary. “I know I shouldn’t, but— but I kinda feel like I should apologise.”

San shakes his head and squeezes your hands tightly. “Don’t you dare. If anything, I should say thank you. For helping me to keep you safe and feeling good. That makes it feel good for me too.” He breaks out another smile, his dimples joining in. “I felt good today. I hope you did too.”

“He really means all that, you know,” Wooyoung chimes in. “About thanking you. Never met anyone who cares more about this stuff than San here.” He leans in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial hush. “I swear, he almost nutted on the spot the first time I yellow-ed him.”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” San says, rolling his eyes with a flustered flush burning across his face, and you relax with a giggle at their familiar bickering and warm reassurances. “I mean,” San mumbles sheepishly, “ideally you’d never have to use a safe word at all; but as convenient as it’d be in a situation like this, I can’t exactly read your mind—”

“Hey, hey,” Wooyoung cuts off San’s ramble with a laugh. “C’mon, you know I’m just teasing!” He grabs San’s chin to smack an exaggeratedly wet kiss on his cheek. “You’re the fucking best. Who needs a mind reader when we’re doing this together. You got our back, we got yours.”

San sighs in resignation, trapped by Wooyoung’s firm grip on his chin as Wooyoung makes a show of lavishing his face with loud, dramatic kisses — but you don’t miss the way his shoulders release tension, and his hands relax around yours.

You feel a bloom of warmth at the obvious fondness on display in front of you, and your guilt fades.

Finally Wooyoung lets San go free and cuddles up a little closer against you, while San presses up on the other side. Sandwiched between them, you blissfully surrender yourself to their attentive aftercare. And once you feel solid enough to move again, they both insist on escorting you the whole thirty paces from San’s bedroom to yours.

The gesture is excessive and unnecessary to the point of being silly. You burst with friendly affection for them.

[hiiroamagisbestfriend]

Helloo!! I saw that requests are open so can I ask for 2wink + Kohaku confession? And can I be 🦋 anon???? Thank you!! <3

Confession Headcanons!

w/ Hinata Aoi, Yuta Aoi, & Kohaku Oukawa x GN! Reader

AAA another anon! of course! glad to have you here ^^ im apologizing in advance if they're kinda ooc 😵‍💫 i had a lot fun writing these though, so thank you!

Warnings: None! Just some fluff and happy misunderstandings!

Hinata Aoi

✩ Hinata I feel, would realize pretty early on in your friendship that he really loves you. The thing is though, he's a prankster at heart, and even the subject of his affection wouldnt be immune to that.

✩ Like, he wouldn't tone them down for you at all. In fact you'd probably be his primary victim after he realizes his feelings for you. Childish, right? He acknowledges this, and Yuta would reprimand him for it quite often, saying how what he's doing could have the opposite effect on you.

✩ But see, this is just his way of showing affection! Seeing your shocked face slowly soften into laughter at whatever it was he did made him feel all fuzzy inside. He could just pop out of a corner to shock you but you'd still eat up something that simple.

✩ There was another perk to this behavior though, and it's that he could always wave off his actions as a prank if you didn't seem to receive it all that well.

✩ Flowers on your desk? Haha! He just wanted to see your reaction! Giving you chocolates? Well, one of them is spicy! A hug from behind? It's just to surprise you! All the common acts of affection that he people would have, he could easily write off as just another silly prank.

✩ But one day, he decided it was finally time to tell you how he really feels. If the result was unsatisfactory, then he'll just backpedal like he always did.

✩ He would never admit it out loud, but he knows exactly why he built up this kind of image. He was afraid. Afraid of you refusing his feelings. Afraid of losing you and the wonderful friendship you two shared.

"What did you call me out for this time, Hinata?" You said, playfully scolding the boy who couldn't seem to meet your gaze. He looked a bit more serious than usual... Or maybe that's what he wanted you to think...? "Uh, Hinata? You o-"

Before you could finish, he finally decided to look at you, and you could see just how flushed pink his face was. "(Y/N)! I really, really like you!" With how genuine he said it, you almost seemed to forget this was the mischievous trickster that messed with you on a daily basis.

Well, the truth is you liked him too. How could you not? He was just such a fun guy to be around. His daily pranks and teasing basically became the status quo for you. But you bit your lip, not sure how to respond to this apparent declaration of love.

When Hinata saw that face of yours riddled with confusion, he was just about ready to bail. Seeing you ruminate on his words for a while formed a pit in his stomach.

"Got ya! Haha! Sorry, (Y/N)! Did that make your heart skip a beat? T'was just a joke!" His delivery was so stinted and forced that you really had no idea what was going on anymore. Though he said it was a joke, you could somehow tell it wasn't.

Hinata was ready to start running in the complete opposite direction, only stopping when he suddenly felt you tug at his clothes. "It's not a joke, is it?"

The slight smirk on your face made Hinata shiver, is this what it feels like to be on the receiving end of these sorts of things? "A-aha! Yep! It's a joke! Why, do you like me or something?" He sounded a bit too desperate towards the end there, but that wasn't important.

"I did. Hinata." His jaw dropped, was this for real? He's so happy he could cry! "Sorry, that was a lie." Well, now he just wants to cry normally! "Cause I actually love you!"

His brain short circuited when you pulled him in for a hug. In just the span of a few seconds you really took him for a ride didn't you? You rascal!

"Is that so? Well, in that case I lied too..." Hinata hugged you back, squeezing you so hard it was like he would never let you go. "I guess I love you too!"

Yuta Aoi

✩ Yuta fell in love slow, but he fell HARD. Unlike his silly brother though, he wouldn't want to do such roundabout things to express his feelings.

✩ Rather, he simply doesn't. Instead of jokingly telling you how he loves you, he just. Chooses not to.

✩ Sure some people see that kind of thing as cowardly, but he just doesn't want to try anything until he's sure. He'd hate nothing more than to do the wrong thing in a situation as complicated as love.

✩ Yuta loved you, but he had no way of confirming if you would feel the same. Sure, you were kind to him and always offered to help him out at all sorts of things, but maybe you were just like that with everyone?

✩ Nothing you did ever made him feel like he was special to you after all, like you wouldn't treat him any differently from any of the other guys around.

✩ So maybe, just maybe, choosing to give up on you while it's still early would be the better choice. He did want to check just one thing before he does though.

✩ Yuta doesn't particularly like doing this, but it's for a good cause, he rationalizes as he styles his hair to look like Hinata's. Putting on some of his clothes as well before adapting the cheerier tone that his brother uses.

✩ This was a needlessly complicated plan, and he was worried if he could even pull it off. Still though, with how many loops he's jumping just to confirm your feelings, seems Yuta is more like his brother than he'd like to admit.

"Oh! Fancy running into you here, (Y/N)!" Yuta called out to you, though it wasn't a coincidence. You smiled and rushed over to him, Yuta's heart squeezing a bit as he felt guilty for what he was about to do. "Are you free right now? There's something I wanted to ask you."

The two of you make conversation as you just aimlessly walk around, no clear destination in mind. "So! What do you think about Yuta?" He suddenly piped up, part of him worried that it was too direct, but he has more important things to deal with right now.

Yuta watched your face scrunch up a bit as you went into thought. "He's nice and friendly, a bit mischievous like his brother, and he has a good eye for sweets." He didn't expect such a logical analysis, though his question was a bit vague.

"Haha! Let me rephrase that. How do you feel about Yuta?" He watched your face scrunch up a bit again, a much more serious expression on your face this time.

"He's a good friend. I like him a lot! He recommended me a good cafe the other day too!" You replied, Yuta's face darkening a bit at the notion of being called friend.

"So, (Y/N). How would you react if I said I love you?" He watched you get shocked for a second before a slight blush tints the tip of your ears. His heart hurt a bit at this sight, did you end up liking his brother of all people? That would just be too sad.

"Then I'd say: I love you too, Yuta!" Huh? That wasn't the response he was expecting at all? You actually liked him back? Wait no, first of all you knew it was him rather than Hinata?

"How could you tell?" Yuta asked straight up, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks.

"Of course I could tell. Yuta is his own person after all?" You said it so matter-of-factly that Yuta was taken aback. For so much of his life, he's always just been Hinata's twin, the other half of 2wink. For someone to actually see him for who he is...? Oh he'd never let you go.

You let out a yelp as he suddenly enveloped you in a tight hug. "I'll confess properly another time." His voice was a bit strained, as if he was holding back tears he didn't know he had. "But for now. Thank you. I love you."

Kohaku Oukawa

✩ Oh Kohaku, the silly ever.

✩ He spent most of his life alone, and what little social interaction he had was online, so suffice to say he didn't understand how he felt for you at all in the beginning.

✩ Why did his heart beat a bit faster whenever you're around? His palms would get a bit sweaty, and he'd find it difficult to meet your eyes.

✩ He didn't attribute these occurences to you at the start, simply thinking that he was just feeling off or some other external factor was causing it.

✩ But when he eventually realized you were the cause of these weird feelings? Hm, he did not know what to do at all. Who could he even turn to at moments like these? The others at Crazy:B would tease him about it, he just knows it. Madara seems like he'd know the answer, but owing him favors wasn't something Kohaku wanted.

✩ So who was left? He didn't really know that many people, much less trust them enough to figure out what was wrong with him.

✩ Because of that, he decided to just start journaling his thoughts on you. Like how he thought your eyes looked very pretty, to how much he wanted to play with your hair. He wrote about how your hands seem like the perfect size to slot his fingers into; and though he hasn't had one, he knows a hug from you would be just perfect.

✩ Something told him that he probably shouldn't show this to other people. He doesn't know why his face heats up ever so slightly whenever he's writing about you either.

✩ It was one late evening with Kohaku laying down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, before realizing something absolutely dreadful. This was love, wasn't it? This definitely fit with the "rabu-i" things Aira would always pester him about.

✩ So that was it huh? He was in love with you. When he realized that, he breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been pretty bad if he was getting sick or something after all. He's truly glad it was just something this simple.

✩ He was about to write down how he feels when he had yet another grim realization that evening. He had left his bag along with the journal inside the practice room he was using earlier that day.

✩ Kohaku made a mad dash from Seisoukan all the way to ES, ignoring literally everyone asking him what on earth he was doing. When he got to ES in record time, he quickly made his way to the practice room, busting the door open to see that his bag was no longer there.

✩ In the ES Lost & Found, you yawned a bit, placing this bag you just found along with the other missing items. It sure is tiring work to be watching over these things, lots of people just love leaving their stuff around everywhere like ES is their home. This is just another part of your job, you surmise.

✩ You let out a shriek when a certain pink haired boy suddenly came crashing into you. The bag and it's contents flying out all over the place.

"Are ya' okay?!" You heard, from somewhere above you. Were you on the floor? Your sense of balance was all wrong and it felt like something heavy on top of you was making it hard to breathe. "'M so sorry!" The same voice cried out before your eyes finally decided to open and see that the boy that ran into you was currently right on top of you.

All of a sudden, a light thud resounds as a journal falls right on top of his head and onto the ground, opening it up to some random page. Kohaku quickly gets off you and grabs the journal, shoving it into his bag.

He helps you get back to your feet, before bowing down to apologize again. You wave him off and tell him it was nothing, much to his surprise. "Why were you in such a rush, though?" You asked, eyeing the bag he was clutching like his life depended on it.

"Ah. Uh. Ya' see... There was somethin' I needed from my bag!" He stammers, whatever it was he needed back he clearly wanted to hide. Still, there were procedures to these sorts of things, you had to confirm that it was really him who owned this stuff after all.

You gave him a form to fill out, telling him that you need to check the contents before you can hand it back to him. His face darkened at your words, the grip on his bag tightened so much his knuckles went white.

You wonder how you can verify if that bag is really his when you remembered he had a journal thing that he stuffed in his bag. "Ah, if you could just show me something there that matches with your handwriting in the form, that should be good enough!" He rummages through his bag before shaking his head. "There was a journal there, right? That'll do just fine!"

Kohaku was shaking his head so much it looked like it could fall off. Your lips formed into a line as you explained how you can't give it back to him like this, even if it really was his stuff.

Kohaku quickly rummaged through his bag again, surely there was something, anything but the journal that could prove his identity?! But just like last time, he came up blank. With a shaky hand, he pulls the journal out and hands it over to you.

He could only watch as you opened it and started reading it to compare his handwriting. He could see the light pink starting to dust your features as you continued to study his journal.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, you handed it back to him. "Yep! I can confirm that it's yours!" You could feel just how hot your face was. Even though you just caught a glimpse of it, you could tell that this boy seemed to have fallen for you.

