#in fact if you read about it there is a possiblity that there will be a language divergence between international english or global english

[muntitled]

Hangman

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyone could see the conflict warring within your irses.

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

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

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

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

It was only one game.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had you no sense of self preservation at all?

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

Has that predator finally arrived?

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

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

Nothing seemed particularly wrong with him at first glance.

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

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

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

He looked so painfully normal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That thought calms you somewhat.

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

“Are you familiar with it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where were these wild eyes then?

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

“Please let me go-”

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

They're absolutely black.

“Guess a letter, Doll."

You steal your nerves. Your shoulders slump.

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

Fear and something else.

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

“Care to share,”

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

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

“Macabre. The word is ‘macabre.’”

A slow almost predatory grin stretches across his face.

“How much did you say tuition was?”

Your heart stammers in its chest.

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

You had it memorized.

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

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

What a remarkable day this had turned out to be.

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

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

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

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

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

“E?”

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

“Shit-”

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

“I-”

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

4 chances left.

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

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

“Uh- ‘c’”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god-”

“2 more guesses.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That's my answer. “Toy”

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

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

Is masochism a symptom of loneliness?

“Please-”

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

“D-Did I not get it right?"

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

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

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

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

He watches the blood smudged across your thigh.

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

'Spit.’ He commands.

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

He makes you feel so scared, so wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your voice is hoarse. “I'm on your-”

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

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

He needed you.

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

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

[sturnslutz]

honey dryhumping chris for the first time...

read their headcannons here!

you didn’t know how it got to this point. chris had come over again to “study” or attempt to. he laughed at the fact you actually thought he came to only study with you after the first time you guys fucked.

chris had somehow managed to get you on top of his lap despite your efforts to keep him on task, but you didn’t necessarily get off him at any time.

he had proposed a new advance in your.. whatever the two of you were. “cmon it’s gonna be fine. it’s just dry humping, no actual sex. plus i don’t know why you’re so scared we literally fucked already.”

“m’ not scared, chris.” you say as you bury your face into his shoulder. he rolls his eyes and smiles while rubbing your back up and down, reassuring you.

“we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, honey. it’s not that big of a deal, don’t worry about it.”

“no no! i want to, i just don’t think ill be very good at it…” you say, expressing as you sit back up, looking away in embarrassment at the last sentence.

“that’s why we can practice and i’ll teach you. plus, dryhumping ain’t that hard. we jus’ makeout and you kinda jus’ grin’ yourself on me. it feels good for both of us.”

“okay… do we have to take our clothes off?” you say as your shyness rebuilds. he laughs while shaking his head. “you worry too much. and no, we don’t have to. it’s more of a preference type thing. if you wanna take your shirt off you can. i can take mine off because i know how much you like rubbing your hands all over.”

your ears practically perk up at the moment he mentions taking his shirt off. he didn’t have tattoos or anything, but the feeling of rubbing your cold, soft hands over his biceps, stomach, and just upper body made you feel amazing.

“o-okay.” you nod, smiling a bit as you make eye contact with him again. he nods, smirking as he grips your hips tighter to himself so you don’t fall, before swiftly taking off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on your floor.

your gaze immediately drops as you lean your hands down, causing a hiss to come out of him as he feels your cold hands touch him.

“okay, you ready, baby?” he asks while rubbing your thighs. you hum and lean down, kissing him softly. he immediately reciprocated the kiss, going slowly at first to help get you worked up.

he let his hands roam over your body, going over every inch, curve, material, and everything that he could reach with an arm’s distance. he then grabbed your hips, moving you himself, grinding you slowly against his covered torso.

you gasp against his lips as your jeans rubbed against his, the edge of your zipper hitting a specific spot against you as his hardness pushes it up towards you. “y’like that?” he mutters against your lips, taking a small breath in between, letting you do the same.

you couldn’t get words out so you just nodded, letting him do the same movements with your body over and over, causing your panties to get soaked.

“fuck, chris. ‘m close.” you say, panting against his mouth as he nods, letting out a small, “same.” he grinds himself more into you, as you take over the lead of your own body, matching his own movements perfectly.

“fuck honey. gon’ make me cum in my pants.” the two of you kept the same movements as you pulled your lips away from his, burying your head in his neck, whimpering softly as you tremble against him, your movements coming to a stop.

once he realized you reached your climax, he groaned, cumming in his boxers, allowing a dark spot to appear on his jeans. the two of you are left panting against each other as he kisses your cheek, whispering soft praises into your ear.

the confidence you built up slowly diminishes once again as you bury yourself deeper into his neck, if possible, to help escape the reality of what happened, that chris made you cum in your panties, and you made him cum in his pants.

a/n: ugh. only if hockeyplayer!chris could be this nice in the future.

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @angeliijay12-blog @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris @ilovedanielcaesar @sofieeeeex @chr0mehrts @cockettechris @iloveduckssm comment to be added or removed.

[haerinari]

A PARTY TO REMEMBER

pairing: vampire!heeseung x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, smut, pwp, Decelis Academy au warnings: smut content, drinking, kissing, ass grabbing, bitting, tit sucking, nipple play, dirty talking, oral (f.reciving), pussy slapping, fingering, big dick hee, blood, vampire stuff, unprotected sex (don’t do this guys), a bit of chocking, cum eating. want to keep reading? click here ⬇️

YOU’RE INVITED TO OUT BLOODY BIRTHDAY PARTY.

“Y/N, wait a second!” a voice exclaimed behind you, you turned around, seeing the familiar face of the boy who you were very used to see every day at the Academy.

“Heeseung, hi. Is everything okay?” you asked with a small smile on your face, your heart staring to pump faster as the boy came closer to you.

Heeseung was a very handsome and popular boy at your Academy. He and his group of friends Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon and Ni-ki were known for their mysterious appearance and charming personality.

“Yeah, yeah.” he said. “I just wanted to give you this…”

Heeseung took a out of his backpack a piece of paper that seemed like a card, he gave it to you, a dark blue piece of paper that had written on the front “An Invitation To Our Bloody Birthday Party, To: Y/N.”

“Oh, thanks, Hee. I knew your birthday was coming up but I didn’t knew you were throwing a party.” he chuckled.

“Yeah, we decided that we wanted a big birthday this year.”

“We?” you repeated, a confused look in your face.

“Mhm.” he nodded. “Y’know, me and my friends. We all have the same birthday.”

“That’s—that’s an interesting thing to know…” you thought for a moment. “But anyway, thanks for the invitation, Hee.”

“No problem! Friday night, okay? 9pm, try not to be late. The dress code is our uniform… and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Please come, i’m excited to have you there.”

“I’m surely going to be there, don’t worry.” you giggled. “And again, thanks for the invitation.”

“See you Friday night then.” Heeseung waved you goodbye with a smile on his face and continued walking.

You looked down and the invitation on your hands, taking out the white piece of paper that was inside the blue one.

You’re invited to our bloody birthday party.

Sometimes, walking down the deadly path

Without fleeing from death itself

Can give rise to the most wondrous creation

We hope you will be able to come.

Huh, this was a very—very interesting birthday invitation. Bloody Birthday Party? What does that even mean? And the fact that they all have the same birthday, makes the situation even stranger.

Students talked a lot about Heeseung and his friends. Most of the time were good things —most of the time— but the rumor about them going to the forest at night to kill animals and drink their blood, never left the Academy. People made theories about it, maybe they were sick of their mind, maybe they were crazy—even murders. But the craziest of them was the one that said they were all vampires.

Of course you liked Heeseung—and not just in the friendly way. His handsome face and polite manners caught your attention since the first day you met him at the Decelis Academy. He was always kind and friendly to you, who could possibly not fall for him? You also had a good relationship with his friends, Jake and Jay were your chemistry partners at class, Sunghoon was your very first friend at the Academy, you tutored Sunoo and Jungwon a few times for math class, and Ni-ki—well, he hit you on the face with a ball by accident.

ding dong!

You stood in front of the party’s door, loud music pumping from the inside. It was as a dark night, the cold breeze running to your body sending a shiver down to your spine, an unpleasant and uneasy feeling invading your body.

“Y/N, you finally came!” the door opened, revealing a messy hair Heeseung on the inside. His tie was a little bit loose and he had a red cup on his hand, probably de liquor he was drinking.

“Hey.” you smiled. “Sorry for the waiting, I had some work to do…”

“Don’t worry. Come in, come in.” Heeseung stepped aside letting you in, the room was full of people dancing and drinking, there was a disco-ball illuminating with flashing lights the room and everyone seemed to have a good time.

“Follow me, let’s say hello to the other guys.”

Heeseung’s arm wrapped over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him to make sure you wouldn’t lose in the crowd. He took you to the living room, where all his friends were laughing and drinking with each other.

“Hey guys!” Heeseung spoke, gaining the attention of his friends. “Look who finally came…”

“Y/N!” Sunoo exclaimed, raising his arms in excitement.

“Happy birthday you guys!” you pull them all into a tight hug, congratulating them one by one.

“Hey, I remember you.” the youngest of them, Riki, said. “You’re the girl I hit with a ball last week.”

“Yeah…” you answered.

“Sorry about that, nice to finally meet you.” he smiled.

“There’s drinks and food at the kitchen.” Jake said and Sunghoon nodded. “Take whatever you want and have fun.” Jungwon added.

“I’ll get her a drink, see you later boys.”

Heeseung got you out of the conversation with the boys and guided you towards the kitchen. A lot of students were passed out in the couches due to the alcohol in their systems and a few of them were making out in hidden corners of the room.

There were a lot types of drinks in the counter, particularly every single one of them being color red. Maybe this was what the invitation ment with “Bloody Birthday Party.”

“You really got into the theme, huh?” you smirked, speaking as loud as possible for Heeseung to hear you. “Even the drinks look like real blood.”

“I know, right.” he chuckled. “We put a lot of effort in it.”

Heeseung handed you the drink he was making for you, the red substance looking pretty temptress in your hands.

You gave it a sip, the drink actually tasting really good, a mix of strong liquor and something that you couldn’t guess if it was strawberry or watermelon burning down your throat. It tastes good, you thought.

“I’m glad you like it.” the boy said.

“How do you even know I like it?” you spoke back.

“You thought about it.”

“I actually did.” you laughed. “How did you know? It’s actually really, really good.”

“Just a little guess… C’mon, I want to show you something.”

Heeseung took your hand and dragged you through the crowd once again. God, he has been so touchy with you since you came in here. It’s not like you had something planned for tonight to get with Heeseung—it was his birthday party after all—but deep down in your mind you wished for him to make a move.

You started to hear the music and people talking less and less every minute. Heeseung’s hand was still dragging you up the stairs to what seemed the second floor of the house.

“Heeseung, where are we going?” you asked in confusion. why was he keeping you afar from the party?

“To my room.” he simply answered.

“Your—your room?” you stuttered. “But what about the party? You’re the birthday boy, you can’t just leave!”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I just want to show you something. Besides, the other boys are down there.”

“Okay…”

Heeseung opened the door of what appeared to be his room, you entered the unknown space and then he came after you. The bedroom had actually a lot of space, a big bed with a desk on the side, a tv—but what actually caught your attention was the balcony that was illuminated by the moonlight.

“Oh, wow.” you murmured.

You stepped into the balcony, allowing the cold breeze to run through your hair. The view was amazing, the moon and stars were shining bright and you could almost see the entire Academy from here.

“Beautiful view isn’t it?” Heeseung said, standing beside you while admiring the big bright moon.

“Absolutely yes, you’re lucky to have this view every day.”

“Right? I know…”

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice that Heeseung wasn’t looking at the sky anymore, he was actually looking at you.

“What are you looking at?” you chuckled nervously, trying to avoid eye contact at all costs.

“Hmm, just the view.” he smirked.

“Oh, shut up.” you pushed his arm softly. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“It means I like you.”

Wait—what? Oh god, Heeseung, your crush for the last few months was actually confessing that he liked you.

“I know you like me too.” he smiled.

“Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure about that, huh?”

“Because you…” he paused for a second, getting so close to you in a way that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. “…just thought about how i’ve been your crush for the past months.”

How could he possibly know what you were thinking? First it happened with the drink, now with this—

“How are you reading my mind?” you whispered, your lips so close to his that they were almost touching.

“I know a lot of things, baby.” Heeseung whispered back.

He got even closer to you, almost closing the small amount of distance that was left. His lips brushed against your cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through your body and shivers down your spine. His hands were on your hips, the tension between you two growing stronger second by second.

