#it's not interesting if there isn't any tenderness!!

[crimeronan]

"if you were the last vampire on earth it would be enough" okay. Okay.

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #95

[etheries1015]

Imagining Malleus is going through his heat cycle, and finds himself needing to be guided through the motions by none other than Lilia, of course. His subject? You.

(18+ minors DNI. Afab reader, fem pronouns.) this ones for you, bestie @masquerade-of-misery <3 live laugh love "threesomnia" LMAOOO

How you came into this predicament will be far beyond you. How you were now stripped bare by a hungry Draconic Fae, with your bare back pressed up against Lilias's chest, holding you in his grasp with his hands coming around to play with your sensitive mounds. His hands gently groped your tender breasts, flicking a finger over your hard nipples and pinching them at just the right pressure. Your back arched against his touch and a small and yearning moan elicited from your lips, Malleus looking down at you with a flushed face with his tongue licking his dry and hungry lips. Lilia chuckled at Malleus's eager display.

"It depends on the person," Lilia pointed out as if giving some sort of classroom lecture to the black-haired male, "Sensitivity of the breasts isn't uncommon. However, it seems our prefect here may need a little more than simple foreplay of the bosom to feel satisfied..." He rolled your nipples in his fingers and used the bulk of his palm to give a little squish to your breast, your breath becoming ragged as you melted into his touch, holding back a moan from the back of your throat. Lilia smiled at your rather simple reaction, before eyeing the shirtless fae that loomed over you. Malleus gave him a confused look before Lilia grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest.

Encouraging him to move in the way Lilia had, Malleus placed his much larger and dexterous fingers against your soft skin. His movements were much more uncertain, slow, and passionate versus the older fae whose touch left you thinking about the surprising amount of skill he had and the ability to understand your body the moment his fingers touched your skin. As Malleus gently kneaded your breasts with caution, you were shocked when suddenly you felt sharp teeth dig into the crook of your neck. You let out a yelp of surprise mixed with a moan that sounded rather confused and high-pitched- even your body at odds with the pleasure of your chest and the now throbbing of your neck. Malleus looked up in concern at this, almost glaring daggers at the other fae as if to ask; 'what did you do?'

"The neck," Lilia purred into your ear nibbling the lobe, "Is a rather sensitive spot for humans...biting it is also seen as a form of possessiveness, in both Fae and Human mating. Interesting, no?" Lilia smiled mischievously as he playfully licked the wound he had left, your body shivering at the wet muscle that scaled from the base of your neck before teasing its way to your jawline. Malleus eyed the cheeky fae that held you in his arms, before heading his mentor's words and leaning over to take his place between the other side of your neck. Lilia moved your hair to the side to allow Malleus easier access to mark your neck, his hands continuing his relentless motions on your chest. It seemed he had gotten rather carried away, for you winced in pain and exclaimed "Ow!" when Malleus's nail ended up scratching your nipple. He pulled away, looking at you in worry and quickly removing his hands from your body. Lilia chuckled at this, a seemingly common pastime for him at this point.

"Humans are delicate," Lilia said to Malleus almost to chastise him for his mistake, "Make sure she is alright, and then continue forward. You need to think what each of your body parts are doing, and adapt accordingly." Malleus's eyes caught yours.

"Are you alright, child of man?" He cooed gently, his honey-deep voice immediately setting aside any uneasiness you may have felt. You gave him a nod and the okay to continue, Lilia whispering "Good girl," In your ear before his hands snaked down to the bottom half of your body, also bare for the two men to be witness to. Your legs were closed the time they were experimenting with your breast and higher extremities, Lilia used a skilled hand to open your knee and allow your legs to spread in front of the draconic fae. Malleus stared down at your dripping cunt, taking notice of the slick that glistened around your hole. The growing bulge of his pants became much more apparent as it grew in size, practically begging to be freed from the confines of the fabric he so frustratingly wanted to be released from.

Lilias hand snaked down from your inner thigh to place two fingers over your folds and spread them apart, making the wetness between your legs much more apparent for Malleus to see. You instinctively felt a jolt of pleasure at such a simple touch, your legs almost snapping shut if it wasn't for Malleus quickly using his hands to force your legs apart. Lilias eyes cocked in surprise at this action, his lips curling in a coy smile before resuming his "lecture."

"Human women have their own lubricating system. When they are aroused, they produce this-" He used two of his fingers to rub a few lines from the pearl of your cunt and entrance, holding them up to show off the glistening clear substance that now covered his fingers. "This is how they prepare to take the male in." Malleus watched earnestly with rosy cheeks, almost drooling at the simple idea that you were ready to take him in. Taking this point as the next step, Malleus began to unbuckle his belt to release him of his constricting confines. Your eyes widened at this, and Lilia 'tsked' at this, shaking his head. Malleus looked up in mild annoyance at the red eyed fae.

"Although she produced her own lubricant," Lilia pointed out, "We still must make sure it's safe for her to take you. You must prepare her, first." Malleus furrowed his eyebrows at this, sitting back slightly holding back a growl of impatience.

"Does her body not automatically prepare her for such actions? Is that not the purpose of the lubricant?" Malleus inquired. Lilia shook his head and gently rubbed your thigh, as if thanking you for your patience.

"I understand your impatience, Malleus. But you must understand, despite the lubricant, we want to avoid any injury that may occur for being ill-prepared for the size in which she is to take. To prevent tearing or pain, it's best to prepare her first in order to stretch her out to better take you in. Especially in your case, since most human males only have one." You started at this sudden statement, looking back between the two men bewildered.

"O-one? What do you mean by that?" Lilia looked at you with eyes wide with confusion.

"Hm? I thought you were aware? Draconic fae actually has two phalluses. One is for keeping the entrance of their mate open, while the other is to push their seed in for breeding. Although...it would be in your benefit to start with one at first, to ease you into it." Your face fell at this information, looking back at Malleus with your eyes wavering in concern. Malleus leaned over you, using a hand to place upon your cheek and stroke it gently, his emerald green eyes glowing with lust and affection for you.

"Do not worry," Malleus cooed with his words of honey, "I will be sure to prepare you as Lilia instructs." Biting your bottom lip, you nodded and tilted your head back. Malleus planted a gentle kiss against your forehead before returning back to his original position, awaiting patiently for Lilias's next set of instructions. Lilia continued to hold you against his chest, looking at Malleus from behind your slightly trembling body. The trembling was out of slight fear of the possibility of two fitting inside of you, yet it seemed all the more tantalizing and exciting at the same time...

"Now Malleus," Lilia continued his instruction, his hands trailing back down to your folds using two fingers to caress your pearl in a mix of circular and vertical movements, teasing the inside of your hole with only the tip of his fingertips, not quite indulging into it. you whined and found yourself moving your hips in the hope of more friction, for the bat's touch was light and you felt yourself become impatient. Lilia ignored your feeble movements and continued to explain as if you weren't so needlingly begging for more. "Start with one finger, and when you feel it enough, you can continue to add more. You will be able to tell she's ready by how much she can take of your fingers without feeling too tight." Lilia suddenly pushed two fingers at once inside of you, urging Malleus forward. He watched eagerly as a satisfied hum escaped your lips, your body arching ever so slightly as Lilia massaged the inside of your hole skillfully with his fingers. All at once and far too soon for your liking, Lilia removed his fingers, your slick completely covering them. "Now, you try. Move them like this-" The red eyed fae gave a demonstration to the horned male, malleus nodding before following instruction.

Malleus was much more clumsy when it came to such acts, you could feel it in the way his fingers stiffly entered you with very little fluid movement.

"curl your fingers gently and move upward. Feel how she tightens around your fingers when you do it correctly?" you had to admit, hearing Lilia talk about you in such a blunt manner about the ways in which your body reacted was enough to make your entire face red. Yet, the wetness down below was far more prominent with every word he spoke. Once he was able to add another two fingers, Malleus pulled out leaving you empty once more. He admired his fingers that were covered in your substance, before staring you directly in the eyes and using his tongue to lap up your wetness from his fingers. You weren't sure you could possibly become any more flustered than you already were, yet it seemed possible with every new action both of the men took. Deciding you had been stretched out enough, Lilia had given Malleus the okay to the next step.

The tall male stood up and unbuckled his belt, allowing his pants to fall to the ground and removing his boxers allowing his cocks to be seen by your mesmerized eyes. You watched in anticipation as he shuffled back in front of you on his knees, your eyes never leaving the sheer length and girth that he had been hiding all this time.

"remember what I said earlier," Lilia said, using his hand to pull your legs apart further, "Humans are incredibly delicate. If you are not careful when breeding, you could harm your mate. Enter her slowly..." Lilias fingers snaked back down to your folds and once again used his skilled hand to pull them apart, Malleus pumping the top of the two cocks a couple times before aligning it with your entrance. Lilias fingers remained spreading you apart as he talked Malleus through every inch, yet the second the head of his cock penetrated you, you couldn't help but suck in air and almost pull back.

"t-too.. too big..!" You whined, Lilia hushing you gently and planting a kiss upon your cheek. Malleus leaned forward and groaned, his cock throbbing in desire to bury deep inside you. As you were taking inches of Malleus, you couldn't help but notice something hard poke at your bare back, like cloth that was rubbing against your skin. Lilia was hard. You hadn't the chance to speak up about it before the older fae ignored his obvious 'issue' and continued to coach Malleus through the motions.

"Let her adjust," Lilia said to the black-haired male, "(y/n), Tell him when you're ready to take more. And if it is too much to bear, speak your mind." Lilias's words were kind and gentle, his lips pressing against the lobe of your ear before biting down. After a few moments of adjusting to Malleus's size, you gave him the okay as Lilia guided him deeper inside of you.

"So tight and wet," Malleus let out a deep primal growl from the back of his throat as he was able to finally fully engulf himself in your warmth, "So warm...ah.." groaning while leaning forward and biting the crook of your neck, Malleus found himself trying to push deeper and deeper inside of you. Tears pricked the side of your eyes at the number of stimuli you were receiving, Lilia took notice and moved your head to face him kissing the tears away from your cheeks. "There...Good girl. You're taking him so well, aren't you?" He purred, trailing kisses from your cheeks to your jawline, and from your jawline moving his teeth to graze against the other side of your neck. Once fully adjusted, Malleus began to go at a steady pace with moans of pleasure escaping his lips.

It wasn't long before he was fucking you relentlessly out of pure primal instinct, the room full of wet sounds of skin slapping against each other and moaning. Sweet moans that left your lips with one man penetrating you and the other sneaky hands roaming your body. Lilia used one hand to grope your breast and play with your hardened nipples while the other moved down to your clit and rubbed circles around it leading you closer and closer to your release. You could feel the bubbling pit of your stomach as your walls clenched around Malleus's cock and your back arched, a loud desperate moan slipping from your lips and your body trembling with ecstasy. At the same time, you felt Malleus twitch inside of you, with ropes of cum painting your swollen insides white. Your body went limp against Lillia's chest, panting roughly as the Draconic fae removed himself from the warmth of your cunt. Lilia used his thumb to pull open your swollen hole, watching as Malleus's thick seed pooled out of your twitching entrance. As Lilia sang your praises, Malleus leaned forward and kissed your forehead gently, you taking notice that he was still as hard as he had started.

"Seeing how well both of you did," Lilia smiled, "shall we try using the second one, next?"

You surely weren't going to be pulled away yet, not until Briar Valley had another heir on the way <3

[tsuyalovebot]

certified mind blower.

explicit sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader. (repost)

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos). afab reader. established relationship. oral sex (reader receiving). face sitting. caleb spanks you once. improper use of evol. mentions of unprotected sex & creampie. spitting (he pushes his spit into you. deadass). use of pipsqueak. caleb typical warnings (he's a filthy freak, to no one's surprise). 

mimi's missive: your honor, i have no defense for this one. anyway, it's me again; happy belated valentines. take this while i work on my full-length caleb piece; "this" being total filth. also i reposted this because i noticed way too many errors the first time i posted it. enjoy.

you're watching caleb wash the dishes when you say, "i want to sit on your face tonight."

or, one night, just before bedtime, you tell caleb that you want to try face sitting. 

he was fidgeting the entire time, no matter how calm and gentle he tried to appear while the two of you went over the details. you had no idea if he was nervous because he might end up not liking it, or because he might like it too much. 

(little did you know, he was trying his reaaal hardest to not bust a nut the second you proposed it. would caleb ever admit it? no. absolutely not. he's gotta appear cool in front of you, after all. maybe he would own up to it though, after it's all over.) 

but later that night, while he's tonguing you with that lithe, pink muscle in such a delicious, mind-boggling manner, something is piqued and it isn't your interest. your eyebrows raise with every calculated lick over the crevices, the folds, smooth with spit.

he's kind of a natural at this.

the fingers in his hair now belong to you just as much as the rest of him. "you're weirdly good at this. are you sure you've never tried this with anyone else?" 

it wasn't intended to come off insecure; you tried to deliver it as nonchalant as possible whilst your fingers were busy in his hair. 

he knows better though. caleb peers up at you with those stupidly beady eyes—now, however, they were droopy with a deeply rooted contentment. you feel him smile, loopy, drunk on your flavor. you wonder if he'd willingly let himself be suffocated under your body weight like this.