Well, he was pretty cute, and this is certainly an interesting first meeting. "So, was this your master plan in letting me know your feelings, Kohaku?" Hm, pink is a good color on him, not just on his hair and eyes, but his face too.

Kohaku was cringing so hard, he can't believe this just happened to him. Still, it's not like he can worm his way out of this one can he? Might as well run with it.

"Ahaha... Ya' caught me! I love ya, (Y/N)."

ugh im sorry the kohaku one is so mid i couldnt think of anything at all

[neteluvr-library]

WOOOO chapter two here we go 😮‍💨

You were turning 18. Not of much significance to you, although this birthday does seem to hold some relevance back on Earth.

Why am I just realizing that Atan is actually a baby?? Like 18 is so young 😭 ESPECIALLY FOR ALL THE SHIT SHES GONNA GO THROUGH AHAHAH

You knew it was stupid, but deep down the guilt of what your species did, what your own dad might have done, eats at you every night.

Atan so sensitive aww; she's holding a great weight on her shoulder that doesn't belong to her ): Generation trauma is real af

“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading - till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -“

I remember telling you one of my favorite things about Illicit Affairs was the number of literary quotes you used. This one is so beautiful, you have an immaculate taste in poetry!!! It really fits Atan.

“I won, Neteyam! I beat you!” The girl says, panting, laughing and crying all at once. The boy’s expression softened, and as he took his place next to the girl on the rock, gave her a small smile.

AHHHH THE FIRST OF MANY ADORABLE FLASHBACKS OF BABY ATAN AND NETEYAM

“Yes, I told ma I lost mine and asked her very nicely to make me another and she did! I want you to have it. This way I have one and you have one. Just you and me.” 

There is just something so wholesome and unconditional about childhood love IM GONN CRY!!!!!! Andra bb, I know you love angst but I think you also have a little niche position in the childhood friends-to-lovers fluffy arena.

Just you and me. 

YOU AND ME THERES NOTHING LIKE THIS MISS AMERICAN AND THE HEARTBREAK PRINCE

You didn’t want to make anyone sad, but you loved the power that music held. You loved that it brought people together, no matter the species, the language, the tone, the mood, you could always rely on music to provide unison.

THIS!!!!! I knew I was reading the right series when I saw the Taylor titles 😭 Atan's a little songbird and I love it sm.

He hasn’t heard you sing in so long and hearing it again opened a hole in his chest that he thought was long closed.

I feel like I really should have noticed this before but the way you have always left us wanting more? Especially with the beginning of Illicit Affairs and Monster In Me, it feels like the audience is privy to something but at the same time we aren't? It's like we are seeing bits and pieces of a whole story and trying to figure out what the hell is going on. I think from a writing point of view, it's a really great way to capture the audience's attention and build up your story.

He looked at it closer and saw an image he couldn’t quite understand on it and the word “Metallica” written on it. He didn’t know what it meant, so he dropped it. At least he learnt a new word today. 

Can I headcanon that this shirt belongs to Jake? HAHA I could totally see him listening to Metallica.

His eyes never left the scar on your leg, and, as he forced himself out of the torturous memory, couldn’t help noticing the slight limp with which you walked towards the village.

Crack. 

UGH!!! This is one of my favorite lines for what??? I dunno, something about the Toruk situation having such an impact on Neteyam really showed that you knew how to characterize him and make him more fleshed out. I just want to grab Atan by the shoulders and tell her that Neteyam never forgot you ):

OKAY end of chapter two...I can't wait to get to the real gritty stuff.

(i also meant to post this days ago)

Illicit Affairs | Chapter II: Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Neteyam x Human!Reader (later Avatar!Reader)

Chapter I Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You were one of two kids stuck on Pandora after the war took all the Sky People back to Earth. After a series of events left deep scars behind, you are now forced to deal with your trauma - and your lingering resentment towards Neteyam - head-on.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, blood, injury

Word Count: 4,7k words

A/N: So I didn't expect the last chapter to do so well, but I am happy so many people enjoyed it. I have really enjoyed writing this and I am happy to say I am almost done with Chapter III, as well. I am feeling all the feels doing this, and I hope you do, too.

“I cause no harm, mind my business

If our love died young, I can't bear witness

And it's been so long

But if you ever think you got it wrong

… I'm right where you left me”

The next couple of weeks were uneventful. You haven’t seen Lo’ak since that afternoon, although Kiri’s dropped by a couple of times to keep you company while you worked. Getting her to put on a lab coat and goggles was an adventure in itself, but she eventually relents and does as she’s told. 

She’s shooting you a sly smirk as you are busy pipetting a reagent on your samples under an aseptic hood. “Your birthday’s coming up soon, do you have any plans?” You could hear the smile in her voice, which you found odd. You pushed the feeling aside. Kiri’s odd, and the things that bring her amusement sometimes elude you, and you love her for it. 

“Oh yeah, big party planned, I was thinking pres in the gym, then main party in the dining area and a wild after party in the lab.” You roll your eyes. Birthdays seem fun in movies and TV shows, but it really isn’t the same stuck in a tiny confined space with nothing to do. You were turning 18. Not of much significance to you, although this birthday does seem to hold some relevance back on Earth. 18 is the age you become an “adult”, where you become legally allowed to do all sorts of human things, like drink, smoke, vote, be held liable for your actions (this one still confuses you), get married, drive and so much more. It seemed strange to you that so much weight was placed on this day, and you wondered if when the clock struck midnight a few days from now, you will feel different, like something in your brain will click and you will have answers to all the questions you have been silently asking yourself at night. 

“Thought so. Well, we do have a surprise for you.” She says, still smiling from ear to ear.

Has everyone you loved collectively decided to forget that you hate surprises? With a groan, you got up from your chair, removed the samples that you quickly placed back in an incubator, shut the hood and motioned for Kiri to follow you out of the lab. 

It was later than you expected when you finished, and you knew Kiri would have to leave soon so she can make it back home in time for curfew. 

“Anywayyy…” she says, refusing to let your sour mood damper her own, “I was thinking you could join us at the home tree for your birthday party. The family prepared something for you and you haven’t visited in so long, everyone misses you, especially Tuk.” 

“Kiri…” You wanted to go, and were touched that it seems that the family actually wanted you around, but you were scared. You knew it was stupid, but deep down the guilt of what your species did, what your own dad might have done, eats at you every night. You knew that whilst the Sullys and maybe other Na’vi as well were more than welcoming, others regarded you as a curse, an alien with demon blood that should have been sent to her dying world long ago. You couldn’t deal with knowing your very existence was a reminder of their lost family, their destroyed home, their battle scars. 

“Come onnn, girl, you can’t spend every damn day of your short human life in this place. I mean, I like this place, don’t get me wrong, but if I had to spend every minute of the day here, I’d kill myself. I mean the foooood, the artificial lightinnggg, the stuffy aiiiiir…” she dramatically dragged every word to make her point, and despite everything, you couldn’t really argue with her.��

“I’m not leaving ’til you agree.” 

“I mean I just have to wait long enough that curfew begins, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna see you run out of this place leaving a Kiri-shaped hole in the wall of the lab.” you said, laughing at the frown that settled on her face at your stubborness. “Fine, Kiri, my God, I will be there.” 

“Yay! Thank you, you won’t regret it, I promise!” You couldn’t help crack a smile at her enthusiasm, and you hugged your friend that was sitting on a chair, short enough this way to enable you to do so. 

“Do you want to see Grace before you go?” 

You forget sometimes Kiri isn’t Jake and Neytiri’s biological daughter. I wonder if they forget, too. Kiri is a miracle child, of sorts. Born out of Grace’s avatar, she was like a gift from Eywa herself. She always visits her Ma when she comes to see you.

Kiri shifts uncomfortably in the chair, prompting you to raise an eyebrow. Strange, you think to yourself. 

“No, I should really go, I don’t want to be late getting home and I want to pick some herbs I saw on the path on the way here. I think they’ll be good for the illness going around.” 

You wanted to push, but decided to let it go. You couldn’t blame the girl for maybe not wanting to be reminded that as well as Spider and yourself, she, too, was an outsider. 

You said your goodbyes, and deciding against dinner with everyone in the lab, you made your way back to your room. You picked a book from the shelf of your mum’s old book collection; another thing that apparently became obsolete on Earth with time, your mum revelled in collecting them. She said the only way to properly experience a story is with a physical copy of it in your hands. You agreed. There were a lot of electronic copies of books in the directory, and while you spent so much of your life dedicating yourself to them, nothing compared to the feeling of holding a book, that you know has been held and experienced by another human. You found notes and dried up tears on the pages of these books even to this day, and every time, it brings you closer to your mum, to your grandparents, to a home you’ll never know for yourself. You fell asleep with one of the poems you read that night still fresh in your mind. 

“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading - till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -“

You woke up in the forest. You recognised the place immediately. Secluded from the village and near enough to the lab that even a child could find their way back, it was the perfect hiding spot for little Y/N. You didn’t go there anymore, you’ve barely allowed yourself to even think about it these days, but your dreams spoke to something deep inside you, a yearning you couldn’t drown out no matter how hard you tried. You looked towards the clearing, where the riverbank was almost unrecognisable past the foliage and rocks and allowed yourself a moment of respite. You were startled by a high pitched laugh, and turned your head towards its origin. A little girl, no older than 10, was running towards the bank holding on to an oxygen mask pack, giggling as she looked behind her to an emerging second figure. She was so happy, so…alive. 

Her eyes were glossy from unshed tears, happiness so loud it expressed itself physically. A second child emerged from the shadows, just behind where you stood. A boy, tall and blue, with the same innocence behind his eyes, quickly caught up to where the girl now lay on a rock by the river. 

“I won, Neteyam! I beat you!” The girl says, panting, laughing and crying all at once. The boy’s expression softened, and as he took his place next to the girl on the rock, gave her a small smile.

“You did! I didn’t try that hard, though. I want a rematch.” 

“You’re on!” 

The two kids sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the peace and quiet, the hushed whisper of the water and the bustling chirping of insects and birds hidden from view. 

“I have something for you.” The boy suddenly said with a gummy smile. 

From behind his back, he retrieves a bracelet. It was green, made up of numerous beads and tiny rocks that complemented each other so well, it seemed they were put on this planet for the very purpose of adorning a Na’vi’s body. 

You recognised the bracelet and the sight of it tugged at your heart. You felt your eyes tear up and cursed your mind for putting you through this again. 

“This is like your bracelet!” The tiny girl says, with a wide smile. 

“Yes, I told ma I lost mine and asked her very nicely to make me another and she did! I want you to have it. This way I have one and you have one. Just you and me.” 

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me. 

You woke up in tears, eyes locked on the bracelet in question that was still residing on your nightstand. You didn’t wear it anymore, but couldn’t find it in your heart to part with it fully. It now lay next to your head, a bitter reminder of yet another road not taken. You cursed Neteyam for coming back into your life, if only briefly, just to resurface hurt you are yet to deal with or even acknowledge fully. You curse him for the bracelet, and the memories and yet another pain you have to deal with on your own. Always on your own.

The next few days went by in a blur. You spent the days buried in work, and the nights exercising and field stripping weapons. You refused to think, or sleep, or read or play music or really anything to would give your heart the opportunity to take over again. You passed out last night in the gym, but it was a dreamless slumber, which you were grateful for. This night was your last night at 17. You were waiting patiently for the clock to strike midnight as you were finishing up your last experiment for the day. You glanced at the clock, once, then twice, then three times. Eventually, it happened. And then nothing. No answers, no epiphanies, no nothing. Disappointed, but not entirely shocked, you chuckled at yourself for thinking life would give you an easy way out. After all, it never did. A little after 1AM, you made your way to your bed. You took one last look at your empty nightstand, then passed out. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAAY!!!” 

Your entire body snapped in an upright position at the sudden auditory onslaught. Your face settled in a deep frown as you were trying to make sense of the scene in front of you. At the edge of your bed on all sides were people. Kiri, Lo’ak, Norm, Max and Spider. They all had big smiles on their faces, a big contrast to your own. You actively tried to remove the frown from your features, and found it easy enough when you realised these people, these people you loved were here, for you. 

“Thanks guys. Anyway, could I get some privacy so I can put some clothes and thank you properly??” 

With a grunt that definitely came from Lo’ak, they all left you to get ready for the day. When you appeared in the dining room, you found a big basket filled with incredible Pandoran food, and you were happy to see your favourites as the most prominent. 