Heeseung’s lips finally met yours, kissing you in a slowly sensual way as if he was trying to take his time with you. The kiss eventually heated up pretty quickly, the wet smacking sounds and labored breathing was the only thing that could be heard. His tongue entered your mouth, dancing with your own wet muscle who was trying to gain control, of course you failed. Heeseung’s hands went from your hips to your ass, squeezing harshly and provoking a moan from your mouth.

“You’ll let me have you, right?”

He didn’t even need to hear an answer, the way your body was reacting to his touch was as enough green light for him to continue.

Heeseung guided you carefully to the soft mattress of his bed, his lips never leaving yours. His hands started to touch your body, taking off your tie and untying the white Academy Uniform you were wearing. One of his hands cupped your breast, pulling your lacy white bra to the side so he could feel how hard your nipples were starting to get.

“Fuck…” you moaned. Heeseung’s lips went from kissing your lips, to your jaw, to finally meet the soft skin of your neck. He started to suck there, discovering that every inch of your neck was one of your sweet spots.

His lips nipped all over your skin, biting and sucking it in a way that was making you see stars. He bit a particular place that got your eyes rolling at the back of your head, the burning pain of his teeth sinking down your skin adding more pleasure than you were feeling before.

“Auch!” you hissed.

“You like that? You like that baby? Yeah, me too.” he whispered before biting the same spot again.

His hot mouth went down to kiss your collarbone while one of his hands was busy unclasping your bra. He took it completely off, throwing it at one side of the bed, your soft breasts and erect nipples coming out freely.

His hands reached out and started to squeeze your tits, his fingers pinching your nipples as a moan scapes your lips. Heeseung’s swollen lips came to suck on of your nipples, his mouth pulling the flesh as hard as he could. Your back arched, trying to press your chest as close as you could to his mouth. The hot muscle came to your other tit, his tongue flicking your erect nipple while his hand was caressing your other breast.

He traveled a path of kisses from your tits to where you uniform skirt started, you took it off in a quick motion, trying to get some friction in where you need it the most.

“So desperate, huh…” he kissed you inner tights. “Want me to suck your pussy, baby? Want me to make you feel good?”

“Just—stop with the teasing, please.” you begged, your hips bucking up trying to find some sort of relief.

“You really need me, don’t you?” he giggled.

“Heeseung, please.” you groaned in frustration. “Please…”

“Just because you asked it so nicely.”

He took your panties off, his head between your tights as he spread your pussy lips apart. Heeseung finally leaned in, his tongue poking out to lick your clit.

“Fuck!” you gasped.

He began to lick and suck at your clit, his movements becoming stronger as he tried his best to please you. He groaned, the vibrations going directly to your throbbing cunt, his tongue moving roughly against your sensitive flesh. You moaned in pleasure, your hand coming down to his hair trying to push him even closer to you. He sucked and slurped loudly as he devoured your pussy, just like a starved man. One of his fingers came into your hole, stretching you to prepare you for what would be coming in a few minutes. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to climax, your body trembling with anticipation.

“I’m gonna—shit— i think I’m cumming.” your hands grabbed the sheets behind you, searching for some kind of support.

“Taste so fucking good, baby… Just want you to cum in my face.”

His lips went back to your glistening pussy, he buried his face between your legs, his tongue delving deep into your cunt. You allow yourself to let out a load moan, no one would hear you do to the music, anyways. Heeseung’s tongue was swirling around your bundle of nerves and fucking your pussy.

“Cumming.” you nearly managed to say, biting your lip so hard to muffle your moans you could start taste your own blood.

A slap hit your pussy, the mixture of pain and pleasure making the knot in your stomach instantly snap. He continued to suck your pussy through your orgasm, your juices gushing out as he eats you even harder now. The wetness dripping down his chin as you cum all over his face.

“Shit…” Heeseung panted, his head coming up from between your legs. “That was so fucking hot.”

He crawled up until his lips were on top of yours once again, the mix of your lip blood and your own arousal in Heeseung’s mouth making the kiss intoxicated.

“Blood.” Heeseung said, stopping his movements and staring at your lips. You could feel his dark gaze in you, the only source of light was the moon that was illuminating his face.

“What?” you murmured, to lost in his kisses to even care about what he was saying.

“I can taste blood on your lips.” he repeated.

“I’m sorry—I think I bit my lip too hard.”

“Good.”

He captured your lips in a hungrier kiss, his hands went to unbutton his own shirt, throwing it to the side. Your hands touched his chest and his abs, trying to memorize every single inch of his perfect body. You went down, your fingers untangling his belt, both of his arms on the sides of your head.

Heeseung tossed your hands aside, taking down his own pants and boxers, revealing his hard throbbing length. He stroked himself a little, precum dripping down his red tip. He aligned himself to your entrance, pressing his hard cock against your soaking wet pussy. He slowly started thrusting into you, his thick length stretching you so delicious yet so painfully. He could feel your tight cunt stretching around his girth, a groan coming out from his lips.

His dick was sliding deep into your pussy, his movements hard and fast. You moaned, the feeling of his dick deep into you too good to be true. Your tits moving rhythmically with his trusts, bouncing up and down just right into Heeseung’s face. He kissed both of them, biting and sucking into the soft flesh. Tears were starting to come down from your face, your orgasm approaching faster than you expected.

“You can take it, baby. Take my cock, so fucking good, so fucking tight.” he groaned, his thumb cleaning the tears from your cheeks. “You want to cum, huh?”

The only sound coming from your mouth were incoherent mumbles, you were so cock drunk you couldn’t even speak properly.

“Use your words when I speak to you, Y/N.” a particular hard thrust hit your pussy, making you moan like crazy. Heeseung’s hand went to your throat, adding the perfect amount of pressure for you to feel like in cloud nine.

“Fuck— yes! Please, Hee. Please…” you gasped, the lack of oxygen and the tears in your eyes blurring your sight.

“It’s okay, baby. Let it go, okay? Just be a good girl and cum for me.”

His fingers reached around to rub your clit, making you moan even louder as he fucked you senseless.

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, you pussy clenching hard around his dick. Heeseung was still trying to chase his own orgasm, the overstimulation being too much to your poor sensitive body.

“Shit��now i’m gonna cum.” he panted, his thrust becoming sloppier. “Where do you want it?”

“Tits.” you replied.

He pulled out of you, now kneeling at one side of your body right next to your chest. He began to pump himself faster, moans escaping from his pretty lips.

The next thing you could feel was his hot cum ropes touching your chest, you sticked your tongue out, some of the salty fluid getting into your mouth.

Heeseung landed next to you, his arm around your waist and his face in the crook of your neck, both of you still trying to catch your breaths. He left kisses on your shoulder, making you feel save and loved at the same time.

The cute, soft moment didn’t last long, tho. You hissed, shifting a little uncomfortable as you felt Heeseung’s teeth on your neck again.

“Hey, you like biting, don’t you?” you giggled, hands coming to stroke his hair softly.

“It’s a mark.” he spoke. “Now you’re mine.”

“Yours, huh?” you smiled.

“Mhm, yes.”

The coldness of the night hit you in contrast of the hot atmosphere of Heeseung’s room.

It was around 3am on the morning and everyone already left the party. Of course you didn’t want to leave Heeseung’s side, but you had to get back to your dorm before the classes began.

The scenario of Heeseung and you was repeating in your mind like a movie, you smiled to yourself, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Oh, shit.” you said, stopping abruptly your path and remembering that your tie was still missing. I must left it in Heeseung’s room, you thought.

You went back to the house, opening the door and seeing all the mess that was left behind. Surely all the boys were either too drunk or too lazy to clean the place.

You walked to Heeseung’s room, your hand almost touching the door knob when you heard a strange sound come from another door. You froze, maybe one of the boys was still up. What if someone saw you trying to get into Heeseung’s room?

You heard the strange noise again, deciding to leave Heeseung’s room and walk to the other door. You pressed your ear into it, trying to decipher what was causing the sounds you were hearing.

Taking a deep breath you decided to open the door, and you did not expect to see what was happening.

“What the…”

Your eyes widen in surprise. The room was cover in blood, mostly snakes and other type of animals laying dead or in pieces all across the room.

The seven boys looked at you, too perplexed to continue their actions. All of them were also covered in blood. Sunoo, Sunghoon and Heeseung holding a small snake in his hands.

“Y/N.” Heeseung spoke, panic in his voice trying to find an excuse to save himself and the others. “I swear I can explain…”

[entropy-cat]

I may be a bit late to this, but as someone who has more insight into the workings of AI, I wanted to write a quality longpost on "13 Reasons Why You Shouldn't Be Using Generative AI to Make Fanart", so buckle up. 1. Environmental impact I need all of you to know, generative AI shits out a CO2 brick per prompt. Every time you generate a fanfiction image, you are dooming another rare species of a beetle in the Amazon rainforest to extinction. I wish I were exaggarating, but I am not. A single prompt to an LLM like ChatGPT uses up the amount of electricity Commodore 64, one of the first house computers, would use in an hour of intense work. Image generation is worse. Currently, the use of generative AI consumes as much electricity as the entire country of Ireland on a yearly basis (approximately 29 TWh). As of now, IT sector is responsible to 2-4% of global emissions per year, but due to rapid growth of generative AI, it is estimated that by 2040 it will be responsible for a whooping 14%. If you have any love for the environment at all, don't use generative AI for anything unless a use-case vastly improves your quality of life (or you know the servers are in a location that uses 100% renewables/nuclear, but that's highly improbable). Yes, generative AI can be a useful tool for automating repetetive work, but it must be used responsibly. Here are some nice articles where you can start reading about this. https://arxiv.org/abs/1906.02243 https://wires.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/widm.1507 2. Academia, privatisation and equality As you've noticed from point 1, generative AI, unlike many other types of AI, uses a metric fuckton of resources. In fact, the sheer intensity of resources now required to produce paper-worthy results has made it increasingly challenging for people working in academia (and in poorer parts of the world in general) to continue contributing to research. This trend towards huge models leads us towards the future where only rich megacorporations will be able to contribute to research. It will simply not be possible for the academia to keep up with industry. Do we want that? I sure as shit don't. 3. In this house we respect artists And we all know how them generative AI companies obtained their training datasets. By scraping everyone's art, oftentimes without consent of the artists whose art they were scraping. I don't support that, and neither should you. So don't engage with the product of a business that works in such ways. 4. Just why? Isn't it the point of a fandom to express our appreciation towards the work we are losing our minds about by creating in the fandom? AI art is missing the expression. It is a work of an algorithm. A set of emotionless, unthinking mathematical equations trained to reproduce what they've seen, then adjust it slightly to comply with what was requested as needed. It is a joyless endeavour producing sterile cellophane-wrapped works completely lacking in warmth. It is counterproductive.

As a final note, I want to say not all AI is generative AI, and not all AI is bad. There are some amazing models, many of them quite low cost, that make the job of accountants, meteorologists, economists, biologists etc. a lot easier, and contribute to research in various fields. And that's great, because that's what AI was meant to be - an efficent tool that improves lives. Not just another form of entertainment in the consumerist hellscape. But capitalism said no, and here we are.

like i'm sorry but we as a fandom have to stay firm on our anti-AI values. we cannot suddenly start giving AI a pass when it's something we "want to see" like destiel kisses. it's not suddenly fine. we're not going to start using AI to make fanfic scenes come to life or audio AI to make characters "say" stuff we want to hear. you have GOT to be firm on your anti-AI stance. if you start making exceptions then suddenly anything will fly. fandom is for real art and creations made by real people. no AI fanfics. no AI art. no AI rendered "bonus" scenes. no AI audio. none of it has a place here.