"hmm?" 

the vibrations would make any person's toes curl, traitorous thighs flexing around his head. the idiot moans in unabashed approval, low and shameless as he keeps his eyes on you. 

one large palm of his takes a greedily handful of your ass, and smacks. hot air is breathed out over your skin, his tongue flat against the tender flesh, drinking up the flood of arousal that soaked your labia. 

"questionin' my loyalty after all these years? when i've got my mouth full of you? i'm wounded," he dryly replies. despite his words, he doesn't sound mad at all. more pleased, if anything, undoubtedly by the way it fed his ego. 

you huff, bottom lip jutting out.  "well, you seem plenty experienced—"

"eh, not really."

caleb's adjusting the position with a tight, guiding grip so you weren't fully seated down on him. blowing onto the perky, swollen hood at the apex of your core. enamored, he was drinking in every groove and fold of your bare sex. embarrassment creeps up your spine with a vengeance so violent, you nearly bolt. 

he muses quietly, "dreams will never compare to the real thing." 

"what're you—"

"ah-ah-ah. talk later. also, weirdly good? what's your basis for comparison, huh?"

caleb pulls you back down, groaning hotly as the taste floods his palate. the ravenous glitter in those smoldering lilac eyes reduce him into something primal, wanting to satiate his most base needs. and that was only possible through you. 

and you're keening above him, hands frantically holding onto the headboard in a series of breathless gasps. it's cute; it makes him internally cheese at his effect on you. unfortunately, you don't seem to share the same sentiment, because you're promptly trying to get off of his head as your stomach tenses.

"caleb," you moan, and some branch of his sanity snaps clean off. 

it shatters when you absentmindedly grind your hips, fucking dragging the folds of your cunt up his chin, lips, nudging his nose, leaving a trail of your slick and his spit on his face. 

a plea from you, "wait, it's too direct—"

shrapnels of iridescent midnight and scarlet spark around your hips, fireworks in the palm of your hands. it takes a moment to register, but he devours the transformation of your expression nonetheless. the dazed look, the confusion, the realization. 

and caleb's the picture boy of arrogance as he activates his evol, forcing you to stay in position. the indignation that sparks in your body is only minimized by the thick, sweet moisture that drips onto his chin, one he's eager to lap up, the ambrosia honeyed in the back of his throat.

the world was truly cruel for ever trying to separate the both of you.

"since when did i say you could move? you can't just get up and leave me here, pipsqueak. surely, you aren't cruel enough to deny me some bonding with you." 

the tip of his tongue dips into the soft hole of your sex, curling experimentally. air humming around your bodies, one arm curled over your thigh, the other hand snaking around to smooth over your chest as he spells his name into your cunt. 

c-a-l-e-b. 

then in morse code, dragged out lines and probes. 

then his last name. 

and m-i-n-e.

"if signing papers at work was as easy as this, i'd have more allies than i have enemies." he hums in satisfaction, utterly lovesick as he drags his sticky lips up to suck on your clitoris, savoring the way your muscles tense and quiver in anticipation of your climbing orgasm. he can't wait to taste that.

"you're just as mouthy down here as you are up there, y'know," he comments, eyelids crinkling into crescent moons. as if he didn't say something so profoundly lewd that it'd make any sex enthusiast blush. 

"you must really like talking to me more than you let on." 

he plants a smooch over your drooling entrance, affectionate, as if it'd silence the little squelching noises it made with every slow contraction of your inner muscles. 

contemplation solidifies into surety on his handsome face, his hungry eyes turning into something more tangy, more mischievous. the crackles of his evol warp around you. 

you get the sudden, immense feeling that you're in for it. that you're in danger.

he presses his mouth up to your core, stare intent and full of a love so potent you think you're gonna be sick. "do you think if i come inside, it'll swallow just like you do?"

the air leaves your lungs. you wheeze, "caleb—"

"you'd let me test it, right?" he asks, voice softened by the need edging behind it. "you're always so good. you'd let me, wouldn't you?"

before you could retort on how he was asking so many questions, you're suddenly being flipped. the world spins, and you mistakenly take it as the end of the entire damn universe, squeezing your eyes shut as wind lashes at your skin and your back hits the cushion. 

when you open them, you're kind of bent. upper body splayed on the bedspread, your lower body awkwardly held up by caleb's arms — thighs still snug on either side of his head. now, he's urgently tucking pillows underneath your hips, angling you up, smearing another kiss onto your cunt. everything done with such fluidity, not an ounce of struggle in his taut, muscular form. 

then he spits, and you flinch. before you could even ask what the hell he was doing, he buries his face into you, tongue shamelessly pushing and pulsing against your spasming pussy — letting his spittle pool in there like a filthy brand. heat boils in your lower belly, burning your skin and you're clenching before you could think it through.

"fuck," he whispers. the rare curse slipping like a prayer from his swollen lips, awe heavy in his inflection. "you really drank it up." 

was the bedroom always this hot?

caleb, once so composed and the epitome of restraint, appeared voracious from this position. and the sight of your cunt squeezing around air, pulling the webbed mixture of his saliva and your arousal into the sinful cradle of your walls. 

gravity is the coil of a snake around your body, and you're the very fruit he's craved. caleb hums, thoughtful and pleased, just before diving back in, "let's find out."

[pomefioredove]

may I request headcanons of the overblot boys + Adeuce reaction to a younger yuu that tells them that they’re like a big brother to them? Platonic obviously—

thank you!

awww ofc!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ brotherly (again!)

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, ace, deuce, leona, azul, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, short

Having been torn from your home, separated from your family and friends, and spit back out in a new place with new people, isn't really as fun as it sounds.

After months at NRC, though, you've managed to make yourself a life here. A new home, new friends, even new family.

Now, sitting close to the person you've become fondest of, you let slip that you seem him as a brother.

His reaction?

I am of the (kind of depressing) opinion that Riddle's life would be much better if he had a sibling. he hasn't really thought about it, per se, but he's always had this feeling...

so, when you tell him as much, he just... 🥺🥺 you know?

he's in protective brother mode from this moment on (for better or worse, lol)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the bond you have with Ace and Deuce has gone unspoken, but all of you know what it is. you saying it, though, makes it all the more real

as warm and tender of a moment as it is, Ace still feels the need to make a joke about how sappy you're being (affectionately, of course), and Deuce can only hum with excitement at the acceptance and warmth between the three of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

admittedly, Leona is a little... put off. at least, he is at first. he doesn't exactly have a great relationship with his own brother, and with no other examples to go off of, it feels kind of like an insult

he... gets what you mean, though

and, reluctant as he is to be so vulnerable, he'll say you're just as much of an annoying little sibling to him

lovingly, of course

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul had friends before you... kind of... but none as near and dear to him. he could never quite explain what this feeling was until you said it

ah... that's it. family. he almost feels embarrassed, being so vulnerable all of a sudden, and he can barely get out that he feels the same way

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil has younger siblings already, and he could tell the two of you were forming a similar bond before you said as much. he'd caught himself treating you just how he treats his sister on multiple different occasions (for better or worse, lol), and...

he's glad that you're here with him. that's all he'll say... for now

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

many people would think you'd have to hit your head to say something like that to the Vil Schoenheit

he's untouchable! he's godlike! he's... lol. just kidding. he's quite fond of you, too, and hearing those words come from you is better than any amount of likes, any award or role. you're his favorite person, after all

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

dude, are you trying to make Idia cry??? because he will! and then he'll bubble-wrap you and Ortho so you can never go anywhere or get hurt ever

he... has some things to work through. obviously. but, really, he and Ortho have basically adopted you already, so hearing you say it... in a good way... call him cringe, but he could get a little emotional over that

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you think of Malleus as your brother? then you must also think of Silver the same way. and Sebek... would you be interested in adoption, because Lilia-

yeah. you get it. welcome to the family, lol. Malleus has already decided you're his best friend forever and ever, and hearing you call him family... hohhh that overblot is going to hit hard when you guys get there

[barleyo]

Consequence.

Adoptive Dad! Enji Todoroki X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: nobody asked for this but idc :3 i wrote this as a b-day present for myself!! i luv this old abusive man so bad oh my god!!! nasty old man who tries to be good but fails so miserably :3 old man who is just MEANT to be awful and abusive and gross!! luv it!!! i wanted to do a full on incest fic w him but idk if anybody would be interested >_< just let me know!!

Tags: adoptive-incest (daddy-daughter), age gap (18-50s), p in v, purity, sexual abuse mentions, loss of virginity, allusions to physical abuse, size difference, creampie, gross nasty stuff in general

Wordcount: 1.6k

Once all of his kids had given him a final 'fuck you' and left him on his own, Enji felt the pressure of loneliness crash down on him. Being on top in the hero rankings was worthless to him when he came home to an empty house. Every second he sat alone in his house, he realized that it was simply too big for just one man. It had never been a home, only a house where a fragmented family resided. Only once his kids fled did that realization hit him. 

He needed to fill the space and quick, and more than that, he needed to start over. He wanted to redeem himself somehow. Whole new family for a whole new man. 

But dating was hard at his age, and all the decent women were taken. Only fame-chasing whores were interested in him at this point, and he couldn't blame them. What the hell else did he have to offer? No woman would want to be with a tired, emotionally constipated, divorced, middle-aged man. Nor would any want to have kids with one, especially not at his age. 

Adoption it was. Simple enough. Plenty of kids in the system. Plenty of needy little brats that could benefit from his new-found, new-wave parenting tactics that he read up on in his abundant spare time. 'Don't abuse your kids.' Who would've thought it? Crazy. 'Top ten reasons why your kids won't visit you when you're in the nursing home.' Well, shit. 

He knew he had to go older. He would be absolutely damned if he would take in a toddler, or worse, a tween. He wasn't ready to raise anyone— he needed something already broken in for the most part. 

17? Yeah, that should be fine. He could do that. Old enough to take care of itself for the most part. Another body in the house was what he needed, not another responsibility. A girl? Yeah. Girls were supposed to be easier, right? Girls are sweet and grateful, always considerate and willing to help out. Girls are gentle and tender. 

Just his luck. He got the most clingy girl the foster care system had to offer. It was, at most, a bit irritating for the first few days when you were skittish and nervous around him all the time, but he understood. The problems occurred when you started to get comfortable.

He thought he wanted an affectionate little thing, especially considering the radio silence he received from his biological children, but this was just too much. Wherever he was, you needed to be. All day, all night. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, excluding when he was on patrol. 

Enji knew that adopted kids tended to have abandonment issues, or whatever, but did you have to be such a damn velcro child? It was cute, in a way, the first year or so of your stay with him. He kinda liked it, having some positive attention finally turned his way, but at a certain point it was just too much. 

Like when you turned 18 and decided that sleeping alone was no longer an option. Of course, he gave in. He tried to argue back, but the threat of tears from you was too much for his now mended heart. He was trying to change, damn it. He couldn't possibly not give you everything you ever asked for. 

'Oh, what's that? Sleeping in daddy's bed isn't enough? He has to spoon with you until you fall asleep? Honey, do you really think—? No, no, don't cry. Okay, okay, I'll do it.'

Or when spooning wasn't enough, and you needed to be massaged before falling asleep in Enji's arms, taking up his bed like nobody's business. 

'What's wrong, baby? Daddy's already rubbing your back, what else do you want? Touch you where? Baby— okay, since you said please.'

Every night, his thick fingers ran tight circles over your clit, strong arms holding you tight while you flailed and wriggled against him. You never seemed to get used to his touch. It was just too good. He split you open with his index and middle, curling into the spot you couldn't quite reach on your own. Every night, like clockwork. 

But, of course, you, the mouse who was given a cookie, asked for more. Fingers weren't enough. You needed more from daddy. Sleep didn't come easily enough for you after his skilled touches. You whined for him after every exchange, but he just couldn't give you what you wanted.

Daddy would do almost anything for his baby, anything you asked! Hell, if it made you happy, if it helped to ease the guilt he carried from his older four screw ups, why not? If it helped to mend the hole he created in his own heart, he'd pepper you in every kiss and suck and touch you as much as you wanted him to, but—

he really didn't think he could deflower you. 

The idea was too much, way too much. Kind of hypocritical of him. Finger banging and slurping on his adoptive daughter was well and good enough, but playing a little game of 'just the tip' was a line he didn't know if he could cross. 

It was tempting, and every time he turned you down he felt like a real douchebag, but he didn't trust himself with you. You were so small. He was anything but gentle. He had broken enough of his kids in other ways, he didn't exactly want to add to the score. 

Your cunt was swollen and drooling after your near nightly ritual with Enji. Crawl up into his bed, whine, scratch at him and beg for his sweet touch. You always got what you wanted, except for one thing.

"Why not?" you whined, gripping onto his forearm as he curled his fingers into you from his spot behind you, lazily acting as your big spoon. 

"This is enough." His teeth were gritted softly, trying to hold himself back. "You cum like this just fine."

You let your mouth hang open, shuddering silently at how he seemed to speed up and abuse your g-spot. "Not enough," you were finally able to make out, legs clenching in an attempt to force him to stop. 

