#it's its own special kind of torture

[vetometo]

Free to be

There's something... inherently freeing, about not being tied down to some fixed place. Or maybe it's being tied down to multiple places, I haven't quite figured it out yet. I exist in all of them at any one time. Every time, I am me. That doesn't change. But I am also not me.

I am the smell of candles and the sound of a welcoming meow, a distracted hello called out from a busy living room. I am the cafe we decided to pile up in this time, molded by life but the same, falling into old conversations. I am the hand I hold quietly under the table, petite, thumb running over soft knuckles. I am my best friend waiting with an exasperated but pleased hello again, hug only a little reluctant and very warm, because her love is more often felt than heard. I am my grandmother, who also exists outside of physics, because her homes are her, she is not them. I am my father waiting over an idle game, eyes tired, smile brighter than the sun. I am my mother at the balcony who somehow senses me coming before I know I'm on my way, and I am my family as we step home again, uncaring of where we've ended up this time.

See, sometimes I wonder who I would be, if my life happened in places quantifiable by distance or location. I see people who live that way and feel envy, occasionally. And then I step into somwhere new, because I'm always stepping into somewhere new, and it's not long before I think another place to be, and I'm home and whole again, until another place joins me.

[sceletaflores]

no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕��

nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333

|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||

Six days is a long time.

Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.

The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.

The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.

Then day four rolled around, and things changed.

You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.

By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.

You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.

And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.

It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.

It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.

You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.

You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.

Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.

The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.

The frustration was unbearable.

You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.

It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.

You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.

Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.

It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.

You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.

The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.

As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation

You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.

You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.

The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.

With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.

Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.

Logan, home a day early.

He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.

Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.

You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.

Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.

"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.

"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.

"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.

Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."

You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.

"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"

You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”

You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.

“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”

Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.

“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”

The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.

Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.

His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”

You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.

"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."

That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.

Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!

[lunartuness]

Spoilers for Book of Bill

Thoughts on Bill talking about Ford

I was not prepared for canon Billford in the year 2024 and yet here we are.

But seriously, I'm kinda surprised how much Bill actually liked and valued Ford? Obviously it's in a horrible, toxic, never come within the same continent as them kind of way but it's just, I always kind of figured their relationship (while obviously adoring from Ford's end due to Journal 3) was mainly just Bill humoring Ford long enough until he no longer needs him. Like, 'yeah, sure, of course you're special, I definitely believe in you' sort of nonsense.

But in Bill's book it's implied multiple times he had as close to a crush on Ford as he's probably capable of. I mean, the whole 'love cage' section is literally verbatim what he did to Ford (and just wait until they're mentally broken enough to confess their true feelings! Fear and love are basically the same thing!) And in the valentine's section he talks about leaving mice, which again, he did for Ford's birthday, and then when he wasn't happy about that, got him drunk enough to have a good time (implied kinda forcibly? since Ford declined beforehand). Then there's the fact he literally calls Fiddleford a third wheel (also coincidentally after we just learn Fiddleford spent hours on handmade gifts for Ford and forgot to get his wife anything).

And when Ford finally does catch on and things go bad? Bill tries first to talk with Ford through the zombies (to manipulate him, of course, but also Admit it, you'd miss me. I have missed you, and Bill actually smiles.) And then leaves little sticky notes asking nicely to talk. When he finally gets mad enough to escalate, he still does so in a very not-violent-for-Bill-way. Sure, killing Ford wouldn't help him but we know how messed up Bill can get. And yet what does he do? He leaves Ford's body to almost freeze, only to have a warm fire and a love song playing when he wakes up. He causes mild public disturbances and gives him an obnoxious tattoo. When he finally, finally snaps is when we start to see more of the Bill we got in the show when he tortures Ford a bit. But even that is mild?

Like, Bill rearranged a man's face for fun and takes joy in destroying the Nightmare Realm. But after threating Ford he leaves him unharmed. Very mentally scarred, yes, but safe and intact. He even gives him three days to get his life together. And then treats it like a messy breakup when Ford finally breaks free. Hell, it seems like he was more upset about losing Ford than losing the portal.

All this is to say that I think from Bill's point of view he was being genuinely kind to Ford. He gave him gifts, complimented him, and tried to work things out peacefully when Ford started pulling away (again, his very messed up version of peaceful, but the point still stands).

So when they do finally meet again? Bill still offers Ford a spot next to him. Again, I originally thought this was more playing into Ford's ego while taking a cheap shot at him (i.e. you'll fit in great with the freaks!), but by now it's obvious he wants Ford. He's petty and cruel and horribly abusive about it, but in his own twisted way he likes Ford. A lot. Enough to show mercy (or at least not be as violent as he could be) and to try and give him multiple chances to come back, no apology needed!

And the worst part is Bill knows this. Bill's trying to make this relationship work. He feels connected to Ford in a way he quite possibly hasn't felt with anyone else. And he knows its doomed to fail. In his mind he has to destroy everything he touches and everything he cares about. Any other connections he has are either superficial or dead to him (usually literally). This relationship will end the same way, it's just in Bill's nature. To him, that's all his relationships are capable of being.

All this just makes me sad and adds so much depth and I'm obsessed. There's just something about self-destructive and truly cruel characters having moments where they wish they weren't that way. Where they'll come the closest they ever can to apologizing for how they are.

(Also Bill literally wanted Ford to get a tattoo saying 'If lost return to Bill' like we cannot just ignore that oh my god)

[lovisyandereblog]

noah with a sweet n loving darling, gives him hugs, kisses, gifts and affection but is absolutely RAMMING his ass during sexy time, like degrading, edging, torturing him until he's sobbing, begging for release. Either way, darling gives the best aftercare, switching back to their lovey-mode n taking care of him... idk its just a thought yknow?

From your sweetiepie 🍓anon ♡♡♡

🍓 anon….youve read my mind.

TW (rough) nsfw so mdni!! also dick = strap for my fellow dickless people !!!

Darling is an absolute sweetheart, everyone says so. With their respectful attitude, their always smiling face and their kindness that warms the hearts of many.

This aspect was one of the reasons Noah loved them so much, they were always so gentle…but boy was he mistaken as soon as they started getting more intimate.

SLAP!!

The sound of their hand making contact with Noah’s soft pale skin, followed by his own loud cry just turned Darling on even more.

Noah’s entire body was covered in bruise marks, hickeys and bites; all from his precious darling~

They gripped his hair roughly, pulling him up so his back was against their chest; pounding much more harder than before making his whole body shake with each thrust, “You like that huh~? Dirty bitch…like it when I hit that ass of yours?” They asked, followed by another slap and whine.

Their words were so mean!! But it made Noah’s dick leak pre-cum more and more. Darling removed their hands from his hair, making him drop back on the bed—only for him to gag as they held his mouth open from the sides with both of their hands from the back (A/N i hope you guys are understanding what position im talking abt 😭)

He whined as he was pulled back up, his back arching as his tongue lolled out of his mouth; losing himself in the pleasure. Darling chuckled as his moans became louder and louder, “Youre like a dog in heat aren’t you baby~? Liked being fucked dumb by your owner~?” They spoke in a condescending tone, Noah could only respond with a whine, drool escaping his mouth and covering Darling’s fingers.

“Yeahhh..THRUST…Im your fucking owner…THRUST…dumb fucking mutt…” They spoke through gritted teeth, letting go of Noah’s mouth and gripping his hips to find a better angle: the one that makes him go crazy.

He fell on his hands, weakly trying to hold himself up but as soon as Darling hit that special spot of his—he went nuts.

“AHHHNNGH~!! YES YES YESS…OH F-FUCK…” Noah moaned so loudly that the neighbours would have definitely heard his slutty voice by now.

“Fuck baby…” They groaned as they reached one hand down and started rubbing Noah’s sensitive dick, his body jerked and he sobbed from the overwhelming amounts of pleasure, “AHH~ AHHHH~~~Y/NNNNN!!! T-TOO M..MUSH..TOO..NGHH~” He whined as they slapped his ass again, a beautiful red handprint forming where they had hit.

“You’re gonna fucking take it…take it you dumb fucking slut.” Their harsh words were accentuated by their even harsher thrusts, they leaned down so their mouth was right next to his ear as they increased how fast they were jerking him off.

Oh god he was going to fucking die…he couldn’t cum anymore!!

“Yeah? Youre just my little cumdump aren’t you baby~? A whore who just likes getting fucked over and over again to the point of breaking hmm~?” Darling whispered in his ear as Noah sobbed even more from their free hand playing with his sensitive nipples.

“Y-Y/NNN~ P-PLEASE…I C-CANT!! IM G-GONNA…AHHNGHH!!” Noah whined, making Darling chuckle as they straightened their back, bringing their hands to his hips again.

“My baby want’s to come~? Awee..how adorable~” Darling spoke in a fake sweet tone, as they slowed their thrusts before coming to a complete halt. Noah whimpered and looked back over his shoulder towards them, Darling just wanted to eat him up~

“W-why did you stop~?” Noah whined, trying to move himself back but Darling held his hips in place.

“You insatiable slut…can’t even go a second without a dick fucking inside of you huh~? Even after coming 6 times tonight~?” They smirked, watching Noah pout.

He couldn’t help but clench his hole at their demeaning words, why did it have to feel so good~?

“S-sorry..mmmshorryy~~ P-please…I need you~” Noah begged, knowing nothing turned darling on more than him begging.

And he was spot on as Darling’s grip became tighter, “You need me baby~? Need me to fuck you till you cum~? Start begging for it then…beg for me to fuck your slutty little ass till you come for me~” They demanded immediately, slapping his ass once more.

Darling held his slender waist and flipped him around on his back, so they could see every expression on his pretty face as he comes for them. Noah bites his lip anxiously, he always got nervous before begging…making Darling smirk more as they loved how shy he got.

“P-please…?” His voice was so timid, Darling just had to tease him more, “What was that baby…can’t hear you~?

Noah whined, grabbing onto their arm and making the biggest puppy eyes he could. He remained eye contact which was so hard for him but Darling love it as he begged:

“P-please Y/N!! Please fuck me…p-please fuck me till Im a shaking mess…your shaking mess!! Please…im your slut..im your dirty m-mutt…please!! Im all yours…Im your whore…i need you inside me— AAHHHNNG~!!!” His begging was cut short by Darling abruptly and harshly fucking into him, his back arched as he came on the spot—long white ropes of cum spurting out of his poor abused dick.

Darling fucked him through his orgasm, making sure he was nice and satisfied and stopped as he came down.

Then it was like a switch flipped.

Darling pulled out of him, making Noah whimper—his thighs were shaking as was his entire body from the mind breaking orgasm.

They quickly gathered Noah in their arms, cooing at him and giving him kisses all over the marks they had made.

“Oh baby…you were so good..so pretty for me yeah~?” They praised as Noah wrapped his arms around them, he always felt extra clingy after an orgasm.

They cuddle for a while before Darling laid him down and held a glass of water to his mouth, “Drink up angel…there’s a good boy~” Their praises a complete opposite of the degrading words a few seconds ago, and Noah absolutely loved it.

Noah looked at him with those adorable puppy eyes of his, “I..I l-love you~” He spoke hoarsely, his throat hurt from all that screaming.

“Shh baby…don’t speak yeah? I love you more…let me go get a warm wet cloth to clean you up hmm~?” Darling kissed his cheek, he didn’t want to let them go but he knew he had to.

Noah watched as they carefully cleaned his body, making sure to be gentle and considerate; they left kisses wherever they could reach, taking their time with him. His eyes watered from the overwhelming love, he felt his heart swell…he thought he didn’t deserve them.

After carefully making sure he was clean, they put the cloth in the dirty clothes hamper and went to cuddle him against them, their naked bodies providing the warmth they both needed.

Darling pulled the covers over both of their bodies and smiled at Noah, kissing his nose gently, “I love you Noah~”

He smiled as he whimpered back, “I love you…s-so much~”

BRO this was supposed to be a short one paragraph little thought and i wrote too much 🧍‍♀️ BUTT I HOPE THIS WAS WHAT YOU WERE HOPING FOR!! LOVE YOUUUU also Lovi writing twice in a day im kinda crazy (I will disappear for ten months) IM JOKINGH IO4EFRQU4F809

[lalunanymph]

𖨆♡𖨆 ran haitani x fem!reader, hanma shuji x fem!reader

╰┈➤ yearning for revenge after the untimely death of your father, you come to discover an underground organization called bonten and how its executive may have all the answers you need. the big catch? you were the first ever girl that broke his heart.

: ̗̀➛ explicit smut, mentions of a murder, guns, mentions of drugs, fear play, prostitution, mention of heights, daddy kink, creampie, mild exhibitionism, pet names (princess), spit kink, murder, blood, gore, torture, joint breaking, angst, mentions of a past relationship, mentions of a body disposal, slut-shaming, language, smoking, drinking, MDNI

masterlist 🌙

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 #𝟏

The air tonight tasted of electricity, its charge sparking in your bloodstream.

Fidgeting in your skintight dress and boots, you wondered if you were a little overdressed considering how some of the girls milled around in skirts that barely covered their asses and crop tops that were just the barest suggestion of clothes upon their frames.

The bass boosting through the floors mimicked the palpitation of your heart and you steeled yourself, looking both ways before you crossed the street.

So, this was the infamous Haitani bar that everyone from your roommate, Kira, to her pimp was talking about. You could see why it generated much intrigue.

On the outside, the facade suggested a modest office building that boasted a helipad at its very top, like a flat cap over a square head. Rumour has it that the Haitanis liked to arrive to their own bar not in cars or even limos—but through their own private helicopter which gives them discreet entrance. The top floor, especially, was a cordoned-off area where only those who had a special pass could enter.

That, or to go in disguised as one of the many prostitutes Ran and Rindou hired to keep spirits up and the booze flowing all night long.

You had to hand it to them; those Haitani brothers were exceptionally good businessmen.

Tugging the hem of your dress down, you approached the bouncer who let you through with barely a glance at your ID. You frowned inwardly; shouldn’t security here be at its maximum capacity?

After all, Ran and Rindou were two of the most important Bonten executives—a position so feared that even the most hardened pimp would shudder at the name of Japan’s most notorious criminal organisation.

Downstairs, people were packed like sardines, girls hanging off random men’s laps or dancing in groups like a shoal of fish, bait for the sharks that lurked around the rooms.

You weren’t excused from their leering stares and kept your head down, sole mission in mind. In the elevator, you called for the highest level, the numbers on the keypad blinking every time you rose one floor higher. To calm yourself for what you had to do, you reached inside your purse for the faded photograph; your father’s smile bright in the palm of your hand.

I’ll do this for you, dad, was your silent promise. The elevator dinged and you walked towards the cordoned-off bar where the crowds were nonexistent, and all that stood between you and finding Ran Haitani was one stern looking bouncer. His muscles rippled almost threateningly under his suit, staring you up and down.

“No one is allowed to enter.”

You took in a deep breath and spoke in a low, but clear voice. “Haitani-san hired me.”

The guard arched a brow. “Which Haitani?”

Somehow, it felt like a trick question and when you answered Ran, it seemed that you had failed the test.

“Mr. Haitani is not the one that deals with hookers,” he all but growled, and despite the streaks of grey in his hair and noticeable age, you sensed without a doubt that he was able to manhandle you and toss you over the balcony railing if he so wished to.

Holding your ground, you gritted your teeth and forced out: "There must be some kind of mistake. I was requested to be here.”

The guard had evidently grown tired of this back and forth; he approached you and gripped your arm tightly, pushing you towards the elevator door. “Let go of me!” Your hunch was proven right; he was incredibly strong and did not let up, not even when you dug your heels in to impede him.

“I won’t tell ya again, miss,” he growled. “Please leave before I throw you off the fucking building myself.”

“One of his clients told me to be here!" You fought back, the desperation clawing up your throat.

His scowl deepened and a vein was threatening to pop from his temple. “Last chance. You’re gonna have to leave, miss.”

You physically and literally held your ground, gripping the railing with white knuckles. “Not until I see him.”

“Miss, I won’t ask you twice—“

“What’s going on here?”

As if he had turned to jelly, the guard released you and quickly folded into a bow. “Mr. Haitani, sir—“ you didn’t hear his babbling, your mind struggling to comprehend the deepness of that voice and how it brought back a surge of memories you could not ignore.

A smug smile, long, bleached-black hair that you loved running your fingers through, nights spent raiding the closest convenience stores, an empty phone log…

“… Ran?”

A beat of silence as he took in your face before the recognition set in.

“Y/N?”

He was different—no scratch that, he didn’t even look like his old self. Gone were the twin braids and dip-dyed bleached hair. Now, he sported a full hair of light purple locks that contrasted vividly with the frown that was etched on his face and the tattoo peeking underneath the collar of an expensive suit.

Before you could open your mouth, he reached out and gripped your shoulder, steering you towards the bar’s entrance.