[cybrasigilism]

husband dae ho and dad dae ho hc NOWW jkjk plsssssz

I love your work

ahh thank you so much! i try my best for you all ^_^

of course i will cook up some more content for my babygirl you don’t even gotta ASK

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Husband/Father Dae-ho Headcanons!

warnings: no NSFW!| certain hcs imply a f!reader, but for the most part the readers gender is pretty inconspicuous | not proofread | lowercase intended | these are my headcanons for this character, please be respectful even if my opinions about the character differ from yours

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

A/N: i think it goes without saying that this is a non-games AU! thank you sm to the anon that requested this, dad-ho is such a cute idea :) as always i hope you enjoy!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

➸ we all know that dae-ho is the epitome of the husband standard

➸ his favourite part of the day is hearing all about how your’s went; if your day was especially hard he’ll insist on giving you a backrub + lots of kisses/if you aren’t a super affectionate person he’ll cook you your favourite meal or even just lend an ear for you to vent about whatever nonsense you had to deal with at work

➸ worships the very ground his spouse walks on. he will proudly show you off and when you talk he looks at you like you’re a work of art in a museum. everyday he thanks his lucky stars that he met someone as perfect as you, even more that you agreed to marry him

➸ cried on your wedding day, he could hardly get through his vows the poor sweetheart

➸ will make you breakfast in bed, even if there’s no special occasion. if you bring this fact up he’ll simply kiss you on the forehead and state that to him, everyday he gets to wake up next to you is a special occasion

➸ was absolutely chuffed when he found out you were pregnant, he could not stop smiling for two whole days + he 100% told all of his close family and friends the good news (with your consent ofc)

➸ you couldn’t have asked for a more supportive partner during the pregnancy, he was incredibly accommodating to your new sensitivities to certain smells/foods, and you already know he was more than willing to go on late-night craving runs. whether it be day or night, you knew you could count on dae-ho to make sure you were as taken care of as possible

➸ he insists that you let him do everything around the house for you, he will not let you lift a finger especially when you get closer to your due date

➸ he definitely read every single parenthood book he could in order to be thoroughly prepared

➸ you just know dae-ho would be the worlds best dad

➸ he makes an effort with the kids, if you’re overwhelmed with work or even just stressed out about life he will gladly take the kids out, taking one thing off your plate

➸ he takes those pretend tea parties very seriously

➸ while he would be a great boy dad, lets not kid ourselves, kang dae-ho was born to be a girl dad

➸ goes to every single daddy-daughter dance

➸ he gets just as immersed in the bedtime stories as the kids do when you tell them, he’ll hunker down right next to the kids when you read stories

➸ definitely gets just as involved in christmas shopping for them as you are, hell, he might even be more involved

➸ takes santa claus/the tooth fairy/easter bunny extremely seriously. he’ll go the whole nine yards in making it look like any three of them stopped in the night before their respective events

➸ will happily dress up in group costumes for the kids if they need an extra

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

thank you again anon for requesting this! i had lots of fun crafting up some headcanons for husband/dad! dae-ho and i certainly hope i did not disappoint! as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is not only appreciated but requested! thanks for reading :)

[dollwrites]

sɴᴀᴘ ᴍʏ ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇʀ ! ┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ᴛᴏᴊɪ ғᴜsʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｔｙｐｅ ┊ standalone

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ ┊ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, age gap, dubcon, throat fucking, pet names ( daddy ; little girl ), mean toji :3, all characters featured are aged 18+

ｉｍｐｏｒｔａｎｔ ┊ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“W-wait—!” breath after breath you try to suck in, but every single one is stolen from you as Toji’s hips buck back and forth, filling your mouth with hard, strong cock. the swollen tip batters the entrance to your throat in a relentless, rapid-fire punch that has your eyes watering. with both hands against his thighs, you try to rip your head back and ask for a moment to get used to the way he fucked your face.

”Stop pulling away, little girl.” Toji grunts, a rumble of pleasure in the back of his throat more akin to the growl of a hungry animal than a moan from a man being pleasured. “Not done yet.“

After a desperate moment of struggle, you manage to pull away for a split second. falling on to your butt on the floor, your back smacks against the wall and you heave out a couple of ragged breaths. “F—fuck, daddy…” you mutter, but it’s hardly audible amidst your panting. blinking the tears away from your eyes, you wipe the drool from your chin and cheeks with the back of your hand. “I… can’t… breathe…”

“Did I ask?”

such a simple question, but the weight of it hit you like a sack of bricks, and your wide eyes flit up to catch the daunting sight of him. tall, broad, and blocking out the flickering light of the ceiling lamp as he steps closer, bathing you in his massive shadow. both feet plant themselves on either side of you, pinning you there, whilst a gargantuan fist snatches your hair into it at the scalp, pushing the back of your head flush with the wall behind you. ”Learn to breathe through your nose, or don’t breathe at all. I don’t give a damn.“ looking down at you as your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, and your mouth hangs open, as if he’s fucked all the muscles loose, he chuckles a bit. “I will put my cock down your throat, sweetheart,” as he tells you this inescapable fact, his free hand flees to your neck, where his middle finger hooks underneath the thin, sparkly choker necklace adorning it. “And I’m gonna watch this break at the same time your will does. You got me?”

if your jaw wasn’t so sore, hanging slack, you would’ve been able to bite down on your lower lip, hesitant about the idea. Toji’s dick was huge, and you could just barely handle it when you would wrap your hands around his base to keep him from facefucking you too deep, but this time, he was going to try and force it down your throat? you swallow around the lump beginning to grow as you stare at the cock before you, shiny with spit and jabbing upwards towards the man it belonged to. he held all of the power.

you nod once, before an abrupt jut of his hips fills your mouth with cock once more. you feel the head push against the back of your throat, but he doesn’t pull back. instead, with his fist tightening on your hair, his knees against the wall as he keeps you in place, he uses a fraction of the strength he possesses to bully his way into your throat. a flustered gurgle dies in your mouth, drool oozing from both corners of your mouth as your hands brace against the floor instead of attempting to push him away. breathing through your nose was harder to focus on than you’d expected, because the much older man was invading your gullet.

the weight of his balls as they smash against your chin tells you just how deep he is, and when you try to look up at him with one eye squinted, to the point of nearly shutting, you see him grinning. it’s a tooth-gritting, snarling grin as he falls into a rough, fast rhythm. never once pulling out of your throat. battering the virgin canal in ways you never thought possible. “Fuck, that throat’s tight!” he moaned, using one fist on your hair to pull you in to meet his thrusting, “You oughta see how it’s stretching, little girl. My cock looks like it’ll bust right through your neck.“

he didn’t have to tell you; you could already feel it. how big he was compared to your throat, and how you struggled when you were stuffed full. your eyes are watering, the sounds that bubble out from your stretched-open mouth are gargles and whimpers, but you couldn’t deny just how good it felt. your pupils blow themselves out with immense pleasure, and you soak through your panties, your arousal sticking to your thighs as he rubs your throat raw around him over and over again.

“Gonna snap this little cocktease,” Toji mutters, and focus his power and energy on plowing into your throat, prodding the bulge against the tight, flimsy jewelry. you can already hear it start to rip, probably from the middle, as he applies an insane amount of pressure against your throat, and you let out a strangled yelp before it shreds in half, glitter exploding into the air and raining down on you, as if it were confetti to celebrate his victorious conquest. gritty glitter gets caught in the spit and cum oozing from your mouth, glueing it to your countenance. “And the same fucking thing will happen every time you wear one of these things around me. Remember that, baby.“

[bonbonly]

𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: heavily inspired by hannibal - after hearing tons of praise in regards to psychiatrist!max verstappen, you decide to test your luck and see what his true colors are 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧��𝐬: this is a dark fic! you have been warned! do not read if you're not comfortable with dark fics or any of the following in this fic: dubcon, drugging/aphrodisiac, knife play, cunnilingus, p in v, character death, reader is not a good person, blood/gore, slapping 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i want to give a special shoutout to @gokyrts because look at the abomination she's made me write, oh my god...

"mr. verstappen's skills knows no bounds, but the only ones being bound under his spell are the countless patients he must've paid to spread his work as if it were a gospel," you echoed the words that you wrote onto your laptop, the rough draft being filled with small notes on the side of the document to remind you of any criticism of the man that you might've missed the first time. your fingers drummed against the keys of your laptop, your brows furrowed as you tried to find another sentence to add. to spite him. to inform him that he had to be a greedy, money hungry hoax. your friends always told you that his appointments were so relaxing, they were very helpful but you saw through his lies. you knew that something had to be up. working as a forensic scientist for the BAU, and secretly organizing a crime blog under a pseudonym, you've racked up enough credentials to be under verstappen's radar. perhaps he was the only one that knew about the blog, and it irked you.

he mentioned once after you stopped by his office to request his presence in the lab. direct orders from your boss, you stated, making it very clear with your tone that you didn't ask for it. you'd rather die than have him near the corpse, stealing all the credit that should rightfully go to you. the depths you went to find the real perpetrator days later was overshadowed by the single fact that verstappen had walked in and saw a petal of a rose just underneath the right calf of the corpse. a careless mistake, he told your boss, but one that could be easily tweaked if you had just scheduled an appointment with him so he could discuss parts of your childhood that you locked away, buried underneath your heels so that every time you stomped around, you imagined it to be the throat of your parents. you were told to accompany the psychiatrist back to his office, and when you dropped him off he merely smiled at you, his dutch accent infiltrating your ears, "you always miss the details, which is surprising because you never seem to do it under your blog, caroli- i mean, ms. (l/n)."

your blood ran cold at his words, and you stumbled out of his office with a hardened glare. he was reading your blog, and had somehow directed it to you. how did he know? there was no possible way for him to know. you worked for the fbi, for peter's sake, you knew how to tidy up evidence, to be careful when lurking through unclear waters. how did the bastard know about this? so, when you typed up the new article criticizing his work and suggesting that he might be behind the disappearance of a few colleagues of yours, you knew he would read it. with full confidence, you wanted him to read it and storm into your office ready to snap your neck.

but he never did. in fact, he never even looked at you at all the next day. or the day after. or the week after. he smiled at your associates, then locked himself in his room, welcoming in patients and booking appointments for the ones too timid to ask him for one. during a lunch break, you walked past his hallway and pressed your ear against his door to listen in to an appointment he had with your friend. the shattering of glass, a muffled scream, the sound of a bullet, metal cracking against her skull, any sound would do for you. you just needed one piece of evidence, but you received none. your friend walked out unscathed, a happy smile on her face as she greeted you back in the lab. your eyes cast down to your hands, a feeling of momentary guilt rising in your gut. you wanted to forge your hands into the fire for writing that article and painting him in a bad light; no favorable colors, no accurate brush strokes, a half-assed attempt where the paint bled through the canvas, seeping through the lines that you carefully concocted. it didn't make sense, you were so sure of it! all the victims -charles, lewis, carlos, daniel - your good friends who were missing had one thing in common: they had booked appointments with verstappen before their disappearance. they also were in contention to get a promotion, daniel had also been a psychiatrist, eagerly waiting for his new life to become the head of the department one day. it was a risky move, but you figured that if you pushed his buttons enough, he'd slip up. he'd expose himself, he'd make a mistake and then you'd have him trapped. the entire BAU would understand that they had a criminal right under their noses this entire time.

for this entire plan to succeed, you had to do a few things. your first plan was to write more articles on your secret blog. while the BAU was scratching their heads about how their confidential cases were being exposed so easily, you were dropping bombshell after bombshell on your blog, your finger always pointing to the psychiatrist that would now look at you across the room with a deadly glint in his eyes. his lips were always in a thin line, and occasionally you caught him smirking whenever you'd miss a detail during analysis. you were predictable to him, and you needed to find a way to defeat him at his own game. there was a reason as to why he hadn't exposed you yet, perhaps the lack of evidence but you realized that there was something about you that made him keep quiet. you had power over him, the thought of it made you giggle uncontrollably at your desk one day, spinning around your chair like a little school girl. the second plan was to use his own tricks against him, which meant finally noticing the smaller details, being smarter than the rest of the team and most importantly, being incredibly fast. whether it be responding to your boss, showing up to a meeting, scavenging a crime scene to find clues or evidence, you had to be first. this entire time the team thought of him as reliable because he was the first one present at all times. you had to change that, had to show the team that the tide was turning to your favor. you noticed the way he'd bite the inside of his cheek, the light illuminating from the side would highlight his cheekbones, the dent a shadow amongst the very little light on his face.

and then finally, the third part of your plan. book the appointment with him. this one hurt your ego the most, but in order to catch him you had to stoop down to his level. making him think that you were willing to open up to him should give him the opportunity to do the same with you, and once vulnerable you could easily coax the truth out of him. you sat across from him on a velvet chair, legs crossed as your eyes traveled around the room, memorizing the layout of his office and the objects that were on display.

"lots of cars i see here," you pointed towards one large model of an RB19 on his shelf. he buried his hands in his pockets, teetering on his toes as he let out a small chuckle,

"i like things that are fast. things that fly, speed through... run," the last word sent shivers down your spine, but you swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and forced a smile at him.