Enji huffed, ignoring your whiny excuse. He hated when you locked him out like this, trying to keep your cunt from him like some type of half-assed punishment. Moving your legs back open, spread even further now, he continued fingering you with the same brutal, forceful pace. 

"You're being bratty, baby. I don't appreciate when you act like that," he said simply, looking down at your convulsing body. 

"You always say that," you said, pushing his arm as you tried to squirm away from him to pout. "You don't wanna 'cause you don't love me. Don't wanna get close t'me." 

That was his final straw. He had been holding himself back for your sake, but he could not handle the hurt tone in your voice, even if he knew you were faking just to get him to bite. 

He pulled his fingers out of your hole and pushed them into your mouth, stuffing the digits down your throat. He slipped his girthy cock out of his boxers, jamming the wide tip into your needy warmth. 

"You know that is not true," Enji said, already fucking into you without regard to how you were almost too tight. He'd fix that. Make you fit like a glove soon enough. "I spoil you enough, and you still want more?"

You moaned, sound coming out muffled from his fingers blocking your words. He pulled them out, strings of saliva coating your cheek as he brought his hand back to your clit. 

"Jus' wanna be closer to you 'nd feel you."

He scoffed, pushing down on your clit with too much force, bringing you to the edge of climax already. 

"No, you're a spoiled brat. I give you too much," he said, not meaning a damn word that came from his mouth. "Got used to getting whatever you want, huh? Selfish little pussy taking everything it can get." 

The pure euphoria you get from him being rough with you for once is unmatched. Daddy gave you what you wanted all the time, and you liked it, but he was too gentle with it. Like he was scared to mess up or make a mistake (again). You needed him to correct you, you'd wanted him to fuck some sense into you for so long.

You clenched the silky sheets on the bed, hands trembling while he pounding into you, hips cramming against yours spastically. 

God, he was ashamed. 

Not because he was fucking his daughter, hell, he came this far without problem. He just usually was much better in bed. Your gasps and shaky moans did little to appease him. Any other time, he'd be composed and sophisticated with his strokes, but he was sloppy and needy now. 

His cock kicked inside of you, twitching when he spilled his seed. He was so caught up in his own embarrassment that he hadn't realized how dangerously close he had gotten. 

"Daddy, did you—?"

Your question was interrupted by his hand covering your mouth, unstable thrusts continuing to fill your senses. You couldn't care that he came in you when he made you feel this good.

While your legs shook and your pussy gushed, one thing was made very apparent to both you and Enji:

This was the first time he let himself go and fucked you, but it would definitely not be the last.

[pixiepipedreams]

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — shaky like the first time our palms met in the clam sweat, heavy focus // in-ho x reader

♡  ⁄  pairing: in-ho x reader ♡  ⁄  warnings & tags: fem!reader, canon-typical violence & death, obsessive behavior, lying/manipulation, age gap (reader is 20-22, in-ho & gi-hun are late 40s, early 50s), watched/touched in sleep, mature themes, references to sex, anxiety + coping mechanisms ♡  ⁄ wordcount: 5k ♡  ⁄ summary: the second day of the games prevents you from ending up on in-ho and gi-hun's team. it's a mistake that won't be repeated. the least he can do is try to teach you how to play your assigned mini-game. (sorry, we kinda lost the hints of gi-hun x reader in this chapter, but it'll make a return!) THIS IS PART TWO OF A SERIES! (➊) (➌)

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

You fell asleep with his hand in your hair, your meandering thoughts only brushing the surface of questioning his own motivations for such a gentle comfort. Young-il is an interesting man, and he's certainly caught your attention - more than you'd admit to. Your dreams offer you respite instead of garish nightmares about the first game, dancing atop a river, the water like silk under your bare toes.

In-ho stays longer than he should. The way you fall asleep so quickly under his touch, despite being a self-proclaimed insomniac, only makes that protective pull in his chest grow stronger. He allows himself his moment of weakness - he already had his conversation with Gi-hun tonight, already fulfilled the daily quotient for his own personal mission. So he allows himself this, this quiet moment of watching you sleep - too long for it to be appropriate, but the only people that will know besides himself are the guards watching the cameras tonight. He's sure to give the closest camera a harsh, leveling glare once you fall asleep. He's still the Front Man, under it all. It also means he knows what angle to turn his head so they can't see any hints of tenderness in his already closely guarded expression. At one point, his hand slips from your hair, tracing down the line of your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, dipping inside. He catches himself - not as quickly as he should, but quick enough to prevent the stirring of arousal to turn into full on hardness. At some point, he finds himself almost falling asleep, his head resting on the bed next to you, and he forces himself to get up, leave your side, and returns to his own bed. And if he falls asleep only thinking of you, fighting down an erection, well... he's the only one who will ever know.

The morning is rung in with the sound of jarring music, too light-hearted for such a dark place, and an announcer calling the players to prepare for today's game. Your dreams fade quickly, and you blink awake, eyes scanning the room on instinct. You hadn't forgotten where you were, but the odd peace in your chest feels out of place.

It takes you a moment to realize you're looking for Young-il.

You can't spot him in the sea of black haired men and women, and it surprises you just how much disappointment rises in your chest. The guards call for the players to line up. You walk down the metal stairs, slipping into one of the lines.

Finally, your eyes land on Young-il. He's standing in a separate line with Gi-hun's group, which faintly surprises you. After what happened yesterday, you didn't expect for Gi-hun to willingly take in any of the people with a circle on their chest. But Young-il isn't the only one in their little group who voted to continue the games, and you feel a strange pull, like you should join them. You don't. You feel out of place, like you don't entirely belong with them. Maybe it's some residual insecurity from youth, but you stay where you are, eyes lingering on Young-il as he talks intensely with them.

The guards lead all the players out of the dormitories, into the brightly colored great hall. Yesterday, you had found it strange, on your way to the first game - the strange layout, the colorful walls. Today, you find it garish. Images flash behind your eyes, blood splattered in the dirt, a giant plastic doll with all-seeing eyes. Panic threatens to overtake you, and you take a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to focus on what you can see, take in the details.

You were never one for pastels, but you do like the shades of pink and green. Not your favorite, but striking on their own, if you focus on them one at a time instead of their disjointed clash. The architecture is fascinating, and you find yourself wondering what kind of person designed this place. For some reason, you picture a woman, older, nostalgic. You doubt that her own home would have a similar design, but it would be unique, fascinating. No dull corner.

By the time you reach the arena, your chest has settled, your stomach no longer in knots. The doors in front of you open, and you're led into a wide, open area. The walls are decorated with images and writings that imitate an elementary school. It makes sense, with the childish themes you've seen so far in these games. There are two circular rainbow tracks in the ground, and you focus on that, trying to discern what it could mean for the game you're about to play. The tracks could mean some kind of race? Perhaps a relay, where each member has to run the track before passing off the baton? There's five colors, so would that mean five players?

"Welcome to your second game," comes the woman's voice over the speakers. "This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes. Let me repeat."

Teams of five. You must be onto something. You were never good at running, but if you had to sprint for a short period, just once around the track, you could manage it. It would be advantageous to find a fit team, but the men would be less likely to take a woman in, with their own biases against the so-called inferior gender.

You're lost in thought when you catch the tail end of an argument nearby. "You can’t have the baby unless you make it out of here alive.

"I don’t trust you. You’re dead to me."

Looking over to the source of the voices, you spy a woman walking away from player 333 - that youtuber that Thanos fought yesterday, if you recall correctly. The woman's stomach bulges, even though she hides it under her tracksuit jacket - definitely pregnant. All of you are here for your own reasons, but she definitely doesn't belong here, and the 'X' on her chest fills you with guilt for putting her life on the line for a chance at getting enough money to settle your father's sins. Your heart aches for her, and before you can think better of it, you approach her.

"Can I help you find a team?" you ask abruptly, stopping her in her tracks. She looks at you warily, like she's not one to accept help, compelled to take care of herself alone. It's a look you're all too familiar with, one that lingers in your eyes behind your bathroom mirror.

"I don't need your help," she mutters, moving to push past you. You grab her wrist - firm, but not tight, eyes searching her face.

"Please. It'll be hard, to convince a team to let a woman in... let alone one of your condition. I can help." A comforting smile traces your lips. "I can be very persuasive if I need to be."

She hesitates, but it's enough. Self-preservation wins, in a place like this. The nod she gives you is small, but it's enough. Your hand slips into hers, and you tug her along.

Most teams don't even meet your eyes, and the few that you do approach together dismiss you quickly. Some of their expressions hold a trace of guilt, likely wondering if their denial will be sending the two of you to your deaths, but it's not enough. Self-preservation. Selfishness.

Maybe greed.

You try to stay optimistic, but the timer still ticks down. Eyes scan the room, desperation pinching at your chest, a frantic flutter to your heart, but you don't let it show on your expression. Just like before, in the dormitories, it takes you a moment to realize what you're really looking for, who's face you need to find. But this time, you find him quickly, smiling amiably with his group. There's no time for hesitation, your body pushing through the room, player 222 dragged behind you. When you finally come to a stop in front of them, your eyes flick from Young-il to Gi-hun. "Can she join you?" you ask, slightly breathless, 222 still behind you.

"Sorry, we've already got five people," one of them says, but your eyes are on Gi-hun's, searing. He owes you nothing, but you know he cares about the players in this game, that every death burrows deep into his heart. His eyes are weary, hesitant, but he doesn't break your gaze.

"Please," you say, stepping to the side. "She's pregnant." Your voice is determined, firm, and shock flashes through the group of men. Gi-hun's lips part, but he doesn't speak, perhaps stunned into silence. Hesitation.

There's no time.

You finally look at Young-il again, to find that he's studying you. There's surprise in his expression, but not even a hint of uncertainty. His eyes are intense, like always, and there's an edge of something... concern? Curiosity? Fascination? He's hard to read again, his face no longer easy to read in a group of people.

"Of course, she can join us," he says quietly, taking charge, eyes searching yours. You nod, relief seeping into your shoulders, and you release her hand.

"What about you?" 222 asks, catching your gaze before you walk away. Your eyes flick to the timer on the wall - thirty seconds.

"I'll figure something out," you mutter, then rush off.

It doesn't take long, this time, to find a group standing uncertainly, with only four members. The older woman and her son, a timid looking girl, and a tall woman who carries a certain strength that you instantly respect. It's not an ideal group, but you don't have time to be picky.

"Let me join you?" The words spill out, your own desperation probably obvious, but you're willing to bet they're just as desperate as you are.

10 seconds. The tall woman, player 120, looks at you, only pausing for a moment before responding. "Yes."

"Thank you," you say, bowing your head slightly, your shoulders sagging in relief. It doesn't last long. The announcer's voice rings out, silencing the chatter of the room. Time is up.

The guards call for the teams to sit in the center of each circle, lined up in your groups. Almost by design, Gi-hun and Young-il's team ends up next to yours, Young-il directly next to you with a gap separating you. Sitting with crossed legs in the dirt makes you feel like you're in kindergarten again, sitting on a multi-colored rug, surrounded by peers.

The announcer's voice again. "The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each member will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the mini-games. Number one, the Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gonggi. Number four, Spinning Top. Number five, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide players for each mini-game."

The blood drains from your face. You have an idea of what Spinning Top could be, but the only game listed that you're familiar with is Ddakji from your time with the recruiter. You can still feel the sting of every slap from your losses. You weren't good. Everyone in the room starts strategizing urgently, but all you can concentrate on - and concentrate is the wrong word entirely, your mind clouded with dread - is the way your thoughts swirl into darkness. If your team dies, it'll be because of you - not because of the trembling player 095, or the frail mother. You're the weak link, unskilled in these children's games, dragging everyone down into blood-soaked dirt with you.

"(Y/N)," Young-il whispers, reaching out to put his hand on your knee. The touch is like a jolt, and you almost flinch, your eyes instantly flicking up to meet his. It must be obvious, your panic. "I told you I'd help you, didn't I? We'll figure this out," he says, his eyes imploring you, your entire world focusing into his narrowed gaze.

You take a shaky breath, eyes scanning his face, trying to notice every detail, small features to adore. The crinkled lines by his eyes, evidence of a happier time. Bags under his eyes, and dark eyes that have the power to hold anyone in place. Aged skin, but smooth, soft looking. Bushy eyebrows. A hint of stubble. The shape of his lips...

The caged bird in your chest settles, and your next breath is a deep one. You nod slightly, eyes meeting his, and something in his expression eases. "I trust you," you murmur.

Something a little darker enters his eyes, but it's gone in a flash, like it was never there to begin with.

He lets go of your leg, turning to his team, but the calm in your body stays.

"Player 132," 120 calls to you, capturing your attention. "Do you know any of the games?"

You hesitate, then tentatively say, "I only know Ddakji... and I wasn't very good, against the recruiter."

120 looks oddly sympathetic, but there's a determined edge to the anxiety in her eyes. "Alright. Flying Stone is pretty simple - you throw a stone at another stone, trying to knock it over. Gonggi is definitely out - that requires years of practice--"

"I can do Gonggi," the older woman says firmly, leaving no room for argument. 120 nods.

"Jegi is simple. You kick a weighted paper jegi in the air a set amount of times, not letting it hit the ground. Spinning Top requires some skill, but it's not too hard to master, just requires calm hands and speed. You wrap some twine around a top, then throw it to the ground, trying to get it to spin."