“She’s with me.”

“I’m so sorry, Haitani-san, I—“ the guard’s splutters were not to be heard; Ran waved him off and trailed those hardened lilac eyes onto you. The press of his palm was warm on your bare skin.

“Didn't anyone warn you that this his bar isn’t a place for girls like you?”

You were surprised to say the least. It seemed as if those five years that you spent separated from him dissolved into nothing; he still spoke to you in that same infuriating manner like you hadn’t ghosted him out of the blue—like you hadn’t broken his heart.

“Girls like me?” For your credit, you were still as argumentative as ever. As his hard gaze bore into yours, you realised some things never changed.

Ran Haitani would always treat you like you were an errant child.

“My men are armed to the teeth and you could have walked out of here with more than a bruise,” was his retort. Your indignant anger faded a little when you eyed the tasteful bar decorations. It seemed like a different world existed up here compared to the crowded dance floor below. There was no thumping music, no drugs and no sharks waiting for you to let your guard down. Rather, bossa nova jazz music filtered over the speakers; even the people here were classier than you anticipated—all suits and dresses that tastefully showed off skin.

You stuck out like a sore thumb in your black bodycon and boots, and it appears you were not the only person who was aware of it. The women eyed you up and down, though the men were more discreet. But the one thing they all had in common? The moment it registered that Ran Haitani was beside you, all their gazes fell to the floor.

He led you to the outside bar where a few people mingled around, smoking cigars and joking amongst themselves in low tones. Ran chose a table closest to the balustrades. Immediately, two well-dressed waiters arrived to wipe down the table, set down some snacks as well as a bottle of whiskey—glowing almost amber in the half-light.

That bottle alone look like it could’ve cost more than your rent.

You sat down opposite him and watched as he removed a packet of cigarettes and a metal lighter. The click of it was loud in the silence and you didn’t know what compelled you to blurt out your next sentence, but it came out without a second thought, and you had to suffer the repercussions of his disbelief.

“Your guard didn't believe me when I told him I was a prostitute."

Those impassive lilac hues flickered onto you. “What?”

As if explaining yourself to a child, you spelled it out for him. “I’m a hooker, Ran.”

For a long moment, he did not speak. He reached forward to uncap the whiskey bottle, poured himself a cup and sat back in the plush chair. There was nothing on his face that indicated any real emotion he had towards his ex-girlfriend being in an unsavoury position, nor did he make fun of you for your new occupation. All he did was frown and said: “How’d that happen? You always said you wanted to go to business school and you’re pulling this type of shit?”

Something about the way he phrased that sentence made it feel like a slap to your face. “You don’t have to sound like my dad, Haitani.”

If there was one strange power you had over the feared Haitani brother, it would be the ability to make his blood boil with just a few words. "Huh? Do you need money? Is there someone pimping you out? What’s his name?”

You hadn’t expected him to launch into his righteous anger on your behalf, and you sat back, wide-eyed.

For Ran, he was in disbelief over how you had turned out in the five short years he lost contact with you. He had always admired your vision of climbing the corporate ladder and how you had mapped out the future together with him even knowing full well the dark path he had taken to build Bonten from the ground up together with his younger brother and a few other chosen men.

But, that was when you both were still fresh-faced twenty year olds and a novice to the hardships of life. In those years when you left him, he had climbed the ranks and claimed many, many lives to do so. His blood ran dirty with all the futures he had destroyed and you…

How did you end up like this?

You were always such a sweet thing; concern for others outweighing your need for self-preservation. A girl like you did not belong on the streets and the both of you knew it.

“I work for myself, Ran,” you clarified and he had to stop himself from shivering at how his name sounded on your lips. “I choose who I work with, when and how much I charge them.”

He was still at a loss, and the glass of whiskey he had ached for the whole evening seemed like contaminated water in this instance. Ran pushed it back and raised one perfectly groomed brow.

“Why?”

You fiddled with your fingers and stared out towards the scenery. If Ran had to choose one spot he could easily lose himself in, it would be this place. Rindou’s strategic choice of a bar faced the Tokyo skyline; from his perch, he could map out the outline of the Tokyo Exchange Building, a stout cube in the heart of the city. He could trace the rail lines, the jagged edges of the district of Roppongi where he and Rindou once reigned supreme.

“I… lost my dad,” you confessed. Similarly, he found himself at a loss too for what to say, his expression carefully construed to remain neutral. “He died shortly before we broke up. I… I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know how to say it.”

The young executive tipped his whiskey around the glass and took a drag of his cig, unable to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he eventually said and followed up with another question which you could not easily answer.

“Is that why you dumped me?”

After five years of wondering, five years of searching out for answers and wracking his brain for something he might have done to piss you off, Ran was finally graced with the faltering of your expression.

He recalled stepping out of the elevator aching for a drink only to be confronted by the sight of someone who held the shape of you, a shape he could always easily map out even in the darkness. His heart had soared, but he tamed down the excitement, reasoning that of course it could not be you; he had done everything in his power to seek you out in those 1825 days he spent without you, where it seemed like you had dropped off the face of the earth.

Little did he know how the past could show up unannounced when one stopped searching for it. He still was not done trying to flay it apart and find out the truth.

“No, wait, scratch that,” his voice was rising in anger. “Is that why you ghosted me and blocked me on everything so I couldn’t reach out to you?”

You had always known Ran Haitani to wear his signature smirk; no matter if he was beating people up, stealing food from convenience stores or even bashing up boys taller than him with his baton; that same infuriating smile never faltered.

Until now.

Only you boasted the power to make the ever smug Ran Haitani drop his impassive facade to reveal a deep scowl. The words you practiced to explain to him all that had transpired in the past five years today seemed to elude you.

You could not reply to his interrogative questions and Ran sighed, cutting to the heart of things. “Why are you here?”

You bristled at his tone and glared towards the city view, involuntarily annoying him with your shifty reply and inability to tell him the truth.

“To enjoy the night sky.”

“No, fuck,” he gritted out and you held your breath. “Why are you really here, Y/N?”

A tremble of uncertainty passed between the both of you.

Fuck it. I'll just ask to see what his reaction is.

“I need a favour.”

Silence descended between both your tense forms. You had no idea what he was thinking or what his sudden loss of words entailed. All you sensed was that it didn’t bring you any good news.

But inwardly, you understood the gravity of what you were doing.

Picture this: you had a woman you swore to protect, to stay true to her because you both were madly in love with each other and one day, seemingly for no reason, she disappears and doesn’t pick up her phone or even answer her messages. What would you have done?

You knew, in the deepest pits of your conscience, that you were shameless; that you were nothing but a cold-hearted and calculating bitch for badgering a wounded man from your past for help when it was all your fault you turned out this way.

“A favour, eh?” He put out his cigarette and stared at you unblinkingly. “I'll give you a chance to ask it when you answer me this: How did a nice girl like you end up working the streets?"

You frowned at the accusatory tone he wore and glanced back down at your twined hands. “I…”

Your ex-boyfriend’s words were cutting you right down to the bone and you fought back the urge to cry. If it had been five long years Ran spent searching for a woman who had already lost herself, so what did he expect to find?

That you were the same girl who used to sing oldies in the middle of your shared kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt? Or, that you could coo over his wounds and patch them up, scolding him lightly to prioritise his safety?

No. That Y/N died the day you found your father in a pool of his own blood.

“I changed, Haitani.”

It seemed that Ran did not believe you. “Sure you did.”

Finally, you divulged the piece that was lingering in your mind, the final one that would give a full picture of the puzzle as to what happened in all those years you cut off contact with him.

“You would, too, if your father was murdered.”

A stifling quiet. “Huh?” Ran’s lilac eyes were piercing and all but shining with grim curiosity. “What happened?”

This was it. The final piece of the jigsaw puzzle you kept hidden from him; the pièce de résistance of how you ended up from being a good, hardworking girl to a scummy bedwarmer.

“I came back home one day after class and… our house had been broken into. H-he was in the kitchen—“ you spared the gory details and he did not press you for it. Instead, Ran lit one cigarette and passed it to you. You accepted it and breathed in the nicotine like it was fresh air, hoping that it would clear your mind.

“I'm sorry,” he said gruffly and followed your gaze towards Tokyo unfurling before your feet. You did not accept his apology, tears glimmering in your eyes from the unsuspecting pain still lingering in your soul. How you still were not over your father's death despite the years that had passed you by.

“But what I don’t get is why didn’t you tell me?”

If you could compare Ran’s anger to a flame, it would be a slow flickering light over a vat of gasoline. Sure, he was the most trigger happy brother, but he did it out of the genuine thrill of taking down his enemies—because certainty of what was black and white was always his constant companion. And in this instance, Ran did not know who was a friend or who was a foe.

“You fucking disappeared into thin air, Y/N.” A heavy disquiet fell over the both of you. “I searched for you, y’know? Thinking that it was a mistake; that you didn’t mean to leave. I wanted answers but the more I searched and dug up shit I realised something… maybe some answers just don’t want to be found.”

You took another drag of the cigarette, trying to keep the tremble out from your tone and hide your wet eyes by keeping your gaze off him. “I didn’t do it out of spite, Ran.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

That lachrymose needing to burst out into tears would not survive the truth. “I can’t answer that for now.”

Ran’s grip tightened around his glass. “So you think you can waltz in here, demanding to see me and I would give you everything you need? Stop the whole world for you again like how I used to?”

Anger flared through your chest, hot and insistent.

“Fuck—I’m not asking you to save me, Haitani! I’m just… I just wanna know…” your voice fell into a whisper and so did your hope. “I just wanna know who killed my dad and why... why’d they have to do it.”

You would have thought he would be more sympathetic, and not say, “He wasn’t a good man, Y/N. I know this because if he was, he wouldn’t have gone out that way.”

Part of you couldn’t believe he had said that, but this was Ran Haitani you were talking about; a man of rationalism and bruteness. His occupational hazard was leaving men like your poor father in that state. You pressed on.

“That’s why I needed to see you. To ask if you knew something.”

Those usual sleepy lilac eyes turned hardy like stone. “No.”

You could barely believe he was doing this, the anger coating the back of your throat. The city’s lights wavered in your periphery from your tears of desperation.

“W-what? What do you mean 'no'?”

He stood up, and people were glancing at the both of you; the crestfallen look on your face and the disproving one on his indicative of an argument. If you were in the right frame of mind, your cheeks would've warmed from how the both of you were causing a scene.

“I don’t know anything. Sorry. Can’t help you.”

Before you could hammer in your plea, he took his jacket off the chair and slung it over his arm, unable to even look at you.

“Wait—please!”

You stood up and rushed to his side, gripping his sleeve. A few women gasped at your audacity. It appeared you were gathering an even bigger audience from your stupid stunt—even the waiters carrying drinks and food paused in their tracks.

Ran ignored each of them and coolly glanced down at you with those infuriatingly beautiful eyes. He tugged his arm away and sneered down at your betrayed expression.

“Y/N, this isn’t something you want to get into.”

You grasped onto that little glimmer of truth he had unwillingly divulged, the wobble in your lower lip unmistakable.

“So, you do know something. You know who could have done this.”

Apparently, he registered his slip-up and he turned his face to glare at the ground, a mirthless chuckle leaving his lips. “I told you. I’m clueless.”

“Stop fucking treating me like a child, Ran!” Your outburst caught even you off guard and the air suddenly became stifling, despite the open sky staring down at your fury.

“You’ve always been like this! Y/N don’t do this or Y/N stop that like I’m some kind of—helpless child. I’m not, Haitani. I’ve seen shit." You were beyond desperate, trying to convince him to tell you the truth by giving up parts of your gory life for him to review.

"I’ve seen a man get shot where he stood, police dragging out mutilated bodies of the girls I work with from dumpsters—so many fucked up things. You don’t get to tell me that I can’t even know the truth when I... when I became like this just to find it!”

He did not entertain your callous words, lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry." At least he gave you the courtesy of a final apology before turning around to walk away.

“Haitani—“

You ran after him and gripped his arm, refusing to let him go.

In your mind, the images of your father's mangled body flashed, exacerbating your exasperation.

“Fuck!” he snarled, wrenching his arm away and staring down at you with such a virulent expression, you were almost scared if you didn't know that Ran Haitani was physically incapable of hurting you. “I’ll say this one last time, Y/N—drop this now before it’s too late.” The tension swirled around both your taut figures, taunting you with the urge to lean in and bridge the gap.

Unadulterated stubbornness clashed with the sudden gleam in his eye. You were close enough to smell the whiskey and nicotine on his breath.

Your baser instincts took over, your body trying to convince him in a way your words could not.

“Y/N—mmph.”

Your lips collided with his, hands clawed to the front of his shirt, pulling him in deeper. It wasn’t a seduction as it was a last desperate pitch to get him to listen—and the only way Ran would ever listen to you was when he was quiet. He drew you closer, one hand around your neck and the other on the small of your back. The air in the bar got thicker and you wrapped your arms around his neck, drinking the familiarity of his solid body pressed to yours. He pulled back slightly, lips swollen and shook his head, a lazy and exasperated smirk worming its way across those delectable lips.

“You’re so infuriating.” As he spoke, he found your zipper, dragging it down and you squeaked, darting your eyes towards the group of spectators who were all but gawking. Ran was brazen, but he wouldn’t be as bold to fuck you in front of a bunch of people… right?

Ran followed your line of sight and clicked his tongue, understanding your silent mortification.

“Fuck off! The bar’s closed!” he called over the easy music. As if he were a king decreeing his rigid word, the bouncers ushered the patrons away from the balcony, the lights dimmed low and even the employees were forced to leave the premises. The head guard bowed to him, closing the doors with a resolute click. Just from his bidding alone, the both of you were left alone.

Suddenly, all your bravery had dried up and you glanced down at his broad chest, unable to meet his eyes.

“Not so bold now, huh, princess?” he drawled and like a cat toying with a mouse, he cornered you against the balustrade with both arms caged around your body.

It was too quiet, the air too thick with electricity. You swallowed hard and looked up into those eyes you had found solace in so many times before your world was turned on its head. There was no denying it—you missed him with every fiber of your body and the beat of lust that had ignited from his lips on yours roared into a fire that threatened to incinerate the rest of your self-control.

“We’re alone now,” he murmured, running his nose down your neck, inhaling your light scent. “Was this your plan all along?”

“No,” the quake in your voice seemed like you were lying.

“You know I don’t like liars, Y/N,” he said, voice gravelly and deep, causing shivers to run down your spine. He was far too close, his indulgent scent of coffee, musk and tobacco was seeping into your every pore; you could not stop yourself from pitching forward and pressing your face to his neck to hide the wobble in your lower lip.

Ran sighed and irritably flicked his jacket onto the floor, the material making a heavy thud sound.

The press of his warm palms on the small of your back deteriorated the last of your hesitation.

“Ran…” you licked your dry lips, finding a shred of courage to look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Want it.”

“Want what?” His purring deep tone made your knees weak. If it weren’t for the cool stone and his arms around you, you would’ve melted onto the ground to join his pristine jacket.

Lower lip trembling and thighs clenching, you whispered, “I want you.”

Ran’s reaction was instantaneous. He picked you up by your thighs and placed you onto the balustrade where a ten-floor drop yawned below you. Squeaking in fear, you involuntarily wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest again.

“Ran—!”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he moaned, kissing down your neck. “Ain’t gonna drop you.”

Those hot stamps in the shape of his lips were messing with your resolve and you groaned, head was thrown back, only the steel ropes of his arms and your thighs tensing around his waist anchoring you to safety. If you were a ship besieged in the middle of the storm, Ran was the roiling sea under you, ready to suck you into his depths.

“Someone can see us,” you hissed, knowing full well that if any passersby looked up, they would catch sight of two lovers on the balcony. He hummed, shaking his head with that shit-eating grin still etched across his lips.

“Baby, Rin and I own this bar. They ain’t seeing anything. ‘Sides, if they open their mouths, they won’t live to tell the tale.”

The wind whipped through your hair, stinging your eyes and you squeezed them closed, tilting your head back once he reached the valley of your breasts. Growling like a lion who had been held too long in captivity, he tugged the stretchy fabric down, exposing the lacy bra you wore to his heated stare.

“Shit,” he swore and planted more of those pussy-clenching kisses down the length of your throat.

“Ran,” you mewled, the heel of your boots digging into his lower back. Lost in his touch, you almost didn’t feel him tip you back, and you screamed once you felt the near loss of gravity, wildly scrambling to bury your white-knuckled grip in the back of his vest and hair.

“Ran!”

He secured his arms tighter around your waist, chuckling lowly into your ear. “Look at you—such a filthy little slut who wants my cock so badly she doesn’t care if she’ll fall.”