“Oh my GOD, Banana fruitsss!! How did you guys find these??” 

“Lo’ak may or may not have spent an inordinate amount of hours waiting for a couple to drop out of the push fruit tree that grows a few clicks from the village.” Kiri said, laughing and poking Lo’ak sides with her fingers.

You felt a lump in your throat form at the admission. God, you were so grateful for this boy. You could live a thousand lives and still not deserve him. Feeling you getting emotional, he dropped to his knees and opened his arms. You made your way to him and hugged him, as tightly as you could. You were not great with words, but you put all of your unspoken thoughts in that hug. Your size difference made both of you snicker, and with one last tug, you let go.

“Thank you, guys. You are great, really, I couldn’t ask for better people to be around today.”

“Come on, let’s eat. We have big plans awaiting.” 

“Sing!!” 

You spent the morning eating and talking, Lo’ak complaining about the training and the ass kicking he got from his dad after your last meeting. You were laughing at his exaggerated manner of speaking, excited to finally have him around to get you out of your funk. 

“You guys always want me to sing, you need to pay me if you’re gonna treat me like a jukebox, you know?” 

You picked up the guitar that Norm brought for you out of the recreation room. You took it in your arms and strummed the chords, making sure they were tuned correctly. You thought long and hard about a song, and you found it eventually, buried in your brain, along with the memory of your mum singing it to you as a child with tears streaming down her face. 

“… Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be"

You felt the tears coming, but you willed them away. Your heart was strong, but it couldn’t contend with your mind. You continued, pouring all of your frustrations with Neteyam, with yourself, with this life in the song.

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy and you're sitting in front of me"

You looked across the room and felt weird, sick ecstasy at the faces of the people around you, all of which looked sad and glossy-eyed. You didn’t want to make anyone sad, but you loved the power that music held. You loved that it brought people together, no matter the species, the language, the tone, the mood, you could always rely on music to provide unison.

If our love died young, I can't bear witness, and it's been so long

But if you ever think you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me

As you played the last chord of the song, you looked up and froze at the sight of Neteyam sitting by the door of the room, an unreadable expression marking his features. You registered people talking in your direction, but couldn’t decipher the words as you lay there, on the ground, guitar in hand, staring at the beautiful boy who did not allow your eyes to leave his own. You swear you saw a flicker of sadness in his big, yellow eyes you used to know so well, but as you were trying to decipher them, Spider’s oh-so-human face flooded your line of sight. 

“Hello!! Earth to Y/N”

“It’s concerning how many times this happens”, Lo’ak intercepts.

You finally focus on the people who have come here for you, and put the guitar down with a small laugh.

“Sorry, guess I got way too into the song.”

“Yeah, what the hell’s up with that? It’s your birthday, it’s supposed to be a celebration and you’re making us depressed, instead.” Spider says, frowning. 

“Sorry!” You whine, hoping the childish tone would earn a quicker forgiveness. 

They all somehow roll their eyes simultaneously, which you find amusing.

“Mum and dad say it’s time.” It takes a second for your brain to register the Na’vi sentence. The deep voice breaks through the chatter and everyone turns their heads towards the oldest Sully sibling. 

“Right!” Lo’ak says, patting his knees and getting up suddenly. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!’

You knew it was dumb, but you were nervous, too nervous, to make your way to the Home Tree after so much time. It’s been years since you have been there, maybe since you’ve been anywhere, and it scared you more than you wanted to admit to yourself, or to anyone around you. Nevertheless, you put on your mask and secured your oxygen cartridge behind your back. 

You bid a swift goodbye to Norm and Max, who said they will try to make it to the celebration later in the evening. You then stepped outside, eyes finding it hard to adjust to the natural brightness of Pandora. You found the mask uncomfortable, having been so long since you needed it last, and took a deep breath in your attempt to calm down and take it one step at a time. 

Lo’ak was, as always, Neteyam thought, leading the pack. Spider followed suit and you and Kiri maintained a steady pace behind the two boys. Neteyam was quietly walking behind you. He was deep in thought, not being able to shake the image of you playing guitar and singing that song he had never heard before. He hasn’t heard you sing in so long and hearing it again opened a hole in his chest that he thought was long closed. His eyes followed you closely, taking in all the details about you he hoped he wouldn’t notice. Your hair was lighter than he remembered, not by much, but enough that it was there, present for him to see. You were tall, taller than you used to be, and taller than most human women he’s seen. You were wearing a skirt, he thinks it’s called, that flows every time the wind touches it. It’s black and it looks soft, and Neteyam can’t help but want to feel it for himself. Your top is braided and beaded, and it seems like a mix between human clothes and Na’vi wear. You back is completely bare short of a string that ties the top together and the man feels his heart picking up pace at the sight. Cursing under his breath, he moves his gaze on a piece of jewellery adorning your arm. A intricate bracelet, green and red, definitely Na’vi make. He remembers briefly Kiri making it for one of your previous birthdays and smiles sadly at the thought. Finally, his eyes settle on a deep scar on the back on your left leg. Before he can help himself, the memories flood his being…

Neteyam found himself once again, waiting outside the big metal building for you to come out. He was excited for today, too excited to put into words. It always took convincing for you to come out, especially recently, but he loved that you said yes to him, and not to Lo’ak or Kiri, for once. He knew you have been sad for a while, and was happy to do anything in his power to help. He jumped out of his skin when the door opened, and you laughed at him for being what you called a “scaredy cat”. 

“I’m happy to see you, Neteyam”, you said, in Na’vi. He smiled to himself at your accent, but loved how hard you tried to speak to him in his own tongue. “Not happy you’re dragging me out, but if it means spending some time with you, I guess I will let it slide” You continued in English.

“I think you will be happy to be out for this”, Neteyam interjected. You walked together in comfortable silence, only speaking when you found a plant or animal you didn’t know the name of. 

“Oh my God, this is so pretty, what’s it called?” You ask, enthusiastically.

“A’o” Neteyam answers you, smiling softly, never getting bored of your incessant line of questioning. Like with the language, he was just happy you cared. 

“What are you wearing?” Neteyam asks, unable to stop himself. 

“Oh, this?” You say, looking down at your choice of attire. “It’s just an old T-shirt I found in one of the drawers of the living quarters. I’m not sure whose it is, but I assume a big old man’s, cause it’s more a dress than a t-shirt at this point.” 

“A T-shirt…” Neteyam said, contemplatively. He looked at it closer and saw an image he couldn’t quite understand on it and the word “Metallica” written on it. He didn’t know what it meant, so he dropped it. At least he learnt a new word today. 

You walked like this for over an hour, but eventually reached the end of a cliff, that overlooked a beautiful waterfall. Neteyam thought this sight alone will make you feel better, but he had bigger plans in mind. 

“Wow, this is beautiful! This was almost worth the fresh hell I felt when that bug went in my nose like 20 minutes ago.” 

Neteyam laughed, and he revelled in the way only you seemed to be able to make him feel like this. Free and alive. 

Standing on the edge of the cliff, Neteyam let out a high pitched yell, then turned around to look at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He smiled as he heard the trees on the other side of the cliff ruffle, and watched with pride as a big bundle of green, yellow, red and blue emerged from the foliage and landed in front of him. He turned to you and let out a big laugh when he saw your face, jaw dropped in horror and amazement, eyes wide with the glint of curiosity he’s come to love so much. 

“You did it!! I’m so so so proud of you, Neteyam!” You screamed, running at him and launching yourself as high as you could, knowing he would catch you in his arms. “And at 13, too! This has to be some sort of record, right?” 

“I doubt it, but it still felt good doing it. I was shocked Mum and Dad even let me try it. Anyway, I wanted you to meet her.” 

He swung you in his arms with ease, not weighing a lot more than his baby sister, who was just around 3 years old. He finally placed you back on the ground with care, right in front of the Ikran. He made tsaheylu and waited patiently as you were building it up the courage to approach the mighty being that was lowly cooing and nudging its head against Neteyam’s. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your beautiful face, and said a silent prayer, thanking Eywa for still being able to bring that expression to your otherwise crestfallen figure. 

Once it seemed you became comfortable enough around her to pet, he clicked his tongue and motioned for you to get on. You let out an incredulous laugh and shook you head.

“No way in Hell, are you insane??” 

“Come on, Y/N. I never pegged you for a coward.”

After this many years, he knew how to push you buttons. He saw your smile drop and your eyes take on that expression that almost frightened him. Thank the Great Mother you were human, cause you would be a force to behold as a Na’vi. 

“Damn you, Neteyam.” You said, slowly getting up on the banshee and making yourself comfortable in front of the boy. He felt your back flushed against his bare chest, and suppressed a shudder that threatened his body. 

“It will be fun, you will see. Here, hold on here, and don’t let go. I will have my arms around you at all times, and I promise to make her go slowly.” You refused to acknowledge him, and he found himself laughing, again. 

Without any other words, he willed the ikran to take off. You let out an involuntary yelp, but otherwise you were brave and strong, just like he knew you to be. Once you were above the forest, he found you staring in awe beneath you, his gaze locked on the side of your face and on the smile that made him happy to be alive at the same time as you, just so he can experience it over and over. You flew like this for a long time, just taking in the beauty of this world that you both called home. A beauty that he knew you never got to experience, not the way you should have, not the way you deserved. He saw a tear escape your eyes and make its way down your cheeks and settle in between your lips, and cursed himself for not being able to take it away, the pain he knew clawed at you every waking moment since your mum died. You have never been the same since. 

“Thank you for this, Neteyam.” You said, softly. “I wish there was a way to show this to her, a way to share this experience. I know she would have loved it as much as I do, maybe more.” You settled comfortably on his chest and sighed. 

He didn’t get a chance to formulate a response, though, as a loud shriek came from his Ikran and he felt the panic overtake him as the tsaheylu made the feeling echo in between them. Looking up, he saw what no man wants to see: Toruk, his dad’s former pet, launching itself at the two teenagers and their ikran. Clearing his mind, Neteyam removed a hand from the reigns for balance and banked left abrubtly, diving straight for the trees, that were fortunately not too far below them. As if life suddenly stopped to a halt, he was able to experience the next harrowing moments in slow-motion - the diving, the terror of watching your frame slowly disappear from his line of sight, your voice screaming his name as you dropped towards the ground, his own voice getting caught in his throat trying to call for you, willing his Ikran to go faster than he thought was possible in an attempt to catch you, the pool of red liquid spilling from your frame as you impaled your leg on a broken Pxiut hitting the ground. He quickly removed himself from the Ikran and ran to you, picking you up in his arms, trying to ignore the way the blood was spilling down his torso and dripping on the ground. He looked at your unconscious body in his arms and felt the first crack in his heart form, a crack yet to be healed to this day. He pushed back the tears that were starting to pool and got back on the Ikran, flying as fast as he could through the foliage. As soon as he could see the outline of the metal building, he stopped the animal and got off, running with you in his arms. It’s all a blur afterwards. He remembers going home, your now-dried blood still marking his skin like a tattoo, he remembers crying in his mum’s arms, he remembers the guilt that poisoned his mind and heart and he remembers sitting on a cold floor next to what humans called an operating room, waiting to hear if the damage he has caused you will plague you for the rest of your life.

His eyes never left the scar on your leg, and, as he forced himself out of the torturous memory, couldn’t help noticing the slight limp with which you walked towards the village.

Crack. 

Tag list :-): @mashiromochi

[ares-would-be-proud]

Izzy said: Fairy! Im so excited for your dark content!! Since i saw it on your other blog, may i request for yandere bertholdt 👀 i feel the would make the most unsuspecting but worst (or best?) Yandere next to armin because he's so gentle and unassuming and shy, no one would ever think he has other intentions

Yandere Bertolt pt.I

{ Bertolt x reader | tw:yandere, tw:toxic-behaviour, tw:near-death experince, tw:murder mystery? Eh kinda, tw:manipulation tw:Emotional-rollercoster | Dark romance, fluff, slowburn, lowkey funny ngl | Canonverse }

{ "Roses" 1878 by George Cochran Lambdin 1830–1896 }

Securing the last belt around your thighs before attaching it to the one near your knees, you made sure to tighten it as much as you can before sliding it in the metal head.

Having the equipment room all to yourself, you took your time in double-checking everything was in place. Making sure your gas tanks were filled, carrying spare steel blades and tightening your boot strings.

The manoeuvring gear's parts made a clinking sound against each other with every step you took. Making your way to the nearby woods acting as the training ground, the sun shining made you shield your eyes with your hands, taking some seconds to adjust to the brightness.