"Uh-- could I take Flying Stone? I've never been good at jegi, and I don't have the precision for Spinning Top," player 007, the son, cuts in, looking a little nervous.

"That leaves Spinning Top and Jegi. Are you good with your feet?" 120 asks, not even skipping a beat. You have to admire her resolve - it's comforting, how she takes control. You're so used to handling everything yourself, that it helps to have someone else who knows what they're doing.

You shake your head slightly. Admittedly, the only game that you thought you had a good chance at was Flying Stone. You've always been clumsy from the waist down, and you've never played hacky-sack, which Jegi reminds you of. 120 stares at you for a moment, then nods. "It's decided, then. You take Spinning Top." Her eyes flick to player 095, and they begin discussing who should take Ddakji and who should take Jegi.

You stare at the ground, hoping your team doesn't get called first. If you get to watch a group play Spinning Top first, maybe you'll have a chance.

As the room settles again, the announcer's voice crackles over the speakers, instantly capturing your breath. The guards gesture for a group from each side to get to their feet, and you sigh in relief - you're not first. As the teams line up and get buckled together, Young-il murmurs your name. You look over instantly, your nervous eyes locked with his. "I got Spinning Top too," he murmurs. "Let me teach you how to play."

You smile, but it's barely a quirk of lips. "We don't have a top," you remind him.

"It's all about the motion," he says intensely. "You can do this."

It's the best chance you have, and you find yourself nodding.

As the game starts for the first groups, Young-il goes into explaining how to correctly wrap the twine. "The first thing you do is wind the twine around the axle. From there, you wanna wrap it tightly around the first three loops." He mimics the wrapping motion, and you nod, trying to visualize it. It's definitely different than it is in America - there are no grooves for any kind of twine back home, just the axle to spin the top from. "You wrap the rest of the twine, and then hold the end of it tightly - tightly - between your pinky and ring finger. It puts the top on a leash, gives you control." One of the teams succeeds in a game, and you glance over, the cheers of your side calling for your attention. "Hey. Eyes on me," Young-il says, firm and commanding, and your breath catches. You couldn't even dream of disobeying, your head snapping to look back at him. His lips quirk, almost forming a smirk, but it's gone as soon as it came. "The next part is all about speed. You hold the top in your hand, then flick your wrist out, throwing it. With the twine still between your fingers, you pull your hand back quickly, almost like a snap." He mimes the motion - flicking his wrist, then pulling his hand back. It's a fast movement, one that makes your own hand shake. You can't do this, there's no way you can be good enough at this game to pass before time runs out. Anxiety seizes your chest, and you take a few quick breaths, staring at his hand. Details. Focus. Smooth palms, square in shape. Rounded, well-maintained fingernails. Deep lines over the shape of his knuckles. Strong hands, that he only needed one of to take down a grown man.

You wonder what those hands would feel like, tracing the shape of your skin.

The thought startles you, but at least you've regained some steadiness. Your heart thumps for an entirely different reason now. One hand reaches out to cup the back of yours, almost gently, and you feel a shiver run down your spine, despite everything. The same hand that pet your hair until you fell asleep, perfectly at peace. His other hand reaches out to take your wrist. He curls your fingers for you, holding an invisible top, and shows your hand the movement slowly. Then again. His palm is warm, but his fingers are cold, and if your dizzy mind weren't already devoting all its energy to the task at hand, you'd find it poetic, metaphorical.

He gestures for you to try the motion again, and you do. You repeat the movement over and over, until the speed comes naturally to you.

Hope enters your chest, the sun dawning through the blinds, and when you look up at Young-il again, he has a small, proud smile on his face.

One of the team reaches the Spinning Top phase, and you turn your head, watching with rapt interest, finally seeing what had only been an image in your mind before. The man playing isn't very good - on his first throw, it simply clatters to the ground. Your chest clenches in sympathy. The team has to march again to pick it up.

"Hmm. I think messing up Spinning Top is gonna take even longer to recover from," player 290 leans over to say to Young-il. He narrows his eyes at him as he leans away, and your heart pounds. It's not comforting.

"Ignore him," Young-il mutters to you.

You nod faintly, focusing on the team as they get back into position.

The games continue. The timer runs down. It feels like every second passing is a needle in your gut, pinpricks of pain and nerves. And just like that - time runs out. The panicked cries of the players on the tracks fills you with dread, and you make a small, wounded noise. Young-il grabs your arm, tugging you until you almost fall over yourself into the dirt, pulling you against him. He hides your face in his chest, but you can still hear the begging, and then-- the gunshots.

You bury your face in his chest as he strokes your hair, trying to soothe you again. It doesn't work like it did last night. Distantly, you wonder if this is even allowed, but no guards command him to let go of you, or for you to go back to your spot. You take the comfort, eyes squeezed shut. No tears come, just a hollowness in your chest as he presses his face into the top of your head.

The guards clean up the bodies. Eventually, Young-il pushes your head lightly. The coast must be clear, but you're reluctant. Still, you let him. He cups your cheek, holding your face so you can look into his eyes. "It won't happen to you," he says firmly, his voice hushed, urgent. "I won't let it."

You give a dry laugh, humorless. "You wouldn't be able to prevent it, not in this game," you whisper. Focus. Details. The warmth of his hand, the fire hidden in the depths of his eyes, where his expression is usually so cold. The twist of his lips, not quite a frown, but something more determined. His hair, falling over his forehead.

You breathe. Once. Twice.

"Players 007, 095, 120, 132, 149." A guard is standing at the end of our row, his masked face directed at your group. Young-il lets you go, and you only tremble slightly as you get to your feet.

"I believe in you. You can do this," he says, one last parting gift of comfort, and you try to believe him too.

You're led to the track, taking your place on the blue line. Your legs get shackled together, and you try your damnedest not to think of anything at all. You're between 120 and 149, the tall woman and the old one. You link arms, feeling for all the world like you're being sentenced to death.

In-ho stares at you as you walk away, knowing there's not much he can do to prevent your death if you fail in this game. It's a mistake that won't be repeated. Despite your surges of anxiety, you'd surprised him with your focus, with the way your panic eased the longer your eyes traced over him. It made him feel... important. He's already important, it shouldn't matter. He leads these games, is always in control, but he'd never factored in an American girl with a strong will, with searching eyes that seemed to take comfort in him and him alone. He catches the gaze of a nearby guard, his eyes holding a warning, a threat. If you die, he will personally ensure that any guard or player that had a hand in it will die too. When he's sure the message is received, loud and clear, he looks back at you, in time to see your head turn, your eyes finding his. He offers no expression of comfort, just his intensity, that possessiveness that settles deep in his very soul. If you, or one of your teammates fails this game, he'll still have to watch you be shot, albeit non-fatally. Painful, but necessarily. He doesn't feel as in control of himself as he usually does, or as in control of the games, and the dark part of him finds it thrilling, new. It's not new. Another remnant of the man he used to be, but the lack of control is so foreign now, like a childhood friend he hasn't seen since high school, finding him once more. Every other part of him is frozen, holding its breath, waiting for the verdict on your demise.

Your eyes find Young-il's, his gaze locked on you. His expression is unreadable, but you have a feeling he won't take his eyes off you, and it almost feels like he's your guardian angel. The guards finish chaining you together, and you look forward, daring to hope.

The pentathlon starts.

The first game is Ddakji. Player 095's trembling hands hold the folded paper, and you wonder how a girl like her ended up here. She can't be much younger than you, but still, you feel a decade older watching her.

She doesn't flip the ddakji on the first throw. She picks it up again, and you're distantly surprised her fumbling fingers don't just drop it in the attempt. Another throw. Another miss. She picks it up. Your stomach sinks as she misses the next one, too, but then 120 throws her a bone, a tip. 095 throws the paper again. It flips.

"Pass."

The crowd cheers for you, and your team moves on, marching in time with the beat of your heart. Game two, Flying Stone. One of the first two teams didn't even get past it. 007 takes the stone that's handed to him. He throws it, misses. 120 calls out, organizing your march forward. You stop in front of the stone, and he leans down, grabs it.

"Okay! Now, we go backwards!"

All of you chant the march of your steps backwards, until you end up behind the line again. None of you can afford the time loss of him missing again, especially you, when you haven't even played your own mini-game before. You find yourself calling out encouragements, words that are almost meaningless. His mother grabs him, murmuring something about pretending that the stone is the face of someone who wronged him. His face contorts, he winds his hand back. A cry of words is wrenched from him, like a battle call, and he throws the stone.

The other stone falls.

"Pass."

The crowd cries up, the excitement of everyone growing, but you can only focus on marching forward to the next game. Gonggi. Only one away from your turn. You all kneel together on the ground. This is the game you know the least about, and as the older woman starts, you find yourself fascinated by the movement of her hand. She fumbles, a piece drops.

"Mom, you said you played Gonggi with bullets during the Korean War," her son says urgently, and the reminder seems to light a fire in her. She lasers in like you've never seen from a woman her age as she starts again. You don't understand the game, but the quick and nimble movement of her frail hands impresses you, gripping your lungs. You don't breathe, just watching, mesmerized. The pieces are thrown into the air, then land on the back of her hand. Her son speaks again, giving her the same lifeline he'd given her, something to imagine, to motivate.

The pieces are tossed up.

She catches them in her fist.

"Pass."

The crowd roars, and you almost stumble as you get back to her feet. It's your game next, but the determination of your team, the palpable excitement in the room, infects you like the best kind of virus. You come to a stop, and 120 releases your arm as you take the top and twine. Your fingers are surprisingly steady as you wrap the end of it around the axle, your mind on Young-il. The first three loops are wrapped tightly, and you finish winding it, eyes zeroed in on every movement.

You arch your arm, preparing to throw it.

As you move, though, your eyes catch on the blood on the ground, from the team before you. You falter. It doesn't help that you didn't grip the twine tight enough between your fingers, and it slips from your hands. Your heart stops. 120 grips your arm encouragingly. "C'mon--" she says, her voice urgent. You almost forget to take the first step as your team chants. One, two. One, two. It only takes a few steps for you to reach the top, and you bend down, grabbing it, trying to take deep breaths. Your team march backwards. One, two. One, two. You're back in place, and you hold the top and twine, hesitating for just a moment. You don't dare look at the timer. Breathe. You wrap the twine around the axle, the first three loops, then the rest. You grip it, the end of the twine held tightly - tightly - between your fingers. Focus. No time for the details.

As you wind your arm back, you feel the ghost of Young-il's hands, guiding your motion. His warm palm, his cold fingers, leading the way.

You throw the top, and with a flick of the wrist, pull your hand back. The top lands on the ground.

It spins.

"Pass."

The crowd erupts, and your teammates grab you. You can hardly breathe, joy overtaking you. One last game. One more. You march together, pride swelling in your chest, even though it's not over yet. You didn't let your team down. You didn't ruin this.

You come to a stop, and the paper jegi gets passed to 120. It looks nothing like you expected, and definitely not as heavy, and you're glad this isn't the game you chose.

"No one watch me, okay?" 120 yells to you and the team. You blink in surprise, but you don't question her, turning your body away as much as the constraints allow, patting 149 to do the same. "You too. Everybody turn," 120 calls out to the crowd. The reason is lost on you, but you can only assume that everyone listens, because you hear the jostle of paper being thrown up into the air, followed by the first smack of it against her foot.

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

FIVE.

You cry out in victory and excitement, turning as you hear the final smack of paper on foot. "You did it, you--"

"Pass."

Everyone is yelling and chanting for your team, and the rhythm, the synchronicity is easy to find after doing this together so much. Unison. Comradery. When you pass the finish line, you almost don't believe it, but the roar of the crowd fills your ears. You want to collapse on the spot.

As the guards come up to unlock the shackles tying you together, you find Young-il's eyes. Easily, this time. You know exactly where he is, after all. He's got his arms wrapped around his teammates, celebrating with the rest of him, his eyes on you, only you. The pride, the sheer relief in his expression is practically a physical thing, and you smile at him, feeling drained, but like a winner. He saved you.

You wish you could run to him, throw your arms around him, celebrate in his arms. But that's not an option. The guards finish releasing you, then gesture for you to follow them, and you only have time to mouth 'good luck' to him before you're escorted away.

As the doors shut behind you, you remember that your own victory doesn't secure his. There's a chance that he won't make it back to you at all.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵ ﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

♡  ⁄ taglist: @pursued-by-the-squid @in-hos-wife @bloooooopblopblop <33333 @nellabear @gloriousjellyfisharcade @politicstanner @xcinnamonmalfoyx @beebeechaos @delfinadolphin @bbrainr0t @ineedazeezee

[valentine-cafe]

hello (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

I'm sure ur inbox is probably brimming with requests rn, so I'm just gonna slip this in and u can take ur time with it!

[Top male] reader who's usually gentle in bed but had to go through a day full of misfortune that got him stressed, and he channels that into pounding the characters hard? When he comes back to himself, he feels so guilty and remains minimal contact with the characters for a few days. (⁠>⁠▽⁠<⁠)

The orders will be tiramisu, affogato and croissant! though, I'm not sure if the characters fit the prompt so feel free to change them out for another. (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠)

And if I haven't lost your interest, may I be so blunt to ask to take up the 📖 anon? If that isn't taken, of course.