Rather than cowering in fear, his words served to heighten your arousal and you humped your drooling core across his cloth-covered bulge, trying your best to get as much friction as you could onto your aching pussy. “Oh, please,” you whimpered, pawing at his tie, removing it swiftly and throwing it down onto the cobblestone floor. Panting lightly, you managed to mutter, “N-need this.”

You hastily unbuttoned his vest to expose the crisp white dress-shirt he wore, making quick work of the first three buttons. Your mouth chartered a path from his chin to his neck, sloppily working in kisses mingled with frantic sucks of his skin, leaving reddened spots close to his gang tattoo. Trembling fingers touched the design, remembering the first day he came back home to eagerly show you the press of ink in his skin. 

We’re gonna be rich, baby.

The both of you had seemed so young back then and a part of you ached for an innocence that was gone too soon.

His low groans resonated in your ear and you squeaked again when he used one arm to hold you fast to his chest while the other wormed its way under the hem of your dress, feeling for your panties. Catching two nimble fingers on the seat of the flimsy material, you felt him twist it and before you could stop him—

Riiiip.

As if your panties were nothing more than a sugar in hot water, they disintegrated into lacy tatters on the floor.

“Those were my favourite pair,” you moaned when he returned the favour and bit down on the delicate skin behind your ear.

“Fuck—will get you new ones,” he breathed heavily, tongue tracing the shell of your sensitive lobe. “I'll get you a whole wardrobe of lacy, naughty things. You want that?”

You murmured something that sounded like yes Daddy and he grinned, already loving how easily you slipped into your submissiveness. If there was one thing Ran loved more than anything in the world, it would be to bend you over anywhere he wished—over his knee, the head of the couch, even pressing you onto the hood of his car—and take you then and there. You were always such a pliant, sweet, little thing for him, and it made his blood boil to think of how much you had denied him in these past five years.

Rough hands tugged down the cups of your lacy bra, palming the plush flesh of your breasts. “Missed these fucking tits,” he muttered lewdly and before you could chastise him, he bent his head forward, almost tilting you at a dangerous angle just to latch his mouth onto your nipple. Your heart was beating wildly, your hair flowing freely in the wind. Every stroke of his tongue on your tender buds made you moan wantonly, and all you could do was stare at that angelic face and sinful mouth working one turgid nub and then another with that maddening tongue, your nipples soon shiny with spit.

In the half-dark, the sharp points were silhouetted against the city lights obscenely. A soft hum indicated he was pleased with his handy work.

He tugged you closer to his chest and attacked your mouth, numbing your complaints with those maddening kisses. Ran held your bottom lip open with that same hand that ripped your panties and a globe of spit left his mouth and dripped onto your waiting tongue. The instruction was implicit: Swallow. You did, an obedient plaything to his wills.

“Bet you liked that, don’t you, you little slut?” he crooned and your cheeks flushed, your hand moving down to cup the front of his slacks.

“Stop teasing,” you huffed and he grinned widely.

His free hand wandered down your thigh, finding your bare pussy, gently rubbing your already soaked lips.

“Ran—!”

He sensed your hesitance to accept his ministrations when your body tensed and he pressed his forehead to yours, lilac locks tickling the bridge of your nose.

“Give in fully to me, baby.”

You didn’t answer him, on a high from how he was tracing your folds, the gentle way he dipped his index finger teasingly into your clenching hole.

“Mm, your pussy seems to want this,” in a firm but silky tone, “I know you want this.”

You did not have to answer him; your arched back and the ripple of your walls around his intrusive finger more than gave him enough of an answer. “Gonna make up for not fucking you in those five years.”

You were close to a delirious fever pitch, needing him to finally fuck you. “Ran, more—please.”

“Already begging?” He slipped another finger in, instantly finding your sweet spot and pressing down on it. Hard. “Hmm, so eager.”

You jolted as if you were touched by a live wire. “Want you!” In a softer, supplicant tone you whined, “Need you—please.”

Ran could not say no, especially when you begged so nicely. He unbuttoned his slacks and slipped his hard length out, the familiar curve, veins and head making you almost salivate with joy. In one swift thrust, he sheathed himself into your heat, the both of you moaning with relief.

He swore that you looked like a fallen angel in that moment; your flushed cheeks, wide eyes, bare tits that jiggle with every slam of his pelvis into yours, getting him to almost believe in God.

Almost.

Your eyes were closed, head lolling back and he sensed that if he let you go and you fell to your demise, you would probably die with a satisfied grin on your face. But, of course, he wouldn’t do it—Ran Haitani would be a fool to let his favorite plaything go.

“My cock got you drunk, baby?” That low, rasping voice gave you goosebumps and all you could do was mewl, hands tangling with his lilac locks, your desperate gaze pinning him to the spot with begrudging awe. Years of knowing every dip, divot and curve on your body made him keenly aware of the cues you would give off—his most favorite green light in the world, one that signaled you were close to a release.

“You gonna cum for me like this?” One hand found your clit, strumming it in time with his clean thrusts. “Gonna cream all over my cock in front of the whole city?”

“M’gonna—“ Cut off by a choking moan, all you could do was squeeze your eyes tight, only able to take this ride of your life.

The sloppy meeting of his cock in your silken walls mingled with both your harsh breathing and Ran felt that telltale stir in his balls that he was going to fucking blow his load and all you could do was take it. He didn’t care if you weren’t on birth control or if this was what you did with the filthy men that you picked up on the streets; in this instance, your pussy was his, and he would show that pretty little cunt that he alone was her master.

“Yeah? Do it.” He goaded as his thumb rubbed frantic circles on your engorged and sensitive nub. “Fucking cum for me, princess.”

You jerked in his grip like a puppet strung too tightly and lost all restraint and shame, tossing your head back with a scream of his name, the sight so fucking magnificent in the haze of the flickering lights behind you that Ran thought himself to be in love again.

Every muscle in your body seized and his most favorite ones—the walls of your pussy—practically milked him dry. Ran was not even the least bit disgruntled that he was panting like a bitch in heat, fucking the last of his cum deep into your cervix.

The both of you took a second to just breathe.

Thank fuck for the open air—the smell of sex was sure to permeate every pore of his body, just like that tantalising vanilla perfume you wore.

Ran was gentle when he brought you back to your feet, toeing the scraps of what used to be your panties into a corner. Memories of how clingy you could be after every round of sex burned through his mind and he halfway expected you to cling onto him like a sleepy koala. That assumption was dashed when you stepped away from him, tucking your tits back into your bra and lifting the straps back in place.

Despite his silent disappointment, he helped you straighten the hem of your dress and you reached out to button back his vest; a team effort at getting decent once more.

Ran sat back down onto the plush chair, and this time, you sank into his lap, uncapping the bottle of whiskey and pouring a fresh glass.

You passed him the amber liquid and he took it from you with a nod.

“You alright?”

Sheepishly, you picked up his cigarettes and lighter, taking a moment to spark the flame before touching it to the butt of your white stick, the dancing flicker imprinted in the back of his eyelids whenever he blinked.

“Yeah.”

He drank and you smoked. Ran didn’t care that his seed was seeping out and staining his slacks, nor did he care that a bit of your ash fell onto his leg. He merely brushed it aside, wishing he had the courage to mimic that same motion with a stray piece of hair kissing your forehead.

“Usually I’d charge you a hundred an hour, y’know.”

Humour. You always used a joke to deflect the seriousness of a situation.

“Tell me about your life on the streets.” It wasn’t a request, and you could hear the steel under his soft tone, this one attempt to fill in the blanks of your new life something he found himself immensely curious on.

“It’s good money,” you sighed, and took another drag, the smoke unfurling past your kiss-swollen lips. “I live just by Roppongi with another hooker. She was the one who made this lifestyle sound so glamorous.”

In a softer tone, you held a faraway look in your gaze that was trailing across the city line. “The first time I did it, I sobbed like a baby afterwards. Felt dirty. But, you eventually get used to it—the leers, the pawing. I always made them wear rubber, though, so you don’t have to worry.”

He tightened his grip on the glass and swallowed down his disapproval with another mouthful of liquor. This is not you, Y/N.

You gave him a small smile and Ran bit back the urge to taste the nicotine off your tongue. “You’re the first guy I’ve ever let raw me in a long time. Well technically, you’re still the first guy.”

He tried not to let his surprise show, preferring to huff a silent laugh. A memory of you, five years younger, head on his chest and a sleepy confession passing your lips, flashed through his mind. I know this is my first time and all… but holy shit—you blew my brains out, Haitani.

Ran sat down the glass and wrapped his arms around you, perching his pointed chin on your shoulder. “I usually don’t help hookers… but I’ll make an exception for ya.”

You stubbed out the cig onto the stone wall, dusting the ash from your fingers. “Don’t pull my leg.”

Stubborn bitch.

“Nah. I’m serious,” he said, grin growing wider at the surprise settling onto your features. “I’ll see what I can find.”

He nudged you off his lap and picked up his jacket, shaking the dirt off from the expensive material. From his pocket, he procured a stiff card. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything.”

You turned the square in your fingers like it was a rare diamond you were studying, eyes shining. He was about to leave you alone with your thoughts when a soft call of his name punctured through the night like the clicking of a gun.

“Ran?”

The tall, Bonten executive swiveled back to face you, and he almost wished he didn’t. If he thought you were gorgeous in the throes in your orgasm, it was nothing compared to how you were looking at him now.

Swallowing back against the panic rising in his chest, he fixed you with a neutral gaze. “Hmm?”

Your answering smile was almost tender. “Thank you.”

He swore his heart skipped a beat.

And in that instance, a single, shred of doubt blossomed in his mind as he mulled over on the thought that if helping you was the right thing to do.

“Alright, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

The stench of blood was thick in his nose, but Ran never took his eyes off the rivulets of red streaming into the man’s mouth. They had found him by the wharf and kidnapped him at gunpoint, bringing him down to Sanzu’s secret hideout to keep wandering eyes and ears from telling on them to Mikey. They were already in the midst of evading a drug bust and the leader of Bonten did not need this side quest to clutter his already burdened plate.

Ran had sworn them all to secrecy and here they were; Sanzu probably somewhere getting high off his fucking mind and Rindou beside him, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up and cracking his knuckles for another round.

“Wait, no—argh!”

Like breaking a biscuit in half, Rindou dislocated the man’s other finger joint, his other four twitching helplessly in abject agony. If there was one person he could trust to torture someone without spilling blood, it would his younger brother. The man spat out a globe of red and whimpered.

Well… maybe a tiny bit of blood had to be involved.

Ran’s voice was low and grim. “Answer, now. Name, location, or description.”

“I can’t tell you,” the bald-headed man gasped and flinched when Rindou bore down on him again. “Please! He’ll kill me if he finds out.”

The younger but no less feared Haitani brother wrapped two fingers around the underling's thumb. “Say, do you know what happens when you break someone’s thumb? Unlike the index or middle finger, it doesn’t heal. You know that? The ligament here—” he pressed the soft skin between the man’s index and thumb hard, his choked screams echoing across the decrepit walls. “—is all but paralysed if someone’s thumb snaps.”

Rindou shrugged and Ran had to bite back a laugh at how terrified the man looked. “Gonna be hard to explain to your boss how you can’t even shoot a Glock if you got no thumbs, huh? What are they gonna do to you—make you hold their cigarettes instead with your wrists? Kinda pathetic if you ask me.”

“No, please—”

“Last chance,” Rindou intoned in his usual bored fashion. “Name, location or description.”

The man threw his head back, his bound hands twitching, his thumb ransomed in Rindou’s unyielding grip. Eventually, he decided that the fate of his ligaments must’ve been more important; if this asshole was on his team, Ran would have shot him between the eyes with no hesitation at how easily he gave up his leader’s name.

“Kisaki Tetta.”

Fuck!

The two brothers shared a glance. You wanna do this? Rindou asked silently through a raised brow. Ran shrugged, as if to say, looks like we gotta do it, man.

Before the man could exhale in relief that his thumb was safe, Ran whipped out his gun and shot him point blank in the head. Warm flecks of blood and brain like the bursting of an overripe fruit splattered across his and Rindou’s faces. The shot echoed across the walls, the shell clattering onto the ground. The smell of smoke and blood hung in the air and Ran grunted, striding angrily towards the entrance of the warehouse, fumbling for his lighter.

“You really wanna do this?” Rindou easily caught up with his older brother, strings of blood caught in his purple mullet. He looked in a desperate need of a shower.

“I promised her, Rin.”

The younger Haitani resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Behind him, he heard Sanzu’s maniacal laughter and no doubt his superior would make sure that still-warm body would find its way down into the depths of the river; that man’s name, history and legacy wiped away together with the current. Despite his position, Bonten’s number two found extreme pleasure in cleaning up after the goriest of scenes and who was Ran to deny him his fun?

“Yeah, but she dumped you last time. You passed that?”

Ran leaned against his McLaren, a twin model of Rindou’s car but in jet black rather than muted silver. “You said it yourself—it’s all in the past.”

Rindou stole a white stick from his brother and stuck it between his teeth, grunting. “I really hope you know what you’re getting into. Kisaki’s gonna be a bitch to get through.”

Ran inhaled the curls of smoke in a rendition of a sigh. “It’s not impossible.”

“All for her, huh?”

The older Haitani narrowed his eyes and Rindou sensed when to back off. The story of his brother and his ex-girlfriend was one that he didn't have the full facts to. All he knew was that you upped and left one day and never reached out to Ran again.

Rindou snorted inwardly. As much as it hurt Ran’s ego to be left before he could do the leaving, he could see how his brother was clearly still in love with you.

Poor bastard.

“No. Her dad was a good man. I don’t know what shit he got himself in with Kisaki of all people but it wouldn’t hurt to find out more.”

Rindou stared off into the harbor, inhaling his next drag deeply. “Why?”

He had expected Ran to snort or brush him off when any mention of emotion was brought into the ring. Not to look at him with burning eyes and a hopeless sneer.

“The look on her face, man. It was like… like she didn’t have a will to live anymore. Not until she was telling me about him. Fuck, I mean… I gotta at least try.”

As much as Rindou was itching to knock some sense back into his brother, he thought about you and how you were like a rock to him all those years ago.

Once upon a time, Rindou was pretty sure that Ran was going to marry you; Bonten was a second priority to him, the first being the only woman the older Haitani had ever loved. The day you left was the day the last shred of Ran's humanity died.

After that, his brother was never the same again.

“Fuck—fine. But only because I’m actually related to you. If it was anyone else I would’ve left your ass out in the cold.”

A shadow of that lovesick grin that had been missing these past five years tugged on the corners of his lips, eliciting a sudden surge of nostalgia in the younger Haitani's chest.

“Thanks, Rin.”

Rindou rolled his eyes and stamped out his cigarette with the tip of his shoe.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.”

“So, you’re the flavour of the month.”

You turned towards the unexpected, smug voice and found a young woman with red-painted lips sneering at you.

The same bossa nova music tinkled in the background and you tightened your denim jacket around your shoulders to ward off the frostiness of her forced smile.

“Excuse me?”

“Ran Haitani—you’re trying to land him.”

That glint in her eye was familiar. This woman was jealous and rather than lashing out at your ex-boyfriend, she was egging you on. Must’ve been an ex-fling, by the looks of it. You snorted inwardly. Unlucky bitch.

“No, I’m not trying to land him at all,” you retorted mildly and resisted the urge to flip her off. “I’m just using him for sex.”

A low chuckle broke through the tension and your eyes widened at another face from your past. Sleepy lilac eyes, a languid smile and a shaggy mullet the same hue as his brother’s locks. Rindou Haitani stood before you right in the flesh.

“Damn. Good to see you still have that mouth on you, Y/N.”

You threw one last glare at that woman who had scampered away the moment a Haitani was nearby and rolled your eyes. A playful smile teased your lips; you always had a good relationship with Rindou, and though he was a year younger than you, he didn’t find the need for formalities and you admired him for that.

After all, keeping up pretenses could be exhausting.

“Nice to meet you again, Rin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off your grin with a lazy one of his own. “Cmon, Ran’s up at the deck. Heard things got a little… heated there.” He let you hit his shoulder just like old times and you chuckled at his audacity. Like older brother, like younger brother.

“Shut up, Haitani.”

He wrapped an arm around you in a familial way. “Grumpy ass bitch.”

Rindou dropped his arm the moment Ran came into view. The deck was once more empty, the patrons forbidden from entering this space now that the two owners were here and wanted their privacy.

Ran’s lilac eyes roamed across your features and he shot you a grin. “Hey. We got the info you’re searching for.”

Your heart sped up and you sank down on the plush chair where Rindou had gathered, hands laced over your lap. “You did?” Ran nodded and sat next to you, the heat of his body radiating comfort despite the tension, and if Rindou’s eyes were not on the both of you, you would have laid your head on his shoulder, if not just to feel its broad strength underneath your cheek.

“Kisaki was the one who ordered your father’s death.”

