#instead of all the ways the world at large tries to take that away?

[whumpfish]

Preach it! I wish people would realize how significant the overlap between the whump and the disability community is, and that we're not intruding or taking over spaces

Yeah. This wasn't a thing until recently, hence my additional annoyance with it. Like I said in the larger post, whump is a way for us to find common ground with each other and other people. I've learned a lot about the mechanics of pain disorders that aren't ME/CFS, and phenomena that are similar to what I experience but not exact, and not just on my own posts. I reblogged a reference post a while back from someone who has fainting spells, and I was fascinated to learn how much longer I'm typically unconscious for (30-90 seconds vs 2-15 wholeass minutes!). Previously I'd just thought unconsciousness was unconsciousness. It's been a good tool for me for talking to my doctors, even. One of the first things I'm asked when I mention my pain knocking me out is if I've ever fallen, to which I've always responded "??? By the time it's bad enough for me to pass out I've already had to sit/lie down??" Now I know why they're always asking what I thought prior to this was a weird and counterintuitive question, and I can say "I don't mean fainting, I mean passing out, this and that are different"... which is really going to help me in disability evaluations, because I've met a lot of lay people who are convinced that if you don't drop from a standing position it's not "real." All because somebody made a whump reference post for writers, and tagged it what it was so I could find it. And the thing is, there's already a dedicated "space for community things," it's called the actually tags, and it's why they exist. #actuallydisabled #actuallychronicallyill I use these all the time, and you know what? No fandom content. This is a total and complete non-issue. When this shit takes over your life, in my experience, you've got two options for what to do with the spoons you're left with. You can reach out, connect with people, find something you can do to counteract how the world treats you and feel human again... or you can sit around trying to make everyone else as miserable as you are. I choose Door #1.

[sigh-tofm]

if you have anxiety… (some 18+)

… price

- takes charge. understands how hard it is to be a functional human some days. removes all the unnecessary overthinking you do. breakfast? omelette. workout? yes, a run. dinner? steak, and he will do the hard part. you chop the veggies. movie? this cheesy romcom. sex? of course, you just lie back and let yourself get overwhelmed by his tongue. can’t do much overthinking when you barely remember your own name, can you? while you rest against the headboard in the afterglow and catch your breath, he fishes a magnesium pill from a bottle and makes you swallow it, holding a glass of water to your lips. ‘let’s calm that head down, baby.’

… kyle

- talks you down. he’s smooth and he knows it. when you run yourself in circles trying to find solutions to problems that only exist in your head, he has a way of breaking your head open and making you see the light with only a few soft sentences. he lets you ramble on and on about all the things that plague you until he eventually says something that catches you completely off guard and puts everything into a new perspective. suddenly you understand how it’s all connected and what previously felt like world-ending problems now seem like minor inconveniences, if that. he knows that making you putting your thoughts into words and talking about them with him is the best way to dismantle the thought patterns in your head. a simple afternoon walk with him is like a hundred hours in a therapist’s office. and of course you get a quickie on the sofa after.

… johnny

- helps you fight off the restlessness and other nervous symptoms. always catches the signs, your trembling hands and wavering glances, and tries to derail your trains of thought that he knows might cause a panic attack. his first method is always making you laugh, and his stupid jokes almost always do the trick. if that doesn’t work, he knows jumping jacks are a sure way to fire off the stress hormones and adrenaline building up inside you. and if you come home all frazzled, nerves fried after a day of stressful work tasks, impossible clients and rude coworkers, he makes sure to tire you out physically and mentally by way of eight different sex positions over the course of three and a half hours. you sleep long and well that night.

… simon

- is at your service. literally becomes like your service dog. when you’re out and about, you just need to hold on to his arm or put your hand in his pocket. he’ll take you where you need to go, you don’t need to worry about it. if the hustle and bustle of the world around gets to be too loud, he’ll put a heavy arm around your shoulders, literally grounding you. you can hold his large, scarred hand if you need something to focus on, running your fingers over the ridges and bumps on his skin. like any good service dog he creates space for you, simply by existing. no one bothers you when he’s around. if you fidget with the zipper on your jacket or pull on a strand of your hair, he knows before you even notice what you’re doing. he’ll gently redirect you, guiding your hand away from whatever it’s doing. if you’re at home, he’ll sometimes place it blatantly on his crotch instead, to really give you something to fidget with.

[occamstfs]

Talismen: Beginnings

Nicky emerges with an arcane artifact after a bewildering trip through an impossible shop. In wishing his boyfriend was more confident in himself Nicky performs irrevocable and accidental magic upon the world, building his new form and dulling his mind.

And I'm back! Here's the first story of my planned CYOA series, a little long but I love how it turned out! I'll be posting the poll for Part two on Sunday, the 1st of December, the planned options are at the end of the story and it'll only last a day so if you want to take part be on the lookout! At any rate, hope you enjoy and happy to write for you once more! -Occam

It was barbarian weekend at the renaissance festival. Nicky was dressed as a wizard and his boyfriend, Simon, had long planned to go on theme and dress as a barbarian. Though as the day neared and Simon anxiously stared at his decidedly standard figure in the mirror, he instead opted to just throw on a cloak and call it a day. Arriving at the fair the pair, as expected of the theme, find themselves surrounded by burly men clad in kilts with faux fur draped atop chests beyond impressive.

Gawking at hot men is of course par for the course of this kinda event but Nicky can’t help but read the shame and embarrassment creeping into Simon’s expression as he takes in the festivities. When they eventually step into a tavern for a breather Nicky checks in, “Heyyy babe? Everything good? Seem kinda down-” Simon shakes his head and forces a smile, “Don’t worry about me B, I’m aces!” He tosses a wink out for good measure before pointedly changing the topic, “So what was it you said you’re looking to grab this year?”

Nicky narrows his eyes for half a moment wondering if he should push or challenge his clearly sulking boyfriend before deciding to let the sleeping dog lie for now, “Mmmm, I don’t know actually? Probably just an accessory for the costume? Oh! Or maybe some dice?” Simon’s expression changes into a more genuine smile as he grabs at Nicky’s arm and massages it, “Well here’s an idea. We’re right by the dice shop yeah? Howsabout we split up. I’ll grab us some beers and you go check out the offerings. Meet back here?” 

Wordlessly agreeing, Nicky leans in for a kiss and relaxes at Simon seemingly perking up. Heading off with a nod, Nicky exits the tavern, preventing him from seeing his boyfriend’s facade fade once more as he contemplates getting a drink or two ahead of his partner before his return from the shops. 

Under the impression that Simon has cheered back up, Nick is off to the races. Dice shop just across the way he begins his short trek when suddenly there’s a buzzing in the back of his mind. The sounds of the crowd around him eerily fade as if his ears are waterlogged, he shakes his head from the sudden discomfort and takes a moment to see if anyone else seems to be affected. Before he’s able to inspect his fellow festival-goers he is shocked to see a strange shop he’s never seen before.

Nestled in between a printing press and some soap store Nicky furrows his brow and wonders how he’s possibly missed the shop before now. He’s been coming for years and knows the layout of the festival like the back of his hand. After waiting a few seconds to see if anyone else is entering he takes a cautious step forward and trips as his body tries to take another without his intent. Nicky blushes as he bumps into a brawny barbarian who laughs him off and ruffles his hair, “Watch where yer -urp goin dude huhuh!” Nicky nods an apology and reflexively takes another backwards step towards the apparently new shop. In a sudden need for an expedited retreat from embarrassment, Nicky quickly rushes towards the door and away from the man bumped who eyes him taking a large swig from a tankard. 

He hasn’t the chance to notice that each step towards the shop that should not be there is quicker than the one that came before. In no time at all he tears open the door and is inside the quaint cluttered shop. While his eyes adjust from the bright fall day behind him, he takes in the scene as well as he can. The small space is filled with some bitter herbal scent and the air seems to crackle with something similar to static. Nicky of course attributes the strange prickle on his skin to nerves and continues browsing the curious shop.

There’s no real discernible theme to the shop, really it seems to be more of an antique store than anything else. In any normal situation Nicky would have already dipped back out, but something in the back of his mind keeps pulling him in deeper. Walking past strange dolls and stranger bottled liquids, the almost ticklish sensation continues to assail him with unconscious step forward. His spacial awareness tells him he has wandered further than should be possible but it’s almost as if he has no option to continue forward. Coming up on a curtained doorway Nicky’s hands move as if possessed to part the blinds and his eyes finally lay upon what supernatural, impossible thing must be drawing him inward. 

It would be the perfect accessory for his costume. It would be the perfect accessory to put on and never take off again. It will be perfect. It will be his. He needs it more than anything. His eyes shine with the ruby tinges reflecting off the talisman as he inches towards the pedestal it lies upon. His hand reaches towards the object of his desires and burns as the prickling sensation comes to a head. He grimaces as it turns to an almost boiling heat before his fingers touch it and the impossibly intense sensation instantly disappears. Nicky jumps due to the sudden almost atmospheric change and before recovering he almost has a heart attack as who must be the shopkeep shouts from behind him, “HELLO HELLO YOUNG NICHOLAS!” 

Nicky scrambles to hide behind the pedestal and inspect the mystery man, his vision momentarily tinged scarlet. As the twinges of whatever static sensation filled him moments ago begin to fade totally, he finds himself suddenly able to realize how strange everything about this is. He gulps as he sees a man dressed as a campy wizard adjusting his glasses, “Well it seems you found what you were looking for eh old sport?” Nicky looks down at the still shimmering necklace in his hands, stuttering incoherently as his mind races to understand. 

In the half second his eyes were off the wizardly shopkeep, the man has crept up behind once more. Now throwing an arm around Nicky he helps him to his feet and begins leading away from the curtained room, “Hup hup- Now you must be very careful with your words now young Nicholas. Do tell Simon I said hello hm?” Nicky again looks at the necklace in hand and, hanging to the rational world by a thread, inquires, “P- Pay? Did I pay for this?”  The wizardly man laughs and pats him on the back, “Oh don’t you worry ah ha ha! Hah.” The wizardly man winks, though even doing so there is an after image of a red eye staring into and through Nicky. The younger man opens his mouth to question the clearly mystic magus of the artifact and his intentions though before he gets a chance the wizard shouts.

“Do have fun at the festival my boy!” with that he brusquely pushes Nicky forward and he finds himself outdoors by a printing press and soap shop. Fearful of turning around to see there is no store there Nicky looks down to find himself wearing the talisman. Grabbing at it he finds the same sensation that filled him minutes ago, though muted. Pleasant. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he is again bumped into, this time by someone whose vision is clearly obscured by a mask, “Sho- Shorry!” Nicky sighs and apologizes, though the physical sensation and awkwardness brings him back to reality. Shaking off anxiety and pushing down whatever it is just happened he heads off to meet his boyfriend at the tavern. 

Returning to find Simon housing his third ale, Nicky quickly downs his own to distract from the strange anxiety that remains persuasive in spite of their reunion. Wishing for distraction, it comes swiftly and in short order the pair are out and about enjoying all the festivities that the faire has to offer, various sloppy meats on a stick, bird shows and jesters, and a firework show to cap it all off. The day soars by in short order and Nicky, wanting to forget about his encounter in that place that wasn't, does just that with shocking, almost supernatural, ease. In fact anything Nicky seems to desire almost falls at his feet. With but an imperceptible red shine in his eyes Nicky finds himself wanting for nothing. The same could not be said for his boyfriend.

After sobering up, his dour jealousy for the superior male form returns and as much as Simon tries to hide it from Nicky, the long day has dulled his ability to disguise anything from his boyfriend. On the long walk back to the car Nicky initially avoids bringing it up, but after an eventful day of getting just about everything he desires, he can’t help but try and get to the root of Simon’s sour attitude. “Can you just tell me what’s up babe?” Groaning as he unlocks the car door the weary man answers, “It’s nothing Nick. I’m just- UGH! I wish I wasn’t so self-concious or had actually gone to the gym or-” turning to see Nicky’s puppy dog eyes for not realzing his discomfort Simon groans and apologies, “Don’t worry it’s fine, I um, I had fun!”

Mind flashing back to the barbarian costume that Simon ultimately decided not to wear, love for his boyfriend overwhelms him and he reaches out to hold his lover’s free hand. Hidden underneath his own cloak, Nicky’s talisman flashes red as the sticky staticky sensation returns stronger than it had been even in the shop. He doesn’t whisper or even coherently think the words as he immediately drifts off to sleep in the passenger seat, but the intention is more than enough for the die to be cast. I wish Nicky had more confidence. I wish he was less self-conscious. I wish he was proud of his body. 

Subconscious wish made Nicky’s ruby red eyes remain closed as he falls into an incredibly deep sleep, leaving Simon alone with his thoughts. He squirms slightly behind the wheel as he suddenly feels warm. Mind too muddled to wallow he feels every inch of his body suddenly buzzing with energy, as if an espresso was being dripped into his veins. Looking at his sleeping boyfriend his thoughts shift immediately from self-criticism and body dysmorphia to a lustful, almost primal hunger for his mate. Nicky’s hand still burning hot on his own despite the blaring aircon, he fights the urge to bring the sleeping man’s hand to his cock as it begins to stir. 

Before they’ve even left the parking lot Simon is overwhelmed with a lust for his partner stronger than anything he has felt in some time. Hitting the open road he chews his lip to distract from his cock doing its best to pop the seam in his pants, constantly he’s choking down horny grunts and groans to prevent the sleeping Nicky from waking up. Arriving at their shared home, he struggles to gracefully exit the car with his rod standing firmer than he assumed it could. Eventually making it out, he goes to pick up his still sleepy passenger. 

With a great deal of effort, Simon successfully stills his hips and quiets his lusts to pick up his sleeping suitor. Baring the urges of his body he realizes that the task is far easier than it should be, Nicky’s not heavy but- Any further inquisition is stilled as he reflexively takes a deep breath of his sleeping lover and is promptly overwhelmed. Nicky’s floral shampoo and deodorant mix with b.o. from an unseasonably warm day in the sun and Simon doesn’t have the strength to quiet the grunt that erupts from him as his cock throbs and prods Nicky in the back. 

Eyes blearily open as the sleeping wizard stirs and stretches in the arms of his lover. “Wha? Si?” The self-conscious Simon, embarrassed at waking up his boyfriend quickly puts him down. He blushes as Nicky steadies himself on his arms, still yawning he chastises his boyfriend for letting him fall asleep, “You didn’t *ahwn* didn haf to do tha babe, *awh*” Rubbing his ruby-tinged eyes he can’t quite make out the finer details of his boyfriend, but he would swear he’s looking further up than he usually does to make eye contact. Simon waves him off, “It’s fine, I’m not even tired really.” 

Leaning down to give him a hug, Simon angles his head into Nicky’s nape he takes another deep breath, this time not even trying to mute the groan that spills forth, “MMmhm, y’know now that you’re up the night’s still young…” Nicky tilts his head before understanding as Simon’s cock throbs once more into his abdomen, shaking off the sleep Nicky’s own package begins to stir as he leads his partner into their home, “Well now that you mention it~”

Nicky starts disrobing when Simon grabs his hand, some small amount of discomfort hiding in his expression as he asks, “Would you mind if I, um, topped? This time?” Nicky tilts his head before nodding cheerily, “feeling frisky huh?” Nicky performatively poses before seemingly doing some mental math and continuing, “it’s been a minute haha! Let me just hop in the shower real quick and then we’ll have some fun!”

Already feeling like he’s overstepping Simon doesn’t mention his desire for Nicky to not shower. Something feral need within him forces forward an urge to tackle and fuck then and there but he pushes such thoughts down and waits as patiently as he can. Preparing to bottom on such a short notice, Nicky quickly strips and his eyes land upon the talisman hanging from his neck once more. Pursing his lips he goes to take the necklace off, though as his fingers clasp the chain he shivers as it sends a sensitive pang searing through him. Why would he take it off. Feeling immediately more alert and needy, Nicky swiftly hops in the shower to prepare for some fun.

Outside the bathroom his boyfriend taps his foot anxiously, sending a deep, impatient echo through the room. Irritated at the sound he stands and quickly disrobes himself. After getting the cloak off, the room is filled with slight groans of effort as he struggles to get off his shirt. It’s almost stuck to his skin? Probably from sweat he thinks but each time he wrenches it up it only frees about an inch more room. His irritation prevents him from noticing how it decidedly hugs new weight on his chest or cuts into apparently thicker biceps.

The sound of the shirt straining fills the room and he grinds his teeth as the prospect of being stuck in the top any longer is unbearable. His hands stretch longer and strain shifts to tearing as he rips the tunic off with a grunt. Exposed to the open air is a sweaty body far more impressive than when the man struggled to get ready that morning. Looking at the torn shirt in his hand he blushes as his eyes trail up his forearms and stare at a bicep that’s begging to be flexed. 

Stepping out wearing only a towel and his talisman, Nicky smiles as he stares at Simon appreciating his arms, “Couldn’t have waited for me to put on the show huh?” Simon turns to see his boyfriend drop the towel and he loses control. Any sign of intelligence in his eyes vacates as he manhandles the man onto the bed. For his part Nicky assumes this to be roleplay, almost giggling from delight as the typically meek man ragdolls him onto the bed. Drool leaks from Simon's maw as he grunts and groans, struggling to free the throbbing package still trapped in his shorts.