Thank you dearly! ♡

˖⁺. “ stress fuck ! ” : 

﹙ multi bttm m. characters x frustrated top male reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . various bttm male characters !! 🍒 : 

you're typically so gentle with him . . . but after a bad day - you can't help but come back and fuck him senseless 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ penetrative sex ˖ rough sex ˖ degradation ˖ some angst | wc : 1.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: here you go! hope you enjoy this! and of course you can be our 📖 anon <3

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

﹙ Alessio 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : He prefers it rough. Prefers his eyes rolled back into his skull and nails dragged down your back. Prefers the loud slapping and lewd moans pouring through the room as you manhandle him. Him. A 6’7”, highly trained mercenary. Have you any idea how fucking hot that is?

So when you were pounding away at his tight ass and spewing your degradation to his ear. Well, let’s just say that your cock ramming up his prostate was not the only thing sending him to cloud nine. The very notion that his soft-as-a-feather boyfriend was using him as a cocksleeve was enough to have him creaming all over himself.

Your hands left bruises on his olive skin. Ones that took his breath away when he looked at the mirror the morning after. His throat whispered memories of your tight grip stealing his breath away. Making him cling. Making him keen.

And then. . . you went distant. What the hell was that all about?

Alessio has never been good at no contact. Not texting you goodnight drives him insane as is. So don’t be too surprised when he’s crawling through your window at some ungodly hour to find out what the hell is going on.

“You - feel bad for fucking me?”

His half-hung eyes are wide for once. Before his hands grab at your shoulders and hoist you in. “You’re kidding right? Baby - I loved it.”

The puppy-eyed look he gives you is enough to melt your stubbornness. You sheepishly explain the entire situation and behold his frown. It doesn’t take much more until his arms are around you and toppling your body into the plush of couch cushions.

“No seas idiota.” ( “Don’t be an idiot” ) he huffs into your neck that he nuzzles up. “I just want you to do what you need, amore. None of that. Especially not for giving me the night of my life, yeah?” He pulls back to stare you down and then gives you a little peck when you nod.

﹙ Vespasiano 781. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 : It’s no secret that Vespasiano has almost always been on the giving end in a relationship. Not to mention his lack of experience when it comes to men — so he’s still growing accustomed to being with you. His lovely boyfriend. Who also tops him. With that in mind, he quite appreciates your gentle hands and tender pace whenever he finds himself beneath you.

With that being said, he didn’t mind getting his ass ploughed that night you came home full of huffs and tensions. Even with his shock when you had suddenly buried your hand into his hair and forced his head into the pillows. When you started grunting and calling him a whore - splitting him open and making his eyes roll back.

He doesn’t thin anyone has ever fucked him out so much before. You got him to whine. Got him to whimper. Stutter and tell you it’s too much. Him. A man of his age, his experience.

The morning after, while the ache in his body and the realisation of what occurred still left him shocked, pleasure bubbled over his entire being. That felt. . . amazing.

Then came your distance. Anxiety swelled in his chest all over again. He can’t handle that. He’s dealt with it too many times from his ex wife. This sends him right back to the panic of uncertainty. Did he do something wrong? Were you mad at him?

He’s not going to bother with calling. He knows it never gets anywhere. So he’s showing up to your doorstep with big eyes while trying to keep it all together.

“Tesoro. . . did I do something? Talk to me, please.”

He’s collapsing into you before you know it. The guilt in your heart has you spilling everything which leaves him confused through his endless kisses all over your face.

“Too rough? Please. Do you think ‘m glass? I’m sixty-six, baby.” He’s chuckling against your ear despite his shaky demeanor. Cupping at your face and letting out a soft croon. “Nonsense. Is it new? Yeah. Do I hate it? Fuck no.”

He hooks you onto his lap soon after and shoots you a look of concern. “If anything I’m more worried ‘bout that bad day of yours. Won’t you talk to me?”

 

﹙ Jìngyí 209. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 : He’s so used to his tender and gentle loverboy that the second you had him pinned down to the marble kitchen counter and fucking him to delirium — he almost thought he was dreaming.

He’s so accustomed to whispering sweet nothings to your ear, telling you how good you are, what a great job you’re doing. The last thing he expected was to have that replaced by your ragged voice muttering curses rough praises to his neck. Your nails clawing down his skin. Your hands making use of his flexible, snake-like body. With coils, pins, rough handles all over.

With all his work stress, of course he was all for you fucking him dumb and limp into the sheets. What he could not understand, however, was the sudden distance you put up after the morning of softness. Where he clung to you and murmured how much you had completely wrecked him the night before.

Good luck trying to remain distant from Mister Zhao, however. You’d find yourself confronted the second you avoided his call to check on your wellbeing.

He’s at your workstep before you can so much as blink. Pulling you off somewhere quiet and giving you a look through those amber, slitted eyes of his that told you to talk. Truthfully.

“You know how much I hate being ignored. . . sweetheart, what is the matter?”

All you can do is break when his tender hand caresses your face. Thumb rubbing below your eye while you sniffle over your rough day. How it resulted in you taking it out on him —- how bad you felt about it.

You catch his narrow-eyed stare. The look of disbelief and concern that melted through the prior irritation from your avoidance. He’s pulling you into his arms and tucking your head beneath his chin with a small frown.

“Silly boy. . . if I had an issue with it, do you not think I would have stopped you? Please, take it easy on yourself.”

You’ll have a quiet and calm day with him throughout. Anything to show you that he is fine, and so are you.

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[sailorblossoms-rankane]

We know Ranma falls first and hard, so what about Akane? When does it start? unlike Ranma, I think it's a couple of things adding up in the background... and why wouldn't it start... here? walk with me

Doctor Tofu is kind to Akane, but I'd say the main reason she had a crush on him was: he was the one male figure outside of her family who made her feel safe. Taking care of her injuries would feel like a form of protection, and Akane wants to feel protected.

It's not just that Akane shows her fiery personality in fights... I recently noticed that while other fighters can show themselves cool and confident in the face of danger (like Ranma). But with Akane, she fights as if she never feels safe in a fight, you can see it. Even when she's the strongest and is winning every morning...

Winning every day could have made her approach these guys looking more "confident" or "relaxed," but she's never relaxed. She always sends Kuno flying, but notice how there's an air of uneasiness (even if she sees him as a buffoon) that doesn't disappear until Ranma comes into the picture.

Ranma showing up as a girl helps Akane relax and reach out as she's too used to being harassed by guys (so she keeps her distance). But even if she finds out his secret in the worst way, she doesn't beat his ass until he's picking on her.

Akane is the one offering the friendly match (connection) but Ranma is also doing something likely no one has ever done with her before: he's being soft, maybe even tender, with her... making her relax. he's making her feel safe (Ranma doesn't fight any other girl like this)

The bathroom incident makes her feel afraid, but when boy Ranma shows himself again, it's clear by the way she stops any attempt of violence to study him (and argue childishly) that the fear is gone. She's tested in the worst way (a way that plays into her worst fears about men, which is hard to shake)... but this tells you she still feels safe, even if she doesn't realize it.

If someone like Kuno had made fun of her proportions, Akane would've beaten him up and moved on. The fact that she's still thinking about it long after the fact tells you he's already stirring something (it's even connected with Ranma thinking about her because he too is also feeling something)

Part of Ranma "falling first" is that he sees her best very straightforwardly from the get-go (and is confused after). With Akane, she isn't even sure of what she's seeing, she's still dealing with her complicated feelings connected to the doc and constant harassment... but she's already interested.

It's obvious that Akane lives rent-free 24/7 in Ranma's head from the moment he meets her, but Akane is not exactly unaffected. It isn't accurate to say he only annoys her at this stage. She pays attention, confides with him, worries, goes after/covers for him... that's interest

You need to pull a rope from both ends to create tension.

Romantic tension requires both parties to feel something, and they already have plenty when Akane tries to help Ranma, and he is protecting her during the fight against Ryoga. Even if she still hasn't sorted out her old crush...

Akane wishes for and values normalcy (she actually has a life) but she only feels normal when compared to the clowns that arrive after Ranma. It's clear by the way her classmates see her that she's an extraordinary girl...

She loves martial arts, but doesn't have the sort of ambitions the insane fighters around Ranma have. She sees it more as a fun outlet, comparable to having a favorite sport. She only holds on to power when someone pisses her off (spite lol) but always chooses normalcy over it

Ranma brings both craziness and safety into her life. You can really see that with Kuno and the guys challenging her: Akane is comfortable supporting Ranma as he navigates the craziness around him, but she isn't comfortable when SHE is at the center of it

Ranma either stands by her side during the madness or straight-up redirects the focus on him (starting from the moment Kuno throws that rose to Akane and Ranma is immediately by her side, ending taking the challenge against Kuno himself). Akane might complain about Ranma "fighting her fights" here, but she quickly gives in to his protection (unless someone is pissing her off... spite, she's just like me fr etc)

In true gag fashion, when Ranma picks on her for her attention, he’s both giving her an outlet and making fighting, which she connected to danger and harassment, a very safe and childish thing. It allows her to relax in a way she hasn’t before he meets him.

When Ranma complimenting her smiles gets to her to the point she's still thinking about it hours after, or that Ranma essentially saying he likes her better as her true self makes her genuinely happy... it doesn't come out of nowhere. She's already been feeling something for him

[allllium]

Sleepover

~ Soft!Jason is the best Jason

~ WC: 1,566 [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort]

- You and Jason have a sleepover

You and Jason have been dating for a couple months at this point and he has yet to sleepover at your house. Not only that but he's never allowed you to sleep at his overnight. For a while you didn't know whether or not to be offended by this but Jason quickly assured you that wasn't the case.

You know Jason went through some shit, as much as he's tried to hide it, the scar on his chest isn't something he can easily hide from the light. Although he's yet to explain everything to you, you try your best to understand some things he simply can't do.

Once you finally accepted that spending the night with Jason wasn't something you'd be able to do, he surprised you.

“Hey sweetheart.” He greets you as you answer the phone.

“Hey Jay, what's up?” You don't know why he's calling you only an hour before he's coming over for dinner, but to each their own.

“Nothing much. I was just wondering how you felt about having dinner over at my place?”

“Oh um yeah we can do that. Is there any reason?”

“Do I need a reason to cook for the one I love?” He was gonna cook at your house anyway.

“You know you were gonna have to cook at my place anyway, what's really going on?”

“Nothing, baby. I'll see you later?”

“Yeah I'll be there.”

As suspicious as it was, you got ready and began your short journey to Jason's place. Even though you don't know what's about to happen you've eliminated a few options. There's no way he'd want you to come to his apartment if he was going to dump you. Not that he would either way. You think.

When you push open the door, you can see that Jason has already finished preparing dinner. He's now trying and failing to light candles on the table.

“Need help with that?” You ask him, taking off your shoes by the door.

“No, I got it.” He gets the candles lit and turns to greet you properly. With a very excited kiss from your boyfriend and a very fancy dinner, you know something is going on.

“Hi Jay.” You smile sweetly. Giving him a tender hug.

“Hi. I'm glad you're here.” Looking into his eyes you can see the vulnerability shining through.

You look around his apartment to see nothing but furniture. You're well aware of Jason's neat freak habit but somehow something seems different. You decide not to read anything into it, considering he constantly cleans your own apartment when he comes over.

“I'm glad too. But can I know why?” It's not that you don't want to be at his place, it's just that you rarely are. You can count on your hand the amount of times he has invited you to his instead of suggesting yours.

“I just want to enjoy a night here, with you.” That's vague.

“Okay? What's for dinner?” You decide to change the subject, he'll tell you what he's thinking about eventually.

You and Jason eat your dinner in almost complete silence. It's comfortable silence, not that awkward silence when you just don't know what to say. You can tell he's overthinking something but you don't know whether or not you should ask about it. The last thing you want to do is pressure him into talking.

Soon after you move onto the couch to watch a movie. Despite your insistence to clean the dishes before laying down, he drags you with him to watch a movie. Something you've never seen before and low-key have no interest in but you're happy just laying with him while he enjoys it.

“Mm Jay.” You poke at his shoulder and try to get his attention. He quickly looks up at you from his position with his head laying in your lap.

“What's up sweetness?” You can barely hear him though the sleepiness coating his voice.

“I should probably go.” You whisper. This is usually the point where Jason politely but firmly kicks you out. He always tries his best not to be mean about it.

“No?” He says as a question.

“What do you mean? You want me to stay a little longer?” Your heart beats faster as you realize what he might mean. This is ridiculous. So he might want you to stay the night. No need to have a heart attack over it. It's just sleeping.

“Can you stay the night?” He asks, even quieter than before, like he's prepared for you to say no.

“Of course I can.” You immediately confirm, continuing to scratch his scalp as if your heart's not about to beat out of your chest.

“I'm sorry I haven't asked you before.” He begins to explain, you try to tell him he doesn't need to but he continues. “I've wanted to for a while now but I haven't been able to. It's because of you, I have nightmares and I've been too scared to really deal with them. But you make me feel more relaxed than I have ever been.”

“I make you relaxed?”