"care for a drink? i got some wine if you'd like?" he walked over to the stand of champagne bottles on display. the glass sparkled under the light, its contents swishing around with each step that he took closer. it reminded you of your guts wanting to spill out and as he grabbed the bottle's neck, you gulped and felt the ghost of his hands tightening around yours. with a cough, you shook your head but he rolled his shoulders in a way of disbelief and stalked over to you with a wine glass in his hand, "please, i think you need it. it's ok, it'll help you relax."

the liquid pooled down your throat, but you kept your eyes open in fear that he might take advantage of you like this. you couldn't let your guard down, not like this. you watched as he settles down on the couch directly across from you, his legs spread out giving you an ample view of what you assumed to be his cock fighting to be restrained in his pants but with a firm snap of his fingers, your eyes flicker up to his face and then you saw the smallest hint of a smile on his face. you hadn't seen one in weeks.

"so why exactly did you book this appointment?" he asked, tilting his head. his hands clasped together, the forefingers coming up to touch his lips. you shrugged in response, before quickly shaking your head. shit, you needed to follow along with the plan you made!

"just... just been having some bad nightmares about my past," you responded. the topic of your parents was sensitive, one that you kept hidden for many years after you graduated high school. their death was their own doing, but somehow you felt that you had a part in it. had the murderer been you, it would've made no difference because the guilt remained. the bystander was far worse than the actual criminal. your mother's head rolling down the hill as your father watched with a twisted back. you winced at the memories, the glass slipping from your hands, "fuck!"

max watched your reactions carefully. his eyes were drawn to the way your fingers hovered over the glass, almost afraid that it would grab you. you paid no mind to the wine stain, but the countless apologies that spilled from your lips was music to his ears. he wanted to hear you say them, but in a very different circumstance. he read every article you wrote, he noticed your shift in behavior around him. he was a psychiatrist; if you wanted to play mind games with him, he was already ten steps ahead. while guiding you to stand near the shelf of cars, he went over to his closet to grab the broom and dustpan. he took off his coat, rolling the sleeves of his shirt before crouching down to gently grab the large pieces of glass. he dragged his finger onto the pool of wine on the floor and licked a long stripe, "such a shame. i always hate seeing my appetite go to waste."

the appointment was cut short much to your chagrin. your carelessness, you thought to yourself, you just didn't understand why you kept making small mistakes like this. you had to train your mind to be better. you sighed and gave one last glance to the RB19 model when you noticed the initials D.R. in italics on the edge of the car. before you could step closer, you felt strong arms grab onto your shoulders, guiding you out the door, "ms. (l/n), i am so sorry about what happened here. i would love to hear more about your past, but perhaps in a setting that might not scare you too much. dinner at my house, maybe? would that be an offer you're willing to take up?"

you frowned at his words, wriggling away from his touch, "you invite all your patients to your house for dinner?"

"only the ones i believe i have a strong connection with," he responded, licking his lips as he leant against the doorframe. you tapped your heels a couple times, thinking the offer over. if you declined, you'd have to come back to his stupid office. but... but if you accepted, you'd be able to catch him in his environment - and while he had the advantage of home ground - he definitely had to be hiding things there.

"you mind if i bring a friend over?" you asked, and he smiled,

"the more the merrier, but i don't think we can talk about your history then."

"it's ok. we can talk about my life later."

"6:30 at my place, i'll send the address down to you shortly."

"oh, mr. verstappen, dinner is very lovely! did you make this all by yourself?" your friend asked while taking a bite of the lasagna. her words are tuned out as you shifted through your food with a fork. the darkness of the dining room did little to ease any of your fears. you had walked in feeling confident, ready to tackle the monster down with your bare hands, but his kindness. his professionalism. his unwavering stare. they all made you feel as if you were being suffocated. you didn't have much energy in you to continue with the fake conversations. excusing yourself to use the bathroom to then explore his mansion would be too cliche, he'd be waiting for you to do it anyway. being too predictable would bore him, which would mean the chances of you being killed would be higher.

"not liking the food, ms. (l/n)?" max asked, his eyes flickering down to the food he cooked being tossed around like a bird amongst hyenas.

"no, i'm just... not very hungry, unfortunately," you responded, grabbing the wine to drink.

"a bite wouldn't hurt. just one bite, i spent hours cooking for tonight," he chuckled, and your friend kicked your leg under the table, her eyes narrowing at you to take a bite. you could already hear what she was saying in her mind. the poor man went out of his way for dinner and here you are, being a rude guest! with a very reluctant sigh, you grab hold of the fork and let your teeth sink onto the lasagna, the flavor melting into your tastebuds as you let out a slow hum of approval. it tasted nice, very nice actually. so you took another bite, and then another. her appetite's back, your friend laughed and max nodded his head, smiling at you.

but when dessert rolled in, you felt uneasy. your insides felt empty, as if craving for something that you couldn't quite place. your thighs clenched together as your gripped onto the arms of the chair. you couldn't make out whatever max was saying. he was asking you if you were alright, but his eyes asked a different question. you hadn't noticed how big his eyes were before, or the fact that his pupils were so dilated. how did you miss that detail before? was he always like this? you quickly excused yourself, running to the bathroom but each brush of your thigh under the thigh made you choke on air, your mind hazy. upon locking yourself inside, you immediately collapsed onto the ground, your head in your hands. you felt strong pair of hands around your waist, groping at your tits that spilled out of your dress - or was it be ripped off of you? your pussy bare against the cold dampness of the room, your mouth propped open with fingers as the sweet taste of an apple made its way. your jaw was sore at how your teeth delved into the fruit and stood rooted there as your arms were bound above your head. was that the woody scent of a candle, or the fireplace that was underneath you? where was that burning sensation? under you... or inside you? your legs were being spread apart, the itchy rope curling around your limbs to make sure you wouldn't move. you opened your eyes lazily to see a figure with dirty blonde hair at the end of the table, his shiny teeth visible amongst the evil grin you saw.

"my favorite meal... all to myself." he whispered, letting his tongue rake over your glistening folds. your strangled moans are swallowed by the apple in your mouth, your body aching for more as his nose nudges your clit. his teeth nip at your labia, tongue invading your womanhood as you can't do anything but scream out loud, drooling from the corners of your mouth. his tongue rolls your clit around, lapping at any juice that seeps from your cunt. he wants to ensure your taste is on his tongue forever. the sweetest dessert that one would ask for. his fingers spread your mound to get a good look at his masterpiece and he lets his saliva stalk down to your pussy before harshly rubbing your clit. when you finally look past your tits to see who this figure was: your heart stopped at the sight of max staring down at you with a predatory look.

you screamed as you woke up in your bed, cold sweat dripping down your forehead. you glanced down to your hands, your feet, your clothes that covered your body. you looked around your room, unsure as to how you were back in your bedroom. it felt real... was it real? you couldn't tell. you pulled the waistband of your panties down, check to see if you were still a wet mess. nothing. laying back down on your bed, you placed a hand on your heaving chest and ran your free hand down your face. what just happened? what was going on? you had to find out, you had to get to the bottom of this.

which meant having to go back to his house. on guard, and once again with someone. you decided to bring a colleague that you despised, but it would be better to sacrifice her than your friend.

you sat across the dining table, and despite how predictable it was, you excused yourself to the bathroom, keeping note as to how his eyes focused on your ass. never miss the details, you thought to yourself. you headed to the bathroom, opening the door to turn the lights on before shutting the door. with a few fake thuds just outside the bathroom door, you took your heels off and carefully took them with you around the staircase. with the layout of the house, the dining room wouldn't give clear access to the left side of the kitchen. which meant that the pantry could be entered carefully without him noticing. your colleague was busy entertaining him about her vacation in milan, her loud voice thunderous enough to rattle the house... and enough to mask the creaking of the pantry door as you slipped inside. it was cold, almost like entering the arctic as you pulled out a tiny flashlight to guide you through the foreign place. the meat hung forlornly from the hooks, the torse of a pig on display. you frowned at the ink patterns on the meat, and you hesitantly turned it around. you'd seen these marks before somewhere. a vacation trip with your friends that you planned one evening. someone had dragged you into the pool as a prank and when you floated to the surface, spluttering out the chlorine water, your hands found the shoulders of a man inked with tattoos on his back. it was lewis. your flashlight slipped out of your hands and clattered onto the metal railings.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you hissed, scrambling to grab the small material. you were delighted that your suspicions were correct, that this entire time you were right about verstappen. but you needed to get out. you could see the shadow of footsteps underneath the pantry door. there was a back entrance to the pantry, and you stumbled towards it. from the corner of your eye you noticed a bottle of liquid and you uncapped it with your teeth, chugging the liquid down. you really needed some wine to calm your nerves down at the moment. letting the bottle roll back onto the metal table, you ran out the door into the open woods. you'd have to go around the path to get back to your car in the front of the house. the more minutes you stood to think about a plan, the more time was being wasted. from the distance, you could hear the back entrance of his house being opened and you whined out loud, pushing your feet to continue running. you didn't want to die, not like this... no, not now, not ever!

and yet with each step that you took, you felt a strong pain inside you. that pain you felt when you had dinner for the first time at his house. you were craving for something, you didn't know. was it his tongue again? no, what? why were you thinking about that awful nightmare? you remembered the outline of his cock during your first appointment, oh it looked delectable. you could've gotten on your knees then and sucked him as payment for the appointment! as your mind was reeling with uncontrolled desire, your knees buckled and your leg caught onto a root from a tree. crashing forward with a loud groan, you struggled to get back up on your feet when you felt the underside of a boot press gently against your neck, pushing your face onto the ground.

"i told you before i liked things that run. at this point, you're just teasing me," a familiar dutch voice rang from above you. the boot nudged you over onto your back, causing you to hold back a whimper at the sensation. you were sensitive to everything, your skin on fire as he trailed his foot down your body and right below your heat. right below where your desire was burning.

"y-you killed them. i was right, you killed them all," you weakly laughed, "i was right this entire fucking time."

"round of applause for you, ms. (l/n), oh wait..." he paused, looking around the empty woods before he glanced down to you, "no one's here." he rubbed the toe-box of his boot against your clothed cunt, enjoying the way your back arched, squealing at the way your clit was being dragged along your damp panties.

"tsk tsk tsk," he circled to stand right in front of you between your legs, "you always missed the details. you could've made it, you know? you could've gotten to your car and made it back to your house, schatje. but it's your carelessness... what did you drink before you came out here?"

"w-w-wine?" you responded, tilting your head. you let out another moan as the boot dug deeper onto your mound.

"wine mixed into the aphrodisiac. which would've been my last resort if you had properly rescheduled the appointment that we never finished. details, ms. (l/n), always look at the details," he knelt down, letting his hand replace his boot. the warmth of his fingers made you whine, begging him to end your suffering. your mind was purely empty - save the thought of having him satisfy your primal needs. he bunched up your panties, tugging them up to see your pussy coat the fabric with more of your juices, "fuck... you're so wet. it must hurt doesn't it? you wish you had someone to help you, schat?"

"yes, yes, yes please... please!" you cried, bucking your hips up. max laughed, seeing the way your pussy was grinding against your panties. he ripped them off of you, throwing them over his shoulder as he picked you up into his arms, carrying you as if you were his bride.

"i think a change of environment will put you in your place." he mumbled, and while you didn't catch onto it at first, when he tossed you onto the metal table in his pantry, you felt fear course through your body. "such a nice suit i had on today, and now you made me ruin it."

he slips off his coat and vest, rolling the sleeves of his shirt that hugged his biceps. he searched around the pantry for a while before grabbing an apron, tying it around his slim waist. he gazed up at you as his chin tucked into his neck and he let out a dry laugh, "you know... if you had just stuck to your job, this wouldn't have been a problem. always wanting to be the hero, when you're the villain yourself."

he grabbed the butcher knife, tossing it in the air a couple times, "i used to keep him with a bunch of other knives, all neatly organized just like i love. had to use him so often these days that he gets his own special spot. what do you think? he's beautiful isn't he?" he holds the knife up to your hooded eyes, and when you don't respond, he uses the butt of the utensil to slap your face, beckoning you to respond.

"i-it's nice," you mumbled, and he nods his appreciatively, letting the sharp edge of the object gently kiss your skin before he cut away at your dress and bra, exposing all of you to him. he saw the lump in your throat when you swallowed, and he brought the edge of the knife to your neck, watching you crane around to avoid the sharp edge. he tossed the knife in the air once again, which caused you to shriek out loud in fear that it'll slice you but he caught it and tapped the butt of the knife on your lips.