That name was unfamiliar to you; none of the other girls you worked with who serviced gang members had ever mentioned a Kisaki. Ran sensed your palpable confusion. “He runs a new organisation—Valhalla 2.0. It used to be one of the top delinquent groups years ago, together with Toman. He’s been trying to revive it back to its glory days.”

Your silence perturbed both brothers though they did not show it. They’ve both been trained for the longest of time in the art of observation to determine someone’s next move and from the look on your face, it seemed that you were steeling yourself for a hard decision. However, they didn't expect what you would say next.

“I guess I’ll have to infiltrate it.”

“It won’t be easy,” Rindou said after a moment of silence, leaning back against the chair, an edge in his dark gaze.

“You’ll have to be trained,” Ran supplied.

Another twist of your hands. “I never thought it would be. But I’ll do it—for him.” Rindou must’ve known who you were referring to, most likely hearing it from Ran, as he did not ask any further questions.

Ran was more cautious of the two brothers. “You’re gonna do this on your own?”

“I have to,” you bowed your head towards both brothers so they couldn’t see the tears coruscating in your eyes. “Thank you for your help. I am indebted to you both.” Sensing that your short time together with them was up, you stood up and meant to walk away. This was all the help you would ask from them—you couldn’t expect anything more.

Any bit of intelligence in the underground world that all three of you belonged to came with a harsh price, and you had no doubt as to how the brothers had to dirty their hands to get you this information. The last thing you wanted was to overstep on their kindness.

“Wait.”

You paused.

It was Ran who asked, “How’d you like a spot in Bonten?”

Heart in your throat, you almost thought you were hallucinating from the heights and the smoke. “Bonten?” you repeated slowly.

Ran nodded, flashing you a small smile, one that reminded you of the same sheepish grin he wore whenever he bought you your favourite flowers. “We’ll train you up, get you an entry point and then you’ll strike. Sounds fair?”

This was more than fair; Ran was literally handing you your revenge on a silver platter and you would be a fool to deny this offer.

“Deal.”

Later when you had gone back to Roppongi and it was just the two brothers and their closing bar, Rindou broached the topic with him. “So, you’re just gonna Rescue Armour your little girlfriend like Pepper Potts so she can do your dirty work?”

Ran tore his eyes away from the skyline and snorted.

“She’s not my girlfriend. And second of all, who still watches Marvel movies?”

Rindou sensed it would be useless to fight with his brother once his mind was made up and he only hoped that Mikey would turn a blind eye to this. 

Who knows? Perhaps once you infiltrated Valhalla and brought Kisaki down to the dirt where he belonged, Mikey might give them both a big enough raise to open another bar; this time one in the heart of the district they grew up in.

“Apparently not losers like you.”

Ran snorted and touched his suit pocket where his trusty baton was, much to his younger brother’s annoyance. “How’d you like the taste of steel on your ass, Rin?”

“Ew. Save that kinky shit for your girl, man.”

“She’s not my girl.” Another weak denial. Fuck, Ran was getting shittier at lying day by day; Sanzu would be disappointed in him.

“And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

“Fuck off.”

Yup. His brother was completely and utterly whipped for you. Rindou reached out to flick Ran’s forehead, a smirk replacing his usual languid smile.

“Simp.”

a/n. feedback and comments are appreciated. even though this is a reuploaded fic lmao

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[axelsagewrites]

Robb Stark*Honey Cakes

Pairing: Robb x f! reader

Word count: 1830

Part Two to Cloak however can be read as a stand alone

Warnings: reader being jealous, secret relationship, but mostly just pure enemies to lovers’ fluff

Masterlist Here

At thirteen you despised Robb, more than anyone really, so why is it know you were sat down the table for him trying desperately not to stare at him? Your parents had originally tried to broker a marriage pact between you and the Stark however due to your mutual hatred of each other that plan fizzled and died. No one even knew you liked the boy. Well apart from Robb.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispered in your ear, his breath tingling the nape of your neck as he leaned down so no one else would hear as he walked out the room behind you.

Sansa glanced back, raising an eyebrow when she saw the warm flush on your face, but you managed to wave her off. Instead of letting him torture you any longer you grabbed her arms, “Shall we go see if the kitchen has any spare lemon cakes?” you asked, and Sansa quickly grinned in agreement.

You sat in the kitchen with Sansa for a good couple hours, laughing and gossiping about all the people at Winterfell. “Well apparently Alice, you know that Manderley girl. Well apparently, she has a crush on Robb,” Sansa said, gagging at her brother’s name.

Your eyes widened but you soon covered it up as Sansa grimaced about someone potentially liking her brother, “Who told you that?”

“Jane,” she said, picking at the crumbs left of the cakes you had both scoffed, “Apparently, she was hanging around the stables waiting for Robb so she could ask for help getting on her horse. Bit desperate if you ask me. It’s not like Robbs anything special,”

“Huh that’s so weird. It’s not like Robbs dumb enough to fall for that,” You did your best to act natural, but you could see Sansa’s eyes narrowing. “Well, you’d hope anyway,”

“Yeah,” Sansa said, her voice trailing off for a moment, “Then again according to some of the ugh boys,” she said, shuddering meaning you knew she was talking about Theon despite also knowing she had a major crush on him, “he’s had some…women at his room,”

“Oh?” this time you couldn’t not sit up straight.

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t tell anyone who. Theon thinks its some,” she paused to lean in and whisper, “whore,” she said, her eyes whipping around the room, “from the village,”

You sucked in your breath, trying hard not to either find Robb and kill him or cry, “He doesn’t seem like that kind of man,”

“That’s what Jon said but then who was in his room?”

“When was it?” you asked as if you wanted to break your own heart.

That was until Sansa said it, “Last Sunday,”

Fuck. Last Sunday after not being able to sleep and being too afraid of the nightmares to come you turned to Robb for some kind of comfort. Nothing happened but you did sleep in his chambers and then he helped you sneak back at first light. “How strange,” you muttered before trying to change the topic, but your mind still lingered on how good Robbs morning hair looked.

The cook eventually grew tired of your whispering and threw you both out the kitchen. Instead, you went to Sansa’s room to practise your needle point then eventually trudged back to your own room. When you entered your chamber, everything seemed normal. That was until you saw the honey cake sitting beside your bed with a note.

“I tried for lemon, but someone had eaten them all” – it read, making you laugh at the note. You sat on the bed, picking up the cake and smiling at the single wildflower he’d sat beside it.

-

The next morning you arrived at the dining hall before any of the stark children. Your parents were sat with the ned and cat at the head table, so you ended up plopping down in an empty seat and a near by table. “Morning,” an unbelievably smooth voice grinned as Robb sat himself in the seat across you.

“Morning,” you said as you tried hard not to smile too largely back. “You’re almost as sweet as that honey,” you said, lowering your voice.

A faint blush covered his cheeks, “But not as sweet as you,” he said but as he opened his mouth to speak a gritty, irritating, annoying voice spoke up.

“Good morning, Robb,” came the sing song voice of Alice who you had never thought annoying until last night.

Robb barely glanced over his shoulder at her as she walked off, “Morning Alice,” he said as he turned his attention back to you. his eyebrows squinted at the now stoney look on your face, “What?”

“Nothing,”

“Cmon tell me,”

“It’s nothing,”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me,” Robb rapidly repeating, grinning wider at each jab.

You sighed, “Fine. Its just,” you sighed again, “she has a crush on you,”

His face froze for a moment before he burst into absolute laughter, “Oh the gods,” he laughed, clutching at his stomach as both of your parents began to stare.

“Quit it!” you whispered, slapping at his head.

“You’re jealous,” Robb laughed, thankfully quieter, as he swatted your hand away, “Aw honey that’s adorable,”

“I’m not your honey,” you grumbled, “and I’m not jealous,”

“Am not,”

“Are too,”

“Am not!”

“Are too- “

“Youd think by now you two would grow up,” Sansa yawned as she sat beside you, and you were both forced to act like nothing happened.

-

Later that day, for no other reason you swear, you decided to go riding soon after you overheard Robb suggest the idea to Jon. Sansa was thankfully in lessons meaning you quickly changed and heading down to the stables.

“Robbie, could you help me- “Alice began to say as you walked in however, she hadn’t seen you.

Robb however did, “Oh hey!” he greeted, walking past Alice who now wore a deflated look, “Oh sorry Alice, Jon can you give her a hand?” Jon went to step forward, but Alice muttered something about her parents before turning and leaving. “Huh, weird,” Robb half grinned.

“You wanna come riding with us?” Jon asked you as he began to fix his own saddle.

You glanced at Robb before nodding, “Yeah sure lemme get my saddle ready first,”

“I’ll get it,” Robb said, moving to grab it before you could stop him.

Jon laughed and rolled his eyes as he finished his own horses’ reins, “So at what point are you two love birds gonna admit it,”

“Admit what- “

“Save it,” Jon rolled his eyes, “He stinks of your perfume, and you’ve accepted his help in the history of well ever,” he said as he flung his arm around your shoulder, “Aw sister,” he teased as he ruffled your hair.

“Fuck off,” you grumbled as you escaped his grip and tried to fix your hair.

However, Robb walked past and laughed, “Adorable,” he grinned as he kissed the top of your head before fixing your horse. It was actually nice to be able to be open about not hating Robb as you three went around the gods’ woods. However, after a very pointed look from Robb and a lot of teasing from Jon he finally decided to throw Robb a bone and go back himself.

“Are we ever gonna tell anyone we don’t hate each other anymore?” Robb asked, ruining the perfectly good conversation about how gorgeous he thought you looked today.

You grinned at him, “Who said I don’t hate you anymore?”

“The feelings mutual,” he laughed as you finally returned to the stables. “I’m just saying would it be so bad,” he asked as he jumped off his horse, quickly moving to help you down. You swung your leg around, so you were sat sideways on the horse. Robb moved to grab your hips, lifting you down. Your arms went to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I don’t know. I mean maybe…” you started to say but trailed off as your feet hit the ground, but Robb didn’t step back. His warm breath fanned your face, tickling your cheeks. His hands moved slowly to the small of your back, pulling you in closer till you were flush against him. His lips were only a fraction away and it only took a couple seconds till you felt them brush against yours. you couldn’t wait anymore as you pushed up, closing the final gap.

Sure, you had been flirting all week, but this was your first kiss with him, and you melted into it. if his hands were not on your back you may have collapsed. Just as your hands went into his hair, which was unbelievably soft, you heard a gasp.

You pulled back to see Sansa standing in the stable doorway. “You’re the whore?!” she asked, shocked before her cheeks flushed red, “I don’t mean- “

“Sansa!” Robb half bellowed, turning round ready to tear his sister a new one when you grabbed his arm.

His head span round to face you and you mentally made a note to remember how good he looked with his jaw tensed, “Theres’s back story, I’ll explain later,” you said before turning to Sansa, “It’s not what you think,”

“You were kissing my brother!”

You sighed, “Okay it’s kind of what you think,” you said as you walked closer, “but not as bad as you think,”

“Oh?” she paused before her eyes widened, “Oh! Ew!” she grimaced. “That’s so weird. I thought you hated him,”

“I did but,” you paused, looking at Robb who smile down at you. you reached for his hand which he gladly accepted, squeezing yours lightly, “it’s different now,”

Sansa gagged before turning to Robb, “if you hurt her. I will kill you,”

“Aren’t you supposed to say that to her? you’re my sister,” Robb said incredibly.

Sansa paused for a moment before realisation dawned on her, “Oh you’re going to be my sister one day!” she began to celebrate. You laughed at her as she jumped into your arms but made no effort to stop her, “Do our parents know?”

“Not yet,” you said as you pulled back from her grip.  “Let us tell them know,”

Robb nodded as he pulled you over to his side, draping an arm around your shoulder, “Yeah. I get to brag about her first, not you,”

“No fair,” Sansa pouted but Robb ignored her as he looked down at you with a dopey smile.

“Can’t wait to tell everyone you’re mine,” he said softly, leaning back down for another kiss which you gladly accepted.

“Oh, gods I can’t,” Sansa shivered as she quickly left however you just laughed before turning back to Robb.

Your arms found their way back to his shoulders as his found the small of your back, “Now where were we?” you asked.

Robb smiled, leaning down slowly, “Somewhere around here,” he whispered before his lips fell back onto yours. how could you hate him now?

Taglist: @clairacassidy @nyotamalfoy  @valeskafics @asgards-princess-of-mischief

[novelconcepts]

There’s a line from American Gods I keep coming back to in relation to Yellowjackets, an observation made early on by Shadow in prison: “The kind of behavior that works in a specialized environment, such as prison, can fail to work and in fact become harmful when used outside such an environment.” I keep rotating it in my head in thinking about the six survivors, the roles they occupy in the wilderness, and the way the show depicts them as adults in society.

Because in the wilderness, as in prison, they’re trapped—they’re suffering, they’re traumatized, they’re terrified—but they’re also able to construct very specific boxes to live in. And, in a way, that might make it easier. Cut away the fat, narrow the story down to its base arc. You are no longer the complex young woman who weighs a moral compass before acting. You no longer have the luxury of asking questions. You are a survivor. You have only to get to the next day.

Shauna: the scribe. Lottie: the prophet. Van: the acolyte. Taissa: the skeptic. Misty: the knight. Natalie: the queen. Neat, orderly, the bricks of a new kind of society. And it works in the woods; we know this because these six survive. (Add Travis: the hunter, while you’re at it, because he does make it to adulthood).

But then they’re rescued. And it’s not just lost purpose and PTSD they’re dealing with now, but a loss of that intrinsic identity each built in the woods. How do you go home again? How do you rejoin a so-called civilized world, where all the violence is restricted to a soccer field, to an argument, to your own nightmares?

How does the scribe, the one who wrote it all out in black and white to make sense of the horrors, cope with a world that would actively reject her story? She locks that story away. But she can’t stop turning it over in her head. She can’t forget the details. They’re waiting around every corner. In the husband beside her in bed. In the child she can’t connect with across the table. In the best friend whose parents draw her in, make her the object of their grief, the friend who lives on in every corner of their hometown. She can’t forget, so she tries so hard to write a different kind of story instead, to fool everyone into seeing the soft maternal mask and not the butcher beneath, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.

How does the prophet come back from the religion a desperate group made of her, a group that took her tortured visions, her slipping mental health, and built a hungry need around the very things whittling her down? She builds over the bones. She creates a place out of all that well-intended damage, and she tells herself she’s helping, she’s saving them, she has to save them, because the world is greedy and needs a leader, needs a martyr, needs someone to stand up tall and reassure everyone at the end of the day that they know what’s best. The world, any world, needs someone who will take those blows so the innocent don’t have to. She’s haunted by everyone she didn’t save, by the godhood assigned to her out of misplaced damage, and when the darkness comes knocking again, there is nothing else to do but repeat old rhymes until there is blood on her hands just the same.

How does the acolyte return to a world that cares nothing for the faith of the desperate, the faith that did nothing to save most of her friends, that indeed pushed her to destroy? She runs from it. She dives into things that are safe to believe in, things that rescue lonely girls from rough home lives, things that show a young queer kid there’s still sunshine out there somewhere. She delves into fiction, makes a home inside old stories to which she already knows the endings, coaxes herself away from the belief that damned her and into a cinemascope safety net where the real stuff never has to get in. She teaches herself surface-level interests, she avoids anything she might believe in too deeply, and still she’s dragged back to the place where blood winds up on her hands just the same.

How does the skeptic make peace with the things she knows happened, the things that she did even without meaning to, without realizing? She buries them. She leans hard into a refusal to believe those skeletons could ever crawl back out of the graves she stuffed them into, because belief is in some ways the opposite of control. She doesn’t talk to her wife. She doesn’t talk to anyone. It’s not about what’s underneath the surface, because that’s just a mess, so instead she actively discounts the girl she became in the woods. She makes something new, something rational and orderly, someone who can’t fail. She polishes the picture to a shine, and she stands up straight, the model achievement. She goes about her original plan like it was always going to be that way, and she winds up with blood on her hands just the same.

How does the knight exist in a world with no one to serve, no one to protect, no reason propelling the devastating choices she had grown comfortable making? She rechannels it. She convinces herself she’s the smartest person in the room, the most capable, the most observant. She convinces herself other people’s mysteries are hers to solve, that she is helping in every single action she takes. She makes a career out of assisting the most fragile, the most helpless souls she can find, and she makes a hobby out of patrolling for crimes to solve, and when a chance comes to strap her armor back on and ride into battle, she rejoices in the return to normalcy. She craves that station as someone needed, someone to rely upon in the darkest of hours, and she winds up with blood on her hands because, in a way, she never left the wilderness at all.

