#just a little thing I’ve been contemplating recently

[warping-realities]

2k Special - Coach Knows Best: Tight Ends

So we’ve come to the end of the 2k special. I’d like to thank again @johnbrand and @mrrharper for letting me borrow one of their ideas, but especially the great @callmecallmecrazy who I’ve been following for almost 20 years (I was underage and shouldn’t have been, but still). The Jocking has been and still is one of the most impressive things ever written in our niche; it’s not just about transformation, there’s a plot, character development and a cohesive story, and it’s something I’ve always tried to follow while writing my own work. Here, I made a little homage to his seminal work and to Clifton Jocks, which I’ll say for the thousandth time is my favorite story of all time and an impressive demonstration of developing writing skills.

Lastly, there’s a pun (or more) in the title of this story. 🙃

Just two days before the final game of the season, Steele sat in the stillness of his home, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a heavy fog. The transformation of Tyler had been a double-edged sword. On one hand, he had become the player Steele always knew he could be. On the other, the pressure of the BACS protocol loomed ominously over everything. As he contemplated for the millionth time how to navigate the challenges ahead, his phone buzzed violently against the wooden surface of the table in front of him shattering the quiet.

Startled, he reached for his phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was Jenkins. The feeling of unease settled deeper in his gut as he answered. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with tension.

“Steele, we’ve got a situation,” Jenkins said, his tone serious. “Lee Dawson has gone missing from his dorm at college. He was supposed to hit up a study group and now no one’s seen him.”

Steele’s heart raced. “What do you mean missing? How long has it been since anyone last saw him?”

“Just a few hours, but it’s enough to raise alarms. From what I gathered from my guys on the team, he’d been complaining about his brother’s behavior for days, saying Tyler was acting weird. At my request, they pressed Lee for any major signs that a glitch was popping up in the BACS protocol, but whenever pressed, he backed down. There was nothing to suggest any major failure or need for intervention so far.

“I told you Lee is smart and you know why BACS has fallen out of favor, and yet you insisted. What the hell do you expect me to do now to clean up your mess?”

“What I want is for you to keep an eye out. It seems like Lee is gonna go searching for his brother or even come to you. In that case, you need to find out what’s going on. This could have serious implications,” Jenkins urged, his voice quickening.

“Implications? What the hell are you talking about?” Steele shot back, a sense of dread creeping into his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to be linked to the board’s experiments or Tyler’s recent transformation if shit hit the fan.

“Let’s be real, Steele. If the government finds out what we did with BACS, we could all be in deep trouble. You need to act fast. In the worst-case scenario, you’re authorized to use BACS on the older Dawson.” Jenkins warned, urgency unmistakable in his voice.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m on it, but I warned you, Jenkins, you idiot!” Steele replied, his mind racing. He couldn’t let this situation spiral out of control. As he hung up the phone, he felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He had to find and protect Lee, and somehow make him understand the whole program before the kid, who was Steele’s greatest pride, ended up consumed by it like his brother had.

Steele woke up before dawn, the clock reading 4 AM. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, battling the heavy feeling that seemed to have settled in his mind. The morning darkness enveloped the room as his thoughts churned about Lee and Tyler. It was a constant struggle between the determination to keep his legacy as a coach intact and the guilt that consumed him.

He got up and started his morning routine. The first task was to run. He laced up his running shoes, threw on a simple T-shirt, and headed out, feeling the cold morning air against his face. Each step took him further away from his worries, and he tried to keep a steady pace. Running had always been his way to release built-up tension, but today felt harder. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tyler’s situation and what he could have done differently.

After 30 minutes of running, Steele finished his routine with calisthenics. Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups; all done in silence, but his mind was far from what he was doing. He felt like a robot, following a routine without really being present. The joy he used to feel while working out was missing, replaced by a sense of emptiness.

With sweat dripping down his face, he returned home and made breakfast. He brewed a strong cup of black coffee, letting the dark liquid fill the mug. Coffee, once a comforting ritual, now tasted bland, as if bitterness had seeped into his life. He served himself an absurd amount of food: eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit. But even while eating, he couldn’t savor the meal. Each bite felt like an obligation, a meaningless ritual.