"suck," he commanded, and still clouded by the aphrodisiac, you do what he asked and twirled your tongue around the tip before opening your mouth wider and letting it fully devour your throat. you caught your reflection in the metal, and you can't even believe how blinded you must be. the details, the details, the details. the body of daniel hanging above you, staring at you with closed eyes and parted lips should have you screaming as you rolled your eyes back, but instead you're feeling yourself growing wetter, eager to please max. the weapon hits your teeth as max trailed your saliva down the valley of your tits, over your navel and to your cunt that's been so desperate this entire time. he pursed his lips as if he was deep in thought and then brought his free hand to spread your legs wider, shoving the butt of the knife into you. the feeling of being stretched out, of finally being filled - even if only a little - had your back escape the confines of the metal table, your tits out in the air as you're sobbing in joy. max saw the way you're mewling, body contorting in pleasure and he left your cunt empty once again before slamming the butcher knife right beside your head. your breath hitched in your throat, the fear once again settling but it made your heart race in excitement. there was a small thrill present, maybe he was right earlier. you were the villain all along. you were worse than him. he took off the apron, unbuckling his belt and he snickered,

"you could've grabbed the knife and stabbed me by now, but you didn't... too desperate to get fucked, isn't that right, liefje?"

he let his cock spring free from the confines that tormented him since the day he saw you at the BAU. head held high, a haughty gleam in your eyes. the arrogance as you talked down to him, acted as if you were superior. he was waiting all along for this moment. his cock slid against your folds and when he pushed in, the tears that flowed from your eyes combined with the guttural moan made him smile. something was missing though, something that could make this so much more better for him. and as he began to thrust, he glanced up to see another corpse from a previous victim hanging to the side. a cruel idea formed in his mind and he grinned down at you,

"schatje, i don't think i could bring myself to hurt you... not when you're being such a good slut for me," he cooed, "but... but a man can't help but imagine..."

he grabbed hold of the butcher knife, slicing the corpse and letting the blood splatter onto the top half of your body. it trickled onto the table beneath you, the tiled floor now the canvas of a new twisted desire. he laughed out loud at the sight of half of your face covered in blood, and he brought the coated knife to your neck, continuing to thrust his aching cock into you as you screamed out loud in a horrid mix of fear and desire. you could feel your cunt clamp onto his cock, so close to cumming as his thrusts became more erratic.

"i knew you'd like this... you came all this way here to see if you could understand me. schat, but do you even know who you are?" he questioned, letting the edge of the knife kiss your neck. and as you came undone with a scream, your vision blurring at the intensity, you realized he was right all along. the details, you missed all the details. your parents death wasn't because of some man that had swerved the car late at night. it was you. you swung the sledgehammer at the car while they were driving down the highway, drunk out of your mind out of anguish from all the abuse you faced as a child. the man stopped to see the commotion and you sent his body flying down the hill. you'd done it, you were a murderer. you were twisted, you were... you were as bad as him. you glanced up to see max still bullying your cunt, pushing you to another orgasm before you could process the toll your body was taking in the process.

"your scent always drove me wild," he whispered, leaning down to bite your nipple, "fuck, schatje... i'll give you a deal." he lifted his head slightly to meet your gaze, "we can work together, you know? with your skill and this cunt of yours, i could keep you around. no harm to you at all, unless of course you'd like it."

"t-the blog... no, no, i can't... i'm better than you. i'm not you, i'm not fucked up like - oh fuck, don't stop!" your argument melts away with each snap of his hips,

"you have no other choice here. there's two ways this can go. you keep coming to my office, be my personal slut, trained completely to take my cock and i'll let you live... with the added benefit of working and helping me. and if you don't," the butcher knife digs a bit deeper into your neck, "i think you understand what i mean, right schatje?"

you nod your head, throwing your head back as you let out another visceral scream as your second orgasm rips through your body. he captures your lips in a bruising kiss, murmuring praises at how perfect you'd be, how you were always destined for this, no matter how much your ego told you differently.

and yet as you laid beside him on his bed that night, well-cleaned and taken care of as his new trophy, you secretly uploaded the photos of his pantry to your blog and slipped out of his house, past your dead colleague in the living room. he'd come after you, that was for sure. but he liked to hunt, and you've learned to run.

[feather314]

I knowww I think about stuff like this so much. It kind of plays into his whole character vs self conflict where he's constantly self-deprecating and assuming the worst in himself. In fact, everyone else is always calling him dumb too, probably just because he's more quiet compared to them. When you don't talk, others tend to assume you don't have thoughts either... But then we read his journal and it's incredibly insightful about everything happening to him, thereby highlighting the tragedy of how much his circumstances hurt him.

And then that makes me wonder if that conflict of self-doubt and self-hatred maybe doesn't entirely come from himself. Because clearly, he's NOT dumb. He has to know how well-spoken he is, he sees how others talk and chooses not to mimic them. And when he's writing, he knows no one else is gonna see it, so he doesn't speak in his journal as if he's just writing nonsense. He knows he's not.

So that brings up the heartbreaking possibility that his fellow gang members impact his psyche enough to where he socializes under the impression that everyone thinks he's a prize idiot (if you will). And all that negative self-talk really gets in your head... It can't be helped by other people poking fun at his intelligence. I'm sure they're just jokes, and I'm sure he knew that too, but still, it's definitely enough to worm its way into your self-image, even for someone as in touch with himself as him.

He truly is very insightful and very well-spoken, and has a lot of intelligence, both emotional and otherwise. But due to some combination of his own internal struggles and the outside influences that may or may not have catalyzed those, he treats himself like he's stupid and expects others to do the same. And it makes me so sad to think how much happier he could have been if he didn't constantly have voices both around him and in his head telling him he wasn't good or clever or aware. If only Arthur could have appreciated how great he was! :(

I constantly think about Arthur's quote, "I can barely speak English." because the same man is saying things like, "I must moderate my approach to wine." "Despite my best efforts to the contrary..." or "I have to insist." At times he can be poetic (threatening or not) in the way he says things too. For example, "Maybe when your mother's finished mourning your father, I'll keep her in black on your behalf." Or one of my favorites, "Lack of something to feel important about is almost the greatest tragedy a man can have."

Or how about when he finds that crashed airship along Little Creek River? He mentions Icarus, a Greek myth about a man who flew too close to the sun and the wax melted, causing Icarus to plunge into the sea and drown. At that time not everyone is learning and reading classical literature, you literally have to go out of your way and read that shit in a book. Sure Dutch and Hosea taught him to read, but what outlaw is teaching a teenager about Greek Mythology?

Arthur is smarter than he gives himself credit for. He's by no means stupid. He's self-aware and far more emotionally intelligent than he comes off as.

And it makes it a bit more tragic when you think of the potential Arthur might’ve had outside of being an outlaw.

[mimipolo]

Nam-gyu x GN!reader headcanons

I started writing just because I had so many scenarios of him in my head I needed to get out so tysm for liking my last post.

No this is not proof read, I MIGHT edit it later.

This man is horribly clingly to an extreme. Will hold onto anything in reach clothes, arm, shoulder. Honestly anywhere you'll allow him to. He won't touch the obvious places that would vouch for consent but he'd definitely be eager if you say he could.

And if you're someone's that's not into being constantly touched all the time he'd try his best to respect that but there'll definitely be moments when he reaches out for you and stops midway or his hand brushes you briefly. At some point he can't take it and takes a different route by standing so close your shoulders touch or instead urging you to initiate.

I feel like he takes care of his hands the best, his hair is choppy and his apartment is a state but he'll always make time to trim and take care of his nails. You asked him about it before and he just said he bites his nails a lot and didn't further explain why.

He seems like the type to be jittery a lot even when he's not high, in fact I think his hands would possibly shake less when he is. His hands shaking doesn't always necessarily means he's nervous but if you take them in yours to comfort him he'd definitely milk the hell out of it and hold out his hands to you expecting you to run your thumbs over them, that playful grin he always wears when he knows he's about to get what he wants on his face as he tilts his head at you.

Jealousy is in his top three emotions. He's far from perfect unfortunately and his possessiveness is definitely one of those defining traits. He would casually bring up bad things a person you're getting close to has done (like he's any better). Rubbing your back and preaching about how you should just stick with him.

Likes it if you run your hands down his back and sides, at first he found it annoying because of how ticklish it felt but shut up when you pointed out how hypocritical he was being. Being the fraud he is he quickly grew to like it, slumping his body over yours and as always expects to receive the embrace.

Lets you cut his hair, it's honestly the least of his concerns, is what he tells you at least. Sometimes you'll catch him picking at his hair in the reflection for too long. He's sat on the floor of your bathroom as you sit on the bathtub rim facing the mirror, his eyes are trained on your hands the whole time and he just couldn't help constantly making distracting pointers, a nudge to his side earns you a scoff before he eventually just let's you work.

Would constantly be twirling your hair if he's on call, he's persistent. If you have short hair or bald he'd scratch your scalp or nape of your neck, anything nearest to him.

He'd genuinely be happy if you initiated touch, even if it's not in public. He just liked the knowledge that you also like him enough to reciprocate.

This guy definitely has a staring problem, usually on your side or back profile but sometimes he zeroes in on random places that make you raise an eyebrow at him or push his head away flustered. And no you can't stare at him back he'll start blubbering about something that doesn't make sense and rubs his hands together to ease the nerves.

Defends you quietly, anyone that has talked behind your back gets confronted away from you. Obviously if they insult you in front of him he's swearing and throwing out threats he can't stand up to. If he wins (if) he'd try to act cool as he shrugs and wipes the blood from his nose and nudges you playfully, scolding you for "always getting him in trouble."

Absolutely insufferable during movies, won't shut up. Constantly pointing out bad acting or something he would've done in the characters position. Will only be quiet if you take charge of feeding him popcorn when you can tell he's about to yap, the instinct comes naturally after being around him for so long. Only times you'll mostly let him talk is during tense scenes in horror movies, it's alright then as he talks your ear off about random stuff in the movie that's somehow not relevant. Your eyes screwed with anxiety to the screen as he laughs and pulls you closer to his side (he starts talking to calm himself down because he's just as scared.)

Likes how warm your stomach is, always coming up behind you just to lay his cold hands on your stomach, causing you to jolt because he's like freezing?? He only chuckles and presses himself closer against you as he squeezes your sides. It's almost as if he knows how annoying he is.

Whenever you two lie in bed there's always a moment where he's lying on your chest, he honestly just looks thoughtless as he stares into the gap where your shirt meets your collarbone. Sighs heavily like a burdens been lifted when he smooth your palm over his hair and kiss his temple. You always fall asleep before him, I honestly believe he's an insomniac or at least has some problems sleeping, he's content just lying on you as you doze off though.

If you had a specific or unique style he'd admire it a lot. Honestly proud because he can't be asked to put the same effort into himself. If you do dress him up he'll feel good for a moment before feeling like an imposter and taking it off. The only accessories he has are his necklace and rings (you complimented them once and he hasn't thought of going back since.)

As much as he refuses to admit other people's views and opinions of him are a big part of his life. And after so many negative comments about himself he didn't see the point in trying to change it, instead he indulged in all the guilty pleasures they accused him of because what did he have to lose? But any kind words you give him he hangs onto like a life line, even just saying his name correctly has him hooked(Thanos...). He'll act all smug as you praise him, nodding and grinning while his ears flush red.

He also loves your hands. Kissing the tips, knuckles, pulse joint, everywhere. Makes you involuntary hold his face or put your hands on him. Likes seeing your hands intwined a lot, it feels solidifying.

Geekiest smile ever oh my days. He always looks so intimidating when he's outside but the moment another person (especially you) enters his bubble he's all smiles and chuckles, ducking his head softly as his hand covers his mouth. He could not handle being alone for too long.

The type of guy to randomly show up outside your apartment with takeaway with no warning and fully expects you to let him in, he knows you don't go out so it's the least you could do. Is already a foot inside your doorway when you finally open the door when you stop him, hand on your hip as you look him up and down.

"Since when did you have takeaway money?"

"Do you not wanna eat? Damn just let me in."