Being straddled, Nick takes the chance to carefully observe his boyfriend’s body, appreciating the view that he seldom gets. For the life of him he doesn’t understand why Si got so worked up, with arms like that and a chest- or? When did he start working out actually? Nicky frees a hand to touch the man’s powerful torso and Simon shivers, reflexively rutting into him as his cock growing even harder sends the sound of fabric straining through the room. He’s decidedly firmer, heavier. Nicky sees hair begin to grow on the man’s chest and his mind for half a second hears the echoing laughter of a man he wished to forget. Though there’s no time to think as Simon goes for the tried and true method of just ripping his clothes off.

Eyes wide with wonder, Nicky watches as biceps bulge larger with each tug, shoulder span expanding as his hands yank and tear. His mouth falls open as he sees a cock clearly larger than the one that he knows Simon to have. Gulping as he realizes he’s agreed to take this dick that stretches up to his sternum, Nicky blushes and Simon smirks as he leans down to snarl or whisper something in his lover’s ear. 

Nicky feels pre dripping onto his chest as the larger man leans down, his arms land to either side of the man exposing pits dripping with sweat and just before he speaks or growls, the talisman flashes red. Eyes focused on each other neither man sees some shard of light go from the charm into Simon. His eyes roll back and close before he falls down onto Nicky. Immediately concerned for his love, Nicky struggles to shift the man off him and call for help before he hears Simon begin to snore. His body feels like a furnace atop Nicky’s, a cock still erect continues to throb into his stomach and gush pre in between the two of them. He feels patches of hairs thicker than Simon typically carries scratching him. Nicky tries to force the sleeping oaf off him before quickly tuckering himself out.

It was a long day after all. Nicky yawns as he sees the back of the man lying atop him. It’s not right, too wide, too heavy. His ass is not that large his- ughh. With another shove to wake or move Simon, Nicky feels weariness truly overtake him and his scarlet eyes flutter. The sleeping man moves his arms to hug Nicky tight and the seemingly smaller man has no recourse but to give way, his sides tickled by patches of pit hair dripping with sweat. Nick’s head tips forward a few times as he struggles to stay awake though the sound of his lover’s new snores lull him to sleep.

In the morning Nicky wakes to find himself free from Simon’s grasp, though the man’s sweat stains leave a clear outline around him on the bed and his torso remains sticky from pre. His head aches with a hangover though after the faintest wish that it end, so it does. Groaning he gets to his feet and heads off to shower once more, en route he finds a note from Si: “heyyy babe woke up w so much energy!!! gonna go for a run or to the gym idk :) c u soon thooooo<3”  Nicky  rubs sleep from his eyes and reads the short note a few times over, “hmmm. Weird.” Shrugging he goes about his day as usual, cleaning up, brewing coffee, doing the crossword. Something in the back of his mind says he usually does this with Simon, but that can’t be right? He’d never want to do that. His eye twitches as unbeknownst to him, with each step further away his love has truly begun to change from his unintentional intentions into a man who will never feel shame again.

Simon doesn’t know why he feels so compelled to get up and at ‘em. For years he has given himself ultimatums, scheduled gym sessions, dieted and done his best, but there has not been a moment in his life where he has felt more drive, more purpose than his flight from their shared bed. It’s like he’s a new man with nothing on his mind but getting some meat on his bones. He barely had the wherewithal to leave a note for his lover, as is clear by the lack of eloquence.

Nor is that the only aspect askew from Simon’s typical self. As his anxiety at being perceived shirtless may suggest, the man is always conscious of how he looks. Rarely does a day go by without Simon giving himself a painstaking once over in front of the mirror, be it applying makeup or designing an outfit. To simply throw on a tshirt and leave without even rinsing his face is anathema, and yet after doing just that and throwing on his boyfriend’s sneakers, finding his own far too tight, he’s out the door well before the sun begins to rise. 

His feet fall heavy on the sidewalk as his shabby outfit soon enough finds itself straining. Grimacing at the constriction it becomes clear that these clothes are far too tight and getting tighter with each step it seems. Nevertheless he presses onward until there is stinging pain from his feet struggling against their binds. While he’s been content to ignore or misinterpret the sounds of his own tshirt beginning to fray, as well as the pain that such constriction entails, he doesn’t want to ruin Nicky’s shoes. And so scrambling for somewhere to sit down he hops on a bench and begins to struggle with the laces.

Simon’s toes struggle against frontal fabric while the shoes’ tongues press into laces that simply must be cutting into the tops of his feet. Simon’s mind is clearly slowing down as he takes a few seconds too long to simply watch his feet expand beyond containment before, with a gasp, pain jogs him into action. At first he goes to untie them before he’s unable to recall precisely how to do that. Immediately switching to the task already begun by his growing feet he reaches in and simply tears each shoe in two.

His arms bulge with the effort involved in splitting them in twain, biceps that never were begin to appear and push his short sleeves to their limit as new muscle presses onto his chest. Looking down at his hands, decidedly more masc, the man can do nothing but observe his new form as it begins to extol an untenable price on his mind. With each new manly aspect so too will the cogs of his mind continue to slow.

Looking at his boyfriend's shredded shoes, Simon is immediately guilty though he releases a contented sigh as his feet flex free from their confines. His newly one track mind is then thrown off-course and his eyes narrow at the feet bare on cold concrete. They were not simply chafing or something reasonable of the sort, they are too big. They’re larger than his shoes and seem to still be growing larger. And wait- Why did he leave the house without wearing socks!? 

Simon shakes his head to try and focus on one question at a time, though before peace comes there is a searing pain from his legs as his changes continue upward. Calves burst from his bony legs while athletic shorts are clearly strained by thighs that any man would kill for. Thick, perhaps barbarous, curls begin to issue forth from any pore exposed as he clutches with his newly thicker hands into muscle still hardening, still pumping larger. 

Grunting loudly, Simon falls off the bench as ever spreading changes spread towards his glutes. His pert ass hardens and grows to a size that would attract attention no matter what he wears to try and hide it under. His whole lower body cramps with growth as his legs extend, wider feet scratching into dirt as calves and thighs lengthen while his pulse continues to race from the shock of this impossible transformation. Struggling with the new weight of self, his rougher hands pressed into the ground his duller mind is unable to reconcile what is happening to him with reality. The sound of blood rushing through his ears mutes the world around him and at the slightest lapse he simply forgets.

“Why am I on my hands?” Through bleary eyes he stares at hands too wide, fingers longer and thicker. He trails upward and almost scoffs as he sees forearms and biceps not nearly as defined as they should be, after another moment mouth agog he guffaws as he presumes to have put one and one together, “Oh ahuhuh- I must be workin’ out here?” Licking his lips as he is filled with an otherworldly surge of energy, Simon gets started following one of the most common impulses that is to evermore make itself at home in his mind. He starts doing some push ups.

Immediately do his biceps burn with effort as they put on weight at an impossible rate. Simon grunts with the effort of taking the wheel and commanding his body to be more powerful. His heart pounds in his chest as, just like every piece of fabric before, his shirt quickly gives way outright to the progress of growth. To the strengthening of self. With each dip towards the earth his pecs come closer to touching the cold soil before bouncing as his powerful arms rocket him back upwards with precision. 

Simon continues exercising until his arms burn as numb as his new, slower mind. Not only does muscle continue to pack on with every punch upwards, but his impressive form is just as quickly patterned with burgeoning body hair. Sweat drips down onto a chest rapidly peppered with curls and steams off a back which holds hair slowly rising from his lightly furred ass. Sweaty steam trails upwards from widening shoulders and bulky traps into the cold autumn air as heavy breath mists from behind gnashing teeth. Nowhere does the hair grow thicker than under his powerful arms as a jungle of hair grows outward from his pits and sends distinct trails of sweat down his trunk like biceps and across his hulking pecs.

Body hair and brawn are not the only decidedly improved aspects of the man either. Just as he continues to pack on muscle with each thrust upwards, so too is his crotch pulled closer to the ground with every descent. His briefs struggle against a package rapidly growing beyond any tenable containment. Balls bulge larger to supply his impressive form with the hormones required for the growth he demands of it, pubes cascading upward and outward as they strive to assert that Simon’s masculinity shall never be in question. 

So too does his cock throb and push against the confines of his underwear enough to be plainly visible. Not only from growing erect as his heart races, but from expanding to be the most impressive rod either he or his lover have ever seen. With the slightest glance down to see his new cock, he smirks and shivers as he imagines topping Nicky with that beast. 

This of course sends such a powerful surge of lust through him that the bulging cock immediately bursts free from the briefs outright, leaving him clad in nothing. His cock, now free, drips pre onto the earth as he continues working out a few moments longer in the buff, plain for anyone to see were the streets not thankfully empty. Guffawing to himself after thrusting his new cock into the ground a few times in the process of pushing up, Simon’s new bovine mind eventually realizes he’s fully nude and public and quickly stumbles to his feet. “Oh shit huhuh-” He stands and scratches the back of his head and tries to plan some form of escape, in the process he flexes his bicep and can’t help but smirk as he sees the veins bulging along its impressive length.

Feeling his still turgid cock bounce with every slight movement, he continues laughing before looking down to see shredded clothes scattered at his colossal feet. Seeing the pile of clothes outgrown, Simon does everything short of drooling as he for the first time takes in his new form. Massive hands trail across padded muscle as the urgency of covering his dick fades from his mind. 

When his sweaty pecs begin to glimmer from the rising sun he is immediately thrown back into awareness of his active criminal behavior. Checking the coast is clear once more, he pauses for a moment wondering what the big deal is about public nudity before being chastised by some internal Nicky. Simon turns back to the bench and laughs dumbly as he sees his gym bag lying discarded.

Pouncing like an animal, he quickly tears into and retrieves shorts that will surely leave nothing to the imagination. Nevertheless he throws them on and grimaces as they tightly hug his ass and package. Seeing shirts thrown to the side he scratches his face and his face quivers as he feels stubble grace it for the first time. He purses his lips just to feel a moustache scratch his nose and absolutely disregards the idea that he needs a shirt. Why would he cover up anything beyond what is necessary. Surely the world would be more than grateful at the chance to see his form he asserts, bouncing his pecs and chuckling as he does so.

Finding himself with nothing to do besides appreciate how built he truly is now, Simon uses his phone as a mirror to inspect every angle and uses whatever sparing space in his mind to keep track of the best ones. The massive man shivers as the sweaty steam rising from him briefly glimmers red, making it clear that Nicky’s will has been enacted on his lover and announcing the fulfillment of his will. Nevermore will he be self-conscious, quite the opposite in fact. As morning commuters begin their grind many offer a passing glance to the by all accounts himbo drooling at his own reflection, and never does one escape without receiving a wink or flex from the man.

When a pair of jocks eye him with jealousy on the way to class he holds back laughter, the idea that not twenty-four hours ago he was just like them, smaller even, is inconceivable to the new man. Though to be fair, much now lies beyond the realm of conceivability for the man. He thinks about offering some tips to the pair though refrains as something needles him far, far in the back of his simple mind. There was something he was supposed to do yeah?

Furrowing his brow in as deep a concentration as he can muster, Simon’s eyes close and his hands clench at his head as he tries to think. Laundry? Huhuh as if- Meal prep? Then why would he be out here? Simon starts groaning in frustration and tapping his larger, still bare, foot on the sidewalk. Ephemeral ideas he might have latched onto in a life before this one drift past before he gives up and sits down, crossing his arms. The bench creaks under his new weight as he almost petulantly reclines, head back and eyes blank.

Suddenly he jolts up and almost hits himself for not doing the obvious straight away. Obviously Nicky’ll know what to do! His clumsy hands struggle to get his phone from the pocket of his shorts and he smiles at the lock screen, a picture of Nicky being smothered by his massive arms. Simon then squints and bites his tongue in concentration as now even this requires some degree of effort. Quickly enough he dials up his beau and almost vibrates from the excitement of hearing his voice. 

Back at home Nicky is playing a game though squeezes the phone in his headset as he sees Simon calling, “Hey baby? What’s up, early start today huh?” Would that he had a tail to wag, Simon laughs and answers, “ha uhhh, yeah somethin’ like that- uhhhhh. Yo did you uh, know what I was plannin’ on doing this morning?” Nicky tilts his head, for a moment he swears something is off with his boyfriend’s voice. Then his eyes go blank and his vision flickers red before, no it’s always been like that? Nicky swears something about his long hours at the gym over the years made him drop a few octaves but that’s neither here nor there. 

Nicky shakes off this small stupor, “Yeah Si, you said you were going to the gym no?” an eye twitches, “y’know, like usual?” Excitement once more sets fire in Simon’s veins as he nods and laughs at himself for forgetting such a simple routine, “Ahhh what would I do without you babe huhuh!” He kisses his cellphone and winks at a woman walking her dog who was giving him a side-eye. “Well you have fun dude! Gonna go get a MASSIVE pump in!” Nicky wryly grins and rolls his eyes, “you too, you too b, see you later-” With that he gets back to the game, intentionally ignoring the crimson buzzing at the back of his mind as both men set off to tackle the obstacles of the day, totally unaware of the lives they are to unintentionally change evermore. 

Poll Results:

Grow up you asshole: 36.1%

Getting flamed in game Nicky’s clapback  teaches a gamer to be a real man (Bear/Dilf TF) 

Man you always play him: 22%

Well intentioned words bring his gamer friend far closer in mind, body, and spirit to his favorite character- Fictional character TF

Sorry for the backwash: 21.2%

Accidentally sharing a drink causes his himbofication to spread 

Let’s get pumped: 20.7%

Simon finds work as a personal trainer and is far more effective than he has any right to be 

[sturncrazy]

CABINFEVER:

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

(anyone else green)

warnings: SMUT!! nsfw 18+ (loss of virginity, unprotected + no pull out…assume ur on birth control)

authors note: love a little sweet smut matt moment 🫶 also imagine the world wasn’t falling apart and there was still snow 🤪 HOPE U GUYS LIKE THIS ONE!!

summary: you and a group of your friends rent an airbnb cabin up in the mountains for a winter get away, but it’s short on beds. You settle for a bench and Matt takes the couch next to you, but things heat up when you get cold…

word count: 2,915 W

—————————————————————————

“HOLY FUCK! it’s FREEZING out” yelled Nick slamming the door behind him. He was the last one inside the cabin and join the rest of you in stomping the snow off your shoes and hanging up various layers of winter-wear. You and a group of 7 of your friends decided to rent an airbnb up in the mountains in New Hampshire for a week to have a cozy vacation. You planned to sled, go on winter walks, make cookies and cozy drinks, play games, and just enjoy being together away from the rest of the world. The only problem was not all of you going had a budget like the triplets, Larray, and Madi. even though they offered to cover for the rest of you, it didn’t seem fair. so you settled on a slightly more quaint cabin instead of a big mansion. the catch was that there were only three bedrooms. You were always easy going and determined that everyone else be happy, so you had made peace with the fact that you’d probably end up on a couch long ago.

“so who’s gonna be living room buddies with me, huh?” you questioned.

“guess that would be me” said Matt, with a sheepish smile.

No surprise, really. Matt was an angel to everyone, so of course he’d be the first to say he’d take the undesirable sleeping spot. you grinned back at him, maybe a little too much. You’d been close to the triplets since you were kids, but Matt had always been your favorite. You related to his quieter side and always had a soft spot for him. A soft spot that went deeper than you wanted to admit in the last few years. Matt was always good looking, but lately something felt different…even though you’d never tell him that.

“i can live with that” you attempted to joke. The living room was beautiful, but large and drafty. there were a few armchairs, but only one oversized couch. next to it was a big window that had a little nook fitted with pillows.

“you take the couch, yn” Matt said, gesturing with his head.

“wha—no way. then where will you sleep?”

“I dunno i’ll figure it out don’t worry bout it. I’ll grab a beanbag or make a pile on the floor” he said blowing you off

“Nuh-uh. no way. you take the couch, i’ll sleep on that window thing”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah a hundred percent”

“Mmmm okay, but if you wanna switch at any point just tell me okay seriously” the genuine concern in his wide blue eyes made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. truth be told, you really didn’t mind this set up because you’d be sleeping just a few feet away from him.

“Deal” you smiled back at him.

The group of you had a perfect evening. it was like something out of a hallmark movie, but by 2am everyone was going to sleep. Matt showered upstairs, which gave you time to get ready for bed and throw on your lame excuse for sleepwear—an oversized tshirt that hung to just above your knees. you’d never wished you’d overpacked and brought shorts more. you tried to cover up your exposed skin with blankets as you heard creaking from the steps. Matt trotted down in flannel pants and a black tank, hair still damp and clinging to his face from the shower. seeing him like that made your throat grow dry.

“Y’tired?” Matt asked, arranging his pillows on the couch so that his head would be by yours, your bodies creating a right angle on their separate resting spots.

“eh, not really. you?”

“nah, not so much. bit of a night owl lately, i guess.” he said, sitting down and beginning to rummage through his bag. you laughed.