How does the queen keep going without a queendom, without a pack, without people to lead past the horrors of tomorrow? She doesn’t. She simply does not know how. She scrounges for something, anything, that will make her feel connected to the world the way that team did. She moves in and out of a world that rejects trauma, punishes the traumatized, heckles the grieving as a spectacle. She finds comfort in the cohesive ritual of rehabilitation, this place where she gets so close to finding herself again, only to stumble when she opens her eyes and sees she’s alone. All those months feeding and guiding and gripping fast to the fight of making it to another day, and she no longer knows how to rest. How to let go without falling. She no longer wears a crown, and she never wanted it in the first place, so how on earth does she survive a world that doesn’t understand the guilt and shame of being made the centerpiece of a specialized environment you can never explain to anyone else? How, how, how do you survive without winding up with blood on your hands just the same?

All six of these girls found, for better or worse, a place in the woods. All six of them found, for better or worse, a reason to get up the next day. For each other. And then they go home, and even if they all stayed close, stayed friends, it’d still be like stepping out of chains for the first time in years. Where do you go? How do you make small choices when every decision for months was life or death? How do you keep the part of yourself stitched so innately into your survival in a world that would scream to see it? How do you do away with the survivor and still keep going?

They brought it back with them. Of course they did. It was the only way.

[vexingwoman]

I'm sorry if this isn't articulated well and is a little rambly, I'm autistic, please take my words with a grain of salt. as a former member of that "whump community" (who's still into that kind of media) I know most of them are tifs, tho I was in it more when most of the popular writers on tumblr were still girls. It's also primarily autistic people from my experience.

you're definitely 100% right that they're not identifying as real men, I'm detrans and i don't even conflate the 2 in my mind which i think is a thing most RFs don't get about yaoi and this kind of thing, i didn't want to be a real guy, fictional men r like their own species lol. they're everything real men could never be. it might be hard to understand if you're less chronically online but I'm sure though not consciously, fictional men aren't even really related to real men in most of these people's minds.

With whump stuff I was always more uncomfortable or uninterested when it was a woman, maybe because women in media being hurt and weak is the norm (and it feels too real seeing a woman getting hurt since there's a closer connection), and it happening to men is an intriguing reversal. More male attracted women (im bi) are into more sensitive guys which sadly mostly exist in media, so it's just escapism.

I think that's also why they identify as trans males, they want to become closer to the fictional ideal of a male who can be soft and sensitive, or possibly being autistic and having trouble separating your special interests and escapist fantasies from every facet of your life.

(For context, this was sent in response to this post)

I think you’re onto something here. Brutality against female people is so common that we’re completely desensitized to it, and consequently, female characters being brutalized doesn’t emotionally move us. Either that, or brutality against female characters is highly sexualized, and further dehumanizes them. 

On the other hand, brutality against a male character is unexpected and unusual. Therefore, we are emotionally moved by it and able to recognize it for the tragedy it is. Indeed, this might explain why the “whump community” almost exclusively romanticizes the torture and anguish of male characters, and why so many of its members identify as trans guys. 

Furthermore, have you noticed that most of the tropes this community romanticizes are things that, at least in real life, female people are primarily the victims of? For example: rape, kidnapping, stalking, being drugged, being sold. It almost feels like an attempt to vicariously garner empathy for female suffering, without the element of being another cliché female victim. I feel like they impose female suffering onto male characters because they know the audience actually empathizes for males and views them as full human beings. 

In the end, I think it all comes down to female people’s desire to be fully humanized and to escape gendered stereotyping. For example, you stated that many trans-identified females “want to become closer to the fictional ideal of a male who can be soft and sensitive.” But why is a soft, sensitive male character so much more charming to them than a soft, sensitive female character? 

Because in their eyes, softness and sensitivity in a male character is seen as authentic; it’s seen as a consequence of his unique personality. But softness and sensitivity in a female character is seen as expected, as stereotypical—it’s seen only a consequence of her gender. This is also why characters who are fathers are adored, while characters who are mothers are overlooked or scrutinized. Because a male character taking care of children is kindhearted, nurturing, selfless, compassionate. But a female character taking care of children is just doing her job.

Basically, I think many trans-identified females would like their softness and sensitivity to be viewed as authentically as we view softness and sensitivity in males. I think many trans-identified females crave for their characteristics to be viewed as consequences of their unique personalities, rather than consequences of their gender. They crave to be seen as human first and female second—not the other way around. 

[yanderes-galore]

Can I request a yandere concept for Pyramid Head (DBD)?

Sure, I haven't done much for him! He's a bit... complicated but here's what I have. Not really Yandere, mostly just dark, but again idk how to describe it.

Yandere! Pyramid Head (DBD) Concept

Pairing: Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Torture, Obvious Violence, Imprisonment, Dark themes, Blood, Disturbing descriptions, Death mention, Touchy behavior, Dubious intentions.

Pyramid Head is a being of torment, judgment, and pain.

It's hard to think of him feeling anything else.

He's an executioner given a new purpose by The Entity.

That's about as much lore as we get.

He'd meant to be an unyielding force, one hellbent on passing painful judgment.

Your first few encounters, and probably the majority of the obsession, will result in pain.

However, in a realm where you're consistently sent to your death, that isn't really new.

Pyramid Head's intentions are impossible to read.

No one knows his motives.

Which means his intentions with his obsession are unknown too.

It's hard to tell since most matches end with you dead in some way.

The executioner is ruthless.

Be you wrapped in barbed wire, sent to a piercing cage to maul your flesh... or even sliced by that large blade before being placed on a hook...

Most of your encounters have you shivering... Your mind is always replaying those final moments of your flesh being torn from you....

Blood is a common sight when you encounter the executioner.

The crimson liquid clings to him with every kill.

What's worse for you? You're always saved for last.

Sometimes you are spared... most of the time you're merely put through your own special hell.

You can probably tell you are a favorite of some kind...

But it's hard to tell if that's a good or bad thing.

You're used to the pain and blood.

What you aren't used to... is Pyramid Head changing his pattern.

You always viewed Pyramid Head as some monotonous drone to The Entity.

Yet when he goes out of his way to prolong the chase, to toy with you, to occasionally give mercy...

You realize that this being has some sort of sentience.

What's even worse is it still doesn't explain its favoritism towards you.

There's times Pyramid Head abandons chase, or just "stares", or even ignores you.

There's other times he just won't leave you alone!

That's the scariest trait of Pyramid Head towards you.

His unpredictability.

Another thing you can't read is him targeting survivors around you first.

On a generator? He's picking off the guy next to you before you.

It could be jealousy... or something else entirely.

Regardless of his actions, you don't trust him.

He switches behavior too quickly... like he isn't sure how to act around you.

It's anything from slaughtering you to cornering you to pin you down.

He isn't sure what makes you react more.

Do you react more to pain...? Or pleasure...?

Another question... which one does he like more?

Pyramid Head is experimenting with you.

That's one of the reasons he acts so unstable.

He can't tell what way he likes to watch you squirm, just what is the difference if you squirm from affection or pain?

Sometimes he makes you squirm by exploring you with his touches, rough yet oddly affectionate.

He studies how you writhe before him...

But he also does the same thing with pain, not seeing any difference.

He only knows that he likes it.

Your best bet is to keep your distance, to evade him.

But no survivor is perfect... especially with a killer who seems to have studied your every move.

In fact, your attempt to evade him only makes him worse.

He seems to get irritated, hunting down other survivors to take his rage out on them.

By the time he finds you, saving you for last, he's covered in blood.

And you scream a lot more for evading him.

Pyramid Head is confusing due to what he is.

He's meant to be a being to punish people.

Yet he sees you, and isn't sure how to react.

He should harm you, punish you, torment you...

But he also wants to keep you away from other survivors, to lock you away, to keep you out of harm....

Pleasure and punishment blur a line with him.

Affection quickly becomes harm when he puts his hands on you.

It's all a personal hell for you.

Conflicting emotions leads to an indecisive yandere...

Which only seems to cause everyone more harm... just as The Entity likes it.

[minisugakoobies]

Confessions of a Dirty Mind | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Genre: smut, and they were roommates!, porn with the barest of plots, a little fluff Rating: M (18+) Warnings: incredibly thirsty pining, reader’s a bit feral for her roommate, the giggles will be deployed as a weapon, reader drops the d word (daddy) in her dirty thoughts but never says it out loud, accidental texts, body worship (abs, thighs, breasts - everything gets praised), love bites/marking, grinding, chan is thick everywhere, chan throws reader around a little, hints at dom!chan, fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), facefucking, cum eating, reader is kind of an idiot but that's okay!, I wrote this out of a dire need to s this man’s d Word Count: 6.5K Disclaimers: NSFW; obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: The absolute last thing you want is for your roommate to find out just how much you want him. Right?

A/N: Well, as threatened promised, I'm writing for Stray Kids now in addition to BTS! This came out of absolutely nowhere last week. I've just got Bang Chan brainrot 24/7 now, so that's cool. Thanks to @minttangerines @bangtanintotheroom @sugalaritae for their support (and amazing Aussie accents!!) 💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Please let me know what you think! Like if you'd like to see more skz fics from me… that would fuel me to keep writing. If everyone hates this I'm quitting writing and moving to the wild to live with the koalas ✌️

Being roommates with your crush is its own special type of torture. Always being so close to what you want but never being able to touch. To taste. To feel. 

You weren’t always this feral. Once upon a time, you were normal. Well-adjusted, even. Then you had to move for your job and needed to find a place to stay fast and your best friend Minho just happened to know someone looking for a roommate. 

Honestly, looking back, it was too easy. Should’ve known there’d be a catch. And that catch was your sanity. 

Because Minho’s friend Bang Chan turned out to be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Listen. A lot of people use phrases like that all the time, “the hottest man you’ve ever seen,”  some hyperbole they say for ridiculous effect, but you mean it. You have never seen anyone as beautiful as this man, with his chiseled cheekbones, thick lips, and those dimples. 

Fuck. Those dimples. Almost as maddening as the washboard abs he’s constantly showing off. You didn’t know a person could be allergic to shirts until you met Chan. 

And now you’re suffering. Every. Damn. Day. 

It’s not just that he’s the most gorgeous man on the planet. No, that would be hurtful enough, but he’s also kind. Smart. Silly as hell. You’re constantly plagued by his sweet smiles and unbelievably adorable giggles. 

The worst part, though, is the way he can flip between sexy and soft instantaneously. Like when the two of you argue over something stupid. All of your arguments are fundamentally stupid. The two of you get on so fucking well, the only things you argue over are opinions on pointless things. Like last night, when you’d joined him for a beer while he watched tv. 

“You’re out of your mind,” Chan had declared, twisting sideways on the couch to look at you. “There’s no way a koala could possibly defeat a kangaroo in a cage match!”

“Sure it could.” 

“No, it could not!” Chan let loose a flurry of high-pitched giggles. “Have you ever seen a kangaroo? Those things are ripped! One kick or punch, and the koala’s out.” He mimed a powerful punch.

You tipped back the remainder of your beer before pointing the bottle at him. “Yes it could! Think about it - what do koalas do?” When he just blinked, you continued. “They climb! And what do koalas usually have?” Again, a blank stare. “Syphilis! So… think about it! All that little guy has to do is climb up the kangaroo, give him some germs, and boom! Kangaroo goes down.” You grin smugly. “There’s a reason they call syphilis the silent killer.” 

Chan fixed you with his signature Look™, the one you think of as “stern dom daddy” - thick eyebrows drawn, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, dark eyes scanning your face - and you felt your knees go weak. Then he blinded you with the full sunshiny force of his smile, eyes closing, dimples popping. 

“That is an absolutely insane argument, not to mention completely incorrect. I don’t even know where to start explaining why you’re wrong.” He paused. “No, actually, let’s start with the fact that it’s chlamydia, not syphilis, that koalas get, and go from there.” By the time he’d finished  and you’d finally conceded that a kangaroo would probably win, the two of you were nearly in tears from laughing.

His duality is whiplash-inducing. And always leaves you in ruins. 

So when your feelings overwhelm you, when you feel like you’re absolutely bursting at the seams with need, you do what you always do. Torture Minho. 

Your bff is used to you venting to him about your crippling inability to make a move. On anyone. Ever. Over the years, he’s weathered dozens of crushes that never went anywhere because while you’re definitely a total treasure, you lack the confidence to make any of your (usually horny) dreams come true. He’s come to expect the endless text messages you send. 

Except that now, “messages” might not be the right word for them. “Unhinged ravings” might be more accurate. 

Ughhhh he’s so damn fine Today he came home from the gym all sweaty and I nearly offered to give him a bath With my tongue. My TONGUE Minho!

Like he’s always done, Minho bears it all in stride with his usual unwavering compassion.

You’re a lunatic

He doesn’t even try to convince you to say something to Chan about your feelings anymore. Now he just waits for you to exhaust yourself and then he changes the subject. Usually by sending photos of his cats. 

It’s an odd friendship, but neither of you would trade it for anything. 

At the moment, you’re ignoring your pain by lying on your bed, in a tee and sweats, watching a movie on your laptop. You can hear your roommate rummaging around his room. Your apartment features a Jack and Jill bathroom, so it’s easy for you to hear what’s going on next door through the adjoining space.

“Channie, why are you pacing around?” you call out. 

Your phone buzzes. 

Trying to find my shirt  

“Are you seriously texting me from the next room?” Pausing your movie, you trudge through the bathroom. The door to Chan’s room is open so you don’t bother to knock, flopping down on his bed as he digs through his closet. He’s shirtless as usual, blond curls shaking with the force of his rummaging.

“Yeah, sorry, ‘m in a hurry and didn’t want to stop looking,” Chan admits sheepishly, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you. You ignore the fluttering in your stomach and get comfortable, resting your head on your arms.

“You could’ve just said it out loud. I can hear you all over this apartment.” It’s not a big space. Which only amplifies your angst, as it’s hard to escape from your desires when the source of it is just constantly right there. Sprawling out on the tiny couch in the living room. Making himself a midnight snack in the kitchen. Lounging on your bed while you sit at your desk, trying not to stare at his reflection on your screen. “What shirt are you looking for?” 

“My tiger tank.” 

You know the shirt he’s speaking of - his white tank top with an embroidered tiger’s head on the chest. It’s a favorite of yours, cut low enough on the sides and in the front to show off his biceps and pecs at the same time. The first time you’d seen Chan in it, Minho had accused you of being a vampire because you couldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted to nibble on his collarbones. 

“Ah! Found it!” Chan raises the shirt over his head victoriously before yanking it on. He takes a moment to inspect himself in his mirror and you wonder if he truly recognizes just how stunning he is. He catches your eye in the reflection. “What are you up to tonight? Wanna come out with me, ‘Lix, & ‘Bin? We’re gonna get some drinks.”

Sure, you’d love to hang out at the bar with Chan and his friends. They’re always a good time. Except when closing time arrives and once again you’re forced to bear witness to your roommate getting hit on by basically every woman in the bar. Not that you can blame them. But it’s especially awful on the nights when he leaves with someone else. You’d rather not deal with that tonight.

“Nah, I’m just gonna relax. But thanks.” 

“Come on,” he wheedles, plopping down on the bed, hard enough to make you bounce a little. “You haven’t been out with us in ages. Is it the guys? Did one of them say something stupid?” 

“They always say stupid shit. That’s all they ever say,” you crack, smiling when Chan laughs. “But no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just tired.” 

Chan doesn’t say anything, just looks at you for a moment. The silence makes you inexplicably nervous, and you fiddle with his comforter for want of something to do with your hands. But then he just nods. “‘Kay. But if you change your mind, we’ll be down at Back Door.” 

“Thanks.” 

Chan heads into the bathroom to play with his hair. You slip past him, back into your room, throwing yourself dramatically onto your bed and burying your face in a plush pillow. How much longer can you stand this? 

You grab your phone. 

I’m losing my mind

You can practically hear the sigh in Minho’s voice as you read his response. 

What did Chan do now?

He’s getting ready to go out with Felix and Changbin He looks so fucking good in those tight jeans

Minho doesn’t reply. He knows to just let you get it out of your system before responding.

My mouth is literally watering It’s a Pavlovian response at this point I see denim and I start salivating

A text alert pops up in the middle of your thirsty ranting. 

Hey do you mind if I borrow your eyeliner?

“Stop texting me when you’re 10 feet away!” you yell, laughing. Chan pops his head out of the bathroom and flashes you that grin, the one that turns your insides to goo, and you sigh. “Of course you can borrow it, you know you can.” 

Thanks

“Chan!” 

His giggles float through the door and your thumbs fly.

Seriously If Chan doesn’t let me s his d one of these days I will die I will be the first person to die from ineedtosuckadick-itis

There’s a loud clattering in the bathroom, like someone’s knocked half the contents of the crowded sink counter onto the floor. Your makeup isn't cheap, so you hop up off your bed. 