Chat can you tell I adore him 🤓

[nosyp]

Heyy sorry to bother you again I loved that story<<33

I just wanted to know what do you think hyun ju's (player 120) reaction be if fem! Reader got a cute little clit piercing:::DDD nsfw and sfw head canons or a story whatever you like I just love you and sorry if I bother you too much<<33

Hiiii it's okay LOL I love recieving requests <3 hope you enjoyyy!!

⚠️Nsfw content ahead! Please read at your own will and minors DO NOT interact please.

SFW Headcanons

Her initial reaction would be shock, but she's gonna quickly cover it with her usual calmness. Her brows might arch slightly before a sly smirk appears across her face again. "You've got some guts, I'll tell you that."

She would be kinda concerned for you though, she'd ensure that you weren't hurt in any way.

Lowkey though, she kinda admires you for getting it. But she'll never tell you directly.

NSFW Headcanons 🔞

She'll make teasing comments/remarks like "I didn't know you were into things like that"

Surprisingly, she'd think about it a lot. Thinking about the things she could do with you, the things she could do with the peircing, etc. (Esp since it's in an intimate spot)

She wouldn't want anyone else to know, not because she doesn't like it. Just because she wants to keep it between you two only, like a dirty little secret.

Once she finds out, she's gonna start to explore it. Find things that she could do with it, how to use it to get you the best pleasure possible, how to use it to give you the best orgasm, etc.

SHE WOULD LOVEEEE IT in the bedroom, the fact that it heightens your sensitivity just makes her GO CRAZZYYY... she'll be more unrelentless, more rough during sex, trying to give you the best experience ever. Don't doubt that.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

SEMI-FINALS MATCH 1

Gale propaganda:

“He is my cringe malewife I love him <3”

“Listen. Some may dunk on him for eating all of your magic artifacts (he only eats three!!) and others may dislike him for various bugs in his romance. But man oh man does this guy take devotion to the next level. He is such a romantic. Says the line "Whether I condemn this world or not, I choose you." after you successfully convince him to disobey his goddess who is also his ex girlfriend. He's a bit hungry for power, but in like, a sexy way, where he wants to get it to elevate you both to Godhood. And if you tell him that you want him for the man he is and not the God he aspires to be, he abandons that search for power and proposes. You can have wizard sex with him in the sky. His "rebellious streak" consists of staying up late reading and summoning a cat when his parents told him he couldn't have one, and also the aforementioned pursuit of godlike powers. What an absolute catch. He's always saying dramatic stuff in battle, but if you have him sneak around, he starts complaining like a grumpy old man. He's extra attracted to you when you're in battle. He has a bomb in his chest. And it is a very nice chest. Anyway. Boyfriend material.”

“This man is so sweet and idealistic. He wants everything about your romance to go perfectly like a fairy tale but that isn't really possible in apocalyptic settings, so he will use magic to help you forget  your surroundings when trying to be intimate to get as close as he can to perfect because he wants you to have the best. He is also attracted to literally all of your character and gets really turned on when you are musky and covered in blood after a battle. Just love my nerdy awkward horny romantic wizard.”

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

[four-ravens-in-a-trenchcoat]

I really enjoy seeing everyone's collections, so I'm showing off mine as well

My recipe binder consists of typed recipes that i copied from my parents' collection of recipes before I moved out (hot tip, bring your favourite foods with all the handy notes), some cut-out recipes and my own good experiments or digital recipes I've tried and wanted to save.

Most of my additions are on post-its and really low-effort instructions, because I like it that way (too much text makes it difficult to find the right spot and a lot of cooking follows the same general rules). It's also full of handwritten notes on good spontaneous modifications, possible improvements or better measurements

It's sorted into 16 categories that made sense to me, which was fun to figure out (the classical sorting based on meat type + vegetarian makes little sense when you have a lot fewer recipes with meat than without)

I'm not too serious about it, you might notice I have one titled "Oven-baked hamster without oven" which is in fact a tomato-based dish with black lentils and egg, named so after my parents independent of each other read "oven-baked hamster" instead of "oven-baked tomatoes" due to my handwriting and also the fact that oven-baking is redundant when you can just put a lid on the pan

And also: ask your friends for recipes when they talk about having a great recipe for something that sounds good or if they cook it for you. I love the recipes titled X's Y

You should be starting a recipe book. I don't give a shit if you're only 20-years-old. The modern web is rotting away bit by bit before our very eyes. You have no idea when that indie mom blog is going down or when Pinterest will remove that recipe. Copy it down in a notebook, physically or digitally. Save it somewhere only you can remove it. Trust me, looking for a recipe only to find out it's been wiped off the internet is so fucking sad. I've learned my lesson one too many times.

[hvnlygrl]

Hey girl! I wanted to send in a Rafe request for the angst prompt #7: accidentally/drunkenly confessing feelings and yes it’s for the celebration! But it’s Rafe that confesses his feelings for the reader even though she’s a pogue but he’s always had a soft spot for her🤍

drunken confession.

pairing — rafe cameron x pogue!fem!reader

word count — 0.7k

synopsis — rafe gets drunk and starts spilling the beans on his love for you.

notes — hi babe! i love this sm he would be such a doofus honestly.

join my follower celebration — until feb. 3rd!

you watched rafe down shot after shot, part of you feeling a little concerned for his well being for the rest of the night, and the other part of you just wanting to focus on your friends and mind your business.

but rafe was your friend too, you reminded yourself. you’d grown a soft spot for the kook after a party one night, one very similar to this one, in fact. jj loved to tease you and say that the feelings you harbored were much more than platonic, and you constantly denied his statement. but you knew he was right.

you also knew, however, that rafe cameron would never be caught dead dating a pogue. so any and all thoughts and feelings that were more than platonic for rafe got locked away to protect your own well being. the last thing you needed was the boys getting on your ass for being in love with a kook, or for topper and kelce to antagonize you for being a nasty pogue that nobody, especially rafe, would ever love.

and yet here you were, stuffing him into the passenger seat of your car because he’d had far too many to drink.

“how you feelin’ buddy?” you hum softly, your voice sounding like music to rafe’s ears. “let me know if you wanna throw up, okay?”

he just groaned in response, your words nearly triggering his gag response. “drive slow,” he keeps his eyes closed tightly as he takes deep breaths.

“you got it,” you huff through a laugh, driving as safely and steadily as you could while you brought him back to your house. you knew ward would flip his shit if rafe got brought home by a pogue while drunk like that and you wanted to protect him from that shitshow as much as possible.

by the time you got him to your house, he sighed desperately as he crawled into your bed, trashcan ready by his side. “y/n?” he called out, eyes trying to steady themselves to look at you.

“what’s up?” you call back with a sweet smile on your face, having absolutely no problem taking care of him in this vulnerable state. honestly, you felt honored that he trusted and asked for you specifically.

“i love you,” his voice is shaky and you almost don’t hear him with how quietly he says it.

you’re sure he doesn’t mean it in the way you want him too, so you brush him off with a soft laugh and allow your hand to rub his back soothingly. “love you too, rafe.”

“no,” he groans as he rolls to face you better, “i love you. like i know i shouldn’t cause you’re a pogue or whatever the fuck, but i love you and i can't stop thinking about you when i'm not with you. i want us to be more than this.”

you blink at him in shock, your face clad in an expression he’s unable to read that nearly sends him face first into the trashcan. he’s almost positive he ruined everything.

“are you being serious right now, rafe?”

“yes, i’m sick of walking on eggshells, i just-“ he sighs deeply, “i can't even look at other girls anymore because none of them are you.”

“i love you too, rafe,” you could cry at the confession, eyes watering and hands trembling, “i have for a while now. i just didn’t think you would feel the same way.”

“you really couldn’t tell?” he raises a brow at you.

“i guess i was in denial,” you shrug with a breathy laugh. “what do we do now?”

“well, i guess now i ask you to be my girlfriend,” rafe smiles at you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glossy from the alcohol.

“you sure you don’t wanna wait until you’re not drunk anymore?”

“i won’t regret it, i promise,” he holds a pinky out to you, gesturing for you to hook yours with his.

you do, and he brings it up to his lips, kissing it gently.

“y/n l/n, will you be my girlfriend?”

“rafe cameron, i absolutely will.”

he sits up slowly as to not upset his stomach, and kisses you gently, one hand cupping the side of your face as the other one steadies him. he pulls away just enough to whisper, “thank you for taking care of me.”

“i always will,” you peck his lips before checking the time. “you hungry ? some places are still open, i could run and grab you something.”

“god, you’re an angel, woman.”

-> back to masterlist

[p0orbaby]

I Feel Alive in the City That You Like

summary: who doesn’t like a bit of gossip?

warnings: none !

a/n: something short for our fav actress, with a little cameo from ale

word count: 1.5k

part 1

-

The bar is tucked away in a side street that smells of sea salt, diesel fumes, and hot pavement—the kind of place you only find by accident or through someone who’s “been coming here for years.” It’s called La Mala Vida, which feels pretentious in an almost charming way, like it’s trying to convince you it’s grittier than it actually is. Inside, the walls are painted a deep crimson that almost glows under dim lights. The ceiling is low enough to feel oppressive, and every table is crammed with people leaning too close, talking too loud, the air thick with cigarette smoke despite the supposed indoor ban.

Your friends are already at a corner booth when you arrive, practically shouting over the music—something vaguely Latin remixed with techno—and you spot Frances first, her sharp red lipstick and a blonde bob so precise it could have been cut with a laser. She’s dressed for drama, as always, in a vintage YSL blazer so cropped it’s practically a shrug, paired with leather trousers that look like they might have been painted on.

“We’ve been here for an hour,” she announces the moment you approach, her tone loud enough to carry over the din of the bar. “I thought you’d forgotten about us.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you reply, pulling off your jacket—a lightweight cashmere thing that you’d brought only because the evening forecast had mentioned a breeze. You hang it over the back of the chair, careful to keep it away from what looks suspiciously like a puddle of spilled sangria.

“She thought you were avoiding us,” Georgia chimes in, already halfway through her first glass of wine. She’s dressed in an oversized white button-down that she’s knotted at the waist, paired with frayed denim shorts and silver hoop earrings big enough to be used as hula hoops. The effect is effortlessly cool, though you know for a fact she spent 45 minutes in front of a mirror before leaving her hotel room.

“I don’t avoid people I love,” you say, sliding into the seat between them.

“Except Alexia,” Frances says, her grin razor-sharp. “When she’s too far away for you to stalk”

“Frances,” you warn, though your voice lacks any real edge.

“Oh, please. Don’t pretend we haven’t all read the headlines. ‘Football Star’s Mystery Lover’—that was my personal favourite. Or was it the one about how you’ve been jetting between continents like a lovesick heiress?”

“Stop,” you groan, but Georgia is already laughing, her wine glass wobbling dangerously in her hand.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “We didn’t fly all the way to Barcelona just to interrogate you. But we will be taking the opportunity since we’re here”

“You didn’t fly here to see me at all,” you point out. “You’re here for Georgia’s ridiculous ‘self-discovery retreat’”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Georgia protests, though her tone suggests she knows exactly how ridiculous it is. “It’s wellness. I’ve been stressed”

“You live in a Soho loft and do Pilates every morning,” Frances deadpans. “What could you possibly be stressed about?”

“Life,” Georgia says, as though this explains everything.

Frances rolls her eyes, but before she can respond, the waiter arrives to take your drink order. You glance at the menu briefly before asking for a vodka lime and soda.

“Make it a double,” Frances adds for you. “She’s going to need it”

As soon as the waiter disappears, Frances leans forward, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hands like a particularly nosy house cat.

“So,” she says, drawing out the word. “How’s Alexia?”

“She’s fine,” you reply, keeping your tone deliberately neutral.

“Fine?” Georgia echoes, clearly unimpressed. “That’s all we get?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Frances says, her grin widening. “Something juicy. Like how she’s already convinced you to move here and start a life of domestic bliss”

“Or how she’s secretly awful in bed,” Georgia adds.

“She’s not awful in bed,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, and both of them pounce on the admission like hungry wolves.

“Ah-ha!” Frances crows, pointing at you. “See, now we’re getting somewhere”

“Stop being so tight-lipped,” Georgia says. “You’re glowing. Look at you. That’s post-orgasm skin”

“Stop it,” you hiss, though your face is already burning.

“Don’t be shy,” Frances says, leaning back in her seat with a satisfied smirk. “We’re your friends. We’re just curious.”

“She’s curious,” Georgia corrects. “I just like making you uncomfortable”

“Why do I hang out with you?” you mutter, though the question is purely rhetorical.