After breakfast, he shaved, staring at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the deep circles under his eyes. “What the hell happened to me?” he thought, doubt creeping into his mind. He had been a passionate coach, someone who inspired his players to become the best versions of themselves. Now, he found himself trapped in a cycle of manipulation and politics that was corroding his soul.

After getting ready, Steele finally left for school, his car cutting through the quiet morning. But upon arriving at the school parking lot, he hesitated. He stopped the car and sat there, watching the students arrive, the laughter and chatter floating in the air. He felt like a spectator in his own world.

“How did I end up here?” he murmured to himself. He remembered when everything seemed so simple, when his love for football was pure and genuine. He had a dream: to turn young athletes into champions, to guide them through hardships, and help them shine. But over time, he became obsessed with winning, accepting the machinations of the board, believing it was all worth it. He convinced himself he was offering insignificant kids the chance to experience the same glories he had. But now, after what happened with Tyler, those certainties were crumbling. The kid had been the kind of athlete who, with the right encouragement and training, could have been for the Tight Ends what Brock Purdy was for quarterbacks: a last pick with seemingly no shine but whose effort and skill landed him a spot on one of the big league teams. Now? Sure, the kid was great, almost perfect. No doubt he’d shine, but it’d be an artificial shine, risking being marked more by a influencer life than what he did on the field, more like a Garoppolo than a Purdy. And then there was Lee, the incredible Lee, Steele’s greatest victory, shaped just right, now at risk of going through the same shit as his brother. Thinking about that made Steele’s gut churn, and a new determination surged within him. He could lose everything, but he was going to make sure Lee wouldn’t get caught up in this, even if it meant making some subtle tweaks, a little memory alteration… maybe something to boost his stats before the Combine… Then, without realizing the hypocrisy and contradiction in his own way of thinking, the coach let out a long sigh and headed off to start the day’s work.

…..

The locker room was in a state of controlled chaos. The boys on the team were undressing and getting ready to put on their practice uniforms. The distinct smell of deodorant mixed with male sweat hung in the air, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and teasing.

“Look who’s here! The king of farts!” Trey shouted, letting out a loud fart. The room erupted in laughter, and the boys started mimicking fart sounds.

“For God’s sake, dude! You need a deodorant for your ass!” Connor teased, making everyone laugh even harder.

Rafael, always ready to stand out, raised his hands as if he was about to make a speech. “Attention, attention! The champion of burps is here!” He then let out a burp so loud it echoed through the locker room, causing another wave of laughter.

“You and your special talents, Rafe. One day you’re gonna win an award for that!” Miguel joked, while getting dressed. “Most retarded award!”

The boys continued to talk nonsense, sharing stories about weekend parties, the girls they had hooked up with, and the drunken escapades they had. The vibe was carefree, a celebration of the brotherhood that existed among them, but also tinged with machismo and arrogance.

“Dude, did you see the new cheerleader? The transfer girl, blonde with blue eyes?” Miguel commented, winking at the others. “She was totally checking me out during practice. Bet she’s in love with me!”

“Probably out of pity for your malnourished state!” Adam replied, laughing. “But it’s true, she’s hot. I’d hit that too.”

“Malnourished? I’m ripped, you fatass!”

“That’s just jealousy of my muscles, scrawny boy?”

“Jealousy is what you have of my abs, fatty!”

As the chatter continued, Tyler, sitting a bit further away, looked at Brock with a frustrated expression while tying his cleats. “Man, my brother’s been an ass lately. Lee’s always been a bit too uptight, but lately, he’s just straight-up unbearable,” Tyler said, trying to keep his tone light, but irritation was evident.

“Like, he keeps nagging me about my grades, and I can’t deal with it anymore. I stopped replying to his texts. I’ve told him Cs get degrees,” he vented, his voice dropping lower, almost lost in the locker room noise.

“Well, the problem is you hardly ever get Cs, do you?”

“As if you’re any better, you dumbass. You know Coach is gonna sort this out and we’re all gonna get into college with football scholarships. But for Lee, that’s not enough; it’s like he wanted another brother instead of me.”

Brock looked at Tyler, sensing his frustration. “Dude, I get it. It’s tough when you have a brother who seems to be trying to control you. But at the same time, he just wants what’s best for you, right? Maybe he’s just worrying too much.”