“What? Is that the only thing you got from that?” He seems genuinely surprised at your single question.

“Well yeah. I like knowing that you feel relaxed around me.”

“You're not worried or anything?” He pulls his head out of your lap to make eye contact as you talk.

“Worried? About what?” You raise your eyebrows in confusion and try to think about something you should be worried about. There's nothing you can think of.

“Well I don't know. Like having your sleep interrupted or having to deal with me in the middle of the night.” The more he talks the more anxious he gets. You can tell he's starting to doubt his decision to ask you to stay.

“Of course not. It's not like I get enough sleep anyway and I am more than happy to help you if that's what you need, at any time.”

“You really do need to get more sleep.”

“Okay Mr falling asleep on me.” You roll your eyes in sarcasm.

“C'mon that's on you. You can't play with my hair and expect me not to react. I'm only human after all.”

“Hmm I'm not too sure about that, you're too perfect to be human.” He gives you a big grin as he stands off the couch and starts to pull you off as well.

“Then I guess we'll be aliens together.” He pulls you into him and looks deep into your eyes.

“Such a sweet talker.” You rebut, trying to keep distracted from the butterflies filling your stomach.

“Yeah, just for you.” He spins you both in the direction of his bedroom. Yeah those butterflies are too strong to ignore.

Sitting on his bed, he stands off to the side of it, contemplating something.

“It's okay Jay, I can go if you need? Or sleep on the couch?” You try to stand but he immediately pushes you back down.

“No fucking way.”

“Are you gonna come sit with me?”

“Yes. I'm just thinking.”

“About?” You gently reach over and pull his hand into yours. Softly coaxing him closer.

“This. Us.”

“Hm all good things?”

“Yeah all good.” He smiles and joins you on the bed.

“Good. I really like you.”

“I really like you too.” You can't hide your smile once you see the slight red tint his face has taken. “Do you want something better to sleep in?”

“Yes please.” Without another word, he grabs you some clothes of his, and lets you change privately.

Soon enough you're laying on your side in his bed with him pressed up behind you. His arms quickly make their way over your body to pull you as close as possible.

“This might be the comfiest I've ever been.” He sleepily tells you, warm breath hitting the back of your neck.

“Me too. Your bed is extremely comfortable.”

“I hope so, I want you here all the time.”

“That can be arranged.” You dig yourself deeper into his bed and arms. You feel as if you've been buried in a giant cocoon of warmth and you never want to leave.

It doesn't take long for you both to fall into a deep sleep, and although you expected it, neither one of you wakes up throughout the night.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Jason greets you sweetly from his place by the stove. The smell of pancakes overwhelms you.

“Good morning Jay. Why are you up so early?” You sit on the counter next to the stove, watching him move gracefully as he cooks.

“I wanted to thank you. I know pancakes aren't the best thank you gift but it's all I have at the moment.”

You quickly cut off his rambling, “thank you gift? For what?”

“For staying with me. Last night was the first night in a long time I haven't woken up from a nightmare.”

“Oh Jay, you don't need to thank me for that. I'm more than happy to be with you.”

You hop off the counter and take the spatula out of his hand. You place your hands on either side of his face and pull him in for a gentle kiss.

“I really like you.” He whispers against your lips.

“I really like you too Jay.” You whisper back, smiles blooming on both your faces.

[whisperofwonder]

Good Cop, Bad Cop

Parenting with various Haikyuu men - sometimes you're the good cop, sometimes you're the bad cop.

Featuring: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader, Oikawa Tooru x reader, Tsukishima Kei x reader (okay, you're both kind of the bad cop in this one), Hinata Shouyou x reader

(Reader is referred to as Mom in Tsukishima's, the rest are gender neutral)

Ushijima Wakatoshi

You've just gotten home from the grocery store, and are attempting to put the groceries away while simultaneously preventing an all-out fist fight in the middle of the kitchen over the box of applesauce pouches. It's just the kind of day it's been.

Another shriek splits the air, and you massage your aching temples wearily. Normally, your son and daughter get along pretty well, but today is one of those days when neither of them is in a very good mood, and they've been taking it out on each other all day. Refereeing has become exhausting, and the headache pounding in your skull isn't making things any easier. The sound of the door latch has never been more welcome.

"What is all the yelling about?" The sound of your husband's deep voice immediately silences the squabble, your two children suddenly blinking up at him with the box still clutched between them. Oh, you are so jealous of this ability Wakatoshi has. "Applesauce?" He asks incredulously, plucking the box from their fingers and looking down at them with a frown.

"Sorry, Dad," They chorus meekly.

"Why don't you go to your rooms?" He suggests, in a voice that doesn't invite any arguments. "Start thinking about your actions today, because we'll be having a discussion about it later." They glance at each other before silently turning to do as they're told.

You sigh at the sound of their bedroom doors closing. "Tough day?" Wakatoshi asks, voice turning soft in a way that's only ever reserved for you and the kids. He cups your cheek in his hand, and you nod against it, leaning into his touch.

"Just what I said in the text," You murmur, referring to the exasperated message you'd sent him earlier that afternoon. "They've been at each other's throats all day. I wish I could manage them like you do."

"You do just fine," He runs his hand down your arm comfortingly. "I know they respect you and love you very much."

You nod again, though you're struggling to believe it right at the moment. "I just don't have your gift," You shrug, managing a small smile now that he's home and doing this with you.

"That's why we're a team," He says matter of factly, finally drawing you to him and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I'll get you some pain pills for that headache. After they kick in, we'll have a talk with them together."

"Thank you," You say softly, leaning in for one more kiss. You truly can't imagine doing this with anyone else.

Oikawa Tooru

You've just finished cutting the second apple and put the slices on the plate when your husband dances into the kitchen, your daughters bobbing behind.

"Okay," He sticks his head in the freezer, rummaging around a bit before pulling something out. "Who wants fudge ripple?" He holds up the carton of ice cream as your daughters bounce on their toes.

"Me! Me!" They wave their hands excitedly.

"Tooru," You say his name quietly, gesturing to the apples you'd just finished plating. "We're having apples for a snack tonight," You announce more loudly, plucking the box from your husband's fingers and tucking it back in the freezer.

"But Daddy said we could have ice cream!" The oldest pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Did he?" You ask lightly, quirking an eyebrow at your husband, who shrugs sheepishly. "Did you happen to tell him that we had ice cream this afternoon after we went to the park?"

Suddenly very interested in her toes, she murmurs, "No."

"Oops," He says quietly, shrugging and mouthing a sorry over the tops of their heads. You shake your head with a sigh.

"Sounds like we're having apples tonight, my loves," He says quickly, corralling them to the table to have a seat as you set down the plate of apples. "Why don't you tell me about what kind of ice cream you got this afternoon?" They sulk, but by the time they're tucked in bed, the incident seems mostly forgotten.

"Sorry about the ice cream thing," He apologizes after you've tucked yourself on the couch next to him. "They're sneaky!"

"They certainly are," You huff a soft chuckle, "I wonder where they got it from?" You muse, elbowing him gently in the side.

"Hey," He pouts, a mirror of your girls' pouting faces from earlier. "I won't be tricked next time." He slides an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"We'll see about that," You murmur, knowing your daughters too well to be convinced, but too comfortable pressed against Tooru to care.

Tsukishima Kei

"It's just not fair!" Your son huffs, stomping louder than necessary through the kitchen. "You said Kaito could come over this afternoon, but now all of a sudden he can't?" He's glaring at you across the room.

"I said he could come over if you cleaned your room," You correct, "And you obviously haven't."

"What if I clean it now? Really quick?" He begs, "Then I don't have to tell him you lied to me."

You open your mouth, trying to formulate a response to that twisted logic, when Kei's office door opens.

"No," He says firmly, and your son turns to him, but can't get a word in before he continues. "Kaito is not coming over today, especially after the way you just spoke to your mother. I know you're smarter than that."

"But-" He says weakly, snapping his mouth shut when your husband's lips press into a thin line.

"I know you're not talking back to me as well." He says icily. "First, apologize to Mom. Then you can go clean your room from top to bottom. I want to hear the vacuum running."

Your son nods slowly. "Okay." He turns dutifully and looks at you. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Thank you," You accept his apology with a nod, and that quickly he's off to his room. You close your eyes for a few moments, trying to quiet your exasperation.

"Sorry I butted in," Kei speaks from beside you though you hadn't heard him move across the room. "I just couldn't stop myself after what he said." His hand goes to the back of your neck, gently massaging the tense muscles there.

"It's fine," You sigh, "It was kind of getting away from me," You admit with a wry smile.

"Sometimes I wonder if this some sort of punishment for what an asshole I was as a kid," He says with a smile pulling at his lips, and you can't help the laughter that bubbles out.

"Well, I'm not sure what I did to deserve it, because I was a perfect angel," You reply smugly, pressing in to kiss him before he can argue.

Hinata Shouyou

You've been hearing slightly suspicious sounds for the last few minutes, but a sudden crash is finally enough to make you put down the shirt you're folding and follow the sound, dreading what you'll find.

"It didn't break!" Your daughter is saying, setting one of the lamps back up on the end table. A volleyball rolls to a stop at your feet, and you look from it to your daughter and your husband.

"Please tell me this isn't what it looks like," You say in a measured voice, "Because it looks like you were playing volleyball in my house." It's hard to say which of them looks more frightened.

"We weren't playing volleyball!" She pipes up nervously, "Dad was just showing me how to dig a spike like the one Bokuto-san made in yesterday's match."

"Oh?" You turn to your husband, who looks like he'd willingly jump in a hole if it were to open up in the floor. "Shouyou," Your voice is still even, which seems to make him squirm even more. "Can you tell me why, for even a moment, that seemed like something to do in the living room?"

"I, uh, didn't think about it?" He releases a nervous chuckle. "It wasn't her idea at all, I swear. It was all me." He valiantly takes the blame.

"My darling," You turn your attention to your daughter, "You should know better than to listen to your dad sometimes." You sigh. "Just take this back to the garage, okay?" She grabs the ball and dashes away, glad to be free from your disproving glare.

"I'm really, really sorry, baby!" Your husband immediately gushes, "I know it was stupid! It was, but she asked about it and I was just so excited to show her, I didn't think about it." You're trying hard, but it's almost impossible not to soften at the anguished look on his face.

"Feels like I have two kids sometimes," You can't help a small smile as you step toward him, letting him take your hands.

"I'm really sorry," He repeats, genuinely. "It won't happen again. Volleyballs belong outside," He repeats what has become your mantra.

"Very good," You smile a little wider, unable to resist pressing a small kiss to his lips.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

it is so important to me that within the very last scene Monty appears, he is spoken to with kindness. and by Charles, of all people.

because the only person that Monty seems to have regularly known is Esther, and she treats him with anything but kindness. it's very safe to assume that Monty has presumably spent the vast majority of his life being berated, attacked and neglected by her. there has never been a moment that showed Monty receiving any sort of gentleness or tenderness from her. when Esther does compliment him, it's only to do with how good-looking she made him as a human. and that's her own handiwork. Monty himself is never praised, never acknowledged, never seen for any of his own efforts to assist her. yet, she was quick to both see and act the second he messed up, and not even through fault of his own.

it's so incredibly touching that Monty is finally praised for his own actions when we part ways with him. and by the very person he dislikes so much. Monty bitterly resents Charles. he's not shy about it. Charles is not unaware of it. he isn't all that fond of Monty himself. and yet, Charles is the one to end things on a positive note. it should be ironic, but it isn't at all. it makes complete sense.

of course it's Charles that Monty shares this final moment of his with. Charles is not an idiot, so i'm certain he could somewhat tell that Monty is a victim of abuse. the victim of an abusive parent-like figure, no less. just like him. Charles is rightly furious at what Monty has done, but how could he truly hate him? when he knows full well what it's like to be so scared of the person who's meant to look after you? when he knows full well that horrible feeling of being trapped without any escape in sight? Charles has also experienced being treat in a disgusting, violent manner for no reason at all. he may not have been serving an impossible-to-please witch like Monty is, but no matter how athletic, hard-working or friendly he was, Charles could never escape his father's terrifying anger, all efforts of his rendered futile.

it's interesting that Charles doesn't seem all that shocked in this moment, to see Monty act against Esther. he's glad, but i don't reckon his expression is one of surprise? it's almost as if Charles already had some sort of faith in Monty, even though the crow has given him absolutely no reason to trust him, quite the opposite. but maybe that's not so strange. Monty is like Charles. Charles is the person who outright said that he's desperate for people like him to be right, to be good. we saw how devastated he was when Brad and Hunter were not.

so, these words from Charles must have mattered to Monty greatly. people who are abused, especially by those who are meant to look after them, such as their parents, can often be led to believe that their abuser's actions are somehow "justified," even if it's not a thought they're fully conscious of. Monty isn't entirely naïve, at least outwardly. he clearly isn't under the impression that Esther actually cares for him, considering how bitterly he speaks to her. but deep down, there must be a reason he still stays with Esther, because he isn't restrained physically. Monty's cage is unlocked, he's "free" to fly around as he pleases, even shown to go outside at one point. he doesn't fly away from her, though. and that may be because he unconsciously feels that he owes Esther his complete loyalty.

but this moment could have changed that. if Charles, who Monty doesn't like and isn't liked by in return, who Monty was impolite and passive-aggressive to can speak to him kindly - what right does Esther, who Monty tries to be helpful to, have to treat him with such cruelty? what right does she have to scream at him, to grab him, to mutilate him? when he's done nothing but be her loyal familiar, having only committed the sin of feeling too much for her liking, human feelings that she forced upon him?

this scene is towards the end of the show for us. but for Monty, maybe it's a turning point in his life.