“name a time in your life you’ve ever been a morning person?” you teased

“hey shhh i could be if i tried.” he shook his bag vigorously

“shit. think i forgot my phone charger”

“oh i have one, you can use it” you said hopping up to grab your stuff. you strode across the room towards your suitcase without thinking, but suddenly felt heat on the back of your neck like you were being watched. you glanced back at Matt and just barely caught him staring at your bare legs before he quickly looked away. you’d completely forgotten about your choice of outfit and felt embarrassment flush your cheeks.

“here y’go” you said shoving the wires in his direction, avoiding his eyes.

“uh thanks” he said, with equal avoidance. you reached to turn off the last light in the room in hopes that would drown out the awkwardness. Before you knew it the two of you were laughing and chatting away in the strained moonlight leaking in from the window. This went on for about 20 minutes before the chill coming from outside started to get to you. your teeth chattered slightly. mid sentence, Matt halted.

“what’s wrong?”

“oh nothing, just a little breezy here, it’s fine”

“what? you can’t sleep there then! you’ll get sick!” his protective nature was borderline heart melting.

“Matt c’mon. I’m not that weak, i’ll be fine. I’m not making you sleep here”

“Then share the couch with me at least”

his offer caught you off guard and you paused for a second, processing before answering.

“you sure?” you asked, unsteadily. another small moment of silence. was he regretting what he’d offered?

“yeah, of course” You detected a small crack in his voice.

“I don’t wanna crowd you—“ he cut you off

“y/n it’s fine seriously, just c’mhere. it’s just me, don’t be weird.” he answered, sounding almost more like he was trying to convince himself than you. you crept over to the couch. Matt was on his side, already holding his blanket up with his arm to give you a spot to slide into. at first you laid down face to face with him.

“hey” he said quietly, inches from you. you smiled up at him. it made your heart race to see him from this angle, this close. you were sure he could hear your heartbeat if you stayed like this a second longer, so you rolled over so your back was to him. matt made a funny noise, almost like he was clearing his throat. your knees hung off the couch slightly, so you backed up to not fall off. Matt let out a strained cough.

“Matt are you okay? you sound like—“ you started to turn your head to face him, and inadvertently twisted your hips against his body. you felt his hand latch onto your waist, halting it. he winced and let out a small hiss

“y/n please” tumbled out of his lips, his whole body going stiff.

“Matt what’s wrong? I—“ suddenly you became away of a hardness pressing against your lower back and ass. your breathing hitched. Matt was hard. and you could feel it. Matt was hard and was pressing against you, hell it had been caused by you.

“oh my god” you whispered.

“fuck y/n i’m so sorry—holy shit. this is awful. i feel disgusting. i never wanna make you uncomfortable i—“ he began to babble sounding on the verge of tears

“Matt no—“ he rolled onto his back looking up at the ceiling. you turned onto your side to face him.

“No, y/n. this is so bad-oh god. i was worried this would happen, i mean being anywhere near you i’d worry about that, but i thought i could control myself and fuck i’m so sorry“

“wait what do you mean you worried?”

“come on, y/n. you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen. of course i’d worry, but you’re also one of my best friends so—“

“you think i’m beautiful?” matt paused and looked at you in the eye.

“are you joking, y/n?” you shook your head.

he took a deep breath before continuing.

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world” you exhaled rockily, scanning his eyes.

“and i can’t believe this is how i’m telling you that or i did anything to make you feel—“

“Matty, stop” you said, putting a hand lightly to his chest. it heaved at your touch.

“you didn’t do anything wrong, at all. i just never knew you saw me the way the way i see you”

“y’mean you—?” you bit your lip and smiled at him, nodding. he let out an exhale of relief and excitement and smiled back at you. he inched closer to your face, hesitantly.

“can i kiss you?” you nuzzled your nose slightly against his.

“yes, Matt” he leaned the rest of the way in and gently pressed his warm pillowy lips against yours. the feeling was better than you could’ve ever imagined. he pulled away, not wanting to seem too eager or pushy, and waited for you. you glanced from his eyes to his mouth before pushing back against him. this kiss was different from the last. there was fire and passion to it. your lips began to meld together, creating a rhythm as his hands reached for your waist. you wrapped an arm around his neck and ran your hand through his hair, which resulted in a huffing of air from his mouth into yours. his tongue slid against your bottom lip, asking for permission, which you immediately granted. you pressed your lower half against his. he grunted and squeezed your hip. smiling against your lips he rasped out

“careful there, problem from earlier is not exactly gone yet” your stomach flipped

“good” you breathed out, pressing your bodies flush again. he looked at you wide eyed, his pupils dilating, before diving in for the heaviest kiss yet. you lifted your leg up slightly, wrapping it around him. the move caused your shirt to slide up to the top of your hip. matt ran his hand up your thigh and gripped your ass causing you to let out a small whine. he bit at your lip slightly and used this new hold on your lower half to move himself between your legs further and on top of you. he pulled away from you to take off his shirt and you felt heat electrify your body at the sight of him uncovered in the weak blueish light. he smiled at you shyly before kissing you again. one strong hand began to trail over the sensitive skin of your stomach, up your shirt, sending ripples of buzzing through your body as the tips of his hand approached your braless chest. Matt ran his fingers delicately over your nipples, hardening at his slightly cold touch. you shuddered.

“can i take this off?” he said, tugging at the hem. you nodded vigorously and helped him pull it over your head, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. you fought the urge to cover yourself as his eyes engulfed the sight of you.

“god you’re so perfect” he almost moaned out. you giggled and tightened your legs around his lower half, encouraging him back down to you gently. the feeling of his warm bare chest against yours made you let out a sigh. he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, breathing hot warm air against your sensitive skin before gently sucking and pulling through his teeth. you whimpered into him, wrapping your hands back into his hair. he retaliated by starting to grind his hips against your heat, the feeling of his hard on painfully present. your two most desperate spots only separated by your underwear and his pj bottoms.

“Matt—“ you moaned out

“hmmmm?” he hummed into your neck. you needed him in ways you couldn’t explain. you squirmed beneath him. he pulled away to look at you and raise an eyebrow.

“what is it, beautiful?” he cooed, making you flustered. you pushed your hips back up at him, unable to come up with words.

“ohh i see” he chuckled out. you felt a flash of embarrassment and tried to cover your hands with your face. he grabbed your wrists lightly and lowered them.

“Want me to make you feel good, ma?” he said softly into your ear as he dragged his hand down your stomach and to the waistband of your underwear. you whimpered, desire crying out for contract between your legs. he lowered his fingers over the thin cloth that covered your pussy and dragged them up and down, giving you a teasing amount of friction.

“more, Matty, please” you cried out. he gingerly pushed the fabric aside and ran his fingers along your dripping folds

“god you’re so wet” he whispered out in awe, looking down at you , hungrily. he seemed almost in a trace, but the torment was too much for you. you grabbed his wrist and guided his hand, positioning his finger tips at your entrance. his breathing shallowed as he looked up at you while inserting his digits deep into your core. you became a mess as Matt continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them upwards expertly.

“fuck i could watch you like this forever” he panted

“mmmm feels—ss—so good, matt”

“god you don’t know what you’re doing to me, ma” your walls clenched at the thought of his hard length. you reached down between your bodies and palmed at his crotch. he let out a groan. his impressively large hard on throbbed under your touch, straining against his pants.

“oh my god, y/n” he mumbled, closing his eyes. you’d never seen anyone look so sexy before.

“Matt, I want you” you gasped, without thought. his eyes flickered open, his pupils were blown.

“Are—are you sure?” he said, struggling to breathe.

“I’m sure” Matt reached to untie his drawstring. you watched him, closely, as he loosed his pants and lowered them. your mouth watered at the sight of his large rock hard dick slapping against his stomach, the tip already dripping precum. he leaned back over you and began to line himself up with your entrance. nerves shot through your body.

“wait matt”

“what? whats wrong? should i stop?” he said, looking up at you with worry

“No, no definitely not, i—i just—i haven’t done this before?”

“Oh” he said smiling with relief

“Are you sure you want to? we can wait i’m fine to wait. i don’t wanna do anything you’re not ready for”

“NO!” you said a little too eagerly “I really want to” you finished shyly

“Okay” he chuckled. He realigned himself and gave you a gentle kiss

“This is probably gonna hurt a bit, okay? we can stop any time you want to” you nodded and he began to push his tip slowly into your entrance. you cried out at the feeling of him stretching your insides so much. he paused for a moment.

“do you want to stop?” he said sweetly

“No. keep going” you said wincing. he pushed himself to the base of his cock and moaned at feeling you completely around him. he slowly began to slide himself in and out of your pussy. the pain started to turn into pleasure.

“go faster, matty, please” he listened and began to pick up his pace, creating a delicious rhythm and hitting your sweet spot deep inside of you with each thrust. you let out a string of curses and cries at the sensation.

“fuck you feel so good around my dick, baby”

“oh god don’t stop”

“you like that, sweet girl”

“yes—fuck yes—i like it so much”

“you’re so fucking perfect, princess. god i love being inside of you”

“Matt—oh my god—fuck—I—“ you felt a tightening in the pit of your stomach as your buildup started to reach its peak.

“you gonna cum, sweetheart?” Matt lowered one of his hands to press on your lower stomach, where he was deep inside of you. your vision began to blur.

“Let go, baby. Cum for for me” your hearing buzzed and you saw flashes of white as you came undone. Your walls clenched around Matt’s cock causing his thrusts to become sloppy.

“fuck, gorgeous i’m close—where do you want me to—“ he panted out

“just keep going, matty” you cooed still coming down from your high

“wh—you-you sure?” he questioned fighting off his release

“yes, don’t stop. keep going for me”

“oh my ffu—god-yes—anything for you” he stuttered

“fuck baby i’m gonna cum”

“yeah? cum inside me, matty, please”

“OH GOD FUCK Y/N”

“i wanna feel you cum”

“OH—IM CUMMING—OH FUCK—“ Matt cried out thrusting into you, wildly. He halted deep inside you as he released hot spurts of his cum into your core. he collapsed, panting heavily. after a moment, he pulled out and quickly leaned back down to give you a kiss before reaching to grab you your shirt. you smiled at each other, sheepishly, as you got redressed. he pulled you tightly against him and ran his hand down the back of your head, soothingly.

“How was that?”

“Perfect” you mumbled into his chest, breathing him in.

“Yeah?” he chuckled into your hair. you nodded.

“I’d say so too.” he said.

“I’ve always dreamed of getting to hold you like this” he whispered

“really?”

“mhm”

“me too” he paused for a moment

“what would you think of maybe being something where we could always be like this?”

you pulled away to look at him and he grinned at you. you pulled him in for the biggest kiss you muster.

—————————————————————————

why am i gonna cry? WHY CANT THE MEN I MAKE UP IN MY HEAD BE REAL.

[felibrary]

wish you were sober

synopsis: in which you drunkenly confess to aventurine and he doesn’t believe you, rather believing that he’s not worthy, less even deserving of your love. despite that, his insecurity, you're under the belief that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. love - something that you want to introduce to him and show him “what it means to love you.”

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 2.3k (i’ve gone insane) | content & warnings: hurt/comfort, alcohol; they're both drunk, insecure aventurine, unestablished relationship, they label themself as friends but reader barely knows anything abt him LMFAO, dual pov, DO YALL GET THE REFERENCE IN THE SYNOPSIS LMFAO??, rushed ending icl, half assed-ly proofread; oneshot

a/n: yesterday i listened to wish you were sober by conan gray and was like “damn.. this’d fit sunday” but then i asked azul what he thinks cause i couldn’t decide between su**day and <aventurine3. and they replied with that it’d be so much more angsty with aventurine (okay not quote on quote but you get the msg) and i dislike su**ay anyway!! so boom! (y’all are still getting another sunday fic..yay..ig.....)

tags: beloved @azullumi <3 and @cherieiu (stop punching me)

“i love you.” 

your confession doesn't come over as surprising for aventurine, he anticipated it. just like how the ebb awaits the flood, yearning for it but disappearing as soon as it arrives. missing out on each other for just a split second, as the other party sweeps and slips away from the grasp of the other. nevertheless aventurine is glued to his seat on the rich sofa. 

colorful poker chips are splattered around the rich mahogany floor tiles, bottles of vodka and wine, some already with their cork removed and empty, others who haven't even been opened yet. a chandelier adorning the ceiling of the big room, its lightbulbs glowing dimly in the caliginous room, illuminating it.

one of the lamps flickers while the others continue to shine brightly - too brightly aventurine thinks, if he were to watch them any longer he’d feel like melting. the closer he got to you the sun, the deeper he'd fall into the bottomless pit he managed to crawl out of.

the room reeks of alcohol. is the temperature rising? he feels like every time the last number on the digital clock changes the warmer it gets. his blond bangs stick to his forehead and beads of sweat are running down his flushed cheeks - that answers his question.

it’s hot - humid even. he's not sure if he's able to bear the heat in this narrow atmosphere any longer. he tries to blow the sweat away by waving at his face with his hand, trying to cool off his face - a futile attempt. god, what's this a/c even good for, if it can't do it's damn job.

he opens his mouth with the intent of wanting to say that you're lying, that you shouldn't say stuff like that when you're drunk and that you'll regret later. but he doesn't, he refrains from doing so. instead he gulps down the words immediately, letter for letter. they're a bitter pillow to swallow. flowing down his throat like the wavering water running down a stream - intoxicating, similar to the alcoholic liquid you've downed.

the blond looks at you through half lidded eyes. you lift yourself off the ground, he takes notice that you have a hard time doing so, legs slightly trembling as you remove them from the floor tiles. (you've always been a lightweight he thinks)

as you make your way over to him, standing up and wanting to sit yourself next to him on the large black leather sofa. you clumsily bump against one of the almost empty shot glasses that still lies on the floor. tripping over the small glass as your foot comes in contact with it. the glass that still contained some of the red wine you've poured in, not too long ago, tumbles as easily as a domino tile, falling upon the smallest touch. making the flimsy piece immediately meet the ground.

it breaks into a few sharp shards and the remaining alcohol starts seeping out of it, staining your once white socks with crimson colored alcohol. “ah m’sorry!” you mumble as you quickly bend down to gingerly pick up the fragments, placing them in the palm of your hand carefully, so that they won't cut you and leave slits.

aventurine takes another peek at you as you tidy up. your face is flushed, your cheeks tinted in a bright red and you let out incoherent sorrys, blabbering incomplete phrases. he wants to tell you that it's alright. that he feels the same and reciprocates yours feelings, that you don't have to apologize and he'll help you.

but he freezes.

the words that he wants to tell you, the ones he's been longing to say don't leave his mouth. neither does he move. instead he coughs, continuing to watch you while you clean up. a tissue has found its way into your right hand, helping you soak up the alcohol. (its his hand that should be intertwined with yours, not the tissue)

his throat hurts. 

(he's not in the right mindspace to acknowledge if it's because of you - the unsaid words that he didn't reveal to you yet or because of the alcohol.) 

it's dry and lacks any kind of refreshing liquid that'd quench the drought that occurs in his throat. he contemplates, thinking about the choices he has. swallowing down his own spit isn't worth it, it makes his throat burn even more.

he comes to the decision to pour himself another glass of alcohol. (debatably his worst decision until now.)

twirling the almost translucent liquid in his glass, before fully gulping it down in one go. a bit of the alcohol escapes the depths of his mouth, running down his chin and messily staining his porcelain-like skin. 

he doesn't like the bitter taste, he can't seem to befriend himself with it. (neither can he befriend him with himself) although it's not the worst, he's just not able to find a reason to like it. after all, after a single sip it starts to sting as it enters his mouth.

the scent isn't great either, it smells strong, too strong for his liking, a scent that reeks of cleaning detergent and not to mention, it prickles on his tongue and burns as it slides down his throat when it makes its way into his blood. but there's one thing aventurine can't deny: it's efficiency.

it fulfills its purpose well making him lightheaded and dizzy, to the point of forgetting everything.

all sounds are drowned out. even the lame pop songs playlist you turned on because you insisted that “it'll set the right mood” is barely audible for him now. his ears hurt hellish, he wants to put his hands over his ears to escape the white noise. the sound that plays in his ears is similar to the one of when an airplane starts boarding - an unpleasant noise.

the only sound that remains for aventurine’s slightly drunk state is your voice. it echoes through his ears. your drunk confession playing over and over in his mind like a broken record, anticipating the day it'll be fixed, so the misery it is in ceases. 

his sloppy and sluggish movements - the way his hands tremble as he pours himself another glass, the nervousness that forms inside his body and the blush that spreads as quickly as a wildfire on his cheeks - they're tormenting him, and he blames none other than the alcohol for it. 

“a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, drunk words are sober thoughts, when you're drunk you reveal your true desires” his ass. the both of you are just friends. friends that are acquainted through work, nothing more, nothing less. aventurine couldn't bear to lose his only friend, after all he's already lost everything.