“Maybe… but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s being a total pain. He doesn’t know how to have fun. It’s like he thinks life is only about training and studying,” Tyler replied, shaking his head, visibly irritated.

“Man, you need to put him in his place then. One day, he’s gonna realize life isn’t just about work. You gotta enjoy the journey too, just like we do here on the team!” Brock said, trying to encourage Tyler to feel better about the situation.

“Whatever, maybe I should try talking to him again, but just thinking about it makes me tired,” Tyler mumbled, crossing his arms.

What the boys didn’t realize was that Coach Steele had entered the locker room just as the conversation was heating up.

“Is that what I heard, Tyler?” Steele asked, his gaze fixed on the young man. “You’ve been ignoring your brother?”

Tyler hesitated before answering. “Uh… I’m just tired of hearing the same old shit, coach. He just wants me to fit into the image he has of me. I just wanted some space,” he said, trying to justify his behavior.

Steele shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Look, Tyler, you might not like what Lee has to say, but he’s your brother. What he wants is what any brother wants: the best for you. Ignoring his texts isn’t the solution. You might not realize it, but he cares about you,” Steele said, his voice firm.

“Yeah, I know. I just… I just need some space, that’s all,” Tyler muttered, a bit frustrated.

“I get that you need space, but that doesn’t mean you should push him away. Promise me one thing, if he tries to reach out again, don’t ignore him, but more importantly, I want you to tell me right away,” Steele said, with a serious look. “Now, let’s go, finish getting ready. It’s almost time for practice.”

The boys nodded, and the conversation quickly dissipated as they hurried to get ready. When everyone was ready, they headed out to the field. The sun was shining brightly, and the energy of the team was palpable. Steele watched as the players lined up, each carrying a confidence that was contagious. He felt a little lighter, even knowing the precarious situation he was in.

“Today’s the last practice before the finals,” Steele began, capturing everyone’s attention. “That means we need to give it everything we’ve got. Remember, the opposing team is gonna come onto the field wanting to take us down. But they’re gonna face the Titans, and we’re gonna show them what that means!”

The players shouted in response, adrenaline coursing through their veins. The practice began and Steele moved around the field, watching every move, every play. The boys were in sync, their skills at their peak and their energies channeled toward a common goal. Steele watched it all with a satisfied smile. The hard work and dedication were paying off. He remembered his own experiences and what it meant to form a cohesive team. “Great job, boys!” he shouted, as the players regrouped in the locker room after practice. “You’re ready to face the Knights! What we saw today was magnificent. Each of you gave your best. Remember, tomorrow is the big day. You have a chance to show everyone what it means to be a Titan.”

The players shouted in response, the spirit of unity filling the air. “One last thing: rest up! I don’t want to hear that anyone partied or drank alcohol before the finals. If you do, I’ll skin you alive!”

Laughter and shouts spread through the locker room, but Steele’s seriousness conveyed the message that he truly cared. The boys knew he was there to guide them and protect what they had built together.

With practice wrapped up, the players dispersed, ready to rest up and prepare for the big game.

…

Night fell, and as the city prepared for the game the next day, Tyler lay in bed, heart racing and mind full of expectations. He knew he had a role to play, and he was determined to do it to the best of his ability. In the darkness of his room he was lost in thought, recalling the day’s practices and what awaited him in the big game.

At that moment, Lee walked into the room unannounced, his expression serious. “Tyler, we need to talk,” he said, looking intently at his brother.

Tyler frowned. “Lee? WTF? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

“You. Something’s not right with you,” Lee replied, worry evident in his voice. “I can’t pinpoint what it is, but I feel like something’s changed.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tyler asked, confused and a little irritated. “I’m great! I’m about to crush it in the game tomorrow!”

Lee shook his head, frustration growing. “It’s not that, Tyler! It’s like you’re… different. Like you’re not really you. I… I’m worried.”

“What the hell, Lee? Who else could I be? And worried? You don’t know anything about me! I’m never good enough for you, right? You’ve always been the favorite, the family talent!” Tyler shouted, anger boiling over. “But I’m gonna prove to everyone that I’m better than you, that I’m the best player!”