[chiliyue-archived]

Boom

↬ Things you unknowingly do that make his heart skip a beat.

Gender Neutral Reader

Characters; Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Jade Leech, Jamil Viper, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge

Riddle Rosehearts

Lip stick smudges - It was just an innocent kiss really but you decided to kiss him right after experimenting with makeup you found. And oh- it left a mark where you kissed him. To be quite frank, Riddle hadn't noticed it until someone pointed it out to him- to which he proceeded to barade you about public appearances and reputations and blah blah blah. He's a blushing mess at the embarrassment, but he can't help stare at it when in front of a mirror, his features betray him.

Telling him 'I love you' before bed. Love was still and will continue to be a mysterious feeling to the redhead. Being told I love you from someone he values(which in itself is astonishing for him to fathom) makes his emotions go haywire. Most of his nights are filled with his phone to his cheek, ears straining to catch any sound from you. Your voice easily lulled him to sleep regardless of what he was doing. And just as his heavy eyelids close to allow somber rest to flood his consciousness, his ears catches those lost few words that always made his heart swell. 'Good night, I love you'

Feeding him strawberry tarts and cherry pies. He would argue with a very prominent blush on his face that he can feed himself. Though despite what he says, he can't seem to deny you whenever you teasingly probe the silver fork towards his lips with the powered tart glistening in strawberry jam. 'Riddle you got crumbs on your cheeks' you would say with a playful smile. The pad of your thumb brushed over the spot, a focused expression growing on your face. And oh, he's gotten even redder. You imagine this won't be the last this happens.

Ace Trappola

Jumping into this arms. How it first occurred that's up to you to decide. The moment he sees you sprinting towards him, your voice beaming; 'here I come!' It coaxes a grin on his face without fail, his hands letting go of everything he's holding(even if its coffee). In many instances, the both of you topple over but that cheerful grin on your faces remains ever permanent as he presses kisses to your cheeks, nose and lips. Being able to be playful with someone he loves dearly is enough to make his heart swell.

The small little compliments. Although Ace builds himself to be tough in the face of any situation, sometimes those efforts can be overlooked. Telling him simple things such as, 'you look really good today' or 'your abilities are getting better' can go a long way for him. And his prior experiences with romances left him in a rather terrible relationship in middle school. He wants to do and be better, so tell him that he is. It will make him feel so much better about himself and fall more in love with you in the process <33

Squeezing his hand. It's a simple gesture compared to the other ways he conveys his love to you. But in public, he understands that such pda would be better reserved behind closed doors. Don't get me wrong, he isn't afraid to kiss you even if Deuce was 2 ft away. With your fingers interlaced with his, he feels within your presence at all times. Knowing your there beside him is a greater feeling than he may admit outloud. And when you squeeze his hand, whether fortuitous or not, it brings him that unsaid reassurance and drops of small tender feelings; a silent 'I love you' 😙

Jade Leech

Matching mushroom things. I believe this is quite self-explanatory. It combines two things that a bring a small grin to his face with little fail. His partner showing mutual interest into his fixations, which others may view as gross, brings a rather odd assortment of new emotions. His head would tilt to the side, brows raising as you held the two charms between your fingers. 'We can now match,' you would say, your voice betraying your shyness. It was such a small thing really, but he holds onto the charm and all other silly little items you bought him close to his chest. As peculiar it may seem to others, it means a thousand words to him.

Preparing him a cup of coffee every morning or when he's working. Jade has always had a role similar to a butler, not that he complains though. However, with having a large responsibility in managing the Monstro Lounge, he grows familar with tending to others needs and wants. And he can do so for many hours without break lest Azul wants the whole business to end in chaos. So when you start going out of your way to wake up early to pour him a cup of coffee, he was perplexed at frist. It was a minor gesture but it saved him additional time. Usually he was the one making you drinks and preparing to make sure your morning went smoothly as possible, so reciprocating it is something he greatly appreciates.

Sticky notes with cute messages. When you started placing the small sticky notes about his room and the lounge, it greatly amused Jade. On the small colorful papers you would write him little sediments and expressions of your affection for him. You even scribed some small reminders for him(though he hardly forgets) of important things he had to do and such, in which he is grateful for the added effort. Will never say it outloud unless you ask him specifically, but he stores all those little messages within a small box hidden within his room, returning to it from time to time. One time Floyd caught him reading those rather silly notes and noticed the ever small smile on his brothers lips

Jamil Viper

Having extra hair ties for him. Jamils hair is l o n g to say the least. And among the most busy of days, he can forget to properly tend it as he always does. Holding onto that extra hair tie does a lot for something that may be simple to another's eye. Putting in that additional care in order to lessen the hassle makes him blush and go all red. Even better if you help tie his hair, he melts within your touch when you gently card your fingers through his scalp. you might even be able to get away with some interesting hairstyles.

Reminding him to rest. He is so use to waking early and sleeping late in order to fulfill all of Kalims little needs. To say the least, he can be ran haggard and still have a magnitude of things needed to be done. This was the lifestyle he had became accustomed to unfortunately. So when you gently pried him away the kitchen and took him to get some quality rest, he was quite surprised. His face would flush when you press your lips aginst his forehead, like a parent to their child, bidding them a goodnights rest. His role of servant was deeply burned in his brain despite what his own ambitions had told him. Simply reinforcing those healthy habits, Jamil can feel more at ease. 'How did I get so lucky...' He would question during such moments as his languish body takes some rest.

Brushing his hair out of his eyes/face. With wild and long hair comes with many strands falling from his ponytail and coats over his eyes. To Jamil, this was minor inconvenience in which he has learned to deal with. He nearly jumped back when he first felt the pads of your fingers gently pry those loose strands from his eyes- his eye widen when you tuck it behind his ear. And oh dear- he's turning red now and his cheeks are growing unbearably hot. 'Are you sick?' 'No-' 'let me check your forehead' ' (●´□`)'. He comes to the realization that he is rather a bit touched starved, before his brain could even acknowledge it, he would be leaning into palm of your hand.

Malleus Draconia

Paper lunch bags. He feels so utterly spoiled when you make him lunch. Gobbles that up like it's his day alive and thanks you profusely afterwards. It could be something burnt, badly cooked or somewhat equivalent to Lilias cookings; he's so grateful. Shows said gratitude in the form of many kisses to your cheeks and lips. In his mind, Malleus is the one who's supposed to be spoiling you, you shouldn't be lifting a finger! But your deviation to him makes a lovely tingle in his hearts which ripples throughout his body. Bonus points if you leave cute little notes; like Jade, he'll store them somewhere safe- perhaps being even a little more protective of your small gifts.

Giving him kisses. He had always been the one giving you affection- both physical and verbal. But being the one kissed, he becomes absolutely smitten. Now Malleus is someone would much rather shower his partner in bits of romance and love at any moment. But being on recieving end leaves his heart bursting with a warm sensation, rare stutters falling from his lips as he ask for another and another. Adores when you shyly ask, 'May I kiss you?' Doesn't care if it leaves a bruise, he just want to be kissed by you and learn how wonderful love can be.

Nicknames. He's been alone for most of his time with the exception with the Diasomnia crew. He's been surrounded by couples, which he has observed from afar ways endearment is exchanged. Nicknames are perplexing to him, what makes an alternate versions of your name so appealing? He wouldn't really know until the first time you called by a nickname. It would catch him off guard but the effect would be long-term; a small smile, augmenting that tingling within his chest, and the want to adorn you in various terms of affection in return.

Lilia Vanrouge

Learning his native language. I would assume his culture would be greatly embedded with him considering he had fought in wars, been honored prestige titles and the held the responsibleility raising the heir. His mother language is by no means a simple thing to learn, just as any other dialect, it contains many rules which can easily frighten anyone whom are attempting to learn. And although you be messing up with pronunciations, and perhaps even called him a crow without much awareness, he appreciates the fact that you're attempting. Gives you many pointers and for each phrase said correctly comes with a reward of snuggles. Becomes a very proud bf when you're able to reply back to him in his language

Your teaseful remarks. Calling him old. Many students look at the bat fae with a perplexed gaze, underneath which holds judgment towards his many- er enthusiastic approaches you can say. He was known for sending chills out the backs of unsuspecting ongoers- being well regarded as an enigma. Though many of his playful gestures are scoffed at and ignored, you on the other hand play along with his silly quips and feign innocence as he teasingly messes with you. Only for you to pull a trick of your own that makes his cheeks warm up, he finds you truly amusing! May even refer to you as his partner in crime, or 'double trouble duo' either way, he loves to reciprocate those silly moments with you which you can both laugh about later.

Wearing his clothes. Lilia finds you truley adorable in all the outfits you pick out. Even a rather insipid uniform lacking much color seems entirely different on your form. And he finds you silly as you adorn his dorm unifrom, covered with unmatching fabrics and ends. He can't stop the chuckles that leave him when he notes the sheer size difference between you and his rather large coat framing your body. He notes the way the belts curved around your waist and looped down against your hip and how his gloves hugged your hands just right- and now he can't bring himself to drag his eyes away. He swears it looks cuter on you than it does him, may even pout and sulk in a teasing way that you outshine him. But he can't help but stare at you with a lovestruck gaze.

[38riku]

𝐁𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐓.𝟑 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🎂 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

includes pomefiore (separately). no warnings. fluff. i should've did this by dorm but i didn't think i'd make more than one part.

read part one. part two.

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓

you've come to wish me a happy birthday? heh, as you should. come, sing my praises now that my beauty has been tempered by another year of age.

it isn't unordinary for Vil to receive compliments. he's cemented himself in the limelight and his adoring fans never fail to comment on his beauty and talent.

so, when he jokingly (not so jokingly) asked you to sing his praises, he expected a sarcastic "your perfection is unattainable" or something along those lines.

but, of course, you managed to surprise him.

"you deserve everything your heart desires." what a cheesy line. it was a staple in romance movies that hasn't seemed to die out despite its repetition. he now knows why, albeit because it came from your lips and not that of someone just doing their job.

"and as your beauty matures each and every year, may your tenacity strengthen and elegant vigor continue to shine brightly."

Vil clicked his tongue, a ghost of a smile creeping on his face as he did his best to maintain his composure.

"I almost feel guilty that such heartfelt words are directed towards me and not a lover of yours."

You laughed, as if the thought of a lover was unbelievable. If only you were aware of the many admirers after your tender heart, would you still find it amusing?

"Don't be silly Vil. You're the fairest of them all, the only one worthy of these words."

You had him stumped. The way you said such things as if they held little to no weight.

For a moment, being the fairest of them all wasn't appealing. He is the fairest in your eyes, which amounted to more than you could ever imagine.

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓

merci! your dulcet tones are the greatest gift I could receive. you may consider your sentiments most appreciated.

rook was satisfied with your simple 'happy birthday' although it wasn't so simple to him. your smile was blinding, genuine glee filling your eyes as you greeted him with more joy than usual. to think the day of his birth elicited such excitement.

"i hope you like your present."

"any gift from you is a priceless treasure my dear. the mere fact that your thoughts were captivated by me makes my heart flutter."

he adored your flustered expression but wasn't interested in teasing you too much today. opening the large box, he audibly gasped at the sight. "you've truly outdone yourself. i am undeserving of such a magnificent piece."

he inspected the hat, humming in satisfaction at the handiwork and embroidery. a small chuckled fell from his lips as he heard your gentle sigh of relief.

walking toward you, he removed his usual hat and placed it on your head, wearing the new one it its stead. "we make a magnificent pair, do we not? even with a piece as fine as this my beauty is lackluster to yours."

"it's your birthday rook. i should be the one complementing you, not the other way around."

he laughed at that. your compassion and generosity made his heart soar to heights unknown.

"your beauty deserves to be appreciated no matter the occasion. your presence alone fills me with comfort. you have a voice that is sweeter than the chase of a hunt. i am inclined to speak on your physical appearance, but, I am unsure that you'd be able to handle such honeyed words."

after all the time you've known one another you still weren't used to his flattery. it's not his fault, you were positively stunning in every aspect of the word.

it's his day of celebration after all, and he'll spend it as he sees fit. surely you will allow him to fawn over you? he can't think of a better way to spend his birthday.

𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐋 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐑

you, ah, you want to celebrate my birthday? s-sorry, I'm not used to hearing that from anyone other than close family. thanks.

"tada! happy birthday!"

you removed your hands from his eyes, moving to stand in front of him with a knowing smile. "a feast fit for the birthday boy. well, a meal, since it's just the two of us."

yes, just the two of you. that's probably why his usually strict house warden was a bit more lenient with him missing an etiquette lesson.

hopefully he didn't think it was something more than two friends sharing a meal. that's all there is to it, right?

"thanks! this looks amazing."