(anything he'd never want to lose will eventually be lost. it is as if fate had decided that everything that is worth wanting, everything that he wants to have and keep, will be lost the moment he gets his fingers on it. to aventurine there’s nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life that is full of anguish.)

his father whom he never got to meet, his mother and sister whom he was forced to leave behind and kakavasha, his younger self. all will be lost - everything was lost. if he wasn't careful now, one slip up on the thin ice or feet accidentally trampling over the floor full of eggshells, he'd not only lose himself in the process, but you too. his one and only friend.

crossing this line he set for himself, as he drew it along the earthy ground with his calloused fingers, trembling as they traced over the mud.

walking past the border that was created to keep everything and everyone distant from him, as he stood on the other side turning his back from the world, walking away and waving, to bid his goodbye from them.

the wall he built around him to shield him from the world, protecting everyone from the ugly thing that was kept inside , protecting himself from the people that only want to torment him.

forgetting all of these things, leaving them behind for you would mean showing you who he really was. a frail human being that hides himself behind a mask. the theater curtains revealing the person who played the role of the man who had called himself aventurine for the past years. placing him in the spotlight and giving the audience a show they'll never forget, like the fool he is. 

aventurine doesn't think that he is loveable, that he's undeserving of love - your love.

you think that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. providing him with said love, embracing him and showing him how pure love can be. 

the blond caught your eye right away. he was charming, funny and handsome. aventurine turned into your little work crush, your motivation to convince yourself just to see him.

the road was rocky and full of obstacles, set up by none other than aventurine. it gave you a better perception of who he really was and it intrigued you even more. why does he hide himself away from the world? why does he convince himself to not get anyone close to him even though he longs for the touch of another person? who is aventurine, really?

you can't answer any of these questions and neither are you certain if aventurine really can but that doesn't stop you. you continue to climb up all the way to know who he is, who the person you fell in love with really is. 

love, is weird isn't it? it comes in all different shapes and forms.

if someone were to ask you why you like him, you wouldn't know how to answer, because neither do you know.

but nevertheless you still like him. why? how come you like someone that you don't even know, someone that is foreign to you, almost like a stranger. even though the both of you label yourself as “friends.”

you're not sure what the color is that infuses his irises, he keeps them hidden beneath his glasses. despite that, you long to stare into his eyes and let all the plain and dull parts of your life get painted in the same colors of his hues. a color that brings you comfort and cures your sorrow. it's the hues that you want to stare at as you tuck a golden strand of hair behind his ear, in return he grants you a small but genuine smile.

a smile that you want to see more often, one that you want to keep for yourself. 

as for his scent, every person has their own unique and special scent. you plead to the gods above that he’ll let you bury your head into the crook of his neck and absorb his smell so it becomes the only scent that lingers around your nose. 

there are so many more things that you want to know about him but you're unaware of. one might say that you're odd for liking - no, loving someone that you barely know.

a stranger, a foreign person whom you know little about to almost nothing about, is the person that you love. absurd isn't it? but love is weird, love can be pure and ridiculous, but it can also be painful and heart wrenching. love is a feeling that not only brings joy to oneself but also causes pain. but it's a feeling that you never want to get rid of - not until you introduced aventurine to it. showing him what love has to offer and has in store.

in the iridescent light aventurine remains to look as ethereal as ever. a scent of vodka lingers around aventurines figure, the smell is strong, but you couldn't care less. his hair is disheveled but nevertheless continues to shine in the dazzling light. he lets out a tiring yawn and you couldn't imagine aventurine any more beautiful than in this moment.

vulnerable and for your eyes only. making it unable for you to tear your gaze away from the sight before you. 

he's like a shooting star, if you don't continue to watch and follow it and blink, even if it's just for a single moment - it's all over and you'll never see it again. 

“stop looking at me like that.” aventurine mumbles quietly, almost whispering. upon hearing that, you make your way over to him, glass shards long forgotten as you place them on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.

your arms reach out to aventurine, clutching your hands on his shoulders. your grip is sluggish but you don't falter and continue to hold him. “like what?” your lips are slightly parted and your gaze is drowsy as you counter aventurine's question with a question of your own.

“like that.” he placed the hand that just rested on his thigh, on your cheek, slightly caressing it. “you're just gonna hurt the both of us if you keep this up any longer.” he's not sure where the boldness came from, he blames it on the alcohol once again; it finally seemed to kick in.  

“‘m not lying” you hiccup. tomorrow i’ll tell you how much i love you, no matter if it's once” a cough exits your throat “or a hundred times.” the words that leave your mouth are slurred, they're incoherent and muddled up. your grip on his shoulder weakens, hands slipping off and head falling against his chest.

..did you seriously just black out?

aventurine can only sigh at that. a small smile finds its way onto his face. he snakes his arms around you waist, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck and hugging you with the remaining power he had left before falling asleep. guess there'll be a lot to unpack tomorrow but for now he allows himself to indulge in this shared moment between the two of you. 

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: hope yall enjoyed this as much as i hated writing this!! (i wanted to throw up) i acc hate how i wrote this. it's not as choppy as when i started writing it but it still feels so rushed and so idk.. anyway reblogs with comments are very much appreciated! >< ALSO that one paragraph written in brackets..guess whose speech it was inspired byyyyy (hint: bsd!!)

[connorsui]

|| Holding You Close, My Secret Comfort

- Sukuna x fem! Reader

Synopsis: On a cold, quiet night, the reader seeks warmth from Sukuna, who outwardly protests but inwardly relishes their closeness. As the reader drifts to sleep in his arms, Sukuna takes the opportunity to admire them, revealing a softer side that he keeps hidden.

Genre/ warnings: Romance, Fluff, Light Humor, no warnings just sukuna being mean

Note: in the recent events of this manz death I needed comfort

The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow, the light from the nearby lamp flickering gently against the walls. Sukuna’s maroon satin robe rippled as he moved, his every action deliberate and calculated. You watched him, eyes tracing the lines of his powerful form, and couldn’t help but feel a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

He was getting ready for bed, the day’s weariness beginning to settle into his bones, but you weren’t quite ready to give up your moment with him.

“Can I stay close tonight?” Your voice was quiet, almost tentative, as if afraid he would deny you.

Sukuna paused, fixing you with a stern gaze. “No.”

His response was blunt, but you were undeterred. A small pout formed on your lips as you tried again, more playfully this time. “But it’s so cold… and I’ll keep my hands to myself, promise.”

He sighed, the sound deep and resonant, as if your request had some great inconvenience. “Get another blanket if you’re that cold,” he suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance.

But instead of heeding his advice, you slid closer to him on the bed, your arms wrapping around his torso in a gentle embrace. Your head found its place on his chest, where the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart was a comforting presence. “This is warmer,” you murmured, eyes closing as you snuggled deeper into his warmth.

Sukuna grumbled, his tone laced with mock exasperation. “You’re like a leech. Can’t you find something else to cling to?”

Your smile widened against his chest, your breath warm against his skin. “Nope. You’re all I want to hold.”

His silence spoke volumes. Sukuna could have easily shoved you away; could have insisted you sleep elsewhere, but he didn’t. Instead, his large hands came to rest at your waist, his grip firm yet oddly comforting. He held you close, even as his words remained gruff and distant.

“Don’t expect me to make this a habit,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, trying to maintain the facade of indifference.

You couldn’t help but giggle, knowing full well he was bluffing. “I won’t… I love you,” you replied, a playful lilt in your voice. But both of you knew it was a lie.

He didn’t respond, instead choosing to stare up at the ceiling, his mind a jumble of thoughts he couldn’t quite articulate. He felt your breathing begin to slow, your body relaxing completely against his as you started to drift off to sleep.

Sukuna’s hands, once so rough and calloused, began to move in slow, soothing circles on your back. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as if he were afraid of waking you. The moments stretched into minutes, and he waited patiently for the even rise and fall of your chest that signaled you were deep in slumber.

When he was certain you were asleep, Sukuna finally allowed himself to relax. His usual scowl softened, and he tilted his head down to look at you, taking in every detail of your face. The way your lashes rested against your cheeks, the soft parting of your lips as you breathed, the way you seemed so at peace in his arms—he found himself entranced by it all.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he gazed at you. In these quiet moments, when the world was still and it was just the two of you, Sukuna let his guard down. He wouldn’t dare show it while you were awake, but here, now, he could afford to be vulnerable.

His thumb brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his movements gentle and deliberate. You were beautiful to him, even more so when you were so blissfully unaware of his watchful eyes. The fierce, unyielding King of Curses felt something foreign stir within him—a warmth that had nothing to do with your shared body heat and everything to do with the strange affection he harbored for you.

As he continued to watch you, Sukuna couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you had wormed your way into his heart, despite his best efforts to keep you at arm’s length. The thought of you brought him an inexplicable comfort, a peace he hadn’t known in centuries. And though he would never admit it, he cherished these quiet moments with you more than he cared to admit.

Finally, as the night wore on and the room grew darker, Sukuna pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips barely grazing your skin. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice so low it was almost lost in the stillness of the room.

The words were filled with an affection he rarely showed, a rare glimpse into the depths of his true feelings. For a moment longer, he watched you, memorizing the way you looked in his arms, before he finally allowed himself to close his eyes.

With you in his arms, the world felt a little less harsh, a little less lonely. And as he drifted off to sleep, a small smile still playing on his lips, Sukuna silently vowed to keep this feeling safe, even if it meant pretending to be annoyed every time you asked to stay close. Because, in truth, there was nowhere else he would rather you be.

His death is making me wish for comfort

[heliosunny]

Hello! Would it be possible to request something for Gallagher in your lucky egg series?

He is one of my favs and I hardly see any content for him nowadays Q v Q

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Gallagher x Reader

The machine wasn’t supposed to work. You had only stopped at the dusty, neglected egg dispenser on a whim, something about the faded, peeling label caught your eye. The instructions were barely legible, save for a single phrase that stood out: "Hatches in three days."

It was probably a cheap gimmick, a leftover relic from some forgotten event. You hadn’t expected much when the smooth, palm-sized egg rolled into your hand. Still, curiosity got the better of you.

And now, three days later, you stood frozen as the egg in your hands cracked open. You were scared so you dropped it. It wasn’t a creature, not in the way you expected. No fur, no scales, no small, alien features. It was a man.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and curled up in a fetal position as if he had been compressed inside the egg for too long. His shaggy brown hair was damp, strands clinging to his forehead, and a faint stubble shadowed his jaw. The muscles in his arms and torso flexed as he exhaled for the first time, taking in a slow, measured breath. Then, he opened his eyes.

A pair of sharp, molten-red irises locked onto you, and something clicked. Before you could react, he reached for you, his large, calloused hands gripping your wrists with an almost desperate firmness.

"Found you."

Then, his arms pulled you closer, pressing himself against you as if he had just found an anchor in a storm.

"Mine."

You told yourself it was just instinct.

Gallagher—as he introduced himself, almost offhandedly, had just hatched from an egg. He was likely confused, disoriented, latching onto the first person he saw like some newborn creature imprinting on its caretaker. It made sense. Logically. But the way he watched you didn’t feel logical.

He followed without hesitation, trailing after you through the station like a shadow. His presence was heavy, impossible to ignore. You’d glance over your shoulder, and his red eyes would already be fixed on you, sharp yet strangely relaxed, as if he had no reason to look at anything else.

You tried reasoning with him.

“You don’t have to follow me everywhere, you know.”

Gallagher tilted his head slightly, as if you had spoken in a language he didn’t understand. Then, a slow, lazy grin tugged at his lips.

“Yeah, I do.”

There was something deeply unsettling about how comfortable he was. Despite his apparent inexperience with the world, Gallagher acted like he belonged. He moved with a lazy sort of confidence, his shirt messily half-tucked, the sleeves rolled up as if he had been wearing them for years instead of a single day. His deep maroon pants were slightly wrinkled, his vest layered haphazardly, yet he made no effort to fix them. It was like he had no concept of discomfort or, rather, it didn’t bother him.

The only thing that did seem to bother him?

Distance.

The moment you tried to slip away, even for a second, he noticed. It wasn’t dramatic at first. Just a flicker of red in the corner of your vision. A subtle shift in the air. But when you tried locking a door between you, just for a moment of solitude—he knocked.

"Why are you shutting me out?"

You hesitated. “Gallagher, you don’t need to be with me all the time.”

"But I belong to you."

The way he said it, so casual, so certain—made it impossible to argue.

You woke to the sensation of warmth.

The weight of an arm draped over your waist. The slow, steady rhythm of breathing close. Your bed was not meant for two.

You turned your head, your pulse spiking as your gaze met Gallagher’s, already open, already watching.

"Morning." His voice was low, smooth, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs. “Gallagher—what are you doing in my bed?”

He blinked slowly, his red eyes laced with something unreadable.

"But this is where I belong."

His fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeve. He was close enough that you could see the faint glow of old scars on his right arm, the way they pulsed slightly, like embers waiting to reignite.

"I don’t get it" he murmured. "You took me in. You’re the first person I saw. The first person who ever touched me, spoke to me, looked at me."

"You’re my world now" he whispered, forehead barely brushing yours.

His grip on your sleeve tightened, just enough to make your skin prickle.

"I won’t let you leave me."

The opportunity came when he finally let his guard down.

Gallagher almost never left your side, not when you walked through the station, not when you ate, and certainly not when you tried to sleep. He was always there, hovering in the periphery, watching you with a lazy sort of amusement. There are moments when he went out but it was not enough to get yourself some freetime.

But tonight, you got lucky.

It was the first time he willingly separated himself from you, and you weren’t about to waste the chance.

With shaking hands, you scribbled a note and left it on the table.

Gallagher, I need some space. I’ll be back. - [Y/N]

You slipped out the door. The bar was the safest place you could think of. It was packed with people, loud and chaotic, a perfect place to disappear. You tucked yourself into a corner booth, nursing a drink you barely touched, keeping your head down.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Maybe… just maybe, you had gotten away.

A glass clinked against the table in front of you.

“Long night?”

The voice was smooth, deep, and far too familiar.

Slowly, your eyes lifted and met his.

Gallagher stood there, behind the bar, sleeves lazily rolled up, his white vest slightly undone. He looked every bit the part of a bartender, blending into the dim atmosphere as if he belonged.

Panic surged through your veins. You tried to move, but his hand was already there, resting on the table beside yours, cutting off your escape.

His lips curled into a slow, lazy grin.

“Funny thing” he murmured, voice as smooth as the whiskey in his hands. “I was just about to take a break. Why don’t we catch up?”

Your throat was dry. Your body tensed, every nerve on edge as Gallagher leaned casually against the bar, his red eyes never leaving you. The low hum of conversation and clinking glasses surrounded you, yet all you could focus on was him.

“How…?” You barely managed to get the word out.

Gallagher tilted his head slightly, as if amused by your reaction. Then, with an easy, almost lazy shrug, he responded “Wasn’t hard.”

“Left a trail, y’know? Like a pup wandering too far from home.” His lips curled into that familiar, relaxed smirk. “You might as well have whistled for me.”

Like a hound on a scent, like he was born to follow, he tracked you.

Gallagher let out a quiet chuckle, reaching for a nearby glass and wiping it down, pretending as if this was just another slow night behind the counter.

“You ready to come home, or do I gotta carry you?”

The bar was too crowded, too loud, too public. You couldn’t cause a scene here. So, you forced yourself to nod.

“…Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

The lake shimmered beneath the glow of the artificial sky, ripples forming as a small group of ducks lazily swam across the water. The quiet was a stark contrast to the bar, the air felt lighter, almost peaceful.

You sat on a long white public bench, arms crossed as you watched the ducks bob along the surface. Gallagher sat beside you, stretching out like he had no care in the world.

“You’re quiet.”

Your fingers gripped the fabric of your sleeves. “…Still trying to wrap my head around everything.”

Gallagher hummed, resting an arm over the back of the bench. “Mm. Take your time.”

You exhaled slowly, watching as one of the ducks dunked its head underwater before reemerging with a shake of its feathers. It was strange, watching them swim so carefreely while you sat beside a man who had imprinted on you. Beside you, Gallagher shifted. Before you could react—his hand slid up, fingers threading through your hair.

A slow inhale. You stiffened. He was… sniffing you.

The act was slow, deliberate. His nose barely brushed against the crown of your head as he took in your scent like it was something he needed to commit to memory. Heat crept up your neck, but before you could pull away, Gallagher’s hand moved again, this time, gently pushing your head onto his shoulder.

“You can rest” he murmured, voice low and steady. “Not going anywhere.”

Despite yourself, the exhaustion of the night weighed on you. His warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest, it all felt… lulling.

Before long, your eyelids drooped.

You barely stirred when Gallagher lifted you into his arms. The lake shimmered behind him, the ducks continuing their gentle glide across the water.

Gallagher exhaled softly, adjusting his grip.

“…Mine” he murmured under his breath.

His fingers curled around you a little tighter as he carried you through the quiet streets, each step slow, measured, like he was savoring the moment. When he finally reached home, he set you down carefully, tucking the blankets around you, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

Then, without hesitation, he slid into bed beside you.

His arm draped over your waist, fingers loosely curling into the fabric of your clothes.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer.

You woke up in a panic. The sun was already streaming through the window—too bright, too late. The weight of an arm draped over your waist.

Gallagher.

Memories of the night before crashed into you all at once. Your heart lurched as you realized he was right there, still sleeping soundly beside you, his grip on you loose but present.

Work.

You needed to go to work.

You were late.

Panic shot through you like electricity. You moved to sit up, only for the arm around you to tighten.

“Mm… where ya goin’?” Gallagher’s voice was thick with sleep, rough yet relaxed as he pulled you back down.