The road was clear, with almost no birds or squirrels in sight.

It was one of those days when the wind seemed so fast as it swept by you, so much in fact that you could visibly see the few clouds swimming by as if they're racing each other. A perfect day to spend near a lake maybe, or in a field of flowers, but you had to spend it training in the woods with the other soldiers till your fingers ached from pressing against the handgrips.

You wanted to get it over with, feeling nauseous. Probably because you managed to oversleep and miss breakfast.

It started as normally as any other training session went, pushing through till your autopilot took over. While fun at first, there's so much manoeuvring between tree branches to slash at 2d wooden cutout of titans you could do before it started getting repetitive.

And so you let your body take over and move on its own, taking you further and further towards the edge of the forest till you couldn't hear the sound of anyone else's manoeuvring gear except your own.

The high wind rustling the trees making the leaves fall distorted your visions as they fell on you, and the flashing sunlight that swept through the small openings between the leaves only made things worse.

Blinding you for split seconds, too bright in fact, that you had to close your eyes shut as it burned after the light fell directly against it.

It's only after a couple of seconds late, that the sound of something snapping registered in your brain.

You were slowly turning in the air, strong wind resistance coming from below as gravity pulled you down.

Things were moving too quickly to process, dread shot through your entire body in shivers, you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your throat as you came closer and closer to the ground.

No matter how many times your clammy hands attempted to work the pistol-shot, no hooks attached to the nearby trees despite the gears working as you heard its zipping noise.

The realisation of the situation you're in finally settled, you couldn't do a single thing, but watch the trees grow larger and larger by the second as you fell to your doom.

You've survived many expeditions and missions, you've escaped Titans teeth that were mere inches from biting your head off, and this is what will put you seven feet below? A mere fall?

...no, it wasn't just a fall, it was arrogance for taking it for granted. After all, overconfidence was a slow and insidious killer, sneaking on the second you let your guard down.

But was it?

A flash of today's morning comes before your eyes, your brain recalling the unusual spot your manoeuvring gear was placed, you were too sleepy to notice it at the time but now it's the only thing on your mind, did someone-

Before you could hit the ground, the familiar sound of pressured gas fizzling out followed by the clinking of metal swishing by.

One second you were almost slamming into the hard ground, the next you were caught by someone mid-flight.

Bertolt tightly pressed you against his chest with one arm, securing you in place while his other used his gear to reach the nearest tree branch.

Your hands wrapped around him, securing yourself even more. He didn't flinch when your nails accidentally scratched his neck from how hard you were holding him.

Despite how close you were to his chest, your own hammering heartbeat was the only sound you could hear for it was stuck in your throat as the adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You hesitantly let go the second your feet touched the ground, although still shaking you managed to find your balance again, yet, Bertolt's hand didn't leave your back.

You looked below at the wires dangling from your gear, their end visibly thinner than the rest of it. It still didn't register how a wire made out of iron could snap so easily…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the hand reluctantly turning your face back up, Bertolt's nervous eyes meeting yours.

"Don't look down too much, you'll get dizzy" he said, concern clear in his voice before stepping closer to you, his large body tucking you between him and the tree behind, as if you might slip away "are you okay? Did you get injured?"

A bit taken back by his dotting, you shook your head before thanking him for not letting you fall.

"Don't mention it please...it's nothing, really." That seemed to make the corner of his lips rise a bite, slight flushing to his ears. "Maybe you should get some rest, you didn't seem well back there."

Was he watching?

The thought disappeared from your mind as quickly as it came, the guy saved you from a head injury after all, the least you could do is give him the benefit of the doubt.

Not to mention, it was Bertolt. Has it been any other guy, Reiner or Jean for example, then your attitude towards this whole thing would've been completely different. Putting as much space as you can between the two of you after brushing off their hands.

Has it been any other guy...but it wasn't now, was it?

No. It was Bertolt, soft-spoken and easily flustered Bertolt, who got nervous in most situations and didn't reply to teasing.

Bertolt, who didn't say a thing when Eren stole his seat next to Reiner, instead settled to sit next elsewhere.

Bertolt, who always remained humble and downplayed his skills despite ranking in the top five and becoming a really valuable soldier.

Bertolt, who you've only ever said hi to before once before he seemed to panic and just awkwardly wave back instead.

Maybe that's why you didn't mind him being so close, he wasn't a threat and most everyone knew that. If you asked people to rank the top three men they'd feel safe in a room with, Bertolt would almost make it to everyone's top two.

And so when he offered to walk you back to your room, it didn't raise any red flags despite it meaning you'd be alone with him in the dorms while everyone was training.

-

The short walk went fairly nice actually, he kept a respectful space between you while making sure to walk at a slower pace so his height wouldn't force you to jog.

From the sweat collecting at his forehead and his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt he seemed to struggle to find a good conversation starter.

You could read him like an open book, it was quite endearing the way he commented over how nice the weather is, four times in a row while stumbling over his words. But you weren't that cruel and so you decided to grant him mercy, starting a topic yourself.

Talking about your interest, hobbies and things you'd do whenever those rare moments of peace and normalcy would arrive.

He shared his too, apparently, he's into journaling, finding it much easier to write his thoughts on paper than out loud.

One conversation pulled another, as he seemed to grow more comfortable the more you talked.

Although, he wouldn't meet your eyes for more than 5 seconds before turning his gaze away, yet you could feel them staring at you the second you turn your head.

Somewhere between your conversation, the subject switched to talking about life. Bertolt asked you if this is the kind of life you've wanted, words unusually firm that it made you pause.

The question was out of place, a huge switch from your previous fun topics.

Nonetheless, you answered, "I don't think anyone would willingly choose this life. It's more of...doing the most out of the cards you've been dealt, this just happened to be mine."

The sound of his footsteps stopped, you looked at his face, he didn't look away.

"Would you rather have a more normal life?"

The way he stood, his back to the sun with you in his shadow, an unreadable expression on his face, really brought out his height and large build that you've almost forgotten.

you unconsciously took a step back, he took a step forward.

"If by normal you mean a non-starving one where I'm not at the risk of being eaten daily, then yeah." You answered, time felt like it slowed down. The seconds stretched for too long as you watched his reaction.

He...smiled, a sincere smile, the kind that makes your eyes shine. Soft expression seemingly relieved as he continued walking, a slight bounce to his steps.

"I'd love that too, to have a normal life one day."

And then he proceeded to tell you about his dream, the normal life of peacefulness he seeks. Sharing as many details as time would allow, from the kind of person he wants to grow up to be, to the colour he wants to paint the house backyard's fence.

It was lavender.

When he mentioned wanting a dog, you couldn't decide what was funnier, the mental image of Bertolt with an equally almost as big kind of dog, or a small tiny breed that would fit in his hands. Taking him for walks and playing catch as the dog tackles him to the ground.

Some chuckles escaped your lips, and while Bertolt didn't know what you were smiling about, nonetheless he joined too.

-

Your time together was cut short when the dorms came into view. Feeling both relief for finally being able to rest and disappointment for having to end your conversation so soon, especially since you think this is the first actual talk you had with him besides saying hi before.

Bertolt, looking out for you, made sure to hold the door to your room open for you. Some part of your brain wondered how exactly he managed to guess which room was yours, the other simply couldn't wait to get into bed.

You sat on the bed, Bertolt invited himself in and closed the door behind him.

He took his time looking around your shared room with his eyes, staring at the titles of the books splayed on the table, taking in the smell of scented incense your roommate bought every month, the doodles, drawings and notes hanging by mere tape against the wall.

Finally, eyes landing on the top bunk bed, currently empty with your roommate having left too early in the morning for the preparations of their next expedition.

Well...after all you were too used to waking up by the sound of them opening and closing all the drawers in search of their glasses that they manage to lose each day, yet yesterday they made sure to sleep next to it.

Huh, maybe that's why you overslept.

Yet, Bertolt's eyes didn't move as he stared seconds too long, shoulders growing stiff and palms tightening against his side.

"They left for an expedition, a titan capturing one... I think." You explained, "it's supposed to last three days, but since it's led by Captain Hange...I wouldn't be too surprised if they still haven't left yet."

"Must be nice, having the room for yourself."

You agreed before adding "well, it still gets too lonely sometimes."

Bertolt looked like he wanted to say something, lips parting for a second before he pressed them close into a thin line.

An awkward silence filled the room, as you looked at Bertolt who seemed to revert back to his old nervousness.

"I think I should go, Reiner must be looking for me."

You thanked him again for his help, he avoided your eyes before mumbling a reply, saying it's really nothing.

Did you do something wrong? You couldn't help but think that, after all things were going so well just now. Why would he get on edge again?

As a final attempt to redeem yourself from whatever unknown act you must've committed for Bertolt to act this uncomfortable, you called out to him one last time.

"Hey, Bertolt. I know we technically just met but, just know you can drop by anytime okay? You seem like a nice person and we can be friends."

Oh god did you really say, we can be friends, what is this kindergarten again? Welp you fucked up, looks like it's another failure to add to the calendar, man and you've been keeping such a clean track of days without accidents.

You know what? No, forget it, you tried your best and you had good intentions so why should you ever feel guilty for-

"You really mean that?" Bertolt, whom

You've become aware was still in the room, said.

Not sure how to reply to this, you just gave a nod instead.

"I'd love that." He spoke with a soft tone. And despite his growing desire to move closer to you, he opened the door instead, sparing you one last sweet smile before he left.

And for a good minute there, his smiling face was all that occupied your mind, a fluttering feeling that came and went too quickly for you to acknowledge.

-

True to your predictions, the mission was apparently delayed till midnight for...undisclosed reasons. Although gossip spread faster than wildfire, and by dinner time everyone was talking about the argument Captain Hange and Captain Levi got into, the story got modified and exaggerated each time it was passed around.

"Listen, I was there and I saw it! Well...not with my own eyes but it doesn't matter." Your roommate said, too eager to spill you everything that they almost forgot to eat their food. "It was big, like Captain Miche having to restrain Levi kind of big!"

You gave them a silent look, raising an eyebrow.

"...okay jeez it didn't get this far but it felt like it did, like it almost happened." They poked their food with the fork, before deciding to try some.

Their pouting face almost made you want to tease them even more, just to see what corner you can back them into before they confess to making up half the story they've been telling you.

But a wrenching gut feeling suddenly shot through your body, coming almost out of nowhere, the kind you'd usually feel whenever a titan was targeting you.

Confusion was naturally your first response, there couldn't be any titans nearby. You swallowed down, no don't be silly, it doesn't even make sense.

Maybe...maybe it was one of those cases you studied in class? About people getting PTSD flashbacks at random times, or from small triggers?

The air seemed too cold and too hot at the same time, you forced your eyes to move around the room in an attempt to remind yourself everything is fine, that you're here.

Seeing your friends, fellow soldiers and veterans just sitting around, enjoying their food while joking with their friends, helped ground you to reality again.

Yeah...see? Nothing's wrong, everyone's having a good time so-

Your gaze met Bertolt's, dark eyes staring back but not at you. No, instead they were focused on your roommate. The knot in your stomach twisted.

Beside him, Reiner was murmuring something under his breath as he leaned closer to Bertolt, his stare following the other's gaze.

Reiner seemed unusual, drops of sweat collecting at his forehead while Bertolt was the opposite, the calmest you've ever seen him actually.

Reiner gave Bertolt one final look, lips moving too fast for you to attempt to even read. Bertolt nodded.

And then it was like nothing happened, both of them going back to their usual selves. Reiner's attention was stolen by Eren asking about his food, while Bertolt looked at Jean who sat next to him without asking before commenting on Eren.

"Hey, are you okay? You look…" your roommate said, concern in their voice before their hand found your forehead. "I heard what happened this morning, with the manoeuvring gear, I didn't want to bring it up but…"

You didn't have to be told twice, and so you reassured them it's okay, you'll get some rest, not like you'd complain about having an excuse to get a day off.

That seemed to make them satisfied, well...that and making you swear on the scouts' honour to take care of yourself while they're away.

After dinner, as you were headed to your room while your roommate had to get to the stable before heading out with their group, you passed by Reiner.

It wouldn't have been unusual, wasn't it for the fact he was fully in his uniform with gear ready that you had to do a double-take.

You swore you just saw him in casual clothes at dinner...was he also going on that mission? Huh, weird you can't remember seeing his name on the list.

-

The week passed by slower than you would've liked, with both of the survey corps Captains gone, most of the soldiers...really had nothing to do but waste time.