“You okay in there?” The first thing you notice is the pile of smashed cosmetics on the ground. The second thing is the way your roommate is staring at you, eyes wide, sharpened kohl liner still clutched in one hand, phone in the other. “What? What’s wrong?” 

Chan doesn’t speak, but raises his phone and kind of waves it limply. 

Oh god. You were in the wrong chat. You were in the wrong chat and now Chan knows you want to suck his dick. You’ve been texting for most of your life and this is the moment your brain decides to fuck up?!

As Chan continues to stare, you realize you have two choices: fess up and own it, or play dumb.

It’s no choice.

“What, uhhhhhhh, what’s up?” 

Chan gestures to his phone. “You want to suck my dick?” He says the words as if they’re unfamiliar to him, like he’s trying them out for the first time. 

Well, shit, how are you supposed to play dumb if he’s just going to call you right out? 

“Guess the cat’s out of the horny bag now,” you mutter under your breath.

Chan cocks his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” you cough, looking at your own phone. “I mean, uh, noooo, what? Minho and I were just, um, talking about how I want to, uh, sssssss…” you glance wildly around the cramped room, hissing like a frantic snake as you fail to come up with another word that starts with s, before your eyes land on an empty glass sitting by the sink. “…Share a drink with you? Because I’m… thirsty?”

“You’re thirsty?”

Fucking understatement.

You can’t quite read the expression on Chan’s face as he glances between you and his phone. There’s a flash of dom daddy in there and then it’s gone. 

“YN. I know what ‘s his d’ means. Also, you said you had - what did you call it? Ineedtosuckadickitis.” You think Chan’s lips quirk slightly as he reminds you of your textual idiocy, but you’re too busy trying to psychically rip a hole in the floor so you can disappear forever to be certain. “Where do you get your medical info, by the way? I’m starting to worry.” 

He’s making light of the situation, which you would appreciate more if you weren’t sure you’re about to die from embarrassment. Your mind is reeling. There’s no way to get out of this. Any second now, he’s gonna realize how you feel. Then he’s gonna let you down. Gently, you hope. Then you’re gonna need to find a new place to live, because there’s no recovering from this.

“Fine.” You take a deep breath. “Yes, I said it.” Unable to look him in the eye, you focus on your phone as you speak. “I was telling Minho how much I want to suck your dick, because I’m a disgusting horny monster who can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go pack up my room now.” Shoulders slumping, you slink away, hoping he won’t follow. 

He does. “Wait, what?” 

You don’t answer, heading directly for your closet, tugging at your suitcase where it lies on a shelf, and he crowds into your space, arms reaching out to stop you. 

“Oi, slow down! What are you doing?” 

“I’ll try to be out quickly, so you can find a new roommate right away.” You keep pulling on the suitcase, but it’s futile. He barely has to exert any strength to push it back, so you give up. 

“YN.” Chan places his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. It’s probably the closest you’ve ever been, standing face to face like this, and the nearness of him is a little dizzying. “Back up. You don’t have to go anywhere. Just talk to me.” He lightly guides you over to your bed, taking a seat next to you. “Why do you think I’d want you to leave?” 

“Because I'm a gross little gremlin who can’t stop objectifying you?” you answer honestly. 

Chan’s eyes widen before he bursts into laughter. “You know, you’ve said a lot of bonkers things in the months you’ve been living here, but… how does wanting to suck my dick make you a ‘gross little gremlin?’” 

Oh no. You can feel it bubbling up inside you, all the things you’ve felt. All the things you’ve said. Oh, you’re going to tell him, aren’t you? 

“It’s not just sucking your dick.” Grabbing your phone, you open your chat with Minho again, and begin to read. “‘I need Chan to destroy me. Fully. Like I’m a piece of wood and he’s a lumberjack. Just split me in half. With his hands or his dick, I’m not picky.’” Your entire body radiates with humiliation. You’re a tiny sun made of molecules of mortification, on the verge of going supernova. “Um. That’s one example. And there’s more. A lot more.” 

And then you hand him your phone, looking away as he starts to scroll. 

You stare at the wall, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Until the quiet gets to you, and you give in, peering at him, expecting to find him frozen again, or worse, looking sickened by your words. 

Instead you find him smiling. And then he starts to giggle. 

“‘I’m going feral,” he reads. “‘He’s wearing that beanie again. I- ’” His laughing gets louder as he struggles to finish the thought. “‘I want him to wear me instead.’” He glances up at you, eyes glimmering with way too much amusement. “What does that even mean?!”

You groan, yanking your shirt up to cover your face. “Chan, stop!” He merely laughs harder. How can he be enjoying this? You’ve never known him to be cruel. “I get it, I’m awful, you don’t have to laugh!”

But he keeps chuckling, and then you feel his hands on your hips. Like a bewildered turtle, you poke your head out of your shirt, and he just smiles. 

“C’mere.” He keeps tugging at you until you scoot closer, swinging your legs over his lap, and pulls you in for a hug. 

It’s better than you ever imagined. His strong arms lock around your waist, keeping you in place as his chest continues to rumble with his apparently endless mirth. Tentatively, you let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, afraid that if you cling too tightly, he’ll let go. 

Chan leans back to grin at you. “You’re so fucking cute.” 

You’re so fucking confused. “I am?” 

“Yeah.” His fingers rub light circles into your lower back. The sensation is somehow both soothing and invigorating, sending sparks directly to the heat already simmering in your gut. “Just adorable.” 

You’re not adorable, you’re a dirty little freak whose mind is constantly churning out trash, but if that’s what he wants to believe, you’ll take it.  

“You’re not disturbed by all the things I’ve said?” 

“Disturbed? Nah. I’m used to the crazy shit you say.” He’s got a point. You do say a lot of crazy shit. Just not usually about him to him. “Besides, d’you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?” 

“About your dick??”

Chan tosses his head back, jostling you with his laughter. “No, you maniac, just something in general! Something to tell me that you like me.” When he meets your gaze again, you’re met with that Look™, and this time those sparks head straight for your cunt. “That you want me. Because…” 

He trails off, hands gripping your sides, shifting you. Until you feel it. Poking directly into your thigh. 

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.” Chan licks his lips. When did his eyes get so dark? “Because I want you too, you absolute fruit loop. Took me a minute to get my bearings, wasn’t expecting you to confess it in a text like that, or with those exact words, but…” He smirks. “I’m good now.” 

His thumb traces your jawline before he cups your chin. The gentle touch sends shivers rippling through you. His eyes drop to your lips. 

“You good?” 

Funnily enough, somehow, you are. 

“Yeah. I’m good,” you whisper, tipping forward to close the space between you. 

Amazingly, despite the unyielding need to just yeet yourself onto him, you manage to hold back, simply leaning in to the kiss instead. Those plush lips that you’ve raved about feel unbelievable as they caress yours. So soft and tender, like the warmth spreading through you as he tightens his hold. Then he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moan, loud and wanton, unable to control the sound, and he drops his hands to your hips again, gripping insistently. 

“C’mere,” he commands again, voice husky as his fingers hook into your sweats. “Come closer.” He exhales heavily. “Please.” 

Please? He has no idea how little he needs to beg right now. As if you’re not dying to get as close as you can! In the blink of an eye, you throw your leg over his, straddling him. His hands wrap around you again, like he can’t stand not having them on you for a second. You understand the feeling. 

You’re bolder now with your kisses, nipping and licking eagerly. A particularly sharp bite on his pouty lip makes him gasp in surprise, and you press your tongue into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy when he sucks in response. The incessant throbbing of your clit is slightly relieved when Chan’s hips buck upwards, pushing his erection against you more firmly. He swallows your whines, breathes them back out in the form of his own groans.

The need for air eventually overwhelms you after a few minutes, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away from his face. 

“Aren’t you going to be late?” you pant, marveling at how red and swollen Chan’s lips are from kissing. The urge to dive back in before you’ve gotten enough oxygen into your system to keep from passing out is strong. “To meet the guys?”

“You really think I’m gonna leave now?” Chan huffs a laugh as he gazes at you from beneath lowered eyelids, looking as dazed as you feel, and you realize, shit, Minho’s right, you are a vampire, and you’re about to eat this man alive. “Fuck no. Besides, what kind of terrible roommate would I be if I left you at death’s door?” 

“If you - what?” 

More high-pitched giggles fill the room. How can he be so cute while actively grinding his cock against you like this? “Your disease. Remember? Ineedadickitis.” 

“I need to suck a dick,” you correct him.

“Oh, do you? Well, go on then.” He cracks up completely, bouncing you with the force of his laughter as you sit there dumbly for half a second before snapping to. 

“You’re so stupid, oh my god!” With a howl, you push him away. He goes easily, until he’s lying on his back on your bed, still cackling while he swats away your fake punches. “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” His fingers lock around your wrists and with a gentle jerk you’re lying on top of him, your arms pinned between you. Before you can try to pretend that he’s wrong, try to mount yet another one of your dumb arguments, despite knowing full well that he's right, he kisses you again. 

As soon as he releases your hands, you tangle them in his hair. His hands trace down your back to grab the swell of your ass, crushing you flat against him, chest to chest. He suddenly breaks off the kiss.

“Are you not wearing a bra?” 

You shake your head and he groans, sitting up, taking you with him. His fingers curl in the hem of your top, twisting it upwards.

“Shirt off. Now.” His voice drops an octave and you shudder, quickly obeying his order. Then you grip his tank top.

“You too.” 

He reaches behind his head to peel the fabric off, tossing it on the floor. Then he lays back, propping himself up on his elbows as you openly gawk at his stomach. 

“Fuck.” He’s transfixed by your chest. 

“Jesus.” You’re mesmerized. From this close, you can see a faint trail of fine hair that runs down, cutting through the carved lines of his abs, like an arrow pointing to your desired destination. “Unreal.” 

“You can touch, if you’d like,” Chan grins up at you, obviously enjoying your reaction. 

You roll your eyes but do anyway, dragging your fingertips over his abs. His stomach twitches beneath your touch. Before you can get too far, he wiggles his hips, playfully jostling you out of your concentration.

“Can I touch, too?” 

“Jesus, yes, of course!” Grabbing his hands, you place one on each breast. “Touch me already!” 

He doesn’t waste any time, rolling your nipples between his fingers, waking the buds. You arch into him, his abs forgotten as he leans forward to take your left breast in his mouth. 

“Shit, Channie,” you whimper, combing his hair out of his face so you can watch him suckle away. He hums into you, swirling his tongue over your nipple, around and around, before dragging his tongue across to the other breast. 

“You like that, baby?” he asks, covering your chest with kisses. 

Baby? Did he really just call you baby? Is this really happening, or did you slip into one of your daydreams again? 

Nope, the hard dick rolling into the apex of your thighs as you grind down on him feels pretty real. You can’t help but moan, wondering what he looks like under those tight jeans. Is he as thick as you imagine? 

Wait, why are you still trying to imagine anything? He’s literally underneath you right now.

Your hand splays on his torso as you guide him onto his back again. Slowly, you lower yourself over him, and drag your mouth down his neck. Clearly, you’d interrupted his going out routine earlier, because he’s not wearing his normal cologne right now. Instead, the heady scent you inhale as you stick your nose into the hollow of his clavicles is pure Chan, musky and comforting. 

“Ah, that tickles!” he hisses. 

“Sorry.” You press a heavy kiss to his collarbone. “Is that better?” He nods, right before you sink your teeth in.

“Nnngh!” He lets out a throaty groan as you happily suck a love bite into his delicate skin. God, the noises this man makes! You want to record them and play them on a loop. 

You slip further down, dragging your fingernails over one of Chan’s nipples, watching his face for his reaction. A tiny “oh!” escapes him, and you repeat the motion, grinning when his back lifts off the bed. Sensitive. This is going to be fun. 

Chan raises his head when you start to kiss his abs, taking the time to lick along the ridges as you go, the salty tang of his sweat lingering on your lips. When your hands play with the skin above his waistband, he clears his throat. “You know, you don’t have to do this, just because of that text.” 

“Are you kidding me?” You pause with your fingers on the button of his fly. “You want me to stop now?” 

“I just don’t want you to think I expect anything.” Although his voice is a little shaky, like he’s trying to calm himself down, you hear the sincerity in his words. The sweetness. That warmth inside you roars into a flame. 

“Channie. I want this. Do you want this?” 

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Thank god,” you sigh, unzipping his fly.  He helps you peel off his tight jeans and you make quick work of his silk boxers beneath. Nudging his legs apart, you kneel between them 

For a moment just you stare at the sight in front of you. You were right. He’s thick. Maybe a little longer than most of the dicks you’ve been happy to be acquainted with, maybe not, but definitely thicker. 

You want to sit on him so bad. But first you want to please him, want to taste him. So much want. 

While you’re dicknotized, Chan stuffs your pillows under his head so he can have a better angle. You glance at his face and find him biting his lip, eyes looking a little desperate. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you. 

Might as well put him out of his misery. With a lick of your palm, you wrap your hand around him, and pump a few shallow strokes. He grunts at the sudden slickness, abdomen jumping slightly. 

“Ah, baby, just like that,” he says, eyes closing when you roll your thumb over the tip a few times. “Shit.” 

Your tongue darts out to follow, dipping around the head and back over, before you take it into your mouth. Just the tip, bobbing off, then a little more, then again. Each time you sink lower, he sighs. 

“Fuck, that feels so good. Keep going, take it all in.” 

Oh god, is he a talker? You’re already impossibly wet. You can’t possibly handle getting any more aroused. 

While your mouth is occupied, you lift your leg so you’re straddling one of Chan’s, resting a palm on his big thigh. You have obsessed over his thighs since the day you moved in. You refer to them as “the thunder from down under” in your texts to Minho. And here they are now, so strong and sturdy beneath you. Wild. 

Chan hisses when you deepthroat him, brushing your nose against his pelvis. Even though you pride yourself on your dick-sucking skills, you can’t help but choke slightly. More saliva floods into your mouth, and you swallow around him. 

“Oh, shit!” His hips rise up a little. You use both hands, one trying to hold him down by his hip while the other strokes in tandem with your mouth. There’s drool everywhere, and the sounds the wetness makes sounds lewd even for porn. “Baby, this mouth of yours! Feels better than I ever imagined.”

Air rushes into your lungs as you pull off, replacing your mouth with your other hand. “You thought about this?” He fantasized about you, too?

“Oh fuck yeah,” he growls. “All the time. Thought those pretty lips would look so good choking on me, and I was right.” He thrusts a little, rocking his dick up into your slippery grip. “Used to dream about fucking it.”

You moan so brokenly, he looks at you in concern. 

“Please,” you lick his darkened head almost frantically, “do it.” 

Chan studies you for a moment, brows knitting together, before he pushes your head down. 

“That’s it, go down for me,” he directs you, and you listen. “Just stay there. Let me do the work now.” 

He starts slowly, tilting his pelvis a little, fucking up into your waiting mouth. Then he cants his hips a little faster. His breathing gets heavier the harder he thrusts. Once he finds a steady rhythm, he lays his hand on the back of your head keeping you exactly where he wants you. 

You squirm restlessly as Chan fucks your throat. Having your roommate use your mouth as a sex toy is incredibly hot. Finally, you slide your hand into your sweats to give yourself some relief. Your clit is engorged, practically beating like a heart between your fingers. You let out a pleased moan, vibrating down Chan’s cock. 

“Do that again, baby.” 

You’re not denying this man anything. Again and again, you make him curse as your hums resonate across his sensitive skin. He trembles a little, and it’s intoxicating to think that you might be breaking down this big, strong roommate of yours, reducing him to a quivering mess.

At the very least, it’s something to aim for. 

Chan praises you again. “God damn it, that’s good. Gonna make me cum with that pretty mouth.” 

You suck and swallow and moan and rub yourself, feeling Chan’s thigh flex beneath you, and it hits you what he said, that you’re about to get Chan off, you, so you reach out, raking your hand up the inside of his thigh until you find his balls, squeezing gently.

“I’m gonna cum, shit, ’m gonna cum,” he moans, words slurring together. “Where, baby?” 

You stop touching yourself so you can grip the hand of his that rests on your head. He gets the point, pace not slowing, and with a few more powerful pumps, and some stuttered exhalations, he fills your mouth. You take it all, swallowing noisily and gasping for breath once he pulls out. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

He laughs as he says it. Your shoulders shake as you half-laugh, half-wheeze, slumping over on Chan’s thigh.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grins. “And I’m guessing from the sounds you were making, you enjoyed that as well? Just maybe not quite as much as me?”

You shrug. “I got what I wanted.”  

“Yeah, okay, maybe, but I bet you’d like more, hmm?” Without waiting for a response, he swiftly flips you onto your back. Just hauls you right over like you’re made of feathers. A rash of ridiculously giddy giggles burst past your lips, but they die away when he crawls up your body, the power of his gaze pinning you in place, and drops hungry lips onto yours.