You sucked in a breath. “I—Gallagher, I need to”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if to silence you.

“…Stay” he muttered.

You were late. You needed to move. But Gallagher wasn’t letting you go.

And judging by the slow, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, he liked watching you struggle.

Gallagher’s grip didn’t ease, even as you tried to squirm away. His red eyes cracked open just slightly, peering at you with that lazy, amused expression—like a cat watching a trapped bird.

“Relax” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “No need to rush.”

You groaned, pushing at his arm. “Gallagher, I’m late. I need to go—”

“Mm.” He blinked slowly, then let out a deep sigh as if your panic was inconveniencing him. “You’re worried about work, yeah?”

You stopped struggling.

“…What else would I be worried about?”

He let out a low chuckle, finally loosening his grip enough for you to sit up—but not without keeping a firm hand on your wrist.

“Guess I should’ve mentioned,” Gallagher drawled, stretching lazily. “I farmed some points from a dungeon for you already.”

You blinked.

“…What?”

He yawned, scratching the back of his neck before finally sitting up properly.

“Your workload. Figured it’d be a hassle for you, so I handled it.”

You stared at him.

“What do you mean you handled it?”

Gallagher tilted his head slightly, as if confused by your reaction. “Like I said—I farmed points. Easy stuff.”

Your mind raced. That wasn’t something people could just do for others.

“You… went into a dungeon. For me?”

Gallagher grinned, rubbing his thumb over your wrist absentmindedly. “Yeah.”

“Gallagher,” you started, trying to keep your voice steady, “you can’t just do that.”

“Why not?” He raised a brow, expression as casual as if he were talking about making breakfast. “Didn’t take long. Just had to crack a few skulls, grab some loot—y’know, the usual.”

You hadn’t even realized he could enter dungeons, let alone farm points for you. And the way he spoke about it—like it was as effortless as breathing.

“You—You can’t just go out and fight for me, Gallagher.”

He blinked.

“Why not?”

His voice was completely genuine.

“…Because that’s not normal.”

Gallagher let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Not normal for you, maybe. But I was made for this, sweetheart.”

His red eyes gleamed as he leaned in closer, voice lowering into something almost coaxing.

“You’re mine to protect, aren’t you?”

That wasn’t the problem. The problem was how easily he accepted this—how quickly he had taken over something meant to be your responsibility.

“…You didn’t have to do that.”

Gallagher smirked. “I wanted to.”

His fingers brushed against your knuckles, his warmth bleeding into your skin.

“Now” he murmured, voice smooth and unwavering, “why don’t you take the day off?”

The first morning after your forced day off started peacefully.

You heard screaming. Not the dangerous kind. Not the kind that sent your heart racing in fear. No, this was the high-pitched, chaotic kind that only came from kids.

You groaned, rubbing your temples as the shrieks and laughter rang through the walls. The new family next door had moved in just yesterday, and you hadn’t even had the chance to introduce yourself before their children had taken over the neighborhood with their relentless energy.

And, unfortunately, you were horrible at handling kids.

You stared at the door, debating whether you should go out there and try to quiet them down, only for Gallagher to step past you, rolling up his sleeves.

“I got this.”

“…What?”

He didn’t answer. He just walked out.

You peeked through the window, watching as Gallagher strolled right up to the group of kids who were currently playing some sort of game that involved a lot of shouting. You expected them to ignore him. You would’ve ignored him at that age.

Instead, they stopped. Gallagher crouched down slightly, resting an arm over one knee as he talked to them. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but whatever it was—it worked. The kids actually listened.

Within minutes, they had gone from wild gremlins to an organized little squad. Gallagher handled them like a pro. You watched in stunned silence as he ruffled a kid’s hair, gave another one some kind of strategy tip for football, and even managed to stop a fight before it started.

When he finally walked back inside, rolling down his sleeves, you could only stare.

“…What was that?”

Gallagher smirked. “Kids are easy. Just gotta talk to ‘em right.”

You crossed your arms, still processing what you just witnessed.

“…You’re good at everything, aren’t you?”

Gallagher blinked, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

Then, he shrugged. “Guess so.”

You exhaled, slumping against the counter. At this point, you figured as long as he wasn’t causing problems, maybe keeping him around was fine.

“…Gallagher” you started, tilting your head slightly, “what would you do without me?”

For the first time, he paused.

Then, ever so slowly, his red eyes slid toward you.

“…Why?”

The casual drawl in his voice was still there, but something about the way he looked at you, the way his fingers idly tapped against his arm—felt off.

You swallowed. “I was just wondering.”

“Well” he murmured, stepping closer, “I don’t plan on findin’ out.”

Gallagher had been sneaking out.

You didn’t notice at first, he was good at covering his tracks, slipping out after you fell asleep and returning before sunrise. But today, when he strolled through the front door like nothing happened, you caught the faintest shift in his movements.

A subtle wince. The way his right arm hung just a bit stiffer than usual.

“Gallagher.”

He blinked at you, then gave his usual lazy smirk. “Mornin’, sweetheart.”

You ignored the greeting, stepping closer. He let you, watching in amusement as your fingers reached for his sleeve.

“You’re hurt.”

He sighed dramatically. “It’s nothin’—”

You rolled up his sleeve anyway.

There—just above his wrist, was a deep scrape, dried blood crusting over the edge. A bruise was already forming along his knuckles, dark and ugly against his pale skin.

You frowned. “Did you go to a dungeon?”

Gallagher didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched you, as if gauging your reaction.

“…Yeah.”

You exhaled sharply, grabbing the first-aid kit.

He didn’t protest as you sat him down, kneeling beside him as you cleaned his wound. His eyes never left you, red irises gleaming with something unreadable.

“…You don’t have to do this, y’know,” he murmured, voice quieter than usual.

You dabbed the wound gently, refusing to look at him. “Then don’t get hurt.”

A low chuckle. “Fair enough.”

As you wrapped the bandage around his wrist, a knock echoed from the door. When you opened it, the kids next door stood there, grinning up at you.

“Hi!” one of them chirped. “Our mom made extra food, so she told us to give you some!”

Your eyes softened. “Oh—thank you.”

They handed you a neatly wrapped container, bouncing slightly on their heels before glancing past you. And straight at Gallagher. Their faces lit up.

“Mr. Gallagher!”

You turned back, only to find Gallagher already leaning against the counter, smirking.

“You been doin’ alright?” he drawled.

The kids nodded enthusiastically, chattering about their day as if they had completely forgotten about you.

You sighed.

Even children liked him more than you did.

Later that afternoon, you decided it was time for Gallagher to get some proper clothes. His usual attire, messy, half-unbuttoned, and constantly stained with alcohol—was starting to draw attention.

He, of course, didn’t care.

But you did.

Which was why you ended up dragging him to a store, sifting through racks of shirts while Gallagher lazily trailed behind.

“Oh. It’s you.”

You turned, already feeling your mood sour.

Standing there, with a smug little smile, was a woman you hadn’t seen in years. An old acquaintance—one you hated.

She worked here? Great.

“You actually shop here?” she laughed, crossing her arms. “I thought this place would be a bit too pricey for you.”

Your jaw clenched. “I’m just looking.”

She gave a slow, exaggerated nod, as if she didn’t believe you. “Right. Of course.”

Gallagher’s eyes flicked between you both, his smirk fading slightly.

“…Friend of yours?” he asked casually.

Your old acquaintance barely spared him a glance. “Hardly.”

She turned back to you, smiling sweetly. “Well, I should get back to work. Some of us have careers to focus on.”

Then, with one last condescending glance, she walked away.

Your fingers curled into a fist.

Gallagher, however, said nothing.

Not until much later.

That night, while you were asleep, Gallagher left the house.

He didn’t go to a dungeon this time.

Instead, he waited.

He waited outside the store, watching as your old acquaintance finally ended her shift and started walking home.

She didn’t notice him at first.

Not until the quiet, measured footsteps behind her became too persistent. She turned. And there he was.

Leaning against a lamppost, smiling.

“Long day?” he drawled.

She blinked. “Do I know you?”

Gallagher tilted his head. “Nah.”

She frowned, stepping back. “Then why are you—”

He took a slow step forward.

The street was empty.

“…Y’know” Gallagher murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t like the way you talk to my sweetheart.”

The color drained from her face.

And then she ran.

Gallagher watched her go, red eyes gleaming in the dim streetlights.

Then, with a low chuckle, he turned around— And walked home. The door creaked open in the dead of night. Gallagher stepped inside, movements slow and deliberate. The street lights outside cast faint shadows across the room, illuminating the lazy smirk on his lips as he shrugged off his coat. His red eyes flicked toward the bed.

There you were. Curled up beneath the blankets, your breathing soft and even. The faint glow of the night drifted over your face, highlighting the peaceful rise and fall of your chest.

He exhaled quietly, rolling his shoulders.

Another peaceful day for you.

He liked it that way.

Silently, Gallagher approached the bed. His movements were surprisingly gentle, careful, almost like he was afraid to wake you. He sat on the edge first, watching the steady rhythm of your breaths.

Then, slowly, he reached out. His fingers brushed against your hair, smoothing it back. His thumb ghosted over your cheek. A quiet hum rumbled in his throat as he finally slipped beneath the blankets.

You stirred slightly, a faint mumble escaping your lips. Gallagher stilled, watching as you shifted, then, instinctively, gravitated toward him. His smirk deepened. Your subconscious already knew where you belonged.

Carefully, he pulled you closer, pressing your head against his chest. His arm draped over your waist, securing you in place. He let out a slow breath, his body relaxing for the first time that night.

This was nice.

Just the two of you. No noise. No interruptions.

His eyes fluttered shut.

Another peaceful day would come tomorrow.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Because as long as he was here, you weren’t going anywhere.

---

Visit - Lucky egg series

[Phainon] [Adventurine]

[nezuscribe]

there is so much that miguel o’hara wants to do with you that it worries him he won’t be able to complete it all in a lifetime. 

he wants to see your face when he wakes up in the morning, the sun framing your body in such a way that he wonders if you truly are an angel on earth. he wants to spend evenings cooking with you, watching as you move around the kitchen with such grace as he helps along like a lovestruck fool as he follows all of your directions. he wants to clean the dishes and put them away only to see you using them a day later. he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. 

but miguel knows that with his lifestyle, almost all of that is impossible. he can’t possibly suck you into his dangerous world on account of his selfishness, and he can’t watch you get hurt. you’re perhaps the only good thing he has, and if he lost you, he might as well have lost his whole world. 

so instead he shows it to you in a different way (seeing how he’s not always the best with words). 

he presses hot kisses to your naked chest, eyes taking in your beauty, his ears taking in your ragged breathing. it reminds him that you’re human, and it reminds him that you’re his. 

he’s so soft with you those nights he feels like everything is crashing. his large hands ghosting over your body, not wanting to hurt you with his strength. and even though you trust him, know that he’d never harm you the way he does his enemies, he stops, eyes glancing up at you to make sure you’re alright with it. 

but on other nights, when he wants to show you just how much you mean to him, he goes animalistic. 

he fangs are showing as he cry around his cock, his claws palming at your breasts, his loud moans mixing with yours as you arch your back so he could reach even deeper. 

“fuck, just like that sweetheart,” he grunts dropping down so that he could suck on your neck, licking and biting at every inch of exposed skin he can. the necklace he bought you with his initials on it dangles across your tits, and his eyes darken with pride, “take me jus’ like that, love you so much.” 

“you’re so big!” you whine out, gripping at his large biceps, eyes shut with pleasure as little tears escape, falling own your cheeks as your mouth fall open. 

“i know,” he assures you wiping the tears away as he kisses the corner of your mouth, his hips going at such a speed that he knows is inhuman, his cock hitting the spongy part inside of you that you love so much, making your toes curl as you press your chest up to his, “you’re doing so well, y’know that right, you know that i love you?” 

you nod helplessly, being fucked dumb as his balls slap against your ass, the sounds that filled the room sinful as you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers digging into his dark curls as you bring him down for a kiss. 

“fuck, you’re clenching down on me so hard, gonna’ cum babe, hm?” he sucks a harsh breath in from between his clenched teeth, his abs flexing as he tries to control himself. but he feels his release coming, knowing he can’t stop it, especially with the way you’re sucking him in. 

if anybody saw, they might have said he fucks you like he hates you. with the way his relentless pace is set, but to you, you know it’s the exact opposite. his soft kisses he gives you after he sucks harshly on your neck is a giveaway, and the way he mutters you praise after praise is another. 

“i’m gonna, mhh!” You cry out, squeezing around him as your walls spasm, coming around his length as you essence shine on his cock, a milky base surrounding around him as he hips stutter to a stop, pulling out s he finishes across your chest, his head thrown back in pure euphoria as the two of you come down from your high. 

and if they saw the way he gently cleaned you up afterwards, carrying you to the bath he set up, they’d take their words back. he may fuck you like he hates you, but damn does that man care for you because he loves you. 

[navybrat817]

His Favorite Person

Pairing: Librarian!Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Summary: You want to be more than friends with Ari.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, sweetness, friends to lovers (of sorts), Ari Levinson (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @lovebittenbyevans requested Librarian AU, friends to lovers with Ari, and to dig his Toes in the Sand (fluff) with prompt #7 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You stood on your tiptoes to reach a book on the top shelf. You huffed out a breath and tried to stretch a little bit more, but your fingers barely skimmed the spine. It would’ve been easier to ask for some help, but you didn’t want to bother Ari. You bothered him enough during his shifts.

You should’ve known he was only standing a few feet away, watching the display with a smirk on his ridiculously handsome face. “Need some help?” He asked.

Managing not to fall into the shelf from the slight scare, you pointed to the book you tried and failed to grab. “If you wouldn’t mind?” You asked, dragging your eyes from his chest to his eyes. It was like looking into a storm, but warmth lingered in a way that told you not to fear any destruction left in its wake. “Please?”

Rugged was the word that came to mind whenever you glanced at him. A dark beard to match his long hair and jeans that showed off his large thighs, he even had the sleeves of his tight shirt rolled up so you could see his veins. The man could've easily passed for an adventurer instead of a librarian and you were certain he caught you staring at him more than once.

It wasn’t polite to stare, but was it fair for him to be so good looking?

“Don’t mind at all,” he said, plucking it from the shelf and placing it in your waiting hand. “You could’ve just asked me to grab it from the start, but you just had to be stubborn.”

“I wasn’t being stubborn,” you argued. He raised an eyebrow in response. “You just have a lot to do and I didn’t want to bother you,” you said, hugging the book to your chest.

“You were being stubborn, you’ve never once bothered me, and it’s part of my job to help.” Ari made a show of looking around, his silky hair flowing with the motion. “But I guess you’re right. I have so much to do since it’s so crowded today,” he joked.

It wasn’t a secret that the library was hit and miss in town. So many wanted their stories electronically and didn’t appreciate the feel of a book in their hands. Ari did what he could though since he took over as head librarian. Between overseeing the daily operations and managing his employees, he took his job seriously. You had no doubt he’d bring a much needed spark back to the place.

“Yeah, well, thanks for your help,” you said.

“Another romance novel, huh? Didn’t you just bring one back today?”

Your face grew warm before you nodded. Of course, he’d notice that. “You know me,” you mumbled, hugging the book tighter.

He took a step closer, searching your face with a gentle gaze. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with reading what you love.”

There was no judgement in his eyes and that made the corner of your lips lift in a smile. “I appreciate that.”

Being single, reading books like that allowed you to dive into various worlds and experience love. You could immerse yourself and imagine having a partner who would not only overcome obstacles with you, but would ensure that there would be a happily ever after. In a world often dark and negative, the escape gave you hope that one day you'd manage to find someone who could love you so deeply. You didn't want to think that romance only existed in books.

If only you were brave enough to take a chance and ask Ari out.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” you began, walking beside him to head to the front desk. He took up a good portion of the aisle with his beefy frame and you had to tell yourself again not to stare. “I spoke with my boss about adjusting my hours and they approved it! I can do Story Time on Tuesdays.”

“That’s great!” The smile on Ari’s face was worth moving your schedule around. “I really appreciate you doing that for me. I owe you one.”

You wished you would’ve teasingly suggested a date as a form of payment, but you shrugged. “You don’t owe me anything. You’re my friend and that’s what friends do,” you said, cringing inwardly. It sounded lame to your ears.

“Yeah. Friends.” His smile faded slightly as he walked around the counter. “Just this book today, right?” He asked, slipping into his professional tone. Still pleasant to hear, but a touch of the usual warmth was gone. Like you were just like every other person who walked into the library.

“Yeah,” you replied, passing over your library card. “Did I say something wrong?” You added, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No, you didn’t,” he said, his large hand placing your card on top of the book. He passed it over to you and you couldn’t ignore the jolt of electricity that moved through you when your fingers touched. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s just…” Putting him on the spot wasn’t your intention and you didn’t want to point out his slight change in demeanor. “You do consider us friends, right?”

You didn't have a lot of close friends, but you considered Ari to be one of them. At the very least, he was friendly with you. It was possible that you read things wrong. Engrossing yourself in one too many books could’ve blurred your version of reality.