“Because we’re fabulous,” Frances says.

“And because we rescheduled our chemical peel to spend time with you,” Georgia adds. “Now, come on. Give us something. What’s she like when the lights are off? Or on, we won’t judge”

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, covering your face with your hands.

“Fine,” Frances says, waving a hand dismissively. “If you don’t want to talk about that, tell us what you two do when you’re not shagging”

“Normal couple things,” you say.

“Like what?” Georgia presses.

“Like… cooking together,” you offer.

“Boring,” Frances declares.

“Or watching TV”

“Also boring”

“Taking her dog for walks?”

Frances sighs dramatically, as though your relationship is personally offending her. “You’re no fun”

“I’m plenty of fun,” you argue.

“Prove it,” Georgia says.

“How?”

“Call her,” Frances says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Right now”

“She’s busy,” you protest, though your hand is already hovering over your phone.

“She’s not too busy for you,” Georgia says in a sing-song voice, grinning like the devil.

Frances leans back in her seat, folding her arms. “Prove it. Call her. Right now. Or we’ll start making assumptions, and you know we don’t hold back”

“Fine,” you snap, swiping your phone off the table. “But if she gets annoyed, I’m blaming both of you”

“Blame away,” Frances replies, looking positively gleeful.

You don’t bother stepping outside for privacy—this is what they wanted, after all. The bar’s music fades to the background as you scroll for her name, your thumb hesitating for a brief moment before you press call.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Hola,” she says, her voice warm and slightly hushed, like she’s leaning in closer to the phone to hear you better.

“Hi,” you reply, already feeling the tension ease at the sound of her voice. “What are you doing?”

“Dinner with the team,” she says. “What about you?”

“Out with Frances and Georgia,” you say, shooting them a look across the table. “They’re being infuriating, as usual.”

Alexia chuckles softly, and even though the distance between you stretches across an ocean, it feels like she’s right there. “What did they do now?”

“They’re insisting I call you so they can be nosy,” you admit, ignoring the way Frances pretends to yawn theatrically beside you.

“Well, I hope I’m living up to the hype,” Alexia says, the smile evident in her tone.

Frances immediately leans forward, practically yelling into the phone. “She’s not doing you justice, Alexia! We’ve heard nothing spicy”

You slap a hand over the phone’s speaker. “Frances!”

Alexia’s laugh is louder now, melodic and unrestrained. “Is that Frances?”

“And Georgia,” you say, glaring at them both as they descend into a fit of giggles.

“Hi, Alexia!” Georgia shouts, waving as if Alexia could somehow see her through the phone. “How do you feel about long-distance frustration?”

“Ignore them,” you say, lowering your hand from the speaker, though Frances has already leaned halfway across the table.

“Alexia, quick question,” she calls into the receiver. “On a scale of one to ten, how insufferable is she as a girlfriend?”

“Frances!”

“Eleven,” Alexia replies without missing a beat, her voice warm with amusement.

Frances clutches her chest in mock offense. “A woman with taste. I approve”

Georgia’s cackling now, practically falling off her chair. “She’s funnier than you. I like her more already”

“Okay, this was a mistake,” you mutter, though you can’t help the way your lips curl into a smile.

“You’re handling it well,” Alexia teases. “And you haven’t hung up yet, so maybe you secretly enjoy it”

“Maybe I just like hearing your voice,” you counter, softer this time.

There’s a slight pause, just long enough for Frances and Georgia to exchange exaggerated ooohs like a pair of primary school children.

“I miss you,” Alexia says, the sincerity in her voice cutting through their antics.

“I miss you too,” you reply quietly, forgetting for a moment that you aren’t alone.

Frances doesn’t forget. She leans so close you can feel her breath on your shoulder. “Tell her you love her!” she stage-whispers, loud enough to draw stares from the next table over.

You shove her back, pressing a palm to your forehead. “I’m hanging up now”

“Coward,” Frances mutters, smirking.

“Goodnight,” Alexia says, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

“Goodnight,” you reply, the word carrying more weight than usual.

When you finally set your phone down, Frances and Georgia are watching you like vultures circling a carcass.

“Admit it,” Frances says, taking a triumphant sip of her drink. “You’re smitten”

“Completely pathetic,” Georgia adds.

You don’t even bother denying it. Instead, you flag the waiter down for another drink, shaking your head as they burst into fresh fits of laughter.

[dindjarindiaries]

Hunter was trying to be a good older brother to Crosshair and a good father to Omega in The Return, despite a few moments of weakness, through protectiveness, observation, and supportiveness. He ultimately succeeded in his objectives.

The Bad Batch S3E5 "The Return" will always be one of my favorites because it doesn't shy away from the complexity of the family's dynamic after 1) losing Tech, who was often a peacekeeper/mitigator, and 2) regaining Crosshair. While I, and many others, wish the former was explored more, it does an excellent job of showing us even more about these siblings' dynamics than we even knew before.

As always with any analysis, this is a disclaimer that you may view this episode in an entirely different way due to various biases, one of the most notable being based upon your own favorite characters and your own life experience. All I ask is that you read through carefully before chiming in with any counterarguments!

The line of dialogue that most of my argument here hinges upon is from Hunter about midway through the episode, just before his and Crosshair's fight.

"I know you."

Going back to the very beginning of the episode, we see Hunter and Wrecker sitting and waiting for Omega to wake up. Crosshair's clearly not there, and when Omega asks about their brother's whereabouts, Wrecker says he wasn't there when they woke up, before Hunter adds this.

His face is clearly displaying concern, even though his words are reassuring. He's no doubt worried about Crosshair, too, but like he says later on: he knows Crosshair. He knows what to do when Crosshair's upset, and that the sniper wants/needs time alone, hence why he and Wrecker didn't go after him. Hunter is trying to reassure Omega, who isn't as familiar with Crosshair at this point, by insisting that this is how he adjusts to change. It's important to note that there doesn't really seem to be any hostility radiating from Hunter (or Wrecker) towards Crosshair here.

In fact, the duo only gets up and goes to check on Crosshair once Omega's involved. This proves something else that's important to understand for Hunter's character in this episode: he's wrestling with both his concern for Crosshair and his protectiveness over Omega, and that's because of this moment from season 1:

Because of Crosshair telling Hunter in S1E15 that he had his inhibitor chip removed, without the context of when, Hunter has to assume for Omega's safety that this was Crosshair acting of his own accord. This is because, if Hunter's to be a reliable protector of her, he always has to be as cautious as possible with those she's surrounded by—and unfortunately, in this case, that includes Crosshair.

(Remember that, even as the sergeant of Clone Force 99 and the eldest brother/caretaker of their family, Hunter's priorities have shifted since the war ended; Omega now comes before all else. He says this as early as S1E7 to Rex, when they had only had Omega for a short time. This is now at least a year after those events, which means that sentiment's only grown stronger for Hunter, especially after losing Omega to the Empire for six months.)

Because Crosshair is smart and also knows his brothers just like they know him, he comes to this conclusion himself. This is why he's not surprised when they start watching him and Omega from a distance, and why Crosshair insists it's because "They don't trust me."

Then, Echo arrives, and they start making plans to go to Barton IV. This is where we see Hunter's protectiveness of Omega really shining, along with some interesting glimpses of Hunter's concern/curiosity about Crosshair and what he went through.

The fact that Omega and Hunter have the same expression here... that's intentional. Omega is but a mirror of her brothers, and always has been ever since she met them. She and Hunter are literally displaying the same amount of sympathy and concern for Crosshair here.

Now, this look from Hunter that's immediately after Crosshair's done talking is read as anger from a lot of people, which is understandable. To me, though, especially through this lens, it looks more like Hunter is coming to a conclusion. Hunter can tell that Crosshair knows more (and has gone through more) than he's letting on about, but he doesn't care that much about getting the intel that Echo no doubt wants. Hunter just doesn't like the fact that Crosshair won't open up about what happened to him.

It's important to keep in mind that as Hunter and Wrecker were watching Omega and Crosshair before, they undoubtedly saw Crosshair's target practice going poorly. Hunter would certainly make note of that, and thinking of his physical struggles along with hearing this... well, yeah, Hunter's gonna have a serious pondering face, because he wants to know what's wrong with his youngest brother so he can help him. But because he knows his brother, he knows that he has to keep his space for now and be mindful.

Once plans for the trip to Barton IV come up, Hunter proposes that he goes with Crosshair and Echo, again proving that Hunter isn't really trying to avoid Crosshair. In fact, Hunter only expresses any concern when Omega wants to join, and we all know why. He's worried about her and doesn't want to risk it, which he says plainly.

It's clear, though, that Hunter is still worried about Crosshair being so close to Omega, too, especially if they're going to an Imperial hideout. Hunter has trauma from that moment in S1E8, and it's not easy for him to see past that, as much as he does still care and worry for his youngest brother. Again, he has to suspect that anyone is capable of hurting her, aside from the brothers who've been protecting her alongside himself the entire time.

Crosshair even acknowledges this when he and Hunter pass one another while packing up the night before.

(I'd like to note that, in this moment, Hunter's the one who moves to accommodate Crosshair's path. To me, that's more evidence of the fact that Hunter is keeping a safe distance from Crosshair to let him process, but because Omega's there too, he's also keeping a watchful eye on him. He's really torn between the two.)

"Don't hold it against him," Crosshair tells Omega. Why? Because:

Crosshair understands that most, if not all, of Hunter's moments of caution towards Crosshair have everything to do with Omega and her safety, rather than Hunter being angry at Crosshair. Hunter doesn't like that Omega's going on this risky mission, and he really doesn't like that it's happening with Crosshair there, when he hasn't even told Hunter everything that happened. How is he supposed to properly protect her (and Crosshair) without knowing all the details?

(And how sweet is it that Crosshair agrees with Hunter's take on Omega coming with them?)

They get to Barton IV, and there, we get one of Hunter's moments of weakness, when he's really giving in to his protectiveness of Omega and his frustration/worry about having such few details about Crosshair and his falling out with the Empire.

(But first, let's quickly acknowledge Crosshair emerging in his old armor, and the fact that Hunter, Wrecker, and the others kept it. Hunter (and Wrecker I believe) both lost pieces of their armor during their search for Omega, no doubt either losing them in dangerous situations or selling things to get by, but they never once touched Crosshair's kit—even when it would have been really easy to sell his things before selling their own.)

Because the base is empty, Hunter starts to worry that it's a sign of something bad. Remember, just because Hunter is the level-headed sergeant and leader of the group, he's not immune to trauma. Imagine how traumatizing Eriadu and all his failed attempts to find Omega with Wrecker were for him, especially with him literally being a tracker. The last time they were all together like this on a mission was when Tech died.

So, Hunter gives into that protective sense and challenges Crosshair, because now he needs the details. He has a sense that this place is notable to Crosshair, but not how, and if he wants to protect Omega, who is his main priority, he has to find out. He's also getting more and more frustrated that Crosshair won't talk to him about it.

This can be evidenced by one of their exchanges. It's only after Crosshair brings up his cell again that Hunter insists, "I get the feeling there's more to this place than you're saying." And... well, Hunter's right. This is a place of trauma for Crosshair, and Hunter's no doubt picking up on that. After being reminded of Crosshair's imprisonment, Hunter has to ask, he has to press, in his mind, for the wellbeing of Omega, Crosshair, and the rest of his squad.

Again, Hunter doesn't like operating off little information to accomplish all these things. He's a protector at heart, and he always has been. Crosshair not giving him all the details he can remember (likely because of his own trauma) makes Hunter feel even more on edge, and that's why he lashes out a bit more at his brother, questioning him about why he didn't mention the raiders before.

Unfortunately, with Crosshair deflecting to avoid his own hurt, Hunter takes the bait and engages, leading to their exchange of "Just following orders?" "If you're scared, why don't you wait on the ship?" Thankfully, Echo steps in and breaks it up, which gives Hunter time to clear his head again. This is Hunter's first biggest moment of weakness.

Now, we're getting to one of my favorite sequences: Hunter watching Crosshair from a distance inside the depot.

Hunter clocks Crosshair's discomfort right away after Echo says that Crosshair's words about the base serving its purpose "Sounds familiar." Again, it's easy to understand why people might read this as Hunter being angry or cautious, but to me, it looks like Hunter's just trying to get a read on why that particular exchange sent Crosshair away, and what exactly he's looking for.