It was almost funny, wasn't it for the fact you were bored out of your mind.

Captain Miche rarely gave orders, the only time you'd see him is during training season when everyone had to do a round with him. While commander Erwin didn't really entrust soldiers who weren't close to him with his paperwork or even chores.

At least Sasha and Connie were making the most of it, whatever they were doing seemed fun…

Bertolt never took you up on your offer either, despite him seemingly having a positive reaction to wanting to be friends he didn't show up at all.

Yet you'd still see him hovering by, either being assigned the same chore together or simply happening to be in the same room at the same time. And despite how much you've thought about going up to him to start a conversation, you knew how to read between the lines. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable that's all.

He'll come when he's ready, is what you told yourself.

And well, you were right, eventually, he did.

Not only did he initiate talking, he even attempted to ask if you'd like to accompany him to the nearby town maybe.

With the way his hands were clasped behind his back and slight flushing to his cheeks as he summoned all his courage to ask you that, how could you say no?

-

It was almost like seeing an entirely different person.

Bertolt, in his casual clothes, as he strolled by you through the food stands, seemed a much more...healthier version of himself?

He looked at peace, the smile never leaving his lips. He even made jokes and shared his opinions without being asked.

Whenever you went to check something that stole your attention, he would quickly follow by to erase any form of distance. Whenever your eyes fell on a piece of accessories for too long, he'd suggest you try it on, putting it on you himself.

And yet, whenever his hand would brush yours by accident while walking, he'd almost stumble into the ground and quickly pull it back. Or the time you attempted to adjust the collar of his shirt and you swore his knees almost gave out when you stepped closer, reaching his neck.

Both of you tried different kinds of food, he even offered you his own if you seemed to enjoy a certain food. Saying he'd rather you have it.

Both of you being broke soldiers ment there are only so many things you can do in the town before quickly burning through your savings.

It wasn't long before he suggested going back, you agreed to take the long walk back to enjoy nature a bit more.

You've wondered how come Bertolt only seems the most comfortable when talking to you on walks, but the story he was telling you was too interesting for you to think about it now.

You listened to him talk, it felt like you could listen to him for hours on end before getting bored. For someone who rarely spoke, he surely did have a way with words when he actually did.

It was nice, comfortable and gave you a false sense of normalcy as if the world was okay for a short while.

One final thought you had just before the both of you parted to go to your separate rooms, was that if Bertolt was going to write about this day in his journal.

-

For each day of the remaining week, you and Bertolt managed to hang out more and more.

You went to the lake, a frog landed on him that you had to remove because he was too nervous he might crush it.

He took you to a nearby spot in the town, it seemed normal at first but he just told you to wait. Apparently, each after some dogs would frequent this spot and Bertolt has already made friends with most of them.

And on the last day, both of you actually just spent it...in his room. He had a really comfortable bed and feather pillows that you almost didn't want to leave. And despite sharing a bed he still would keep space between you, no matter the uncomfortable positions he had to sit in.

By the end of the week, the expedition group arrived during sundown.

Their heads lifted high, pride clearly across their faces as they rode their horses. Captain Hange especially seemed much more excited than usual, barely managing to stay still on their horse.

The mission was a success apparently, they've managed to capture two titans with zero mortality rate and minor injuries.

...well almost a zero rate.

You were called into Erwin's office in the middle of the night, when Moblit knocked on your door asking you to quietly follow him.

The night air was cold against your thin clothes, silence filling the usually busy hallways, now errly empty.

Knocking before he told you to enter, he seemed busy with some paperwork, instead offering you a seat and asking to wait shortly.

The curtains behind him were closed shut, the candle sitting on his desk seemed on the verge of burning out, melted wax collecting on the plate under it.

It wasn't till after some seconds that you realised you weren't alone in the room, Captain Levi was leaning against the wall on the other side, arms crossed.

The scratching of the pen against the papers would occasionally get replaced with the sound of dipping the metal head inside the liquid ink container, carefully wiping it against the opening to remove any overflowing liquid.

Your fingers fiddled with the red cushion on the armchair, leg slightly bouncing before you force it to stop each time.

Waiting...and waiting.

The back of your throat felt scratchy, only becoming aware of how dry your mouth was then. Attempting to swallow down as a form of relief didn't help much.

"Here, drink it." A glass of water was offered to you by Levi, handing it to you before going back against the wall.

Saying a small thank you before finishing the glass, you felt slightly better afterwards. Although the growing tension in the air didn't help ease your mind.

"Cadet." Erwin clasped his hands, "I apologise for calling you here this late, although considering the circumstances I'm sure you'd understand."

Opening one of the desk drawers, Erwin pulled out something wrapped in a napkin, the white cotton having a growing reddish stain in its middle.

"I offer my condolences."

-

[submalevolentgrace]

on the one hand, i know how bad secondary trauma can be, a significant chunk of my ptsd is secondary, i am intimately familiar with how severe and crushing it can be to process someone else's trauma from any distance... the worst of it comes from being closely entangled and taking direct collateral damage from being the only support yeah, but also the glancing damage one can take from a distance is harmful too. many people that have both primary and secondary ptsd say that the secondary is more difficult to cope with, because of the unknowns, the differences in agency, and the survivors guilt; and i'm not sure where i stand on that, but both kinds are definitely debilitating and will scar you for life... and it is, yeah, it is right to shield people from that. isn't it. just because suffering exists, doesn't mean everyone has to suffer. just because someone is hurting, doesn't mean they should infect everyone around them with the hurt too, right?

there is no other hand anymore. not because there isn't another point, no, the metaphor just breaks. because the other hand is gone. all that's left is pain, and scars, and a screaming mass of nerves and unthinkably horrific images of the last way it looked burnt into my brain that i can't unsee and seething pure fucking rage that i have to live with this on my own, that's it "bad" and "harmful" to "trauma dump" ie just fucking talk about the horrors i have to live through on my own, that for the sake of fucking politeness i have to live in silence, silence over the crimes of flesh done to me, silence over the abuse and neglect, silence over that above "secondary" fucking trauma because no matter how badly it hurt us both im not allowed to admit it hurt me at all lest im accused of narcisistically making someone elses pain about me and i just have to stay fucking silent and we all play this game where people have to keep the horrors to themselves because it's fucking IMPOLITE to admit how many [redacted] have been [redacted] by their [redacted] and in fact are being so right this every fucking minute but IT'S RUDE TO TALK ABOUT AND YOU MIGHT UPSET PEOPLE SO JUST FUCKING SUFFER IN SILENCE AS WE SEND THEM BACK HOME TO LET IT KEEP HAPPENING AGAIN AND AGAIN

and NO i am NOT DOING OKAY and don't you dare tell me to get help because "the help" are the ones that caused all this, the "help" have told me that MY TRAUMA HURTS THEM, oh and also THEY ARE THE ONES THAT PUT THOSE HORRORS IN MY BODY AND MIND, THEY ARE THE ONES THAT EXPERIMENTED ON ME, THEY ARE THE ONES THAT SENT HER BACK HOME THEY ARE THE ONES THAT WILL LOCK YOU UP FOR TRYING TO FLEE THE PEOPLE HURTING YOU

and i am not, fucking. coping. with having to keep it all to myself

because if i unredact those words my account probably gets suspended

because if i tell you what i see when i close my eyes im at legal risk

because it's fucking """RUDE""" to be traumatised and make people confront the horrors that this world forces on people

because you want to pretend it doesn't happen, so you can still sleep at night

[arainaizevran]

here's my Gamer Review (no story spoilers)

the combat sucks and is sometimes unbalanced even in the beginners difficulty. FUCK mirror image all my homies hate mirror image. and the way some bosses have ridiculously high AC just to make it difficult when really all it does is make the fight tedious

another thing: the spell book system is so unintuitive, it took me until act 5 to finally look up how to prepare nenio's spells and understand how spell slots work 😭 (or i may just be stupid)

i love the camping mechanic and evening banter

i love that you can take 5 companions with you <3 they're varied in such a way that i can rotate the companions in the party with one or two mainstays. and it's not a total headache to swap companions in the party *cough* bg3 *cough*

SHARED INVENTORY MY BELOVED

there aren't any good legendary bow weapons if im gonna be honest. not much good legendary rapier weapons too. you get so much loot but most of them aren't even really good

the level/dungeon design teeters between fun and confusing

the puzzles require you to use your brain which is great, but i fear I've been spoiled by bg3 with how it gives you different ways to solve a puzzle. so i may or may not have been playing with a walkthrough

i love that some companion quest endings hinge on many actions the player says or does throughout the game and not just the One Decision you make in their final quest. this way it feels more like your actions have consequences. the downside of this is that if you don't get the ending you want for a character it can be frustrating since the decision that affected it is way back in act 2 or 3 lol

speaking of decisions, there were many points in the game where i really had trouble deciding what to do or say. that's a good thing for me (even tho id just open a walkthrough and see if the choice i want to make doesn't have dire consequences LMFAO)

act 4 is actually pretty good. im glad it's a short one and while it's super jarring to transition to this location with the slightly weird game mechanics, i got used to it pretty fast and finished the act in like. 10 hours lol. there's so many good companion quest in this act too, which counteracts the awful location. at the same time the amount of quests doesn't feel overwhelming at all?

crusade management is fun but some aspects of it is unintuitive, like the whole outpost->bastion->fortress upgrade thing. also if your general has scorching ray and fireball and firestorm it makes the crusade fights really easy which is kinda funny

the final battle is... okay. i had it on a custom very easy difficulty so the fights were VERY quick. but i like that all the people you helped in the game showed up instead of you having to call them one by one each turn lmfao

AND i like that the companions you left outside the threshold also gets to join the battle by defending the entrance. something like this happens in dao where the party has to split and it's nice bc all the companions get to be a part of the final battle yayyy

there are certain things you could miss out if you don't do That One Errand Quest, but doing it is so cool. you get to find out about the real motivation of the antagonist

why does nocticula look like that when all the other demon lords have really cool and huge model designs (i get that noct is a succubus demon lord but c'mon man)

also im sad I have to choose between lann and wenduag :( i was happy to know i could also recruit wendu but she bugged out for me and her bloody corpse was right next to lann in drezen. rip

i also love how much the companions/NPC just straight up lie to the player character 😭 i got fooled so many times bc there's no wayyy im gonna get betrayed and lied to again right? right?

the player character becoming the appointed commander doesn't at all feel... railroaded? like yes you're pretty much forced into the role but it didn't make me feel the same way as inquisition did (might be because there's an actual prologue in wotr)

part of that ^ might also be because of the mythic paths which really help you carve out the character you want

all in all, it was fun, i enjoyed it very much!

i stayed up till 2 last night and finished wotr... amazing

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 17

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.4k

Chapter warnings: mentions of captivity, oral sex (m receiving) more fucking feels i know, soft javi deserves a warning, the apparition of Señor Berna lmao

A/N: This chapter is set in season three, episode eight. // again, some plotshit, a lil more action, flor being a snarky beech lmao... oh guys, im so happy were here, im sorry for the angst

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

←previous // next→

gif: @josepedropascal​

You breathed in and out a few times before walking to his office, trying to eat back your tears and put on a smiling face as he was staring at you. He tilted his head when you entered the office and you gulped and buried your feelings inside you again, not wanting to dive into them just yet.

“How’d it go?” you asked Javier, sitting in front of him across his desk. You saw his brow furrow at the question and his reaction made you bite your lip, he pushed his cigarette on the small ashtray to turn it off before answering.

“She’s in the jungle,” he muttered at you and your heart dropped a few feet below the floor, “the cartel basically handed her to the fucking FARC,”

“What the fuck!?” your voice raised and your brain started spiraling down further. 

The woman that you had heard trying to convince her husband to drop everything he had been doing for the cartel and practically begged him to not leave her alone was in the worst possible place you could imagine for someone like her. 

Javier looked at you, and once again he desired he had your sharp ability to read people, just to try to know without asking what you were thinking. The truth was that you were relating to her in more than one way. She reminded you of yourself at some point before all the shit you had seen and done ultimately turned you into another person and you didn’t like it. You wanted her to get away unscratched because in your eyes she didn’t deserve it. You knew she didn’t. Even if she knew what she was doing when she got married, even if she knew what she was getting herself into.

Christina Jurado reminded you of yourself and you didn’t like it because it made the whole thing way too personal. And for you, it wasn’t worth it. And if you looked at it from the outside. It was even worse.