Lee looked at him, pain in his eyes. “Tyler, I’ve never cared about that. For me, there’s never been a competition between us. I just wanted you to be happy in your own way. You don’t have to try to be what I am or what you think everyone expects from you. What matters is that you’re yourself.”

“You don’t get it! I can’t just be me, with a Mr. Perfect brother I always have to be the better! And now that I’m finally getting attention, I can’t let it slip away!” Tyler shot back, his voice filled with frustration.

“I… I think I understand more than you realize,” Lee said, sadness weighing on his words.

“You’re not making sense, Lee! I just want to be recognized, and that involves winning! For me, that’s everything!” Tyler replied, anger replacing insecurity.

“I really thought I could trust him… I don’t know what I can do to help you, but I’ll try. Just know that I love you, little bro. I hope that next time we see each other, we can recognize each other for who we really are.”

Tyler sat there, alone, frustration and confusion flooding his mind. Until a memory popped into his head. He grabbed his phone and called Coach Steele. “Coach, I… I need to talk to you,” he said as soon as the call connected.

“Sure, Tyler. What’s up?” Steele replied, his voice calm and attentive.

“It’s about Lee. He was just here… and he doesn’t seem right; he said a bunch of nonsensical things… he thinks something’s wrong with me, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I act all tough, like I’m the best Dawson, but the truth is, Lee is my biggest inspiration, and seeing him like this… please help him!” Tyler poured out, tension evident in his voice.

“Tyler, I need you to try to remember what else your brother said. Did he say where he was going?” Steele asked, his voice now more concerned.

“I don’t know, coach. No, he didn’t say. He just mentioned he thought he could trust someone and that… that he’d try to help me… and that he hoped next time we met, we could… recognize each other. I have no idea what he meant by that.”

“I do. Try to calm down and get some sleep; tomorrow is the big day, and I promise everything will be alright. Better yet, Lee will be there to watch you shine, trust me!”

“Always, Coach!”

…

Steele hung up the phone, poured a generous shot of bourbon into two glasses, and waited for Lee. It seemed the time had come for him to answer for his choices in front of one of the few people he cared about in this world.

….

Lee walked toward Steele’s mansion, his heart racing and his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The worry for Tyler consumed him, and his brother’s words echoed in his head. “What’s wrong with him? Or is it me? Ty is right; I’m not making any sense! Still, I know… that’s not who he should be!” Lee thought, feeling frustrated for not being able to understand what was happening, but he knew there was someone who understood and worse, could be responsible for it all. As he walked, fear and frustration overwhelmed him. For it wasn’t the first time he felt that way; if he had done something sooner… maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to go through this with his own brother.

As Lee walked through the familiar streets, he couldn't help but remember those times he felt that same awkwardness when he was on the team. Not in the same creepy way as now, but it was there, this uneasy feeling, as his teammates came and went. He figured it was 'cause he never really clicked with the others off the field; his life was all about discipline, totally grinding to improve. His body was a temple, and football was his religion. Of course, there was the Pastor: Steele. They had a tight bond, with the coach filling the gap left by his dad when he bailed on the family. Maybe that’s why Lee ignored what his gut was telling him every time a new player joined the team. It’s also why he asked Steele to treat Tyler the same way he treated him. Now, Lee felt like a total fool for thinking Steele would keep that promise. The coach was the one who drilled into him the idea of winning at all costs... he just chose to overlook that to Steele “at all costs” also included everyone else. And now, his brother was paying the price for that mistake.

Standing in front of the big mansion gate, Lee felt a chill in his stomach. Without doing anything, it opened, and he walked up to the porch where the imposing figure of Steele awaited him.

“Lee, I was expecting you,” Steele said, his expression serious. “Sit down and grab a glass.” The man settled into a magnificent leather armchair and pointed to a glass of bourbon.

“You know I don’t drink. My diet is strict to not affect my performance. Besides, I need to know, what did you do to my brother?”

“To explain what happened to Tyler, I need to tell you a very long story. And I know you don’t drink, kid, but trust me, with what we need to talk about, you’re gonna need it.”

Lee complied, but the tension in the air was palpable.

“Coach, I don’t need a story; I need to know what happened to my brother… more than that… I need to know who my brother really is… or I think I’m gonna lose my mind… I need you to reverse what you did.”