Immediately, you surge up into him, pressing as close as you can. Both of you are glistening with sweat, his hair sticking to his face and yours as he licks into your mouth, hot and wet. You’re drowning in him. It’s everything you ever wanted. How the fuck can you possibly want more? But you do, and this feeling makes itself known as you start to whimper needily.

Chan’s hand quickly locates your breast, tenderly cupping your flesh. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are? So pretty.”

You preen at his words, humming contentedly. Fuck. Do you have a praise kink, or is it just that Chan’s the one saying these words that is getting you more worked up? You roll your hips, seeking friction, and Chan’s hand slides downward until he reaches where you need him.

“Oh, baby, so wet,” he says, voice hushed, almost reverent. “Just dying to be touched, yeah? Let me help you.”

With sure movements, lithe fingers stroke along your lips, opening you up. Fingertips squeeze your clit, playing with the aching pearl, causing you to squeal, and you could die, having made such a sound, except you’ve clearly already died and gone to heaven.

Even as his hand rubs, his lips never leave yours. You thrash in his grip when he slides a finger inside you, finding your g-spot with surprising quickness and pressing the fuck out of it, and he still chases your mouth, covering your chin in kisses. Your legs kick out as he alternates between fondling your clit and stroking your walls, until he suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out so he can rid you of your sweats. 

“You still with me?” he asks, kneeling between your legs, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, sucking in air like a fish. You must be a mess, if your appearance matches how you feel. But you’re also excruciatingly aroused and frustrated, so close to coming that you’re ready to blow.

“Yes. I’m here, I’m good.” 

“Good.” The Look™️ is back. He grabs your legs and bends them, pushing your thighs into your torso. “Here. Be a good girl and hold these.”

Yes, daddy. You bite your tongue to keep from screaming the words, and grasp your legs behind your knees, pulling them to the side as much as you can, opening you up wide.

“Yes, Channie.”

He smiles at that, eyes so dark you can almost see yourself. “So good for me. Hold tight, baby.” 

He sticks out his tongue, eyebrows cocking as he dives down, tracing your folds lightly before flattening the pink muscle and dragging it heavily upwards. You keen as his hot mouth suctions onto your clit. He rolls your clit around with his tongue before flicking it in a quick motion, over and over. 

“Jesus!” You’re a live wire, muscles jolting and twitching. As he continues working over the tiny bundle of nerves, his fingers slip inside you again, two this time, scissoring you apart, making room for his tongue. 

You gasp as he plunges inside, tracing your inner walls. He’s so loud, the noises his mouth makes as he sucks and laps, and messy, too, slick dripping from his chin when he lifts his face, making sure you’re watching him. Of fucking course you’re watching him. There’s literally nothing else in the world you’d rather be looking at right now than Bang Chan, the hottest man in the galaxy, devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal. 

“Tastes so good,” he rasps, turning his face to press sloppy kisses to your inner thigh. “Think you can hold out a little longer? Let me enjoy, yeah?” 

At this point, you’re a fucking tinderbox, one spark and you’ll explode, but sure, why not let the man enjoy himself a little more? 

“O-okay,” you stutter weakly. “I’ll… try.” You bite your lip. “But maybe…” 

Chan brushes his lips over your slit. With a shaky hand, you let your left leg go so you can reach out, brushing some damp locks off his forehead, and he looks at you. 

“Maybe a little slower?” you ask. 

He smiles, nodding a little. “Got ya.” 

Instead of pulling your hand back, you thread your fingers into his hair, and he hums, burying his face again. Only now, his tongue rolls slowly over your cunt, languidly, each pass taking longer and longer. He still keeps the pressure up, makes sure he’s pushing just as firmly against your sensitive folds, still fucks his tongue into you just as deeply as he was before, but now his movements aren’t so frenzied. They feel purposeful, like he’s intent on savoring the moment. 

And you realize you should, too. So you barely blink as you observe everything he does - every kiss, every groan, every time his eyes close. You try to commit it all to memory, so you can relive this moment over and over again. In case this is it.

Chan keeps humming, not so much a melody as just wordless sounds, getting louder when your thighs start to squeeze a little. Your hand grips the roots of his hair, not so much guiding him as hanging on. Until he takes your clit in his mouth again, and you cry out, holding him in place. 

“Right there, Channie, please!” Your voice breaks as you beg him not to stop. He doesn’t let up, not even when you release your death grip on your right leg, letting it fall over his shoulder like the other one. You dig your fingers into the blanket beneath you, fisting the material. “Fuck, just like that!” 

Your hips rise off the bed as you start to hump his face, grinding harder and harder. Chan slides his fingers back into your already clenching hole and finds your g-spot again. You wail helplessly, mind already going, body not far behind, as your muscles start to contract, everything tightening - 

“Fuuuuck!” 

With a loud groan, you come all over Chan’s face. He keeps tonguing your clit through your orgasm, but has to use his hands to hold your thighs open so he doesn’t asphyxiate. You tug at his hair, riding out the waves of bliss on his mouth. 

When you finally relinquish your grasp on his head, he stops. He slides your legs from his arms, then sits back on his heels to examine his handiwork.

You’re a limp noodle. No bones. No muscles. Couldn’t move if you tried. Your climax completely wiped you out, leaving nothing behind. But you’re a very happy noodle, practically purring as you smile at the ceiling. 

Chan, on the other hand. Chan appears to be ready for the next round. A point made obvious by the massive erection he’s again sporting. You blink at him a few times. 

“I’m going to need a minute.”

He laughs, draping himself over you, arm slung over your stomach, head on your shoulder. “Nah mate, you’re done.” 

A rather petulant whine bubbles up from deep within you. “Nooo, I’m good, I’m good!” 

You try to reach for his dick, but he catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. Which is a surprisingly sweet move, but not what you want right now. It’s not that you don’t want to cuddle with him - if he asked, you’d wrap yourself like a blanket around him and snuggle him for hours.

It’s that you’re not ready for this moment to be over. 

“Relax,” he laughs. “Plenty of time for that later. Just rest for a bit.” 

“Later?" There’s gonna be a later?

Chan kisses your neck lightly. “Yeah, later. Not done with you yet, baby.” 

You sigh, bringing a hand up to stroke his back. Okay. Maybe a little nap is fine. If there’s going to be a later. 

Fuck, you can’t wait to text Minho. 

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

I don't feel right tagging my usual tl since that was for my BTS writing, so I'm just gonna tag some moots that I think might like this:

@moni-logues @yoongimingyu @borahae-k @nabiolive @jikooknoona @sowoozoo-7 @eoieopda @here4btsfics @candlewaxandp0lar0ids @ballelino @starlostjimin @augustbutwinter @blueversaillesdreams @hobivore @hobi-gif @seokjinger-ale @hannahbee12719 feel free to tell me if I'm way off base, no pressure to actually read! 💕

[whumpay]

babe wake up new whumpay prompts dropped. like last year, im posting early for more time to prepare

Welcome to Whumpay 2024! Up above you will see the basic prompt list and down below the cut you will see it written out in a list, as well as three mini challenges (and by extension, the extreme edition)

Rules are the same as usual

You only have to use one (Or two, if you’re doing the extreme edition.) prompt a day! But you’re welcome to use multiple if you want to, and it still counts for both.

I know the description of the blog says it’s a writing event, but if you want to draw or make other kinds of content, that’s cool too.

Have fun, tag content warnings (such as noncon, graphic violence, etc) and try not to be crushed by the mortifying ordeal of posting your writing.

This is a pretty chill event so you can start posting whenever but I’ll be reblogging posts made to the #Whumpay2024 tag throughout May. For real this time.

These all also apply to these three special mini challenges, consisting of a 7 day, a 10 day, and a 14 day prompt list.

EXTREME EDITION: This year's extreme edition doesn't have its own prompt list, but instead, youll be taking all three mini challenges in order along with the main prompt list. Some of these fit pretty well, others less so.

1 - Mad Science:

Day 1: Strapped To An Operating Table

Day 2: Paralytic Drug

Day 3: Made A Lab Rat

Day 4: Vivisection

Day 5: Truth Potion/Serum/Spell

Day 6: Russian Roulette

1 - Attacks, Mental & Physical:   

Day 7: Heart Attack

Day 8:  Asthma Attack

Day 9: Animal Attack

Day 10: Panic Attack

3 - Ineffective Medical Care:

Day 11: Medical Torture

Day 12: Withholding Medical Treatment

Day 13: Medication Tampering

Day 14: Injury Brushed Off

Day 15: No Anesthetic

4: Mindfuck

Day 16: Presumed Dead

Day 17: Memory Loss

Day 18: Stockholm Syndrome

Day 19: Phantom Pains

Day 20: Love Potion/Spell

Day 21: Role Reversal 

5. Nature's Revenge

Day 22: Slowly Running Out Of Air

Day 23: Natural Disaster 

Day 24: Struck By Lightning

Day 25: Snowed In

Day 26: Heatstroke

6. Traps & Trauma

Day 27: Caught In A Net

Day 28: Traumatic Touch Aversion

Day 29: Used As Bait

Day 30:  Flashbacks

Day 31: Choose Who Lives

Mini challenge #1: Torture

#1: Tortured For Information

#2: Whipping

#3: Branding

#4: Begging To Be Killed

#5: Recorded/Broadcast Torture

#6: False Execution

#7: Shock Collar

Mini Challenge #2: Dialogue

#8: “Why are you doing this?”

#9: “Don’t look.”

#10: “You look awful.”

#11: “Who did this to you?”

#12: “No one is coming for you.”

#13: “No one cares about me.”

#14: “Don’t lie to me.”

#15: “Stay with me, please.”

#16: ”You’re scaring me!”

#17: “You’re a monster.”

Mini Challenge #3: Aftermath

#18: Fighting Against Caretaker 

#19: Seeking Revenge

#20: Taking The Blame

#21: Barely Conscious

#22: Disassociation

#23: Carried To Safety

#24: Scars

#25: Unhealthy Codependency 

#26: Infected Wound

#27: Survivor’s Guilt

#28: Touch Starvation

#29: Abandonment Issues

#30: Cradled In Someone’s Arms

#31: Adrenaline Crash

Alt Prompts:

Death Game

Came Back Wrong

Attack The Injury

Healing Malfunction

Left For Dead 

Mistaken Identity

Dazed

Trapped Under Rubble

Drowning

Disowned By Family

Hostage Situation

Have fun everybody!

[maopll]

Can I request headcanons of Dottore, Pantalone, Baizhu, Tighnari, and Albedo with a toxicologist s/o?

Dottore and her are a match made in heaven or hell.

The sweetest poison <3

| genshin impact !

⌗:, a/n: the title kinda sounds wrong but I couldn't think of anything else. and the fact that there's so many similar requests I got like are y'all the same person or smth ??

⌗:, warning: mentions of poison,,blood 'n stuff

⌗:, pairings: dottore, tighnari, pantalone, albedo, baizhu, & childe w/ gn!reader

DOTTORE

He was on his way to your lab to ask for a few ingredients that only you have special access to. It was a Sunday evening. The sun is almost settling down for the day and the moon is still evident on the sky. he knocked on your door and your fading voice telling "come in" was his cue to get in.

He saw you tending to a few fly traps and some deadly nightshade. "I want to get a few ingredients from you that are on this list" he told you to which you replied "just grab them from the shelf you know where they are". You and him have spent so much time together in each of your labs that he knows where every ingredient is. He grabbed a few and looked at a vial on the wooden lab table. "are you done with the experiment that you were working on?"

"no its still left, but it will be finished within thus week or the week after. I need more lab rats to test that on. the results are that satisfactory so I'll have to observe more". If there had to be anything in common between you two is that one both of you are always occupied with experiments and two torture.

To others your conversation may sound like that of a colleague with colleague but dottore barely held this gentle tone with others. Only with you would his more cruel and crude nature would slip away. Others may find it weird how the most fearsome person on the plant is talking so naturally with you but you know, its his way of telling you that he loves you just as much as you do.

ALBEDO

He asks for many plant species and specimens from you. You spent years studying in the academiya and truly were the knowledge you accumulated were like treasure. The knights of favonius gave you your own permit of being able to handle and use poisonous plants. Ofcourse your research was worthwhile as you found many medicines for untreatable diseases.

If he ever comes across a peculiar plant he just goes to you. he knows how well you know the plants around you. you are usually stuck up in your lab but even you worry about albedo encountering a poisonous plant by accident as one time he brought one you burnt that away as your eyes were wide like flying saucers. Atleast ge didn't affect...

"[name] would you look at this? I found a few different flowers when I was in inazuma. I haven't seen them everywhere. Maybe you know something about them?" and yes you did know. You told him a great deal about its origin, its structure, its uses and location.

There comes many a moments when you two share your insightful knowledge with eachother. It started the day when you two were dating first and you two realised that both of you love alchemy and the mysteries shrouding it. These are some times you cherish the most as he hears every detail you spell with his head resting on his hand and the other scribbling points to remember. "hm? why are you smiling? is there something on my face love?..."

it's the beauty on his face that you are looking at.

PANTALONE

He was a banker and you were a toxicologist. You two falling in love was pure coincidence and...true love as he would term it. He often finds you pulling out some purple stuff from your hands. Those were poison. He knew after you told him about it and he froze there on the spot. He thought you would die the next moment. You tried so hard to reassure him saying that it happens and you wouldn't die. He is afraid to lose someone dear to him once again in his life...

He always checks on you to see if you are not hurt or in any kind of pain. After checking that you are alright and tending to your plants in your greenhouse he would return back to his office as he would hold a small photo of yours with you concentrating on a potted toxic plant as butterflies, probably wild and dangerous, also swarming around your hair. He loves staring at that picture of yours. You tending so gently to the plant. Whenever he would remind those days when you two were still young lovers and inexperienced.

It feels as if it was yesterday when you two finally had your first kiss and were smiling brightly with faces blushed turning into the hue of a tomato.

Even if he is a fatui and ruthless man, he still has a soft spot for you and only you.

TIGHNARI

Injured, poisoned, senseless, unconscious, and many patients flock into the forest watchers' treatment room. Tighnari is busy throughout the day. Teaching young forest rangers and treating patients. There is never a free time in the young man's hands, but with the coming of you, things have been even easier to handle and treatments can be done even faster as you would give swift and simple orders to people to follow to treat the patients.

The vaccines you created after countless trial and errors with combined hardwork always paid off. Your medicines are sold everywhere. It was tighnari who recommended your medicines to the amurta darshan and bimarstan to use them. Many were hesitant as they were made from poisonous plants but...After trying out it worked wonders! no side effects were there

Every Sunday evening is when you two would tend to your own plants. Him watering the plants as you sowed a few seeds or fertilised them with your dendro vision. It almost feels as if you two are married and leading a domestic life tending to your plant children. At nights is when the both of your are wrapped up jn eachothers arms under the moonlight as the stars gaze upon your young love. Its a peaceful silence shared between you two as you two drift away to sleep to the lulls of the chirping crickets and the buzzing of the fireflies.

CHILDE

He returns with scars all around his body and had it not been your extraordinary medicines there would have been plenty of infections all over his body. Even if you try to act angry at him deep down both you and him know how worried you are. Every time he reminds himself to not get hurt to the point of being the reason for your worries.

Whenever he would get time on his hands he would join you on your experiments as he would look at you with awe as you swiftly handled vials and scribbled down notes for future reference. Thousands no, maybe even more toxic plants were there than that meets the eye.

You forbade him from touching anything since you do not trust him with such complex substances and liquids and poisonous plants. "oh come on...you're no fun! nothing would happen if I touch just ONE plan—" and there he goes, with a *thump* and falling on his back. Good now he just increased your workload.

After he woke up you gave him a full one hour lecture after he did that and he swears to never touch your plants again.

But he would never miss a free trip to your greenhouse. The variety of plants and the sweet smell emanating from them was mind blowing. He loved seeing you work skillfully with the most dangerous poison as if they were water. He can't hide that stupid blush that spreads across his fair cheeks as he always remembers 'my soulmate is so strong' with a cheeky grin plastered on his face

"what are you smiling for ajax ?"

BAIZHU

"qiqi my dear, would you please call [name] for me, hm?". Qiqi tip toed her way towards your laboratory and softly knocked on your door since it was already midnight. All the houses had blowed out their lanterns and retired to bed for the night except a certain pharmacist and a toxicologist.

You understood why he may have called you so after thanking the little qiqi you walked your way towards your lovers study. The soft pulsating light could be seen from the end of the hallway of your shared abode. He was there writing some prescriptions for the patients who came the other day along with a few medical documents. Looks like he might have to pull an all-nighter to complete those.