“What did Berna say?” you asked again, trying to brush off all the negative feelings that were bubbling in your chest.

“That he knows how to get her back,” his voice was low and his face quirked in frustration, you let your hand reach his over the cluttered desk and he took it “he’s gonna take me there,”

“Javi,” you let out in a whisper, he knew what you were about to say and he shook his head, “please,”

“You’re not going, baby,” you tightened the grip on his hand and pleaded with your eyes, he knew you, he knew you could help, he knew you would be fantastic at it, but he wasn’t about taking the woman he… you to a place like that, it wasn’t a matter of ability or capacity. It was a matter of him wanting you to be safe. He just couldn’t risk you.

Taking the risk was worthy for him, in some way he blamed himself for Christina’s capture, he did because he was the one that had contacted in the first place, he had flirted with her and convinced her to tell her husband to cooperate with the agency and he blamed himself because he had exposed her in a city that wasn’t kind to anybody in a country she didn’t know in a position she hadn’t anything to gain from. 

So for him, it was an easy call.

But for you? he couldn’t risk you. You who were doing everything he asked you to, you, who helped, you, who worried and cared, you who he knew would put her own life on the line if that’s what it would take to bring a woman home. It was a given no.

“How much is gonna cost us?” your voice was still low and Javier let his mouth curve into a tight-lipped, sad, resigned smile, you were about the only person who could ask something like that in plural and as much as he dreaded giving you the answer, he found it endearing. You, who helped. You, who worried and cared. You, selfless and giving.

“He wants a heads up,” Javier explained, moving his gaze to your entangled hands, “to know when we start looking for him,” his thumb started stroking your skin slowly.

“Mhm,” you hummed. 

Javier lost himself in the moment, just letting the silence drop and the implication of the conversation linger between you both while you held hands. His touch was soft on your skin despite the roughness of his, his hand wrapped yours almost entirely and the way his thumb brushed softly against the back of your hand made you remember the way his hands felt on your skin earlier as he made love to you.

He really didn’t deserve what you were doing to him. He was clueless to how much of a monster you were.

The thought of just word vomit everything to him and then beg for his forgiveness crossed your mind not once but twice. But you couldn’t just do it, you needed more, more for him to know why you were doing it and how you were trying to fix it, more for him to understand your motives so he could at least not hate you, more for you to know it was safe for him to know. So you didn’t. Instead, you gave into another thought of yours that resurfaced as you looked at him again; all tensed up and frustrated.

“C’mon,” you stood up from the chair and tugged at his hand, Javier looked at you confused and you tugged again to make him stand up and walk around his desk as you guided him to the loveseat in his office.

Your hand left his, and you cupped his face softly, he instantly knew what you wanted and leaned to let you trap his lips in yours, knowing you had all the freedom to do it as you were the only two people in the office at such late hours. 

The kiss was soft and slow, his hands settled on your waist and his tongue slid through your lower lip and you opened up to him, letting him explore once more your mouth as he pleased, your hands glided from the sides of his face to his chest and you pushed him softly, breaking the kiss and forcing him to sit down.

Saying nothing else, you kneeled in front of him and his eyes shot up.

“What are you doing?” he muttered in both surprise and precaution.

“I’m gonna pray,” you teased, making him roll his eyes, you put your hands on his thighs “I’m gonna suck you off, Javi,” you said as low as you could and saw him take a shivering breath “you’re really stressed and I think you deserve it,”

Javier was a determined, resolute man; in the short time you’d known him he never was the one without something to say, he always had to give the last word. But there, with you, kneeling in front of him, with your hands softly roaming through his thighs, he was at a loss for words.

“Okay,” he just mumbled, you nodded once and your hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it slowly “I don’t know what I did to have you like this in here of all places, but I might do it again,” he rambled under his breath when you unbuttoned his dress pants, his cock already semi hard, you smiled at him.

“I told you, I think you deserve it,” his hand found your cheek as you slid down the zipper and his eyes drank you in entirely. You loved him, deeply, and you wanted to show him how much, at least in the only way you could allow yourself to “tell me what you’re thinking,” you whispered as your hands slowly opened the fly.

“I’m thinking…” he saw you play with the waistband of his briefs and his mouth dried, his cock now fully awake and attentive “that this is something I’ve thought for quite a while, actually,” you smiled and pulled the elastic down, freeing his erection.

“Really?” your voice was as low and deep as you knew his was getting, your mouth watered at the sight of his hard length and the bead of precum that adorned the head already looked really enticing.

“Uh, yeah,” his breath hitched when you grabbed his shaft and your thumb spread the precum around his expecting head.

“And what did you think about?” you teased as you licked your lips and leaned down to lick the tip, savouring the tangy, salty taste of him, he bucked his lips slightly and you moved your wrist up and down, twisting in the middle.

“I imagined you coming into my office in–ah–that little dress suit of yours,” he blurted, closing his eyes as you licked the underside of his cock, your feet were numbing so you shifted around to help the feeling, “remember? the o–one you were wearing whe–when you arrived?” you nodded on his cock, making him moan softly.

“Yes, the way you looked at me that time still burns,” you replied and took the tip around your lips, letting the saliva inside warm him up, your hand still working his shaft as your spit slipped out of your mouth and slowly dripped through his soft skin.

“You noticed?” he asked, surprised, looking at you, you smiled with him inside your mouth and he bucked his hips again as you pulled him out softly.

“I still don’t know if you wanted to kill me or fuck me,” you mumbled, leaning again to curl your tongue on his leaking head, he left out a hitched chuckle.

“Shit, I don’t either,” he closed his eyes again and his head fell backwards, hitting the backrest as you took him inside your mouth again, pushing your head as far as you could, “then I would slide that skirt up just enough to bend you over my desk an–and take you until we both for–forgot our names,” he rambled and the image made you aware of how wet you were getting, you pulled him out again.

“I would really like that,” you said, gulping, your hand still working on his now spit-covered shaft.

“Or maybe I–I would sit on my desk and make you s–sit on me while I fin–finished work,” one of his hands found your hair and pushed your head softly towards him.

“God, Javi, didn’t know you could be so vocal,” you followed his guide and took him back inside, your hand left his length and you left him push your head, swallowing him almost whole.

“F–fuck, baby,” your eyes started to sting as he stretched open your mouth, your hands found the fabric of his open pants and you fisted it as he found his way into your throat “o–oh shit,” his other hand found yours and gripped it as you close your eyes and breathed through your nose. Some of his precum was leaking into you and the taste made you even wetter. Then, as he moved your head slowly up and down and your eyes filled with tears, everything became too much.

You gagged around him but didn’t pull away; he was making sure to not lose all control as he enjoyed the warmth of your mouth around him, unaware of the tears that started to drip down your cheeks.

“So–so good, my baby, so good,” he rambled as he moved you and your hand tightened the grip on his, you opened your eyes and through your tears you saw him; relaxed beyond words, his face quirked in pleasure, his chest panting up and down as he used you to reach his high “perfecta–m’ baby–s’ good”, he muttered senselessly and your chest turned at the sight and his words, he was such a good man, he was a great fucking man, and you were so fucking sorry.

He had called you perfect and you knew you were the total and complete opposite of that. How could you have done that to a person that thought so highly of you? Even when he thought so lowly of himself.

In that moment, with him in your mouth, whispering soft nothings to the air and you between his legs, both of you as vulnerable as you could be in that position, in that place where everything had started out of nowhere, you realized how much you regretted everything. Your chest sank and you sobbed, it disguised itself as a gag and more tears escaped your eyes, he didn’t deserve it.

You thought of yourself as something close to a monster, no different from those you had sworn to chase. You had become what you wanted to kill; cruel, selfish, deceitful, and the realization that the only thing that would come out of all that was deep sadness and desolation bathed you like a bucket of freezing ice water. And he didn’t deserve any of it.

Because Javier was such a good man. And you weren't good at all. And that made you decide yours and his fate, right there in his office in the middle of the night and then, as he panted above you, fisted your hair and came inside your throat. You were gonna tell him everything. It wasn’t anymore a question of if you were going to do it. It was a given. Now the question was when.

Javier opened his hooded eyes as you swallowed his orgasm and brushed your tears away, he smiled at you hazily and you smiled back.

“Thank you,”

The next morning you walked out of your apartment in comfortable silence. 

The night before, you had driven you both to your place. Javier had noticed almost immediately after the deep-throat you had given him that something inside you was off, but he didn’t ask you, instead, when you entered your apartment, he helped you out of your clothes and laid next to you. You knew he wasn’t much of a cuddler, but he just knew you needed it, so he held you tightly inside around arms almost the entire night, determined to provide you some comfort as you had done the same for him before.

You reached your building’s parking lot and he turned his head to both sides to make sure you were alone.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping closer to you and reaching for your waist, your hands settled around his neck and you nodded.

“Are you gonna be gone all day?” your voice was thin and he noticed the worried tone of it, he was about to meet with Berna, as he had planned, to get Christina back, and you dreaded the whole plan, he had to get inside the thick colombian jungle along dangerous people and you had to stay behind, just waiting for something to happen. One of his hands moved to cup your face and he brushed his thumb on your cheek.

“Probably,” Javier replied, leaning in to brush his lips against you.

“Please, be careful,” you pleaded in a whisper, he kissed you softly, you moved your hands to his nape and brought him closer to you. You shut your eyes tightly as he parted his lips to let you inside his mouth and gave him all your wordless love, you stopped the kiss and opened your eyes, Javier’s chest sunk when he saw your eyes glisten with unshed tears “don’t come back without her,” you whispered “but please come back,”

Javier nodded once and kissed you again, trying again to give you some comfort in the only way he knew how.

He broke the kiss reluctantly and pulled away from your body so you could get into your car and drive to work. As you turned on the car’s ignition you gave him a last look and he gave you a nod, knowing exactly what your eyes were telling but your mouth couldn’t say. And you breathed in to fill your lungs and to begin your day of pretending you weren’t as worried as you really were while the man you just acknowledged to yourself you loved, spent his day on a rescue mission that could go wrong in a thousand different ways.

The day in office went by ridiculously slowly, the minutes felt like days and the hours felt like weeks and you couldn’t get to focus on one single thing, so you stood up from your desk and decided it was then time to start trying to gather as much information as you could to show Javier when you told him the truth. You knew with him you needed something close to a defense, even though you weren’t exactly sure how he was going to react. 

The whole thing was a mess, but no one could blame you for trying at least to get him to understand you. 

You opened the bottom drawer of your desk, the one that double functioned as both a filing cabinet and a safe place to hide stuff you didn’t want anyone to find, and pulled out two manila folders you had shoved in there the first time you went to Stechner’s office and learned he was nothing but a venomous, selfish snake.

With a quick pace you walked towards the records room and closed the door behind you, you stepped to the old copy machine that was put in there when it was replaced by the newer, techier machine that now had its place in the middle of the office. You started shuffling the papers that you had shoved into the folders to try to organize them and began photocopying them, making sure the ones deemed more important went into the machine first.

You didn’t hear the door opening behind you, your mind wandering between the pages you had in your hands and the ones printing, trying to order them.

“Martín,” a soft voice called out behind you, and startled you. Your hands made quick work of turning the pages upside down and shoving the rest into the folders as you turned around.

“Hey,” you tried to relax your body when you saw the brunette agent hesitantly walking closer to you, your breath calmed “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” you said apologetically and she gave you half a smile.

“Call me Charles,” her voice hardened on its own and you nodded.

“So…” you gave her an expectant look, she had walked in because of you, it was obvious. She moved her hands and put her into her pockets, you tilted your head, reading her doubt and anxiety.

“Are you fucking him?” she muttered, deepening her gaze into yours. You frowned.

“What?”

“Peña, are you fucking him?” her voice hardened as she stood up straight. Your mouth fell open at her question. She was a contradiction in herself. You knew how she had been looking at you and Javier, and, as Feistl did, it wasn’t a surprise other people would see, but she was confronting you about it, as if you or Javier owed her something. An explanation, a justification of something she had formed inside her head. 

You, in your railed state of mind, as you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that she wouldn’t dare to look over your shoulder at the pages you were trying to keep away from her eyes, admired her audacity, at the same time this audacity exasperated you.

“You kiddin’, right?” you asked her, trying to lighten your voice, she just raised an eyebrow at you and huffed.

“You come and go in and out of the office with him all the time!” she rambled as if it was all you needed to actually answer her question “you think I haven’t noticed how you look at him? or how he looks at you?” when she said the last word, her face quirk in something close to disgust and you bit your lower lip, preventing a chuckle to come out of your mouth.