“It’s not that simple, kid. What you’re asking isn’t impossible, but highly unlikely. So I need you to understand. And to understand, I need to tell you everything from the beginning, so please take a sip and listen.”

Still reluctant, Lee conceded and positioned himself to hear his former coach, feeling the drink burn his throat and warm his stomach.

“Good, good. The story I’m about to tell you starts way before Tyler, you and even me. Back in the mid-2000s, a decline in the number of young men dedicating themselves to contact sports, notably football, began to be noticed. You might question this info due to what came shortly after, but trust me, it’s real. Continuing, due to this decline, a group formed that is now known as The Board, whose goal was to find ways to prevent this decline from becoming irreversible. And thus, the so-called Enhancement Protocols emerged. Due to the shady nature of such protocols, it was established that the test fields would be some schools across the country and always with individuals over 18. Colleges would be a highly unfeasible field, and the NFL, with all its scrutiny, would be unthinkable. What happened next was… revolutionary but also opened the doors to a true hell.” Steele said, pausing to take a long sip of his own drink before continuing.

“In one location where I have no access, one of the coaches responsible found gold. A way to alter the very fabric of reality and turn insignificant kids into perfect players. The techniques used were multiple as long as there was a catalyst; clothing, food, even the presence of another altered player was enough to modify an unsuspecting target. It was groundbreaking. But there were two problems: it messed with things that shouldn’t be messed with. A bunch of mumbo jumbo occult stuff whose details are better left unsaid. The other problem is that he went rogue. The modified players of his spread like a wildfire, hitting colleges and schools all over the country to the point that the fabric of reality became so thin it allowed certain things that should’ve stayed out to come in. At that time, I was already playing for the Eagles, and I’d like to believe the NFL wasn’t affected, but I can’t know, the man’s insanity was that great. The Board can’t say for sure, nor can the government, because the one who finally ended that coach’s megalomania was an apparently ordinary individual, but whom I believe is still imbued with more power than any man should have. But thanks to him, reality got back to how it should’ve been, that is, more or less…” Steele let out a long sigh before continuing.

“The kid had no way of knowing about the board’s existence, and it reestablished itself, and from what was left of that mad coach’s work, developed the current protocols.” Steele continued with a serious air.

“I discovered the protocols in my first year as a coach. At that time, the board was still being inconspicuous, the group that took down the coach I mentioned was still active. Initially, I was against using such methods. But the decline of the 2000s was nothing compared to the mid-decade past. Suddenly, kids became these delicate little flowers that can’t handle anything, snowflakes is the term you’ll hear the most. A lot of people associate this with sexuality. Frankly, I don’t give a damn who you fuck with. But watching a bunch of crybabies dominate the school hallways while my team, a place where real men were being formed, dwindled to the point of risking disappearing? I couldn’t accept that. So I let the board into my life and my Titans. Initially only to fill some gaps, cover some deficiencies. I justified it to myself. But over time I used the protocols more and more to the point of having no justifications. Not that I cared anymore, because the Titans had become the team I always thought it should be…

“You… I… did you do something to me?” Lee asked, his voice trembling.

“No, you, Lee, you were a gift to me, a perfect player with no need for intervention, totally focused and dedicated, even not fitting into certain specifications of the board. Specifications I never cared about, by the way. But even the board never dared to ask me to intervene with you given your impressive stats. And I don’t know if I would’ve done anything, even if they asked. The truth is, you reminded me of myself, and I would’ve never had the guts to do anything to you. But then came Tyler. Tyler was a younger version of you, unfortunately without the same impressive talent. Not that the kid lacked talent, but it just wasn’t enough. And the board intervened in the worst way possible. Right before you left for college, taking advantage of the calm environment after so many years acting in the shadows, the they became bold. They developed a method that traded the elegance and subtlety of the previous ones for a much faster and seemingly just as effective one. They called it the BACS Protocol, a stupid acronym that doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is that with this protocol, all it takes is a signal sent by a simple smartphone to a previously exposed individual to a catalyst that can even be dispersed in the air around him, and out of nowhere you have a perfect player ready under all the specifications of the council. To avoid a bunch of clones walking around, the signal uses the player’s own perceptions of what each of the acronym’s specifications represents and uses the individual’s genetic base to update him. For someone like you or Tyler, this can be… disturbing, a change so fast and radical in the fabric of reality without a safer catalyst, an anchor. See, with a stable enough catalyst even the transformed's family members can be modified to better fit their new narrative. BACS has no such capability, which in retrospect may have been a blessing, just thinking about what could have happened to you... sorry, I lost focus. The truth is that unlike safer methods this absence leads to some glitches. Like the ones you’ve been feeling.”