"remember that takeout i shared with you and the guys not too long ago? it's the same place. i figured since you liked it so much we can try more stuff!"

golly, weren't you just a ball of sunshine. if he was to thank ace and deuce for anything (which isn't much) meeting you would be top on the list.

he couldn't remember the last time he was able to enjoy the simple pleasures in life like cheeseburgers, chicken tenders, fries, onion rings; but boy was it the most fulfilling meal of his life.

spending the evening with someone close to him, eating, joking around, and enjoying each other's company. you might not think it's much, but, the time you shared cured his home sickness, even for a little while.

it was his first time celebrating his birthday away from home after all.

"one more surprise." you place a finger on your lips, winking, before disappearing in the kitchen.

in your absence, he did his best to calm his beating heart. you laid it on thick and didn't even know it! don't you know where he's from, a meal is a way to a man's heart?

did you know that? was this a cover for blatantly pursuing him? no, there's no way, just wishful thinking on his end.

his thoughts came to a halt as you reappeared with a singular piece of pie in your hands and a candle. placing it in front of him, you quickly lit it, and ushered him to make a wish.

usually, he wishes for the same thing every year, but, just this once, he wished for something utterly selfish. something that, when he blowed the candle, he looked toward you sheepishly, denying to tell you because it "wouldn't come true."

one day it'll come true. one day, he'll be the apple of your eye, and sweep you off your feet.

© 2024 — 38riku. Do not copy or repost or plagiarize my work. All Rights Reserved.

[hochsleep]

Relationship with Daryl Dixon (headcanons)

This is my first experience writing headcanons, but I have a lot to say! And yes, I used a gif from Beth, but we don't support that pairing here, guys.....

Also, thanks to the author of the gif!

Pronouns: she/her (fem!reader) / (I'll do headcanons for Daryl's relationship for gender-neutral readers later on)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/fem!reader (Y/N)

Warnings: no, not this time. Everything is decent (underage readers can read)

• Daryl Dixon is far from stupid. I mean, he can certainly tell the difference between romantic interest and friendly sympathy. He has Carol, his best friend, and he knows that he feels for her the kind of platonic friendly love he usually feels for a family member. But that's not the case with you. Sure, you've most likely known Daryl for a long time (assuming you joined Rick's group at any point from Atlanta to Prison, can pick at your discretion). So since you've known each other for a while, Daryl has had time to realize that his feelings for you are far from friendly. All the tenderness and care that he feels for you hardly compares to friendship. Daryl definitely didn't feel like kissing Carol's lips every time she came into his field of vision. That's the difference.

• But realizing your feelings is only halfway there. Daryl isn't the type to make the first move and declare his love. He's a very insecure person because of his past, so it would be hard for him to believe that someone like you would want someone like him. Daryl will just watch over you from the sidelines, he will make sure you are safe and will always be there to protect you. Even if it's just a harmless fall down the stairs when you were arranging jars of canned fruit on the top shelf in the Alexandria pantry. He will notice that the stepladder beneath you is wobbling dangerously and will be there to catch you and prevent you from bruising any part of your body. He will take great care of you.

• Daryl is probably the type of man who idolizes and admires the girl he's in love with. Both her character and inner world, as well as her looks. He would spend hours just looking at your unconditionally beautiful face. Every mole, every freckle, every wrinkle in the corner of your eyes when you smile. God, he could never get enough. Every part of you is perfect. Daryl's not sure he's ever seen a more beautiful woman. I mean, he probably had a soft spot for women he personally thought were pretty in the past, but it was never more than a glance in their direction. Just trying to say that Daryl isn't a pristine and innocent man who never thought about women. Over the many years of his maybe not the most prosperous life, Daryl has definitely had his fair share of beautiful women. But it had always been respectful. Mental admiration from the sidelines. Daryl never "barked" or "bit" like Merle. Daryl is much more respectful of women.

• That's why he likes to watch from the sidelines and think about you. A lot of thinking. Daryl is indeed a man of few words, but he has more than enough to think about. And when he falls in love, you become the center. Except when Daryl has to think about survival or when he and Rick are making a plan of action to save the group. But rest assured, all of Daryl's free time is spent thinking about you. He's very observant and remembers every little thing about you so he can think about it later. Do you like to read? Daryl will listen to you talk about your favorite books and find them during one of your outings, rest assured. Do you like wildflowers? Great, a bouquet of a hundred of them will be waiting for you on the doorstep of your Alexandria home when you come home after a hard day's work. Maybe you like a certain kind of clothing? Like something knit? Daryl will either find it during the outing or ask Carol to help with it when she's not busy. He won't say who it's for, but Carol certainly knows. And after you get those little gifts, Daryl will watch you smile widely because you know who left them under your door. And Daryl will think about your smile until he falls asleep at night. But he'll only dream about you, too.

• Somehow you were the first to admit your feelings because Daryl is actually cowardly about these things. A man can take on walkers or hostile people with his bare hands (like the Saviors), but he definitely can't just go and tell someone he really likes how he feels. No, you have to push him. And hints aren't enough, you have to say it outright. And then probably prove the sincerity of your words of love for the rest of your life, because Daryl Dixon is a very insecure man. He knows in his brain that you really do love him and will be faithful to him, but those childhood traumas are really getting in the way of his life. Be prepared for that.

• Your relationship with Daryl will gain momentum gradually. I don't think Daryl really likes all these formalities and labels like "girlfriend" and "boyfriend". You're just his and he's just yours. There's no need to complicate it all, the world of the zombie apocalypse is already very complicated. But if you care about dates and formalities, surely Daryl can learn to take it seriously. Not right away, but he will. Just give him time and he'll lay the whole world at your feet. And he'll start marking your anniversary with a marker on his calendar so that he definitely won't miss this important day for you (he won't admit it, but for him too). Daryl will be learning and you'll have to be a good mentor in this relationship for the first few years. It will be worth it, trust me.

• Daryl Dixon gets attached to people easily. He's like a big loyal dog. I mean, have you seen how loyal he is to Rick and Carol? He bites at first, doesn't want to let anyone in, but eventually he gives in and lets you take his heart and soul under his protection. Take care of that. My point is that this is the same way love works in Daryl's case. I'm pretty sure Daryl doesn't believe in the concept of love at first sight and stuff, he rather believes that love only comes about through the process of a relationship. So at first he thinks you are just a pretty woman. Then a friend. Then a good friend. And yes, he may feel sympathy, affection and probably crush at this time, but not love. No, he falls in love with you gradually. It's a slow process, but in Daryl's case it will be forever. He's definitely a one-woman man. And when he allows himself to really love you and not just be a little bit in love, when his heart completely belongs to you and he finally says "I love you" with all seriousness and responsibility, rest assured that this is love. This man will show you what true love is. Safe, sincere, and endlessly committed. Just give him time. Let him love you.

• The following headcanon (though I think it's unqualified canon) about Daryl's loyalty follows from this. You may try to be jealous of him or think he'll fall in love with someone else (it all depends on your confidence), but Daryl will prove time and time again that he's only loyal to you. This man is serious about his and your feelings and your relationship. Therefore, he will not give not a single reason for jealousy. But there could be quite a few women around (and men probably too) who might like Daryl. He doesn't care, he will never look at anyone else. Why would he do that when he has you? You're perfect for him and his heart doesn't belong to him anymore. So if Daryl notices your jealousy and insecurity, he'll spend all his time trying to prove to you that you're the one for him. He's deeply committed. To Rick, to Carol, to Maggie, to Alexandria. He's eternally devoted to you.

• The relationship with Daryl will be full of complexities, let's not turn a blind eye to that. He's a complicated man with a lot of trauma behind him. The situation is more acute if you're a complicated person, too. There's a lot to put up with. Probably a lot of fighting at the beginning of the relationship, especially if we're talking about Daryl from the first seasons of the show. But if you're both willing to work on that relationship, it will work well. Again, not right away, but it will. Daryl is sure that his love for you will be enough for both of you and certainly for solving all your problems in this relationship. He will try his best for you and you will try your best for him too.

• Physical intimacy is probably going to be difficult. Daryl's not a fan of close physical contact, especially with someone he can't call his family. You know, the boy had a shitty childhood. But he feels the need to feel the warmth of your skin on his skin. So he may unknowingly touch you before your relationship even begins. It could just be a "casual" hand collision when you both reached for the same item on the shelf. Or he may lightly touch your shoulder when he needs to get your attention and say something to you. You shouldn't pressure him with this and force a hug or anything like that. He will definitely come to it on his own when he's comfortable and he sees that you're okay with it. As your relationship progresses, he will open up to new types of physical contact more quickly. Sure he'll hug you a lot, try to hold your hand in his, but it's all in private. And of course kissing. I think Daryl actually likes kissing, but he's not very good at it for lack of much experience. Teach him how to kiss well if you have enough experience yourself. He'll be a good student. Especially when it comes to lessons involving his lips on yours. I'm pretty sure Daryl will become very clingy as your relationship progresses. When you're alone together, he won't be able to feel comfortable unless his arms are around you in one way or another. He physically needs to hold you, to bump his nose into your neck and hair to smell your scent, which he loves so much. And of course kissing. Gentle kisses or passionate French kisses, he loves it all.

• Daryl definitely doesn't like the display of attachment on the publick. He considers it yours and his alone. Something private that needs to be kept out of the public eye. Well, he's also pissed off by those ambiguous looks Carol and Rick give him after you call him "baby" or "cutie" in public. But Daryl is willing to hold your hands and will even let you kiss him on the cheek in public if he's in a good mood. He'll save the rest for the two of you alone in your sweet home in Alexandria.

• As for intimacy, everything is ambiguous here. I think for Daryl it is not at all a mandatory aspect of the relationship. If you are asexual, he will have absolutely no problem with this. You are more than enough. The opportunity to see you smile, hug you and make you happy is all he needs. Sex is not necessary and Daryl can definitely live without it if you are not interested in sexual relations. But if you are not against it, then he will be happy to please you. I mean, he does it every day just by existing and loving you, but if he can please you in a sexual sense, he will be happy to do so. But again, not right away. You both will go to this gradually. Trial and error. Only when he completely opens up to you and is not ashamed of his scars, knowing that you love them completely and completely because they are a part of him. But most importantly, when you yourself tell him that you are also ready, then you can act. Daryl has some experience. Merle ordered Daryl... a prostitute for his twenty-first birthday and Daryl had to do it. I think he was the one feeling like a prostitute, not the woman. And maybe he's slept with random women from a bar a couple of times after drinking too much. But it was never anything special and not out of great desire. With you, it's different. Sex with you is his way of showing you love in a new way. Either way, he knows how it works, but you still need to guide him. Show him how you like it and help him the first few times. Daryl is a quick learner, especially if you help him. So pretty soon he'll memorize all the right places and positions to make you feel good as hell, nothing less. Daryl will make sure that you feel good first.

• Your comfort is Daryl's absolute priority. Over the years, he will learn to compromise and give in when necessary. Daryl loves you unconditionally and is ready to be on his knees in front of you, this is what you have done to him with your love and tenderness. Daryl Dixon has become soft and fluffy around you. Just for you. Merle would call him a pansy and laugh, but Daryl doesn't care. Not anymore. You're all he cares about.

• You're his safe place. His home. His heart and soul belong to you, take care of it. And then Daryl Dixon will move mountains for you, you bet he will.

~ A cute little headcanon as a bonus: I honestly think the soundtrack of the relationship with Daryl, is the song: The Goo Goo Dolls - Iris.

[ihatetheinternetandeveryoneonit]

Hey I want to throw out a theory/headcanon out there, especially since discourse around Astarion's relationship with sex is in danger of becoming a little reductive.

So, if you dump Astarion early and tell him that that night with him was a one-time thing, he gets genuinely sad and admits that it was special and memorable.

So idk, that opens up some interesting implications and tells me that, at least starting that first night with Tav, sex isn't just transactional. At the very least, Tav is the first time he's fully consenting to sex, regardless of his motives. That alone is going to make it special. But that special-ness wouldn't be so noteworthy if he was completely sex-averse. This was a new experience and he found himself enjoying it to some degree when it happened--HOWEVER the reason for that enjoyment could be any number of things. The "transaction" may have been more pleasurable than he expected, he could have been enjoying the novelty of being free and playful with sex, Tav was someone actually attractive to him, or he could have just simply felt cared for and treated with the tenderness he never knew he needed.

Don't get me wrong, his view on sex was still warped and damaged/damaging, and based on survival. And he absolutely did need to step back from having sex and reevaluate his views, feelings, and boundaries. But I also think that his first time with Tav planted the seed of "oh shit, this is different!" and he slowly realizes that sex is not supposed to be what it's always been for him, finally culminating in his confession in Act 2. (And if you fail to fully gain his trust by Act 3, that seed never grows and you get dumped when he no longer "needs" you.)

So at least for me, I can't get behind the "he's just pretending to enjoy it" or "it's just a transaction to him"or "hes in it for blood." Like sure, *before* he sleeps with Tav he sees it that way, but he's not that great an actor, either, and the shift is obvious to me.

((Also I want to note that while I'm not super into AceAstarion, that interpretation is totally valid and imo compatible with this headcanon. Sexuality and Asexuality are complicated things, and Astarion portrays that complexity so well.))