“Oh god, you’re really asking,” you mouthed, she finally dropped her gaze to your feet. “why?” the question visibly took her by surprise, her arms moved and she crossed them on her chest. Of course she did.

“I made the first question,” she tried to regain the small amount of confidence she had entered the room with while you took control of the entire situation. You sighed loudly, for your body to relax and for her to know you were already tired of whatever that was.

“And I don’t have to answer it,” you shrugged, “why are you so eager to know, agent Charles?” you questioned, softening your voice. She took her time not saying a word, you really wanted to know what was going inside her head, and the temptation of just focusing on her silence and her body language was growing within you by the second.

But you had things to do and issues to worry about, so when she sighed you mimicked her and turned around to gather all the pages and simply walk out.

“My sexual life is none of your business, agent Charles,” you muttered, stepping away from the copy machine “and if you’re asking because you wanna know if agent Peña is available, well then go ask him whenever he comes back,” she snapped her head to look at you at the mention of Javier, and you had to chew on the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking “maybe he’ll say yes, what do I know?” you said under your breath when you opened the door and walked out, leaving her standing in the middle of the room while your brain returned to its previous mode of planning and thinking a way to stay afloat.

You checked your wristwatch as you sat back on your desk, your mind traveling hundreds of miles away, wondering if Javier was okay.

Javier had been in one camp like that just weeks before and had already forgotten how fucking hot everything was in there.

The heat was scorching and wet, he swiped the back of his hand on his forehead again and dried it on the fabric of the cargo pants he was wearing, hoping for one single current of air that could relieve him from the suffocating feeling in his chest caused both by the heat and the fact that he really didn’t want to be there.

Javier was putting on a bulletproof vest that didn’t quite fit him, with the eyes of Berna glued to him and his actions, watching him get ready and checking once again the barrel of his gun. Javier was loathing the man’s stare.

“Y, ¿al fin supiste algo de Judy?” (You ever heard anything from Judy?) Berna asked, Javier saw him play with a dagger while his heavy stare rested on him.

“No desde que la vendiste,” (Not since you sold her out) he muttered, Berna chuckled humorlessly.

“Quién iba a pensar, Javier, ahora los dos somos jefes,” (Who would’ve thought, Javier, now both of us, bosses) Javier hid the roll of his eyes as the man compared taking advantage of Escobar’s death to climb a stepless ladder inside the cartel with being practically forcefully promoted “y, ¿si te dieron un apartamento bueno ahí en Bogotá?” (and did they give you a nice place in Bogotá?) he asked him, Javier brushed his bottom lip with his thumb as he looked back at Berna.

“‘Ta bueno,” (It’s good) Javier replied, not giving too much of a crap about the reason for his question. Not wanting to think anything of it… Not really wanting to tell him he was living in the same one.

“Deberías conocer mi casa,” (you should see my house) Berna said with a chuckle “yo cago cada día de la semana en un baño diferente, a mi esposa eso le encanta.” (I can take a shit in a different bathroom every day of the week, my wife loves it) Javier huffed and narrowed his eyes.

“¿Su esposa?” (your wife?)

“Yo soy un hombre de familia,” (I’m a family man) he shrugged, Javier wanted to laugh at the statement but he didn’t, knowing he wasn’t really in the position to “y vos ¿qué? ¿seguís con la misma novia? la maleta,” (and you what? you still with the same girlfriend, the suitcase?)

Javier didn’t answer the last question. After it his mind immediately went to one single thing, ignoring whatever else Berna had said to him. Javier walked out of the small hut he got ready in and stepped on the soft, humid, jungle floor, swiped off the sweat of his forehead again and thought of you. It shook him. He was in the middle of a rescue mission for a really important piece of the case he was building to dismantle a whole cartel and when an old ally, another narco, asked him about his love life… his mind took him to you.

It was funny for him, somewhat, that his mind pictured you when someone mentioned the words novia, or esposa, because for a long time he actually thought he would never have something, someone that could be the parallel to that in his life.

And the realization that his brain correlated the idea of you with the idea of… that, for the first time in his life, didn’t scare the shit out of him.

It was late, you were tired of checking the clock and your watch and not seeing the handles moving forward. You hated feeling like time was still, and you hated not knowing what the hell was going on.

You had spent some hours busy with copying and collecting some more documents and then tried to write some reports, but you were extremely anxious and so desperate because no one knew what was going on and you were dreading the outcome of all of that.

Stoddard was watching you pace between the desks, handing you cigarettes while you tried to find relaxation by chain smoking. Feistl and was sitting on his desk typing his nerves away when a phone rang. Feistl’s phone.

You turned to watch him answer it and say one word, turning to look back at you, he listened for two seconds and then he hung up.

“He has her.” he said.

You felt your soul come back to your body and for the first time since the last kiss you gave him in the parking lot of your building, forcing yourself to separate from him, you could fill your lungs with fresh air that smelled like relief.

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[autism-corner]

more spreadsheet talk below cut bc i wanna talk more =w=b

(sorry for the shit quality) anyway ofc ive already tallied how many points everyone has, but here is a comparison between everyone, and how alike they are!! the grey numbers are the amount of points they have in common (so +1 if both True or if both False) <3 the coloured ones are the percentiles of those same numbers

im actually very suprised by how un-alike nene and leviathan rank according to this, i thought theyd be WAY closer.....

the other negative outlier is neneVSyakumo... i get that they wouldnt get like. 80% similarity but it is the lowest out of all of them =3=. oh well!!

the positive outliers are mainly rinVSblade andarakawaVSseiko!! both make entirely sense. rin and blade both fit into the relatively-niche "ENERGY" and "robot-related" squares so i guess that adds up!! i already made a post about arakawa and seiko (plus mayoi and nene) and how theyre all basically the same character, so that is no suprise <3

actually looking at it now, the three pairs in the 70%-80% range (bladeVSleviathan, bladeVSyakumo & yakumoVSrin) are really suprising... i never really thought about those characters being like eachother before but according to this graph.... they are pretty close!

new picture!! this time about how certain categories seem linked even though they barely are: no emotions VS secretive VS smartass!! every single one has a check by the 4 same people and no one else! isnt that awesome! ig 'no emotions' and 'secretive' are pretty alike but i still didnt expect this!! (i rearanged the categories after filling em all in. they were not in this order while i did so)

another of the same thing happening!! this time between 'sleeps with stuffed animals' and 'would like my room'!! ig theyre somewhat related since i consider my room "childish" so eh <3

btw about the 'would like my room' category, i fucking love my room but its pretty. eccentric. for the usual person. its pretty maximalis with printed images from fandoms all over my walls and warderobes, theres coloured flags all over my ceiling, etcetc. it can be a lot. i wish id feel comfortable enough to post it publically but i do not =w=b oh well!!

back to the sheet; things id still like to add:

i forgor :skull:

i swear i had at least one thing i still wanted to add but. ig since i left the "SPREADSHEET SPREADSHEET SPREADSHEET" phase my brain forced me in i cant think of stuff ever. =3=p

ive finally become aware of reality again after spending two hours focused on a spreadsheet.

anyway enjoy my blorbo-bingo sheet!!!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Not Bad

Prompts: Hihi, i have a Merlin prompt if you're interested. Merlin thinks he's a bad person bec he was taught that magic is bad, but also Bec of all the stuff he did/does to keep Arthur safe and ig throw in some touch starved!Merlin too for fun. But the knights compliment/hug/etc all the time and Merlin just doesn't understand what he's supposed to do with this, so the solution is to breakdown crying and try to convince the knights he's the bad person he sees himself as and the knights are just like "but you're wrong and he's 25 reasons why you're wrong" Plz, thx, love your writing - anon

im a fuckin sucker for soft knights & arthur w merlin so, if ur still takings reqs, i would love to see when the knights realize merlin still views himself as a "monster" like is hinted in first ep (? i thinkk, im rusty on my merlin trivia)- is it a passing comment he makes and they realize all together? knight cuddle pile? just give the poor boy some love - anon

if you'd want to write it i'd love to see the collective moment that the knights realize that merlin is self-harming in some way (in my brain this is probably in like a denial-of-things type thing that he probably doesn't even see as self-harm bc he's an idiot, could even be something like healing everyone else w magic but refusing to heal himself... idk feel free to do whatever you see fit!). i can only imagine they'd be frustrated with him and themselves but theyre just loving large idiots (': - anon

ahh yes all the prompts

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: implied/referenced self-harm in the form of intentionally depriving oneself of physical contact because THAT COUNTS

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic I don't care

Word Count: 3462

Arthur is confused, very upset, and nothing is alright anymore, thank you very much.

Because you see, despite the image that he tries to present—emphasis on the word ‘try’, there, according to his knights—he does care an awful lot about his people, especially his one particular person that happens to be able to say an awful lot without saying anything.

Merlin. He’s talking about Merlin, in case you hadn’t noticed.

The problem is that for all the man can ramble on about seemingly anything, at any time, he’s remarkably good at saying absolutely nothing about himself. He claims he’s an open book, but he’s certainly in a language that Arthur doesn’t know how to read.

He does know how to read, just to clarify. That isn’t the issue here.

No, no, the issue is that after months, years, almost a decade of Merlin by his side, watching his back, taking care of him, he’s discovered that there’s a secret that Merlin’s keeping from him. One he never intended to tell Arthur.

And before you panic, no, he’s not talking about Merlin’s magic.

Come on, it’s not like it’s not obvious, the man isn’t exactly good at hiding it. Does he seriously believe Arthur can’t see the tree branches that miraculously pick themselves up and fly at the nearest bandit or the spears that fling themselves at the foe about to behind Gwaine? Or the chores that mysteriously get done too fast for Merlin and far too efficiently? Or the way certain magical ailments seem to vanish mysteriously along with his idiot of a servant only to be greeted with a soft shrug when he pokes?

Merlin’s eyes also turn gold, that’s pretty neat.

So Merlin has magic.

Yes, we know, we had a small tantrum over the fact that he told Lancelot first, but it’s fine. Quite frankly, a lot of things make more sense now.

Except for this. Not this.

Merlin is hiding the secret that he believes he’s a bad person.

Now, Arthur’s not sure if you’ve met Merlin, but the man isn’t exactly the image of the evildoer that springs to mind when someone says ‘bad person.’

The Witch Finder, now there’s a bad person. Storming into Camelot, preying on the fear of the people, bribing and threatening and drugging people, torturing them, and condemning them to death just for the sake of a few coins.

Merlin did storm into Camelot, that is true, but he decided to pick a fight with the crown prince and then save his life. He’s not here for coin—if he were, they wouldn’t have had that small, er, issue about the steward not paying him anything for his work for the past eight years, honestly—and he’s certainly not preying on anyone’s fears. Except perhaps Arthur’s fear of losing his dignity.

The look on his father’s face when Merlin dodged the pillow…

Speaking of his father…there’s another one.

His father did not prey as openly on the people’s fear—or as obviously as Aredian, but prey on them he did. He was a strong king, sometimes too strong. He was a blind king, saw the people as nothing more than subjects, not the living breathing humans they are. He remembers Morgana’s voice, saying that authority should derive from the consent of the governed, not from the threat of force.

He always wanted to see Uther’s face when his ward—when his daughter said that to him.

And what he’s done to Morgana…

Arthur grimaces and shakes his head. Perhaps the very truth that he resents the idea of thinking about what Uther did to Morgana, to him…perhaps that is enough.

Those are bad people. At least to Arthur.

Merlin, on the other hand…

Merlin came into Camelot, knowing that if it was discovered that he has magic, he would be burnt at the stake. He came, not with any aspirations of glory, simply because he trusted his mother when she told him to come to Gaius. He came and he was given a job he never asked for, one he had no idea how to do, and stayed.

Merlin learned. Slowly, perhaps, but he learned. Now he has enough knowledge on what a servant should do to break the rules in the most spectacular fashion. Arthur smiles, biting back the chuckle at seeing George dressed up like Merlin and acting perfectly proper and the urge Arthur had to throw him out of the room.

And that’s not even mentioning what he does when he’s not following Arthur around.

Merlin learned. Merlin stayed.

Not just for Gaius, but for Arthur.

Arthur leans onto his desk, staring out into the courtyard where Merlin is tending to the knights’ horses as they mount up for patrol. He watches Leon step a little closer, lowering his head to mutter something to him, watching Gwaine clap Merlin on the shoulder.

Watches Merlin flinch a little too hard.

Watches Leon’s brow furrow and Gwaine take a step back.