“You mean to say that Tyler…?”

“Yeah… the protocol was shut down due to failures, but for some obtuse reason, the board decided to pick it back up and Tyler was chosen as an example.”

“And you didn’t do a damn thing???” Lee asked, outraged. “You just let my brother be taken like a pig to slaughter? And turned him into this?”

“That’s still your brother, just like many of your teammates with whom you sweat and bled for victory. They’re still people, Lee, with dreams and desires. You might even disagree with their way of life, but don’t treat them like things.”

“I can’t believe the size of your hypocrisy!”

“Yeah, I’m a hypocrite. But I’ve always treated my players the same, the naturals and the modified ones; to me, there’s no difference between them. Except for you, like BACS has its glitches, you were mine.”

“Then help me, help revert what happened to Tyler!”

“It’s harder than you can imagine, Lee. There’s someone out there with that capability, but you don’t want to get in his way!”

“Why not?”

“Because he would destroy everything I’ve built, everything you know too, because that’s his mission. And I can’t allow that.”

“And what’s stopping me from going after this guy on my own?”

“The fact that you ingested a high dose of the catalyst compound and are in the presence of a very strong physical catalyst right next to you, namely me. I swear I’d rather not do this to you, but after letting what happened to Tyler happen, it’s better this way. I promise the only thing that will change for you is accepting reality and Tyler as they are now!”

Upon hearing that, Lee tried to move, but it felt like he was glued to the chair, as if trapped in an invisible trap. While Coach Steele, the man he considered a substitute father, betrayed him a second time.

Seated, paralyzed in that armchair, Lee felt a strange pressure in his body, followed by a wave of heat, and then the first transformation took over his arms, which began to swell, the muscles expanding under the skin. He looked down, perplexed, as his biceps became so bulky with muscles and fat they seemed ready to burst through the shirt he wore. Seeing that, Steele’s eyes widened, and he shouted: “That wasn’t supposed to happen!” But as he tried to get up and somehow intervene, he found himself glued to his own seat. With nothing left to do, the coach watched in growing panic as what came next unfolded.

As he struggled to comprehend what was happening, Lee's legs began to change too. His already huge thighs swelled even more, becoming the size of tree trunks, while a layer of fat started to accumulate, softening the sharp lines he had worked so hard to achieve. Lee felt a mix of horror and a strange pleasure as that transformation unfolded, as if his body were rebelling against his will.

“Lee, you need to resist!” Coach Steele shouted, but his voice sounded distant and powerless, for he knew there was nothing that could be done.

The pressure in his abdomen intensified, and Lee could feel his belly protruding. The famous eight-pack he valued so much was disappearing, replaced by a still firm belly, but now with a more robust appearance, a true muscle gut. He felt as if he were in a nightmare, struggling against the waves of transformation that dominated him. As he attempted to speak, a loud burp escaped involuntarily… buuuuuuurp…

“This can’t be happening!”, Steele repeated, thrashing in his chair. As the change reached Lee’s face, his jaw became more square momentarily only to be hidden by a layer of fat, and then by a thick, scruffy beard. The straight, well-kept hair he always sported now fell in messy locks, giving him a wild look. Lee tried to protest once more, but another burp escaped, and he felt even more frustrated. “Why is this happening?!” confusion dominating his thoughts.

The changes reached his feet, once slender, now starting to expand, going from a respectable size 11 to a gigantic size 15, ripping the sneakers he wore, each thick toe covered with a layer of dark hair. His firm, muscular backside turned into a big cushion. Coach Steele, watching in a mix of horror and despair, shook his head. “No, Lee! Please, no! What have I done?!” he shouted, his voice trembling. The horror of the situation enveloped him, and he felt powerless, unable to help.