"dear can you get me some herbal tea to wake myself up? I need to finish these since the patients will be coming tomorrow"

You brought him some herbal tea, which you prepared from freshly picked flowers from your greenhouse. "Mh...as delicious as always." his tone soft and low to not wake changsheng up who was deep into slumber. You were there with him in his room helping him with some prescriptions since you were also quite well aware of the plants that are toxic and which are not. With your help, only a few of those were left and he might be able to get a blink of sleep that day. He chuckled softly as the sound of his laughter soon died down and the ticking of the clock once again begun.

Throughout the night no words were spoken between the two lovers as they completed their paperworks under the soft illumination provided by the halfway melted candle and the crackling of the flame. The moon went for its own slumber as dawn freshened

[windbelle]

Perhaps Astarion looks like Cazador's friend

I have seen a lot of people headcanon Astarion looks like Cazador's former master Vellioth, which does make a lot of sense. However, I've always had another headcanon:

Perhaps Astarion looks like that friend of Cazador who was drained and killed by Vellioth.

Here are my thoughts:

In the 5e DnD Monster Manual, vampires have the nature of Dark Desire, and it says "Whether or not a vampire retains any memories from its former life, its emotional attachments wither as once-pure feelings become twisted by undeath. Love turns into hungry obsession, while friendship becomes bitter jealousy. In place of emotion, vampires pursue physical symbols of what they crave, so that a vampire seeking love might fixate on a young beauty. A child might become an object of fascination for a vampire obsessed with youth and potential. Others surround themselves with art, books, or sinister items such as torture devices or trophies from creatures they have killed."

And it seems evil aligned creatures in lore always see friendship as vulnerability and weakness. Vellioth punished Cazador for his connection to his friend by draining this friend to death, and taught Cazador to never let anyone be his equal. This friend must be really special to Cazador to lead to Vellioth doing this.

We know that Cazador is a pretty good student for Vellioth's lessons. He learned the lesson and killed Vellioth. And he's begun to see the friendship he once possessed as his vulnerability and weakness. He probably hated being punished by Vellioth for his vulnerability and he wanted to vanquish his weakness by torturing someone who could serve as a symbol of his vulnerability, someone who looks like his friend.

He might still have some special emotion, even some kind of love, towards his dead friend but his dark desire has turned his emotion into hungry obsession. So, when he saw Astarion, who looked a lot like his friend, Cazador couldn't help being attracted to Astarion but also he wanted just to possess him, belittle him, and torture him.

That explains why Cazador has this special favoritism towards Astarion in terms of torture and punishment. In fact, I somehow believe that Cazador chose all his spawns because he had some affection towards them all. But his feelings are totally twisted so that he would torture them and use them, while insisting they are a family.

I don't know whether it's true that Cazador sent the Gur to attack Astarion, but I think he did savor the moment when he turned Astarion because he now had the power to "save" him from death, and to turn him into his own possession.

His torture is not merely some sadistic hobby but quite calculated and cold according to his journal. It's only when Astarion got away that he showed emotion. It seems like he was subconsciously training Astarion as a potential successor, just like Vellioth taught him and trained him to be the vampire master of the Szarr family.

This reminds me of the 5e DND module "Curse of Strahd". In "Curse of Strahd" if you role play as Strahd, he has an objective to find a successor, because he thinks if he can find a successor to replace him then he can get rid of the eternal curse and get his freedom.

After you defeat Cazador without Astarion you can detect his thoughts, and you will find that he also thinks he is forever trapped in this immortal curse. He cannot rest and he's in grief. He wants to break the curse, and that's why he sought the profane ritual so that he could gain the ability to finally "live" like a mortal.

But apart from becoming the vampire ascendant, there's another way of terminating his grief to finally put him to rest, that is, to be destroyed and replaced by a successor.

In some way, he was subconsciously expecting Astarion to succeed him and replace him. I think his former master, Vellioth, knew it even more clearly that he would be replaced by Cazador somehow, and Vellioth was training him to do that by intention. Cazador was doing this similarly but more unconsciously. In his subconsciousness, either he would consume Astarion at last, or Astarion would end him and replace him.

Finally, and this is purely headcanon: according to Astarion's age, he was probably born after Cazador's friend was killed. If this friend was also an elf, then when Cazador saw Astarion, for a moment he might think Astarion could be his friend's reincarnation.

[megamindsecretlair]

BOOK UPDATE 11/1/24

Yall 🥲 can I be cocky real quick and yall won't judge me 👀

I've been spending the past week editing my book, getting the inconsistencies out as best as I could. (Like when I described Jasper in a green plaid shirt and it somehow turned into a navy thermal in the same scene 🤣🤣🤣🤣)

And im well and truly done. Its out of my hands. I don't know what else i can do/say to improve on it. Yall i was in here tooting my own mf horn 🥳🥳 i was getting my own self bothered writing some of the 😮‍💨 scenes. Like I wrote that? I snapped like that? Who am I trynma show out for but myself like 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Here's a sneak-sneak chuz I love yall 👀

“Do I get to play in this pussy whenever I want?” He asked.

Her belly flipped. Her mouth dropped open. “Yesss,” she moaned.

“Do I get to keep you?” He asked. He licked his lips and she felt the torturous glides of his tongue on her.

“Forever,” she said.

“Forever,” he said.

👀👀👀

And I realized that yes, writing is fn scary. Posting that writing - let alone publishing it - is downright frightening. But you also gotta have a level of "fuck it, I did that shit" attitude about it. My advice will always be to write what YOU want to see. What turns YOU on. If you have fun, then we having fun boo 😗

Okay, im done being cocky. Chuz its truly because of all of you who've been with me on this writing journey. Who commented and reblogged and told me that I can weave some words around to unlock some knowledge bout themselves 😏😏

You let me be cocky. You gassed me up to believe in myself to make my dream come true. I will be publishing under a pen name, mostly for marketing reasons. The name I chose doesn't have many search results so I won't get lost in the noise. Unlike my real name 😒

Im also hard at work on my website. I want yall to have fun when you visit it. And that vibe is not easy to achieve when you're an over-anxious indecisive person 🫠

Special shoutout to @darqchilddaydreamz and @westside-rot who sent me an ask game that inspired the story of Zora and Jasper and encouraged my silly story to become something. That was the universe stepping up for me.

All this to say is thank you, thank you, a million times thank YOU. I hope you fall in love with Zora and Jasper like I did.

This is where the hard part comes in. Reviews are a must to get any kind of traction with the book. I only ask for a fair and honest review when the book comes out on Goodreads because to be absolutely 💯, I got bills to pay. And I've been skipping out on overtime to get this book done, ya feel me? 😩

I also may or may not have plotted out 5 other books that are all separate stories. One of them may even be a vampire novel. One of them is deff based on Mr. Black. But idkidkidk. Lemme see how this book does first 👀🫣

[sebaztianlovesgeek]

THE NON CANON PARTS OF THE BLACK BUTLER ANIME IN BOTH SEASON 1 AND 2 AND ALSO THE SPECIALS WERE WILD

(in no particular order)

Ciel hires a random naked dog man who can turn into a giant wolf to be his servant even though he literally does nothing around the manor and just hangs out with Finny all the time

Finny forms a crush on a character we later find out is an angel named Angela and after the dog village arc ends we never hear of his crush again

For the most part the curry arc is the same, but for some reason they decided to change the ending. In the manga Lau and Ranmao killed Nina and her husband, in the anime everyone becomes evil by eating curry, and Sebastian had to feed them all his curry buns to turn them all good again, WHAT??

Sebastian has sex with a Nun in some cult church

Angela took Vincent and Rachel's bodies and stitched them into a weird Frankenstein looking thing because apparently that would combine their souls in the afterlife so they could be together forever

Also the whole thing with Ciel being kidnapped by the cult is never explained despite Queen Victoria and Angela being responsible for the death of his parents, therefore you'd think they'd also be responsible for the whole cult thing? But they would have no reason to sell a 10 year old to be abused by a cult-

Ash (aka Angela because they're the same person) turns Queen Victoria into A FREAKING LOLI

Ciel is framed for drug trafficking

Sebastian is arrested and kept in a torture dungeon for like 3 days where he is BDSM whipped by Angela for some reason

Fred Abberline dies

Fred before he dies mentions he doesn't have any family yet he has a brother who shows up in season 2-

Lau and Ranmao die yet they also show up in season 2

Lizzy gets kidnapped by a doll man and is almost turned into a doll zombie (not a bizarre doll just a doll zombie)

Sebastian ditches Ciel in France for some reason

Ciel finds Undertaker on some random boat and then Undertaker tells him he's gonna freakin' die

London is on fucking fire

Who caused the fire? Pluto. And thats the only part of the story where he is relevant

The final fight between Sebastian and Ash/Angela is fucking awesome though

In season 2 Ciel is just in a suitcase and has amnesia

Alois pokes Hannah's eye out for spilling a drink or something

Ciel and Lizzy try to find a deer or something and everyone thinks they're gonna break up after just 1 argument

Lau even started a gambling thing where people put down their bets on whether or not Ciel and Lizzy were gonna break up

Some weird old lady set random people on fire because she didn't like her husband, for some reason the fire disintegrated the souls so Grell couldn't collect them which doesn't make sense

Some weird bullshit happens on a train with a Pharaoh, a murderer and Sebastian being cool like always

Alois has a dress up party at his house

Soma and Agni cry because Ciel has amnesia

Soma is dressed up as Sherlock Holmes even though black butler takes place before that came out

Lizzy dresses up as a Native American, lets just say she's lucky Twitter didn't exist in the Victorian Era

Kinda like the whole curry thing everyone turns evil except its from music from a magic instrument Hannah plays and not curry, and Sebastian stops it by playing his own music kind of like the final battle in Equestria Girls Rainbow Rocks

Alois crossdresses and turns Ciel bi curious

Sebastian and Claude have sexual tension in the lake

Ciel and Alois have a sword fight, Ciel is thrown off a balcony and Alois is stabbed

"PLEASE HELP ME CLAUDE, HELP ME I'M DYING 😭"

We soon find out about Alois' backstory and it's actually quite sad and hits a bit close to home for me, I won't go into detail but the poor kids been through a lot, Alois is genuinely an interesting and kind of well written character its a shame he was put in the non canon pile of shite

Claude then crushed Alois' skull and takes his soul and puts it in a ring

Kids are getting their eyeballs ripped out and apparently Alois is doing all of this, but for some reason Scotland yard THINKS CIEL IS ALOIS WHICH IS SO DUMB BECAUSE THEY'VE BEEN WORKING WITH HIM EVER SINCE HE BECAME THE QUEENS CORGI GUARD DOG

He is taken to some doctor and is dumped into a pool of gatorade to fuse his and Alois' souls

Ciel's backstory is basically half of Alois' and half of Ciel's and thinks Sebastian killed his brother Luca

Ciel doesn't like Claude because Claude is a goober

Hannah does a weird thing with Ciel she like... Possesses him? And his eyeball appears in her mouth or something? I had no idea what was going on

Soon it is revealed Hannah was the one who ate Luca's soul and is now feeling like a mother figure for Alois because of it

Grell shows up again (yay) and she keeps trying to take sexy photos of Sebastian

Soon Claude and Sebastian end up at a maze thingy and they need to answer trivia questions to get to Alois/Ciel's soul

Soon they go to some demon island and they end up fighting using a demon sword while Ciel and Alois talk about shit in some void

Claude fucking dies (rip goober)

Alois' soul is finally set free and the poor kid gets to be with his little brother again

Hannah turns Ciel into a demon so Sebastian can no longer eat his soul so Sebastian just becomes Ciel's butler for all eternity and I lowkey feel bad for him, because yeah eating childrens souls is wrong but BRO WORKED SO HARD HE LITERALLY BANGED A NUN FOR THIS CHILD AND THIS IS THE THANKS HE GETS??

Ciel and Sebastian fake their death, the end of season 2 and a few years after that the ACTUAL CONTINUATION OF THE CANON PARTS come out

Ciel in wonderland is very silly

Sebastian as the rabbit is hot for some reason, does that make me a furry?

There is a lot of weird fan service, for example Ranmao keeps shoving her boobs and butt into Ciel's face... LADY THAT IS A 13 YEAR OLD YOU CANT DO THAT-

I'm glad it wasn't canon because I love Ranmao and she would never do that in canon

Madame Red as the queen of hearts is very cool

Weebalu already mentioned this but I wish J Michael Tatum (Sebastian's dub voice actor) did a Alice In Wonderland audiobook in the Sebastian voice

The one where Ciel puts on a play for hamlet was funny, the part where they're practicing is funny because its like an actual theatre club

Soma and Agni are the kids who are always eating, Ciel is the kid who just sucks at acting, Grell is the one who is great at acting but is very annoying and Sebastian is the theatre teacher who wants to commit kms because of all of these stupid kids

Ranmao is seaweed

Grell tries to commit incest during the play-

The special where its basically a 'behind the scenes' thing kind of like an actor AU

Sebastian is a fucking 2010's boy band looking lad

Grell is just amazing in this

In the final "trailer" Grell got pregnant, Queen Victoria built a giant robot, Claude tried to destroy the world with the fucking moon, Hannah... Uhhh lets not talk about what she did, a whole load of "I am your father" type plot twists took place and Alois was Ciel and Sebastian's great great great great great great grand-

The special where theres this character who's basically a self insert but she's a white girl so if you're not either of those its kind of hard getting into it (cries in gay guy)

The POV shots look like something out of Dora The Explorer

Soma wants to marry us for some reason, I wouldn't mind that he's cute

We also get kidnapped by Viscous Druitt for no reason and then Sebastian and Grell save us from a boat in the middle OF THE OCEAN

Finally Will The Reaper (I'm sure there are more specials but I'm lazy)

Grelliam galore

Probably one of the best specials because Grell and William are the main focus and they're just the absolute best

[yuikomorii]

// Ok I didn’t want to go this far but at this point, you guys are hating on Ayato just for clout and it shows. It’s okay not to like a character but straight up spreading misinformation about him is not okay. If you lack reading comprehension, just admit it.

What makes Ayato’s past so sad isn’t only the fact that Cordelia was mean towards him. She mentally and physically abused him, yet what genuinely hurt Ayato the most was the way Cordelia treated ALL the triplets. A part of him didn’t even want to kill her, given that he CRIED in the MB flashbacks because, despite being a huge abuser, he STILL felt sympathy even for someone like her. No matter how horrible Cordelia was, Ayato still wished for Karlheinz to reciprocate her feelings only to finally see her happy.

Don't even get me started on the Adam curse. He was practically used as bait and abandoned to death by his own brothers, but he still hoped for their safety after escaping. That curse literally destroyed his entire life because its purpose was to make the person who ate the fig drown in despair and go insane. That's why he was sooo obsessed with Yui's blood. Heck, he's cursed in routes other than his own, as he goes insane in Ruki's MB one, to the point that his brothers had to lock him inside the dungeon. In addition, in his MB Vampire Ending, he falls into a coma because he refuses to hurt Yui and keep drinking her blood.

Other than that, Laito was the one who made him believe that he wasn’t special, hence he adopted the “I will never make someone special again” mentality. He also wanted to kill him when he was younger (no hate towards any of his brothers though). Kanato was the only one who never did something bad to him, considering that when Ayato was a child, Reiji called him the disappointment of the family after failing a test.

Ayato did twisted stuff too; no character is a saint, but he always tries his best to fix things. Even when not dating Yui, he’s capable of showing compassion, support and a desire to improve his relationship with his brothers BY HIMSELF. Check this analysis for example.

Other than that, despite every time being hurt when trying to show kindness, he still became a very selfless guy who’d sacrifice himself for anyone at any given time. What makes this even more admirable is that according to Karlheinz, he’s literally the only one who actually VALUES his life. This guy who loves life would risk it all for Yui, even when not dating, or for any of his brothers.

Credit to: dialovers-translations and tournesolia on Tumblr

On top of that, he's incredibly empathic?? He forgives everybody, no matter what they do to him, and seeks to maintain good relations with them. In Kino's LE route, for example, he tortures and burns Ayato, but Ayato is the first person to recognize him as his brother because he wanted Kino to feel that he, too, belonged to a family.

Last but not least, nobody silences Karlheinz as good as him. He was also the only one who connected the dots by himself about his dad being the root of all evil (Laito too but that was after the letter), including being the only one who didn’t want to kill him only because he didn’t want to fall into his plan. Check this post.

Oh and, Ayato is actually really big; it’s not that only his fans make him that way! This post basically proves that he’s the IT boy of otome games and I should also mention that he’s the character that sells the most in Japan and China! Just look what Japanese fans think of him. ;)

You can dislike him as much as you want but nobody can deny how brave and pure-hearted he is. He’s the definition of from zero to hero.

As I mentioned earlier, it's fine to dislike him, but don't become obsessed with it, lol. At the end of the day, he's merely a fictional character with endearing characteristics and the male lead. It's really not that deep. Besides, it's embarrassing when the hate comes from Yui stans because she definitely wouldn't be happy of any of you talking about her man in that way.