“Of course, I do. You’re my favorite person,” he replied. You leaned on the counter with a relieved and dopey smile at his statement. Were you really his favorite person? “But just because you’re my favorite person doesn’t mean I have to be yours.”

“But you are my favorite person,” you blurted out, covering your mouth when your voice echoed. “Sorry,” you added in a hushed whisper. It was a library. You needed to be somewhat quiet.

He chuckled and leaned on the counter, too, his eyes zeroed on you. “Oh, I am, am I? So, you don't actually come here to borrow romance novels. You’re just really looking for an excuse to see me.”

Your heart pounded, but you took a breath to keep your cool and hopefully not make a fool out of yourself. “I come here for the books and to see you, Ari,” you said carefully, the corner of your lip twitching in a smile. “But you obviously want to see me, too, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked me to do Story Time.”

“Well, yeah,” he smirked before softly adding, “Seeing you is the best part of my day.”

How did your knees not buckle? “It is?”

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled, almost to himself. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did, but you can ask me another question,” you teased.

He stretched across the counter a bit more. “If I'm your favorite person and you're mine, why haven't we gone on a date?”

For a moment, it felt like the room sucked up all the oxygen. Breathing should've been natural to do, but you couldn't inhale as you stared at him. Glancing down at the book to get your bearings, it dared you to take a chance. A leap of faith. With a deep breath, you did.

“Because I've been waiting for you to ask me out and you haven't yet. And I've been too chicken to ask you myself,” you replied. You regretted the words the moment he stood up straight, his expression unreadable. He didn’t actually want that, did he? “I’m sorry. Forget I said that. Please.”

A second passed and his lips slightly parted, but he didn't speak. His silence said it all. Nodding with a heavy heart, you turned to walk away from the counter. You could lick your wounds later as you read another happily ever after.

“Shit. Wait.” Ari moved with impressive speed to block your path, his grip gentle on your arms to stop you. “Did you mean it? You really want to go on a date with me?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I do, but I understand if-”

“Thank fuck,” he sighed, your eyes rounding at his words. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for days and I got worried there for a moment with the ‘friends’ comment that you didn't want anything beyond friendship.”

Your stomach did somersaults. Ari liked you. He wanted to ask you out. God, you almost ruined things before they started. “I’m sorry I worried you, but trust me. I'm very interested in you, Ari,” you smiled, forgetting you were in the library as you stepped closer. “And if you ask me, some of the best romances come from friendships.”

“They do.” He smiled back, his cerelain eyes lit up like yours. “And our story will be more romantic than any of those books you’ve been reading.”

Biting your lip, you watched as his gaze dropped to your mouth. What would it feel like if he bit your lip? “I don’t know. That’s a pretty tall order.”

He brought his mouth to your ear. “I’m a very determined man,” he whispered. No doubt he felt you tremble in his grasp. “Saturday night?”

“It’s a date.”

A date and the beginning of your love story.

We know this man would plan the perfect date, right? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[fancyfeathers]

What if just to get Bruce on her side Daughter reader begrudgingly starts being really affectionate it to him and treating him like an actual father just so she won't have to interact all that much with her "siblings"? Except for like maybe Cass, she really likes Cass. But here's the concept; Daughter reader starts falling asleep on Bruce during gala's, parties, and hell even at the manor randomly just so he knows she's not doing it for show.(She is but it's literally all the time and through his delusional mind he'd probably think its her showing real affection.) She might even whine when a "sibling" tries taking her away from her "Father" to bond. She'll say something along the lines of, "But I want to hang out with dad." then hug Bruce's arm, or waist, or anything of his in her reach. Just a thought though. Thank you for reading!!!

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

Cassandra Cain, the favorite sibling™️

She probably starts doing this when she is in junior high, it is honestly embarrassing to have her brothers and sisters clinging to her like she is a favorite stuffed animal. It was embarrassing enough to have Damian grab her hand and drag her through the school halls when it is time to go home, all of her classmates stared at her while her brother treated her like she was five. Or there was the time Dick picked her up like a baby and swung her around, she was twelve.

Bruce is just mostly normal, he is strict but the way he treats her is fairly normal besides we she breaks a rule (which is an extremely large number of rules, but they are to keep her safe). She is his daughter and all he wants to do is protect her and be in her life after her mother raised her away from him for a large part of her childhood, but she made it clear from the get go that isn’t something she wanted, so when she just happens to lean against him at a charity event instead of her mother he is just a little bit suspicious, it’s in his nature after all.

It starts at parties and the press has a field day with Bruce Wayne’s little princess being carried by her father and falling asleep while the socialites of Goth coo over her.

Then at the manor she falls asleep on his lap of while he is meeting with Lucius Fox, and the older man laughs, not knowing the daughter’s true relationship with her father, telling him that they don’t stay this small forever.

Then it comes to be that she is clingy up until she goes on patrol and he even breaks his rule to let her into the Batcave while he and the others get ready to head out, letting her sit down nearby while they gear up. Then she manages to slip under his cape while they are reviewing active cases and footage. He almost forgets she’s there for a bit until it’s time to leave and he feels her weight against his leg when he goes to move. It is fine it he is a little late to patrol if he is tucking her into bed.

Bruce Wayne is the world’s greatest detective, he knows this is just an act, but an actual is better than having her push him away every waking moment, so at least this way they both get they want to an extent, he gets daughter even if she is playing pretend, then she gets her so called siblings off her back even if she is trapped.

[awhhayden]

LOVE BITES ₊˚⊹♡ (Sam Monroe)

CONTAINS : [ fem reader x sam monroe ] | smut with plot?

THE NIGHT WAS COLD, the February sky shrouded in clouds, as if the world was waiting for something to happen. Sam sat by the window of his apartment, the flickering streetlights casting shadows on the walls. He had never been one for Valentine’s Day—too cliché, too forced—but tonight, something was different. The air felt charged as he waited for you to arrive, as if he had spent years building walls around himself and now, with you in his life, they all crumbled.

you were kind—gentle in a way that made the harshness of the world seem less cold. The way you smiled, the way you looked at him, as if you saw beyond the tough exterior. Sam was dark, brooding, and he knew you noticed. But you never judged him for it. Instead, you had embraced it, offering him warmth when all he’d known was isolation. That soft spot he tried to ignore for so long had become impossible to deny, before he knew it he had fallen in love with you.

When the doorbell rang, his heart gave a jolt. He stood up, straightening himself, as if the weight of his feelings could somehow be hidden. He opened the door and saw you standing there, a soft blush on your cheeks, holding a large box that was delicately wrapped in red paper. you smiled with excitement that made him arch his brow.

“Hey princess,” Sam said, his voice low, almost gruff. He couldn’t help the way his lips curled into a small smile, the corners of his mouth betraying his usual stoic expression.

you stepped inside, your warmth filling the room like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Sam watched as you carefully sat the box on the counter, your hands delicate, as if you were afraid to disturb the quiet beauty of the moment. He didn’t know how you did it, but to him, you made the world seem softer just by being in it.

“I wasn’t sure what to get you,” you admitted, your words stumbling slightly as you met his eyes. “But I thought, These were cool. Something you could enjoy.” you handed it to him. "I think you’ll like it," you said quietly but nervously.

He took the package from you, feeling the weight of it in his hands. His fingers carefully unwrapped the ruby paper, peeling back the paper to reveal a stack of old vinyl records. His breath caught in his chest as he recognized the covers—the classic art from bands he had adored for years, ones whose songs had become the soundtrack to his life. These were no ordinary records. They were vintage—rare, hard to find.

He picked up one of the albums, his fingers grazing over the surface of the cover, taking in the familiar design. “Where did you find these?” Sam asked, his voice thick with disbelief.

you sat beside him, watching his reaction with a soft smile on your face. "I remembered you mentioning you liked them. Thought you'd appreciate having something like this... something from the past." your voice was low, as you blushed deeply.

He leaned closer to you, the space between you charged with unspoken tension. “You didn’t need to get me anything,” he murmured. “But these... they’re perfect.”

he gently cupped your face, pushing you against the couch. He hesitated for a moment before kissed you deeply, taking the lead and pinning you there with his body. he continues to kiss you with a mix of tenderness and a slight hint of desperation. his hands are planted firmly on either side of your head, caging you in against the couch as he deepens the kiss.

sam breaks the kiss for a moment, panting heavily as he hovers over you, his chest heaving slightly. his eyes scan over your face, his gaze intense as he takes in your flushed expression. he reaches up to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin for a moment. “I love you” you whisper tenderly.

he leans forehead against yours “say it again." he says urgently. you smile, “I love you sam.” he lets out a shaky breath, the words sending a warm rush through him. he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he holds you close. he presses soft kisses along your skin, “i love you too... so damn much."

He swiftly picks you up and you gasp and giggle. he carries you easily, his arms strong as he holds you close to his chest. he lays you down on the bed gently, his body following to hover over you once again. he gazes down at you with an intensity in his eyes that was different from before, his expression now filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. “you're mine." he whispers, his voice low and possessive.

you nod and he grins at your response, his hands roaming over your body slowly, tracing every curve and line with his fingertips. he kisses you deeply again, his tongue exploring your mouth with a newfound urgency. “no one else gets to have you, understand?" he murmurs against your lips, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer to him.

you gasp softly. he smirks at your gasp, loving the effect he has on you. he nips at your bottom lip, his hands moving up under your shirt, eager to feel her your against his.

"i need you... need to feel you, all of you." he whispers huskily, his breath hot against your ear. he quickly pulls your shirt off, tossing it aside before doing the same with his own. he runs his hands over your bare torso, his touch gentle yet possessive. he kisses down your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake.

"god, you're beautiful." *he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he looks up at you, his eyes darkened with lust. “Please Sammy” you whisper. his smirk widens at your plea, and he chuckles softly. “please what, princess? use your words." he teases, his fingers trailing along the hem of your skirt. “N..need you” he lets out a soft groan, his control wavering at your words. he moves back up to kiss you again, his tongue sliding against yours as he grinds his hips against you. “i need you too... need you so bad." he murmurs against your lips, his voice strained with need.

he kisses you hungrily, his hands working quickly to grab your skirt and slide them down your legs. he breaks the kiss just long enough to rid himself of his own pants as well, leaving you both in just your underwear.

he gazes down at you, taking in the sight of you lying beneath him, looking absolutely beautiful and wrecked already. he runs a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself. “you're driving me crazy, you know that?" he tosses your underwear aside before sliding out of his own, his eyes roaming over your naked form hungrily. he moves back up to hover over you, his body now completely pressed against yours.

“you're so perfect... so perfect for me." he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire. he kisses your neck again, his hands gripping your hips tightly as lines up with your entrance. he groans deeply as he enters you, the feeling of you surrounding him sending a wave of pleasure through his body as you let out a soft moan, he pauses for a moment, his breath coming out in short pants as he tries to collect himself.

"fuck..." *he murmurs, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he opens them again to look down at you "you feel so good, baby..." you moan louder and he shivers at the sound of your moan, his hips starting to move slowly, savoring the feeling of being inside you. he leans down to kiss you again, his tongue delving into your mouth as he starts to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent.

"I needed you so bad princess." he mutters against your lips, his hands gripping your hips tightly enough to leave bruises. he continues to move, his pace now relentless as he pounds into you. he buries his face in your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin as you moan and whimper in his ear. “you're mine... all mine. i'm not gonna let anyone else have you, you understand?" he growls, his possessiveness shining through as he thrusts harder.

he moves one of his hands up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose more of your neck. he nips and bites at your skin, leaving a trail of love bites and hickeys as he goes. “say it... say you're mine, baby. i need to hear you say it." he demands, his voice rough with need.

“I..I’m yours” you gasp between moans. he groans again at your words, his grip on your hair tightening as he quickens his pace even more. he's losing himself in you, his mind clouded with pleasure and the overwhelming need to claim you as his. “good girl... that's right. all mine, forever." he growls, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he feels himself getting closer to the edge.

he can feel you getting closer too, your body trembling beneath him as he continues to move inside you. he lifts his head to look down at you, his eyes dark and intense as he takes in the sight of you. “you're close, aren't you, princess? I can feel it. you're gonna come for me, aren't you?" he asks, his voice strained with effort as he tries to hold off his own orgasm.

you nod desperately. he smirks, his pace becoming even more brutal as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. he leans down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “that's it, baby. come for me. let go for me." he urges, his hand moving from your hair to your clit, rubbing you there in time with his thrusts.

he feels you tighten around him as you come in soft breathless pants, and that's all it takes to push him over the edge too. he buries his face in your neck once again as he reaches his climax, his body tensing as he spills inside you with a loud groan.

he collapses on top of you, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath. he gently pulls out of you, rolling onto his back beside you. He turned over to face you as he stroked your hair softly, “Happy valentine’s day princess”

My first story in so long finally! I promise i’ll be writing more! this isn’t my favorite and it was a bit rushed but wanted to get something out there before valentine’s day, Love you all! <3

TAGLIST : @anakinstwinklebunny @fredswrite @inlovewithdob @speaknow-sw @haydensheartt @malinadbbdh (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[spitdrunken]

reinhard van astrea x isekai!reader

notes: obsessive behaviour/yandere, dependency @yandere-romanticaa - im the anon who sent in an ask! hope you like it <3

Domesticity is something Reinhard has never even had a taste of in his own life. His own family had fallen apart because of him all too quickly, and the little piece of happiness he can remember from his youngest days quickly became lost. After that, there had been little calm in his life, little except for training. His minimal needs taken care of by nameless servants who all looked upon him with awe, apprehension and outright fear.

Reinhard never quite managed to feel part of the human race since. He may be loved by the world, but its people would fear him. None of this ever stopped Reinhard from helping others and being the hero he is supposed to be. Though, at times, he wonders what his life might otherwise been like. In other words, like so many, he is subconsciously drawn to what he cannot have. When Reinhard falls someone, it’s most likely for someone living a relatively normal life. An unknown factor.

To Reinhard, it would be even better to meet someone who has no idea who that is. That is a tough thing to ask for, however. His face is known far and wide across Lugunica and his reputation as Sword Master stretches even beyond. It would be near impossible to meet someone whose perception of him wouldn’t be tainted by his ‘monstrous’ power.

Cue you. You have no idea what’s going on. One moment, you’d been going about your day, the next you’ve been transported into this unfamiliar and foreign world, to bustling streets full of species you don’t recognise and speaking a language you cannot understand. After crossing off ‘this is all just a dream’ from the list of possibilities, you’re faced with a frightening new reality.

You’re not taking this very well. It’s not long before you’re sitting somewhere on the cobbled ground, back against a wall and practically hyperventilating. Of course, you’re familiar with this kind of trope of fiction. You just can’t fathom how anyone could be excited about being ripped away from everything and anyone they’ve ever known. Nor have you ever fashioned yourself to be ‘main character’ material.

It’s Reinhard who finds you in a little alleyway, a little ways off from one of the main roads in Lugunica, mumbling to yourself and shaking. Most people would’ve passed by with little more than a glance, if they had even noticed you at all. That is simply the nature of large cities. But he is not the type of person to see someone in such clear distress and walk past without a second thought.

Reinhard approaches you without any hesitation. He tries to be as conspicuous as possible, adjusting his belt so his sword bumps against his side and putting down his feet a little harder than necessary, all to avoid scaring you. (Stealth is a passive Divine Protection of his. It takes him more effort to be noticed than not.) When you glance up, tear tracks clear on your cheeks and eyes wide with distress, Reinhard greets you with the most gentle smile he can muster. He kneels down in front of you, reaching out a hand with a handkerchief in it as if approaching a frightened animal. It’s a thick, soft cloth, embroidered with both his family’s colours and banner. “Please, take it,” he tells you. His smile falters a tad when, instead of breathing as fast as you were before, you seem to have stopped breathing whatsoever. But then you let out a stuttering, long exhale, shoulders slumping and mumble out a string of incomprehensible words. You wipe down your face and hide within the fabric. Out of respect, Reinhard gives you some time before prodding you with questions, looking away instead of staring. Though there are certainly things that grabbed his attention. Your way of dress, more than anything else. It’s not a type or style of clothing he recognises and, as a result, he can only assume that you’re a foreigner. Traveled here from further than the Four Great Nations, maybe. And gotten lost as a result. Reinhard doesn’t mind waiting for you to calm down. Though there might be trouble brewing somewhere else in the city, he’s certain that the rest of the guard can handle themselves for the time being. He’s not even on the job, after all. It’s important to stay in contact with the people he’s actually protecting, lest they become more of an idea or an image in his mind. He returns his focus to you once you’ve calmed down. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” This time, you look at him with no comprehension, then respond with something in your own tongue. Reinhard continues to try and communicate with you, all of the different languages he’s learned bits and pieces of out of politeness, yet none of it rings a bell for you. It’s difficult, frankly, and he’s running out of ideas. You seem to be growing closer to tears again by every second that passes. Perhaps it would be best to try and focus on something easier… A little distraction. He points at himself. “Reinhard van Astrea.” Any moment now, it must happen. There’ll be a flicker of recognition at his name, his appearance, the sword of his hip— And any hint of unguardedness will be erased and replaced by that look he is all too familiar with. That doesn’t happen. Instead, you smile. It’s wobbly and small, but it’s a smile nonetheless. You point at him. “Reinhard van Astrea,” you repeat after him. The vowels aren’t all quite correct, but that’s not an issue. He nods, smiling. Then, you point at yourself and share your own name, which he then repeats. Maybe it’s something to do with his pronunciation, or simply the relief of having fostered understanding with someone else in this city, but that’s the first time that Reinhard hears you laugh, loud and without reservation. It is that very moment that time seems to freeze, that it flits through his head that he cannot let something this precious go.