As the transformation peaked, Lee found himself in a more muscular and robust body, more like an offensive guard than a tight end. Not that he could think of that, for at that moment, his mind was invaded by conflicting information. The strict diet with complex carbs and high-quality proteins and zero alcohol was replaced by a ogre diet and occasional binge drinking, nothing that would harm the team, but off-season is off-season for a reason. The obsession with being the best remained, but the way of looking at it shifted from almost military-level self-demand to the belief that he would be the best because he always had been; it was inherent to him. The serious and even somber demeanor was replaced by a carefree joy and an unshakeable teenage humor. As a smile spread across his face, it was all over. There was nothing else Steele could do, even if he managed to move, which was still impossible for him.

Lee’s worried and quick thoughts were replaced by an almost absolute relaxation; he was someone who knew his place and what he had to do. Anyone looking from the outside would have the impression of a big teddy bear, but once against him, they’d see he was, in fact, a raging grizzly bear when on the field.

With a carefree attitude, he looked at himself. His clothes were bursting at the seams, the fabric struggling to keep up with the growth of his new body. His shirt was stretched so tight it looked like it could rip at any moment, while his shorts looked more like strips than actual clothing. What the hell had happened? But before he could even think of worrying, his gut acted up, and Lee let out a loud and uncontrollable fart, while the room echoed with the sound he burst into laughter, any trace of horror turning into a moment of pure joy.

As Lee reveled in his new form, patting his powerful gut with a goofy grin on his face, Coach Steele just watched, horrified and powerless. “What have I done...,” he murmured, his mind whirling around the implications of his pupil’s transformation.

Without either man noticing, Jenkins entered the room just as Lee’s transformation completed. He observed the now-imposing young man with his muscular and robust body. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “What did you do?” Jenkins said, with a tone of disdain, startling Steele, who hadn’t seen the sly man but realized at that moment who was truly behind what had happened. “Just what you should’ve done a long time ago. But the specifications weren’t yours.”

Jenkins then turned to Lee, who now looked like a true giant. “Hey, Bull Dawg, how’s it going?” he asked, the provocation evident in his voice.

Lee, exuding the chill vibe that now surrounded him, smiled back. “I’m feeling kinda funny,” he replied, as he stood up and admired himself in one of the mirrors in the room.

“Must be all the whiskey you’ve been drinking,” Jenkins remarked, laughing. “You’ve always been the type to not miss a chance to have fun.”

Lee shot a quick glance at Jenkins, winking playfully. “You know me too well,” he replied, flexing his huge arms and biceps, completely ruining the shirt he wore and exposing his powerful pecs and exuberant muscle gut covered in wild hair.

"Alright, alright. Now, if you’ll excuse me," Jenkins said, turning to Lee, "Steele and I need to hash out some big kid stuff."

"Whatever," Lee shot back, all nonchalant. "But I’m taking the whiskey with me." He turned, the power of his new, impressive body filling the space around him as he grabbed the bottle of bourbon but no glass.

Jenkins and Steele watched as Lee strutted out of the room, one with a smug grin and the other with a dead-serious look. The giant’s heavy footsteps echoed on the floor, his muscular back and well-defined glutes becoming a spectacle in their own right, while the shorts several sizes too small threatened to rip with every step those powerful bare feet took.

“A true masterpiece.” Jenkins said, settling into the chair where Lee had been sitting moments before, the leather still warm from his presence. He crossed his legs, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he looked at Coach Steele, who still seemed to be digesting what had just happened.

“So, Steele,” Jenkins began, his voice calm and controlled, “what do you think of all this?”

Steele, unable to move, finally found his voice. “What did you do, Jenkins? Why make such a drastic decision with a talented athlete like Lee?”