Wanting to figure out more so that he can help Crosshair and thus help them all in this very moment, Hunter quietly follows Crosshair, and that's what leads to him seeing Crosshair pick up Mayday and the other regs' helmets.

(Hunter lurking in the back right. I'm obsessed with this shot.)

Remember, Hunter is observing this as someone who remembers Crosshair not wanting anything to do with the regs. He antagonized them perhaps the most out of any other in the squad during their arc in The Clone Wars, and he even told Hunter in S1E15 that the Batch was superior to the regs, and to most other soldiers in general. Hunter seeing Crosshair treat these reg helmets with such reverence is such a strong indication to him that something major has shifted for Crosshair, and it had likely happened on this planet.

But Hunter, again, knowing his brother, remains a quiet observer. It would've been easy for him to engage here, but he recognizes that Crosshair needs this moment to himself. Hunter even leaves him to it after. Would someone who really didn't trust Crosshair at all whatsoever turn their back to him like that? What he does is give his brother privacy, and acknowledge that he needs to know what happened... but this isn't the right place or time to be pressing him about it.

Danger is lurking, though, and Hunter's desperation to know the truth so he can be better equipped is growing. It hits a peak when Crosshair, prompted by Batcher's barking, checks the perimeter by himself. Pay close attention to how Hunter reacts to Crosshair's exit.

It isn't really anger in this expression. Wrecker's behind him is certainly one of concern. Hunter instead looks determined, and that's because he's about to pursue Crosshair to start getting answers. He's tired of not knowing, and because the stakes are starting to rise, and the evidence is all around him. Hunter decides that he's given enough space and now has to push Crosshair to talk to him.

Because, as Hunter's about to say in a few seconds, he knows Crosshair. He knows, and from what Echo says later, he's always known how to get Crosshair to talk, and it seems that it often involves some fighting and bloodshed—because Crosshair has a harder time opening up than his other brothers.

But Hunter will be damned if he doesn't try, especially now that Omega's safety could depend on this information.

Now, at last, we're at the pinnacle moment of the episode for these two characters: the fight, and another moment of weakness for Hunter. He reminds Crosshair that he knows him, and he demands this time to know what exactly happened here.

Hunter, because he knows his brother, has to push Crosshair (literally) to get anything out of him. He doesn't want this to be simple bickering like before. So, Hunter goes for a low blow. He knows that Crosshair values loyalty above all else, so he brings up Crosshair's disloyalty to both the Empire and their own squad, knowing it'll hurt him enough to get some real responses out of him.

Then comes the physical shove. This is a clear demand for Crosshair to start giving answers.

But look at how Hunter's expression changes as he waits for Crosshair to talk.

His brow softens, because Crosshair's hesitance to say or do something right away is evidence of the fact that it's something really, really serious that happened. At the end of the day, he's just worried for his brother. He wants to know, needs to know, so he can help him. It almost looks like he's pleading for an answer here.

And Crosshair does answer truthfully, revealing that he killed Lt. Nolan. Hunter is obviously shocked, and he even has a somewhat guilty reaction to Crosshair saying "after they betrayed me", because, I mean, we all know Hunter's been harboring guilt for leaving Crosshair behind.

That's when Crosshair digs his claws in to protect himself, too, also going for low blows against Hunter—starting with Hunter ignoring the warning Crosshair had sent from Tantiss.

(What's really telling to me here is that Hunter doesn't once defend himself when he easily could have. He could have told Crosshair that he was the only one who wanted to listen to Crosshair's warning, but that his and the rest of the squad's desire to try to save Crosshair ultimately won out. But he doesn't. He just takes it.)

Hunter only starts to get really angry when Crosshair gets Omega involved.

Hunter turned Crosshair's loyalty against him, so Crosshair turns Hunter's protectiveness against him. Imagine being a protector like Hunter, who's even more fiercely protective of Omega, and being told that after months of desperate, worried searching, you're the reason why the person you care the most about went through their worst bout of suffering.

Yeah, that stings. Especially because there's truth to it, the part about his jealousy towards Crosshair being the one to free her instead of himself. Hunter no doubt felt like he had failed as Omega's protector by losing her to the Empire, and not only that, but the brother he left behind had to be the one to bring her back to them.

(I also think that, in reading between the lines in this entire part of Crosshair's argument, he could even be insinuating that Hunter's shouldering the blame for Tech's death. If he knows the details, then he knows that ultimately, Hunter's the one who approved the mission. "You ignored it", in reference to Crosshair's message, could mean that both Tech and Omega could have been safe if Hunter had simply made the right call. It may not have been intentional on Crosshair's part, but I could easily see Hunter thinking that, especially if he already felt guilty about it.)

No wonder why these two are about to fist fight in the snow. Their ugliest, scariest monsters have finally come out.

And that's when the scary monster comes out, too.

(I love the symbolism!)

Hunter immediately snaps back into his protector mode. He warns Crosshair to move, but also physically shoves Crosshair out of the way and takes his previous place, making himself the one who's closest to the threat.

(Hunter does this a lot with his squad, by the way.)

They focus on getting to safety, and then figuring out a plan with the others to get the wyrm back outside the perimeter. This is when Hunter insists that they have to make sure the wyrm is drawn out that far so that they're not trapped inside with it, and Crosshair volunteers to take it on his own. But Hunter's not okay with that.

You would think that Hunter would want to be as far away from Crosshair as possible after what just transpired, but he doesn't. Instead, in this moment, Hunter is assuring Crosshair that he doesn't have to do things alone anymore, that they're brothers at the end of the day, and he wants to help. I think this is Hunter's first true attempt at making a truce with Crosshair, and attempting to extend his hand to him.

Of course, Crosshair snaps back asking Hunter if he's sure that's what he wants, and that leads to a moment of tension—but notice that, unlike the other times, Hunter doesn't retaliate. He understands with more clarity now why Crosshair's lashing out. Crosshair's hurting.

So, in teaming up with Crosshair here, Hunter knows he can mend what's most important to Crosshair by proving it with his actions: loyalty.

If anything, what Crosshair lashing out here and what Hunter going with him proves is that Crosshair's mostly hurt that he's lost the loyalty/trust of his brothers. When they get out there and Hunter's trapped underneath the ice, left to rely on his brother for guidance and rescue, it allows Crosshair to mend that sense of loyalty and trust. He can earn it back.

Not because Hunter necessarily needs him to do that, although it certainly is helpful, but because Hunter knows that Crosshair needs that. Crosshair needs to feel reliable to them again.

That's what's so perfect about Hunter's safety literally being in Crosshair's hands here. They're able to banter the way they likely would've during the war, and Hunter doesn't hesitate when Crosshair extends his rifle to pull him up and get him out of the hole in the ice.

Hunter gets proof that he can indeed trust Crosshair with his life again, and Crosshair gets that proof, too. Because, at the end of the day, they're just an eldest and youngest brother. Youngest siblings (I say as a youngest child myself) are often looking for validation and trust from their older siblings, especially the eldest. This display of trust must've been so, so validating and healing for Crosshair.

That brings us back to that first line of dialogue I highlighted: "I know you." Hunter knew Crosshair was hurting like this all along, and while he was struggling between his protectiveness over Omega and his concern for Crosshair, he was finally able to make his brother's journey to healing happen.

We then get the nods of mutual trust, understanding, apologies, and forgiveness, before they sit in peace together.

(This is one of my favorite shots in all of Star Wars. I mean, come on.)

I love how the shift in their dynamic is evident enough that everyone recognizes it once they get back. They hug it out with Wrecker, and then we shift into one of the most meaningful dialogue exchanges we'll ever get between them.

Now that Crosshair's laid more of his vulnerabilities out on the table, he seeks reassurance in Hunter. Again, youngest siblings so often just want to feel validated by their older siblings, especially the eldest. Crosshair's looked to Hunter to lead him and guide him his whole life. This is why the guilt's so evident when he comes clean about making mistakes with the Empire.

It would've been so easy for Hunter to say yeah, you did make mistakes, you did hurt us and many innocent people. Instead, Hunter says these simple few words that carry so much weight:

Hunter takes on that burden with Crosshair. He lets his own vulnerabilities show by saying, yeah, I'm with you there, there are things I wish I hadn't done, either. He then gives him reassurance and hope by saying that they can forge a new path forward, that they're not tied down by who they used to be, nor what bad decisions they made.

Hunter is putting them on the same level here, and for someone like Crosshair, who probably thought his brothers would never trust him nor accept him the way they used to because of what he's done, this means everything.

(I also feel like Crosshair really needed to hear the "I have regrets too" line from Hunter in particular. He needed a hint that Hunter really did regret leaving him behind, even if it was the best/safest option for the rest of the squad at the time. You can certainly still regret doing something, even if it was the best option at that time.)

In summary, The Return is about not just a return to Barton IV, but a return to who Clone Force 99 used to be. Crosshair's return to his squad, the return of their trust in him and vice versa. A return to the familiar.

Hunter didn't handle this perfectly, nor would anyone who was in his shoes with all these complicated relationships and trauma, but he did his best. Even while caught between his concern for Crosshair and his fierce protectiveness of Omega and the members of his family that he had left, Hunter still found a way to make things right. He completed both objectives.

For as much as Crosshair needed to have the trust of his family back, Hunter needed the reassurance that he could still keep his entire family safe on missions like these. He needed to know he could still take care of them, physically and emotionally.

And he succeeded.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Languages

Just a snippet of something I was working on but then got bored of the concept so didn't write it but I still want everyone to read the fluf. Tell me if y'all are interested in this, maybe I'll continue it with public demand<3

Plot: reader is kinda reincarnate. She was cursed in her first life by a witch because she had an affair with the witches husband. (Don't judge okay, my girl made a mistake!!) And the curse was to be reincarnated in every lifetime with her memories of last life still intact, and to find someone she loves and watch them die (Because why not).

Masterlist

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"Do you remember the languages?"

"Of course, I do. Cursed to do so, remember?" You smirk.

"Tell me something in them." Azriel's eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"我过了愉快的一天。It means, I had a good day." He looks awed by the foreign words. And then excitedly asks for more, like a child wanting to know new facts.

You laugh and amuse him, speaking in different languages, repeating a few when he asks to learn them. Speaking in these tounges, many that you forgot even existed in different worlds, it feels nostalgic, the words awakening all the happy and sad mamories that you had buried deep in your brain.

"I also remember my first language, the one I spoke in the life I got cursed."

"Oh? Tell me." He smiles softly.

You smile at him, bluntly admiring his beautiful face.

"હું તને પ્રેમ કરું છુ."

You look deep into his eyes, speaking the truth that was buried within your heart. Even though you've said it before, it feels somehow different, even more intimate in your native language. Azriel seems to have sensed the raw emotion in your words, his face filled with adortion as he asks, "What does that mean?"

You want to answer him truly but think to mess with him a little and smirk up at him. "You are weird."

The two of you bust out laughing, looking at each other, him shaking his head in disbelief with the smile still on his lips, and your head tossed back, eyes closed in pure contentment.

"I hate you." Azriel still shakes his head, looking elsewhere for a moment, trying to look annoyed but failing.

When you finally pause laughing, you crook out a reply, "I'm sorry! You are not weird-" He finally looks at you, an eyebrow raised. "You are just- odd," He scoffs. "But good odd, I promise!" The last sentence barely understandable through your laughter.

"Well, હું તને પ્રેમ કરું છુ, too."

You freeze. All signs of amusement leaving your face as you gaze at him. Your eyes widened, mouth agaped. Hearing those words, in your language, from his mouths, ignited something in you.

Also, how did he say it without mistakes after hearing only once?

He frowns at your reaction. "What- Did I say it wrong? Oh god, I made a mistake didn't I?" He winces, thinking about all the possibilities about what he could've said to have a reaction like this.

"No,You-" Blinking at him in shock, you put your hands on his neck and gently kiss him. He instanty melts into the kiss, moving his lips with yours with passion.

You pull back after a moment and say, "You said it perfectly." You're lips curved into a soft smile.

"Yeah? Now tell me what it really means."

"Huh?"

"Considering the kiss you gave me, it can't actually mean what you said."

You laugh. "Well, guess you'll never know." He sighs dramatically, then smirks. "Then I'll just keep saying it until you tell me."

"Darling, હું તને પ્રેમ કરું છુ."

●○●○

(હું તને પ્રેમ કરું છુ. = I love you. In gujarati.)