This. This is the problem.

Merlin believes he’s a bad person. Which is wrong, but for some reason, he does.

And because Merlin believes he’s a bad person, he believes that anytime one of the knights touches him—or anyone touches him—it will be to hurt him.

How did they come to this conclusion, you may ask?

Arthur bites back a snarl as he turns away from the window.

It had started with the complements.

Gwaine, to no one’s surprise, was quite fond of flirting with anyone and everyone that would let him, Merlin no exception. Talking about Merlin’s looks, his personality, his work ethic, anything, and everything. Merlin would flush, bright red, ears and all, mumbling to himself.

But then Percival had said something and Merlin pushed him away—well, prodded his arm, no one really moves Percival without Percival letting them—and shook his head. Percival had shrugged but the rest of them had noticed the tension in Merlin’s shoulders.

Then Elyan complemented Merlin’s tracking abilities and Merlin hadn’t even acknowledged it, instead insisting that they keep moving before it got too dark to see and they’d be forced to make camp in the woods. They’d agreed, pressing on, but noting the way that Merlin refused to say so much as thank you.

Leon’s perceptiveness should be considered magical. Seriously, Arthur’s not entirely convinced the man can’t see into people’s heads, what with the information he’s able to produce out of nothing more than the twitch of a finger or the slightest huff of breath. But he sees the way Merlin shies away from any display of affection, even as he gently repeats it, watching Merlin turn his back and get back to work.

Arthur never saw what happened with Lancelot. All he knows is that one night, out in the woods, the two of them had gone off to collect firewood and Merlin had been hiding red-rimmed eyes when he returned, a few paces ahead of Lancelot, not ten minutes later. Arthur had glared but the forlorn confusion on Lancelot’s face had given him pause.

Then it was the touching.

One would expect Merlin to be a quite tactile person, and he is. He’s all shoulder nudges and pokes and prods and gentle shoves to get people to move where he wants them to go. And it’s not like the man has much concept of personal space.

No, some of that is not Arthur’s fault, how dare you?

But when someone else tries it, Merlin tenses reflexively, already moving before their hands make contact. He gives everyone he can a wide berth, scuttling around the outside of rooms until one of them breaks and tells him to come here, Merlin, it’s alright, we won’t hurt you. His face never quite believes them.

The strangest thing is how much of it Merlin makes small adjustments for.

He always wears those god-awful tunics, that he won’t let Arthur replace with fabric that doesn’t feel like it’s a burlap sack, with the sleeves pulled all the way down and those kerchiefs tied around his neck. Arthur’s seen his sleeves rolled up before, but only when Merlin’s working and he hasn’t realized Arthur’s there yet. It’s not like Arthur doesn’t know Merlin has forearms, but Merlin will always jump and guiltily roll his sleeves down.

He doesn’t notice why until he accidentally brushes Merlin’s bare skin once and Merlin all but tears away like he’s been burned.

He doesn’t know why.

Merlin has a secret. The secret is that he believes he’s a bad person. That means he can’t accept compliments and he can’t let them touch him.

This is a problem, because Arthur would very much like for Merlin to believe that he isn’t a bad person.

This is also a problem because Arthur has no idea how to do that.

He looks up when there’s a knock on the door.

“Enter.”

“Sire?” Leon steps through. “May we come in?”

Arthur nods, his eyebrows raising as all of his knights spill into the room.

“Shall I assume you’re on the warpath again?”

“Nah,” Gwaine grumbles, throwing himself into a chair, “know this isn’t your fault.”

Leon shakes his head. “It’s Merlin, sire, we’re…concerned.”

Arthur just sighs and tells them what’s been buzzing around his head for the past…however long it’s been. The knights nod.

“He doesn’t like to be touched when he doesn’t expect it,” Lancelot offers, “but when I ask…he doesn’t seem to want to agree either.”

“But he does,” Gwaine argues, “you’ve seen the way he stares at us when we hug each other, he looks like a poor child that’s never had a hug in his life!”

“Which isn’t true.” Elyan folds his arms. “Gwen’s hugged him.”

“We’ve all hugged him.”

“But he still thinks we’re going to hurt him.”

“Well,” Arthur mutters, “we can’t exactly blame him for being paranoid, can we?”

“If you lot are going to talk about me behind my back like it’s a war council, then yeah, I reserve the right to be paranoid.”

“Merlin!”

“Thank god, where’ve you been?”

“I thought we were meeting by the stables.”

“Did you get hurt?”

Merlin raises his hands and takes a step back. “Whoa, can I get through the door first before the interrogation starts?”

“This isn’t an interrogation,” Arthur says, glaring at the knights, “we’re concerned.”

“Uh-huh,” Merlin mutters, weaving through them to the table so he can set down the thing hooked over his arm, “yes, I’m all too familiar with your concern.”

Arthur frowns. “What does that mean?”

Merlin waves a hand. “Oh, just that it’s a prelude to more chores and things to do.”

Is that…true?

“Yes.”

Did he say that out loud?

“Also yes.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Merlin, we’re not coming up with lists and lists for chores for you to do.”

“Really? With how many you all constantly give me, here I finally thought I’d cracked the code as to why.”

Leon steps forward. “We’re not coming up with things to give you, Merlin, nor are we intending to gossip behind your back.”

“So what are you doing?”

“We’re worried,” Lancelot repeats, “about you.”

“Well, I’m right as rain, no need to worry.”

“Lie.”

Merlin’s eyes go wide and he stares at Leon. The knight smiles ruefully and takes another little step forward.

“Lie,” he repeats gently, “you don’t have to lie to us, Merlin.”

Merlin’s mouth thins. “Maybe I don’t want to tell you, then.”

“Why not—“

“No,” Arthur breaks in, causing Merlin to swing his head around again, “no, if Merlin doesn’t want to tell us he doesn’t have to.”

Gwaine looks on the verge of protest, but another look from Lancelot is enough to quell him. He sinks into the chair and tosses an apple to Merlin.

“At least eat something,” he says by way of explanation, “you’ve not eaten anything since lunch.”

Merlin looks very confused—good, now he’s just like the rest of them—but bites into the apple nonetheless. His gaze travels around the room before coming to rest on Leon.

“Why are you all concerned?”

“Because you won’t let us complement you, Merlin,” Leon says softly, “you believe that every time we touch you we intend to hurt you, and you believe that this is deserved because you are a bad person.”

The flabbergasted look on Merlin’s face is almost enough to make Arthur laugh. Almost.

“How…”

“We notice things, Merlin,” Leon says patiently, “we notice you.”

Lancelot snorts. “Good going, mate, you’ll freak him out.”

“Um—there’s nothing worth noticing about me—“

“Not we all know that’s not true,” Gwaine says, and if it had been any other time it would’ve sounded like the next pick-up line at the tavern, “you’re worth noticing, Merlin.”

Merlin’s gaze darts back and forth, finding no disagreement in any faces.

“What—what were you concerned about?”

“Aside from what we just told you?”

“But I don’t—why is that a problem?”

Arthur swallows a curse. “Are you asking why we’re upset that you believe you’re a bad person and you deserve to be treated badly?”

“…yes?”

“Because you’re not a bad person,” Elyan says, “and you don’t deserve to feel like everyone’s about to hurt you.”

Gods, the look of disbelief on Merlin’s face hurts.

“You don’t know that,” he says lowly, setting the apple down, “you don’t know that.”

“Sure we do.” Elyan uncrosses his arms. “We know you, Merlin.”

“I don’t think you do.”

A look passes around the group of knights. Elyan smiles.

“I know that Gwen came home and told me she’d made a friend the first week you arrived in Camelot. I know that you’ve reminded us what family means. I know that you care, Merlin, about your friends, because they’re important to you.”

Merlin blinks in confusion.

“I know you’re a strong man,” Percival says, “and not just because you can lift the packs for the horses without complaining. But you work hard, because you know you can, and so that people don’t have to. You provide what you can because you know what it’s like to have nothing.”

“I—I—“

“I know you’re brave,” Lancelot says softly, standing, “I know you feel the same fear that we all do and you stare it straight in the face.”

He pauses, takes one step closer.

“I know you don’t chase the glory of being brave, but the feeling of being brave and using it.”

“Guys, I—“

“I know what you’ve done.”

Merlin’s face goes pale at Leon’s words.

The knight tilts his head to the side and smiles.

“I’ve been around the longest,” he says in a near whisper, “and I have seen the changes from when you arrived in Camelot until now. I’ve seen the differences, not just in the other men in this room but in Camelot.”

He lays a hand on his chest.

“I know that you’ve made me prouder to serve this kingdom than many others that have tried.”

Poor Merlin is shaking right now, his fingers trembling on the edge of the table. He looks around in confusion, terribly frightened, sending more aches through Arthur’s chest.

“You wouldn’t say that—“ he gasps— “you wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

“That—that I—“ Merlin’s breaths start to ring in the chamber— “I—I—“

“That you have magic?”

Merlin’s head jerks around to stare at Arthur. Arthur raises his hands and takes a step closer. Merlin flinches.

“It’s alright, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “I’m not angry. I’m not going to hurt you. You have magic, though, right?”

“Yes—yes, I—but I’ve only ever used it for—for you Arthur, I—“

“Easy,” he soothes, fighting the urge to reach out and pull him close, “I know. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” Merlin all but whimpers, “it’s not okay, it’s bad, it’s bad and I’m bad, I’m bad—“

“You’re not.”

“I am!”

Merlin yanks his arms to his sides, curling them tightly around himself, much to the protest of the knights. His fingers whiten as he clutches the sides of his tunic.

“I’m bad, bad people get hurt, you don’t—you don’t touch bad people.”

“Merlin,” Arthur breaks in softly, “Merlin, sweetheart, I’m going to come over to you.”

He can hear the quickly stifled gasps and Gwaine’s ‘oh shit’ as he inches towards Merlin. The poor man doesn’t move, but the tremors get worse and worse the closer Arthur gets.

“I’m right here,” he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you, sweetheart, do you believe me? That I won’t hurt you?”

“I—I—“

“Because I won’t,” he promises, still fighting the urge to swoop the poor thing into a hug, “I’ll never hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not bad, Merlin, and you certainly don’t deserve to be hurt.”

“You don’t know that,” comes the strangled whisper, “you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“But I know you, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, “and that’s enough.”

He can’t stop the concerned noise at Merlin’s huff of disbelief.

“It’s enough, sweetheart, it’s—hey! Easy, easy,” he soothes as Merlin’s knees buckle and he catches him before he can hit the ground, “I’ve got you, shh, shh, you’re alright.”

“Oh,” Lancelot murmurs as Merlin starts to shiver terribly, “oh, Merlin, you’re touch starved.”

“Touch starved?”

“He’s not been touched for a very long time,” Lancelot murmurs, hustling to join them on the floor, scooping Merlin’s legs into his lap, “and so he’s not used to it, but he needs it.”

“We all need touch?”

“Yes, otherwise our bodies get…unhappy.” Lancelot shakes his head. “I’m sure Gaius could explain it more. The short version is humans aren’t built to hold each other at arm’s length.”

Arthur tightens his grip on the lapful of shaking Merlin he has. There’s a cold nose buried in the crook of his neck, arms looping awkwardly around his shoulders. Distantly, he hears the scufflings of the other knights as they move closer.

“We’ve got you, sweetheart,” he fins himself whispering, “we’ve got you, we won’t hurt you, you’re safe, you’re good, we have you, it’s alright, now…”

Poor Merlin is still shuddering terribly.

“Shh, shh, easy, just try and relax, we have you…”

Since when has Merlin been this cold?

“Oh, I’m definitely hugging you every day,” Gwaine mutters, helping to prop Merlin up away from the table.

“Why—“ Merlin swallows— “why are you all so warm?”

“You’re cold,” Arthur says, “we’re helping.”

“I’m—I’m—what is it? Touch—touch—“

“Touch starved,” Lancelot offers gently, “yes, Merlin.”

“You’re helping?”

Gwaine shifts behind him. “We’re helping.”

“You’re not…mad?”

“No, Merlin, we’re not mad.”

“I’m not bad?”

Arthur tightens his grip. “Never, Merlin.”

“You—I can—I can stay?”

“Yes, Merlin,” comes the chorus of knights, “for as long as you like.”

Arthur is still upset, very confused, and more than a little overprotective right now.

But so is Merlin.

And they’re…they’re starting to figure it out.

One thing’s for sure: Arthur’s definitely pulling Merlin into bed to cuddle with him instead of getting up in the morning.