From the outside looking in though, it doesn’t seem to you that anything momentous has happened. You’ve started to doubt your ‘main character’ status, though. The man that is busying himself to make you at ease looks like he’s appeared straight out of an otome game with unnaturally bright hair and eyes to boot. He’s gorgeous to the point that it’s almost unnatural. That it’s reminiscent of a piece of art in a museum. The idea that he’s way, way out of your league is an immediate, unquestioned assumption.

Reinhard accompanies you throughout town, never straying far from your side. After mulling a little bit over a ways to communicate with you, he asks a shopkeeper for some paper and a pen, making little sketches to attempt to clarify things. He draws a rough approximation of a house and a questioning tilt of his head. Then, some coins, then stick figures of people. You have to shake your head at all of the unspoken questions. No, you have no home, no money, and no people to return to. By the end of it, your face runs hot with shame and you think you might start to cry all over again.

It’s Reinhard who, in the end, assures that you have a roof over your head and money to spend. You have no idea how to make it up to him. Not the mention, you don’t even have the words to express your gratitude. It’s a little one-room apartment that he’s bought for you in a quieter neighbourhood of the capital and your first self-imposed goal is to pay him back. The most people such as yourself can do around town is menial labour: lugging goods around, cleaning as a maid or anything of the sort. It’s either this, or do nothing inside of your room all day. You prefer the work, even if it’s exhausting.

Reinhard really only accepts the money you present him with to stop you from feeling worse about the situation. As soon as he figured out what you were doing, he’d taken you to a more reputable home in the city as soon as he got, acting as your ‘translator’ when you asked why. Of course, with him vouching for you, there was no question about the job or your higher salary.

He’s away for long stretches of time, but when he’s around he’s teaching you bits and pieces of the language. Reinhard isn’t the best at teaching though he tries his best. You pick up most of the language through listening to others speak, to struggling your way through novels after he taught you the script. All he asks for in return is for you to teach him a little of your own language to even better communicate with you. (You try not to think to hard about how it’s a language that, in this world, will die with you.)

Around you, he recalls what he was like as a young child. Shy, almost, at times struggling to figure out what to say. It’s an entirely unfamiliar feeling. Reinhard does feel a bit bad about keeping you in the dark. He purposefully doesn’t teach you some of the words people refer to him with. He doesn’t want you to change the way you look at him.

The same goes for his courting attempts. Any attempt at romance from him seems to fly over your head. (As previously stated, you consider him so far out of your league that it simply doesn’t cross your mind as a possibility.) Reinhard can accept that. For now, at least, and as long as you do not take another.

He values the little pretend life you’ve built together, even though it’s built on an unsteady foundation. Reinhard starts to yearn for the next time he can spend moments by your side, that he can go ‘home’ and see your face light up. He doesn’t know what he’d do if anything happened to you. Because of that, he must ensure he stays close, though he cannot avoid being sent away more often than he’d like. Selfishly, he continues to pay for your things even as you gain the means to look after yourself. It makes him feel better about it all.

If Reinhard is a force of nature, then you are caught in the eye of the storm. There’s little he needs to do about things such as romantic rivals or possible dangers to your life. Reinhard van Astrea’s shadow looms over you through your close association alone, even if you aren’t aware of it, and shapes the way people carry themselves around you. In the case there were those who overstepped, a request from Reinhard would be enough to get them to back off.

He doesn’t want you to be unhappy, he truly doesn’t. But when you complain that you cannot seem to make real friends with anyone, that there’s always this kind of… Distance and discomfort you can’t explain, he’s a little happy that he’s there to fill that gap. Once he has the courage, he’ll tell you how he feels. Your response will dictate whether you stay stable, or get swept out in the currents.

[burningembers91]

In the Bleak Midwinter - Nam-Gyu x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Outside Looking In

Synopsis: Caught out in the cold, you offer Nam-Gyu a place to stay

It was freezing tonight, the coldest January on record in at least 5 years. There were several weather warnings in effect, and ice and snow covered the city streets. Nam-Gyu sat in his winter parker, the hood pulled round his face, his hand stuffed into the pockets for warmth. He’d hardly sold any tickets tonight, most people preferring to stay hunkered down in the warmth instead of battling the elements for some overpriced cocktails and loud music. Still, he battled on, approaching those crazy enough to be out in the cold. He was knocked back again and again, but he couldn’t give up. His parents had given him an ultimatum; find a “real” job or leave their house. Nam-Gyu had begged and pleaded with them to let him stay, even for just a few more days until the weather had died down. But his parents were tired of supporting their youngest son, of constantly having to bail him out of debts they couldn’t afford to pay. His siblings were both doctors, highly esteemed and well respected in their fields. Why couldn’t Nam-Gyu be like this brothers? His parents often wondered. Why did he insist on carrying out this childish fantasy of club promoting? He was approaching 30, and many of his old classmates and family acquaintances were settling down, so why couldn’t he?

You were the reason he couldn’t settle down, couldn’t move on from a job that was actually causing him to lose money. You were all he had left in the world, the one friend he could count on. You’d grown a little closer over the last few months, letting down your guard enough to allow Nam-Gyu to walk you home most nights. He was acting more like himself, forgoing the cocky persona he adopted when he was working. You liked the real him, had told him so several times, and for the first time in his life, Nam-Gyu felt like he didn’t need to be anyone else. You were still broken though, still dragging yourself through the monotony of life in order to pay the bills. Your rent had gone up, as had the heating bill, but your wages were still pitifully low. You found yourself wondering how you’d pay the bills, how you’d manage to feed yourself when you were barely covering basic expenses. Nam-Gyu kept you sane, making you laugh on the nights you thought you might wither and fade entirely.

He saw you standing outside the club, your winter coat pulled up by your ears, your bare legs covered in goosebumps. “I bought you a hot chocolate,” he smiled, handing you the paper cup he’d been using to warm his hands. “What are you doing here?” you gasped, taking the hot drink gratefully and taking a large sip. “It’s absolutely freezing out! You’ll catch your death. Please, go home. I’m ok tonight, there’s hardly anyone here.” Nam-Gyu didn’t like to leave you on your own, not when he knew the way the men who frequented your club behaved. He’d witnessed it more times that he’d cared to, had come to your aid on the occasions where drunken patrons had tried to take advantage of you. You were strong, and you could hold your own, but Nam-Gyu would never forgive himself if something happened to you. “I’m fine!” he lied, pulling his hood tighter around his face as the snow continued to bucket down. “Nam-Gyu,” you sighed, “it’s one snowflake away from a full-blown blizzard. You’ll freeze to death out here. I’m finishing early tonight anyway, so I won’t be walking home on my own too late.”

He knew you wouldn’t let off until he went home, but he no longer had a home to go to. He’d been crashing with one of his brother’s for a few days, but his parents found out and the backlash had been enough for his brother to renege on his invitation. “I uh… I can’t go home,” he admitted. “I had an argument with my parents.” He couldn’t meet your eyes as he spoke, didn’t want you to see the shame plastered to his face. “So, where are you staying?” He could hear the pity in your voice, and he hated it. “Around,” he shrugged, but you couldn’t fool him. you could read Nam-Gyu like a book; you’d gotten to know him quite well over the last few months, better than he’d realised. “Take my keys,” you told him.  “I get off work in an hour, and I’ll see you at my place. You can’t stay in the cold though.” Handing him a pink fuzzy keychain, you didn’t give him a chance to argue before you hurried back into the warmth of the club.

When he arrived at your apartment, the lights wouldn’t turn on. Nam-Gyu wondered if perhaps there was a fault with the fuse box, but he couldn’t find it in your apartment, so set about looking for candles instead. He lit as many as he could find and took a seat on your tiny sofa. He tried to avoid looking at the underwear you’d left hanging out to dry, the lacy garments almost taunting him as he looked wildly around the room for a distraction. You had photos covering your walls; pictures of you with friends and family, pictures of you on vacation. Your smile was so wide, your eyes so bright. He wondered what had happened to you that had dimmed your sparkle. He noticed that you like to read, stacks of books piled around your apartment by various different authors. When looking for the bathroom, he found your bedroom and couldn’t help but smile at the teddy bear perched atop your pillow. The fur was faded and completely gone in some places, but it still held pride of place in your room.

You arrived back home shortly after 11pm to find Nam-Gyu sitting in near darkness. “Why are all the lights off?” you asked him, dumping your coat and boots in the hall. His face was bathed in the dark orange glow of the candles, the light casting his shadow onto the wall behind him. “They wouldn’t turn on,” he said, “I couldn’t find the fuse box, so I just lit your candles.” You tried and failed to get the lights working, a constant sinking feeling in your stomach increasing with each passing second. “They turned my electric off,” you sighed, realising there was nothing faulty with the fuse box. “I… I’m a little behind on payments.” Slumping on the sofa next to Nam-Gyu, you leaned your head against the threadbare couch. Because your electric was off, it meant the heating wasn’t working, and your apartment was like an icebox. You could see your breath in the air when you exhaled, could feel a shiver run through you as you sat freezing in your dress. “What will you do?” Nam-Gyu asked, wishing he could offer you money so you could at least get your lights back on. But the truth was, he was fully in the red. His bank account was overdrawn, and he’d borrowed more money than he cared to think about. “I’ll be ok,” you shrugged. “No use worrying about it now though. I’ll call the company tomorrow. Will you be ok on the sofa?” Nam-Gyu nodded, wrapping himself in the pink fluffy blanket he’d found when he first arrived. “Goodnight,” he whispered, watching as you padded through to the bedroom, using a linen scented candle to guide your way.

You were freezing under your duvet, unable to warm up despite the pyjamas and blankets covering your body. You couldn’t imagine how Nam-Gy must feel, having only a small blanket for warmth. You couldn’t leave him out there like that, not when he’d always been so kind to you. “Do you want to come and sleep in the bed”? you called out, “it’s too cold to be in the living room.” You heard him get up, heard the sound of his feet on the hardwood as he wondered over to your door. “Are you sure?” he asked, “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” But his heart soared at the thought of lying next to you, of feeling your body against his. You pulled back the duvet, allowing him to slide in next to you. The sheets smelled like your perfume and Nam-Gyu took a deep, but quiet breath in as he inhaled your scent.

You were still freezing, and gently pushed yourself closer to his body, the warmth of his chest radiating against your back. Gingerly, Nam-Gyu curled his arm around you, pulling you in closer. You both lay there in the darkness of the room, watching as the snow continued to fall. Neither of you knew what tomorrow would bring. You were both at the lowest points of your lives, but now you had each other. “Goodnight,” he whispered to you, his lips brushing lightly against the tip of your ear. “Goodnight,” you whispered back, his gentle touch sending sparks through your body. You wanted him to kiss you, wanted him to make love to you under the sheets but you couldn’t bring yourself to make the move. As good a man as Nam-Gyu was, you couldn’t allow yourself to fully let your guard down.

But, as you waited for sleep to come, his soft snores oddly comforting in the cold silence of the night, you wondered if perhaps you should take a chance on him. Perhaps you should open yourself to the man who waited in the wind, rain, and snow for you, who never gave up on you.

Maybe it was time to your open yourself up to the possibility that you could be happy again, that a club promoter and a hostess could have a life filled with love and laughter, if only they could get up the courage to try.

[wearysparrows]

Hi, I'm Sparrowhawk. I write LaDs fanfiction, but it's by and large about Sylus and Caleb. You can find them linked below, with corresponding descriptions. I'll also be uploading serperately to tumblr for ease of reading. ao3

I (Almost) Shot You Down

A chance encounter with Sylus snowballs something much larger, and you're pushed even deeper into the depths of his world -- whether you like it or not.

Give an Inch, Take a Mile

Sylus shows up at the door of your motel room after finding out you're investigating protocore energy fluctuations in the middle of nowhere. He claims he has business in the area and needs to stay the night -- but there's only one bed.

Couldn't Keep Them to Myself if I Tried

You invite Sylus over for a simple movie night -- but he has other ideas of the definition of "casual."

The D Word

At Tara's suggestion, you try something different on the phone with Sylus. Things quickly escalate.

There's a Hole that You Fill

After finding out how little you've been using his card, Sylus asserts that he'll have to teach you to take what you want.

Everybody Love Sylus

Contains the entire collection of Sylus related works. Ongoing.

My First, My Only, My Last

With the passing of time, your dragon has grown to expect your touch. He is like clay in your hands, and you mould him. With the passing of time, your dragon has grown to expect your touch. He is like clay in your hands, and you mould him.

of the Innocence of Beasts

At your request, your dragon takes you to fish, and indulge in the hot springs of the nearby volcano. You enjoy each other.

On Company Time

Sylus drops by your work to pay you a visit, but gets other ideas when you pull him into a nearby conference room.

Never Quite Heaven

After he had rejected your initial advances, you and Sylus had become the closest of friends. But your relationship still takes on a shape neither of you can quite define. Sylus regrets. You’re kept in the dark.

(Never) Let Go of Me

Memories of that summer when you silently asked Sylus to take your life.

Flesh of my Flesh

You play a game of tag in the forest with your closest friend, Sylus. You eat at a local diner in the dead of night. You dream of consuming him.

In my Room

After Caleb comes back into your life, he finds new ways to fill all the places he left empty in his absence.

Chariot

Caleb fingers you in his car, but you’re interrupted by a phone call. It doesn’t seem to deter him much, though.

My Only Sunshine

You find yourself in Caleb’s apartment. Caleb dreams of the past. He almost touches you like you want him to. You hurt each other, instead.

Cyanide in my Seeds

While visiting Caleb at his college, you convince him to practice kissing with you. It escalates.

Twice the Sun Rises

Caleb stands you up for dinner for unknown reasons. You make your way to a club in Skyhaven, and he intercepts your time with a stranger. Back at his apartment, you tell him the truth of your feelings.

My Heart Goes with the Birds

Caleb invites you to the fair in Skyhaven. Your heart condition prevents you from taking suppressants, and you go into heat at the wrong time. Caleb takes care of you in the only ways he knows how.

In My Brother's Hands

Caleb always had capable hands. Hands that were always on you, in some capacity. Never hurting, insisting at most. Hands you left the deep indentations of your teeth in. Hands that cradled you through your night terrors, chasing away memories of places you couldn’t understand. Stroking your hair, like you were a shuddering animal. Hands that cooked for you. Played with you. Sliced the flesh of perfect fruits, fed them to you. Fingers he put into your mouth to soothe you when nothing else would. You were no stranger to your brother’s hands.

For What You Have Tamed

In a better world, EVER doesn’t exist. You and Caleb lead relatively normal lives, all things considered. You visit him at his frat in Skyhaven, and you attend a party together. But the same feelings still linger between you, unresolved.

[avelera]

Was wondering if you had any theories about Viktor's childhood experiences and how exactly that shapes his politics?

I agree that Viktor is largely apolitical and pacifist, and I'm getting the sense that perhaps he believes politics/the council is incapable of solving the issues. After all, they haven't so far, and Viktor does respect Heimerdinger, so rather than Heimerdinger choosing to look away, Viktor perhaps believes it is impossible to solve the problems in the undercity through the council.

When I first watched season 1, I truly had no clue how they were going to be able to resolve the political conflict. The council kind of sucks, but so does Silco, and I don't think Ekko was powerful enough to fully take over.

I can picture Viktor also having no clue. He refuses to make weapons because he knows they'll be used against innocent people in the undercity (and I think he's also opposed to violence as a solution in general), but at this point he doesn't have an alternative solution. He refuses to side with the council, but he doesn't have an alternative. I doubt he even knows Silco is in charge or that he's someone they might negotiate with at this point (I think the council only learns about Silco when Caitlyn returns), so instead he chooses to stay out of it.

And with his cult, I'm getting the sense Viktor still had no clue how to end the conflict between Zaun and Piltover, so he doesn't try, but instead tries to create a safe place for people who, like him, want to escape the violence. It obviously doesn't work out the way he intends, but I do think that was the idea, and perhaps he hoped because of the remote location and his peaceful seperation from society, no one would really bother him. And when they do, he concludes mass hive mind is the only answer to the violence (because he still had no clue how to resolve any of these conflicts)

And all this gives me the idea that Viktor really is desperate to escape that violence, and makes me wonder what he lived through during his time in the undercity that inspires his actions, since we know so little apart from the time he met Singed.

This got a little long, sorry about that, but wondering what theories you had.

I think there's a core assumption to the question that I'd like to isolate out in the hopes it helps me explain how I see Viktor's views.

There's an assumption inherent here that in political times, everyone must be political. But let me point out, most people are not. All you need to do is look at voting turnout numbers to see most people are not political, especially not at the local level where direct action happens. When was the last time anyone reading this voted in their local, municipal election? Do you even know when the next one is?

Now let me add another aspect to this: Piltover is not a democracy. It is by definition an oligarchy, in which power is held in the hands of a small, elite group.

So, in such a world, why would anyone like Viktor think it's even possible for an individual to impact politics? Which is why I think Viktor always saw the only way of impacting the world for the better as being through where his own gifts lay: in science.

But I do think it's more complicated than that. And I want to take the chance to further explore the political landscape as Viktor would have seen it throughout Arcane and why that would be enough to make him take zero interest in politics and have zero hope for its efficacy at solving the problems he wants to solve for people, and that he wants to solve for people regardless of their political background or national identity, because Viktor is shown to be colorblind when it comes to those concepts.

As far as we can tell, the only people with political power in Piltover are the 7 Councilor. The major Houses have some influence, but that's it. Minor Houses, like House Talis, can't even trade upon their meager levels of influence in their own son's trial. Ximena, the presumed matriarch of House Talis in the absence of any extended family for Jaye being shown, has to trade on sentiment. That's how little political power is spread around.

One thing that Vander and Silco were almost certainly pushing for in their protest at the bridge was for "Zaun" to have a political voice at all. This effort was ruthlessly quashed. The undercity doesn't have a representative on the Council, they don't have any Houses, they are effectively voiceless except through riots and protests.

And, as they say, those who make peaceful revolution impossible make violent revolution inevitable.

Furthermore, organized crime tends to spring up and flourish in places that don't have a law of their own, or a law that common people can rely on. See the Italian mafia in the US, which in part sprang up from the fact these communities needed to be self-governing and self-protecting because the official law of the land wouldn't protect them. But then, of course, the criminal forces that stepped into that power vacuum may gain wide acceptance for keeping the peace and providing other social services, but then in order to hold onto power, they're going to prevent the actual authorities from stepping into their territory. Once they have a hold there, there's no elections either, there's no way to cast out a malfunctioning organized crime unit that's providing those social services.

This is more or less what I think happened with Silco. He stepped in and created a society in the undercity, one that he was able to run because Piltover turned its attention outward with the Hexgates, it no longer needed to rely on the labor of the underclasses in the undercity so they left them to their own devices.

But Silco's government was corrupt. I think that gets lost in a lot of Zaun vs. Piltover debates. Silco's Zaun was just as much an oligarchy as Piltover, they had their own Council with the chem-barons who are directly paralleled in the "Sucker" sequence in 2.02. There is no "Piltover is better" or "Zaun is better" they are both corrupt.

Where in the world would Viktor get the idea that the solution to the political problems between Zaun and Piltover would be solved by handing more political power to people like Silco? Why in the world would he reach the conclusion that two oligarchies would be the solution?

And even in such a world where maybe, self-governance would help some people in the undercity, why in the world would Viktor believe he would personally be able to make that happen?

In a society with no democracy, when the one attempt to gain a voice for the undercity was ruthlessly quashed most likely while Viktor was still a student in the Academy, where in the world where Viktor have developed a sense that he could have impact on politics or wouldn't simply die in the attempt if he joined a political movement, thus improving nothing? And if you can't buy into politics in any meaningful way, why pay attention to it?

Viktor has found his keys to the kingdom in science. He has one avenue to excellence, which is solving the material difficulties facing the undercity like cleaning up the air and making the labor there less backbreaking and difficult. He has a narrow focus. Indeed, one of his flaws is that it's kind of "his way or the highway" he doesn't appear to even seriously entertain other avenues besides science for improving lives in the undercity.

This is particularly interesting because he was an assistant to Heimerdinger, albeit in his role as Dean of the Academy I believe. Yet Viktor doesn't see Jayce's role as a Councilor as an avenue towards meaningful change, why?

I genuinely can only speculate there. Why doesn't Viktor ever try to advocate for the undercity when he has access to Heimerdinger? Or, as two scientists, do both just see it as the role of science to better lives down there, rather than political action? Heimerdinger does seem remarkably politically disinterested for someone who is the nominal head of the government. All the wheeling and dealing happens behind his back. Perhaps Viktor is just as oblivious, who knows? Maybe Viktor's lack of political interest is what made Heimerdinger like him enough to employ him as his assistant in the first place.

Now to further answer your question, I'd say Viktor isn't even trying to politically solve anything because it's unthinkable that he would be able to. That's why the undercity independence play I think makes him cautiously optimistic, if you see his face during the vote right before the rocket hits. He never really thought politics could solve this but maybe it can. Maybe the key is to just let the undercity go its own way. I'd argue Viktor seems a bit skeptical when he announces that Jayce brokered a peace with Silco, I don't think Viktor likes Silco, or likes the idea of handing the reins of power to him. But he does appear optimistic when the vote begins to go that way, in I would argue is one of the rare positive political moments for Viktor (the only other that I can think of is when he speaks favorably of Vander's vision for Zaun).

Then the rocket hits, which must be a gut punch of further disillusionment. It's not just Piltover that's preventing Zaun's independence, it's Zaun, it's the cycle of violence, it's the fact that the conflict has gone on for so long and is so ugly that a solution is no longer possible without more bloodshed.

This inevitable bloodshed includes Jinx and Cait's forces wiping out the remaining chem barons, thus in my opinion making the conflict a moot point, because there's no one on the other side to negotiate with anymore. There is no potential Zaun government anymore if there's no one to hand power to, there's no democracy to set up (not in Piltover either, so there's no example of one). Zaun dies with Silco and goes back to being the undercity, an impoverished community within Piltover. Its Shimmer economy dies, which was the only technology that gave it a prayer of competing with Piltover on the battlefield too.

Quick aside, I get that people are mad there isn't more Zaun vs. Piltover in S2, but that's already dead as a conflict in 2.03. Zaun gets decimated as a political player. It has no leadership, no weapons, nothing that allows it to act as an independent state anymore. Piltover won and it did so because Jinx's rocket gave them the motivation they needed to cut off the head of the snake, the snake Jayce was willing to negotiate with to give them their independence.

That's gone now. There is no Zaun. There's no one to give power to. There's no military, no forces, no money. It is not a state anymore. Sevika is trying to rally the various disaffected factions in 2.04 and even that is slow going because of the old internal hatreds. And even if everyone did rally, all Sevika is hoping for is to make enough of a cohesive Zaunite identity to be able to bring grievances to Piltover. She can't even organize that. Zaun doesn't have an identity anymore in 2.04, and not enough internal organization to begin to form anything resembles a town council let alone the government of a nation.

So in that backdrop, where in the world would Viktor have any notion that he can impact events with politics? Or any desire to when the most promising political hope Zaun had, which he had a hand in, was destroyed the second it arrived by a Zaunite who didn't want the deal? This is a difficult, intractable problem.

Of course Viktor would see the best way to "solve" this problem is to not engage with it at all. It's to sidestep it entirely. Go back down to the individual level, help those in need, give them a place away from conflict in which to flourish and live peaceful lives. He essentially starts a monastery during the political Dark Ages of the collapse of order in the undercity, a very natural human response.

Then, he decides the best way to solve this problem is just to stop it. Get everyone on the same side, even if it's into a hivemind. That's why he's willing to take poor shimmer addicts from Zaun like Huck and rich Councilors like Salo from Piltover.

I also think his view is informed by his parallels in the real world in that he's apolitical because he's a scientist, and to a scientist all these lines of caste and creed and nation are meaningless on a biological level, we are all people. That's how I think Viktor sees it. It's part of why I think too, somewhat speculatively, that Viktor only talks about being from the undercity as a place of origin for him, not as an identity, because I think he thinks all such identities are nonsense, they're missing the point of the general advance of humanity, something many scientists around the world feel. I'm more quick to ascribe an attitude I see amongst scientists, engineers, and astronauts to Viktor than I am to ascribe a political identity to him. I don't think he sees political identities are relevant.

For example, besides noting Jayce's privilege when they first meet, he never denounces Jayce as being from Piltover or sees it as a barrier to them working together. He never singles out details of Jayce's identity by birth as being relevant. Because such details are meaningless in science. He only even brings up Jayce's background, I think, the one time when they first meet to point out to Jayce that while he has lost the benefits of his patron and House Talis name, there's still a path forward for him, the one Viktor started with. He mentions it as a reason that Jayce doesn't need to commit suicide when he loses those things. But he doesn't blame Jayce for having them.

At no point, even when Jayce is othering the people of the undercity, does Viktor other him right back as being from Piltover. In my view, Viktor's response is actually, "Hey, a member of your in-group is also from the undercity, stop framing everyone from there as outgroup/other, you know better than this." And Jayce immediately acknowledges that Viktor is right. They are immediately back on the same page that political identity lines are meaningless when it comes to improving lives (aside, real world people who play identity politics do realize we're all aiming for a world where everyone can flourish regardless of their identity, right??).

However, he does admire those like Vander who imagined a peaceful end to the conflict by establishing a nation of Zaun, however it should be noted, I think Viktor saw Vander's effort as inspiring but tragically doomed to failure. Hence, the need for Glorious Evolution, when the most well-intention dreams have no hope of ever happening. Seeing people like Vander fail is part of the disillusionment that makes Viktor further decide to disregard and supersede all politics through his own scientifically endowed magical power.

So anyway I hope this very long, involved essay helps explain a bit better how I view Viktor's politics, specifically his lack of them.

Edit: I just realized you also asked about Viktor's childhood. I have less to say there because we know so little but I would add:

Viktor was othered by people in the undercity as well as people from Piltover. I think that would lend to his view that people are just people, there are no real lines of politics or point of origin that matter. People will isolate him for his disability in both. No one is better than anyone else. It's just that people in Piltover by and large have more resources than those in the undercity, but both will look down on someone like him and avoid him.

You also have the fact that Viktor emigrated to Piltover presumably while still fairly young, either a teen or a young man, one would guess, based on his intellectual ability. I don't think he inherently sees the two cities as being separate, more like just two different areas of town, one of which is disadvantaged. Like moving from a poor neighborhood in Brooklyn to Manhattan. If Brooklyn began to lobby to become its own city or state, separate from Manhattan, some would see that as a good thing from self-governance perspective, others might see it as nonsense, which is where I think Viktor would mostly fall, but more importantly, I don't think he has faith that Brooklyn and Manhattan becoming separate states would really solve anything that matters, when the issues are things like air filtration systems, which can be solved with science.

As for things like, did young Viktor face violence? I think if he did, it would just add to his sense that a lack of resources breeds violence and the undercity needs prosperity to flourish, prosperity brought by scientific innovation. Politics again isn't going to solve these problems.

And I would finally add, Viktor found success and a sense of belonging in Piltover. I don't think he's as down on the place as people make him out to be sometimes. Jayce is from Piltover. Heimerdinger is too, these are two people who accepted Viktor and arguably who have loved him. I think as a result, Viktor would just see Piltover and the undercity as two places of origin within one city, a city he belongs to and wants to help improve by focusing on those in need.

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - Story Setup and Character Info

Start | Next

Full text transcriptions under the read more:

Hometown was once a quiet, largely rural community…until, as often happens, much larger powers decided to move in. An expanding empire takes over the land around the small community, and the old town is now surrounded by a rapidly growing fortress and city. A more threatening military presence is felt, and poverty quickly creeps in as the expanding empire takes advantage of the residents still in Hometown. 

[Image of a smaller, more rural Hometown with a much larger city and fortress walls behind it]

While the younger generation at least attempts to adapt to all the changes, the older generation deeply resents this intrusion into their old home. Many of the elders, including Asgore and Toriel Dreemurr, Father Alvin, Mayor Holiday and her husband Rudolph, form their own tight-knit group that soon spirals into a cult.They’re a small community with no means of standing up to an empire’s armies. But, there’s always been old whispers of things far more powerful and terrible…old gods and strange horrors that hail from a Dark World parallel to their own. The cult focuses their attention specifically on tales of a Dark Prince, a goatlike entity made of fire and shadow that can pacify any enemy. Surely, if they can gain the favor of something so dark and powerful, they’ll have a means of driving away all of these intruders and restoring Hometown to the way it used to be.

However, as everyone knows, trying to call up old gods demands sacrifices. Mayor Holiday, having gotten the group together, tries to take the brunt of this duty and first sacrifices her daughter, December. However, it seems to be a botched ritual, and nothing useful results from it, leaving the Mayor extremely bitter. The other elders are tasked with picking up vagrants or other troublemakers to try and successfully complete this ritual, but none seem to work. 

Unwilling to offer up their own dutiful son, Asriel, the Dreemurrs instead adopt an orphan from the poverty-stricken streets of the encroaching city: Kris. However, they find that upon adopting them, Asriel quickly forms a close bond with Kris. Asriel, like most of the younger generation, is unaware of his parents and grandparents’ intentions. Kris is not easy to take care of sometimes…they have weird interests, aren’t very clean, and are often disobedient. Despite this, Toriel and Asgore find Kris growing on them, too. The thought of sacrificing them gets harder and harder to swallow. [Image of Kris and a human Asriel hanging out together and talking while Asriel sits at a writing desk. Toriel and Asgore look on the both of them from a nearby doorway.] However, the other elders start to pressure them, questioning why they’re so intent on keeping this weird orphan around. Aren’t they a symbol of everything going wrong with their little community, and with this invading modern future? Toriel continues to put it off, using the excuse that she is doing extensive research to make sure that they finally do this ritual correctly. While she is indeed conducting research, she also knows that they can’t do anything with Kris as long as Asriel is around with them. 

However, when Asriel is offered an extended stay at the city’s new university to get advanced training as a scholar, the Dreemurrs don’t have an excuse anymore. At the other elders’ behest to do what’s necessary for the good of the town, they decide to conduct the ritual with Kris. The cult brings Kris to an underground shelter in the woods outside town, with Kris none the wiser about their intentions until they are incapacitated and unable to escape.  Toriel’s extensive research pays off, and Kris is appropriately sacrificed to the Dark Prince. The ritual causes them to vanish from this plane, seemingly dead…but there’s still no sign of the old god they were trying to summon. 

[Image of Asgore, Toriel and other older townsfolk, dressed in various goat or deer masks and robes, with Asgore carrying Kris towards an altar.]

The Dreemurrs are distraught at this seeming failure, after they worked so hard to ensure that they did this right. The remaining elders double down, though, insisting that they have to keep trying. Asriel returns from his training, and is devastated to find his sibling missing. Toriel and Asgore, unable to admit what they did, lie to Asriel and say that Kris had a huge argument and left home on their own. Asriel vows to search for them and bring them back home, and while his parents try to dissuade him from this, they’re unsuccessful. 

[Image of Asriel stepping out the door of his home, a large backpack slung over his shoulder, and waving off Toriel and Asgore in the foreground. They stay indoors while he heads out into the world.]

Meanwhile, unknown to anyone in the Light World, the ritual was actually successful, and transported Kris to the Dark World…right into the home of Ralsei, the very Dark Prince they were trying to reach! Ralsei is delighted to finally have an actual human from the Light World visit him! Sure, he’s heard about all those previous sacrifices, but they never actually got to him. The Dark World and the afterlife aren’t really the same place, after all. [Image of Kris floating down into a new Dark World, where Dark Prince Ralsei stands next to a large cauldron and welcomes them.]

Kris, however, is infuriated and despondent…they’ve already had a very hard life as an orphan, and now just when it seemed like they had a new family they could trust, that trust was broken by adults who once again threw them away for their own purposes. Ralsei, ever cheerful, assures them that they must be here for a reason…and that he has a means for them to not only return to the Light World, but get retribution for what’s happened to them and their Hometown. 

[Image of the silhouettes of many large eldritch beasts: Susie, Noelle, Berdly and Catti.]

The Dark World is full of eldritch beasts, strange demons and old gods, after all. He can grant them the forbidden knowledge and ability to speak to and even command these eldritch beasts. Once they form a strong enough bond with the beasts, and make it through the bound gods that may bar the way, they can bring them back to the world of light…and command them to do whatever Kris would like to the people living there. However, such power and ability comes at a high cost…Kris’s human soul. 

[Image of Kris giving their soul to Ralsei; the soul emanates a red glow between them.]

Kris, seeing little other option and not feeling much attachment to their humanity anyway, agrees and sells their soul to the Dark Prince Ralsei. Ralsei excitedly promises that he’ll take extra good care of their soul, and that he’ll accompany them as they befriend the eldritch beasts lurking in the Dark World. This arrangement certainly has some other benefits for Kris, too…in addition to this forbidden knowledge, Ralsei’s control over their soul grants them a degree of invulnerability. If Kris dies or is somehow psychologically destroyed, Ralsei can use it to revive them completely. 

[Image of Kris, now decked out with armor and a sword, standing on a cliffside looking out over the Dark World. Ralsei stands nearby.]

Ralsei gives Kris suitable armor and weaponry for this venture, and the two set out into a vast Dark Realm of strange horrors, lost cities and twisting paths in search of new friends and a means back to the Light World. While Kris is unsure about this journey at first, Ralsei is all smiles, excited for them to gain some friendships that they clearly desperately need! Of course, he’s excited for other reasons, too…those cultists have been calling out to him for such a long time, and now with Kris’s human soul, he can finally enter the Light World. Kris can forge the bonds they’ve been lacking, Ralsei and the eldritch beasts they find will finally have access to the human world, and the people clamoring for terrible things to happen will get exactly what they asked for. How could that not be a happy ending?