“Oh, Steele,” Jenkins replied, shaking his head almost condescendingly. “You yourself pointed out that BACS has its glitches. And Dawson became a problem. We needed a solution; he was a valuable asset, but the market is changing, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone. What you need to understand is that even though there’s always room for the disciplined athlete like Tom Brady, that’s so 2000s… no, no, with Jason Kelce’s retirement, a niche opened up, that of the wild giant who turns out to be a cute clown. Men identify with him thinking illusionarily that a body like his is more easily attainable than a “more fit one”, and women see the figure of a future husband, someone not so worried about having a sixpack. Which reminds me that I need to find a good girlfriend for the kid and maybe twin boys in a year or two… So, a big teddy bear with a younger, more rebellious bro? All that's left is to find a pop diva to make that winning combo happen again, right? I wonder if I still have Olívia Rodrigo manager's phone number. I’ll have to figure that out too… So the boring, regimented and suspicious Lee needed to go so that the fun, lovable yet aggressive when necessary Bull Dawg could emerge. Ahh the amount of profits these brothers will bring!

"I believed the board wanted the best athletes possible," Steele said, his voice thick with anger.

"The board wants profits. And believe me, someone like the old Lee doesn't do a tenth of what Bull Dawg promises. The public wants their idols to be close to them. They want to feel like they're part of their lives. They want them to be fun. Trust me, Lee Bull Dawg Dawson is someone who knows how to have fun, especially with the products and facilities of our sponsors."

"You and I have very different opinions of what a football fan wants."

"And so we come to the real reason I'm here today. Dawson was just an appetizer, the main course is you, you and your damn insubordination."

Steele took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as Jenkins’ words echoed in his mind. “I’ve always been loyal to the board’s guidelines, Jenkins. You know that. I’ve always put the rules first.” His voice trembled slightly, but he fought to maintain a firm tone.

Jenkins leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and disdain. “Loyalty? Is this what you call loyalty? The admiration you feel for Lee Dawson blinded you, Steele. You didn’t see that the younger Dawson needed enhancement. Your focus was so fixated on your precious Lee that you ignored what was right in front of you.”

Steele felt the blood rush to his head, indignation forming like a storm inside him. “I didn’t hide anything from the board! I always did what was best for the athletes, not just for one of them. You can’t just…”

“Can’t just what?” Jenkins interrupted, an ironic smile forming on his lips. “Hide the truth? Like you did? Since the incident years ago, you know the board can’t allow any coaches to go rogue. And you, my friend, have crossed the line. Your romanticized vision of what Lee and Tyler could be became a trap, and now you’re gonna pay the price.”

Steele tried to stand, but found himself glued to the chair, as if an invisible force kept him there. Panic began to spread through his body, and he turned to Jenkins, his expression turning to desperation. “Jenkins, please, I beg you!”

“Oh, but I have no choice, Steele,” Jenkins replied, his voice now wrapped in a chilling tone. “Did you really think we wouldn’t have a way to deal with types like you? You’re gonna go through the COACH protocol. Complete Overdrive and Assimilation to the Command Hierarchy. It’s what the council decided. On the field, your attitude is impeccable and should continue that way. But you have no idea how happy I am to be free of your stiffness and bitterness, of your unbearable righteousness.” Jenkins said with a mocking smile that showed all his satisfaction before continuing to speak.

“But cheer up, after the step taken with Lee today, the board decided it’s finally time to expand to college, and you, my future and less uptight best friend, are gonna be the pioneer of this. A spot coaching your old college team awaits your new media approved showman self. A self that will pave your way back to the NFL when the board deems it necessary.”

With one last effort, Steele tried to break free, but the pressure was unbearable. He looked around the room, searching for an escape, but everything seemed to fade around him. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Jenkins’ smug grin, a smile that symbolized both triumph and betrayal, as darkness enveloped him.

….

The celebration at Coach Steele's house after the championship was epic. The Titans, once again, showed their power on the field, snagging the title with an impressive victory. The atmosphere was filled with euphoria, and the players were ready to party. Steele’s house was packed with food, drinks, and laughter, with the guys from the team having a blast while reminiscing about the best moments of the season.

Brock, Adam, Connor, and the rest were all there, laughing and making toasts. Lee, who had been given a break from classes until after the Christmas holidays thanks to Mr. Jenkins, was in his element. He moved through the party like a king, surrounded by friends and admirers. Upon finding his little brother, he couldn't help but smile.

"You really gave it your all this season, T-Dawg!" he said, raising his cup. "I’m so proud of you!"

"Thanks, big bro! And this is just the beginning! I’m ready to head to college and show everyone what I can do!" Tyler replied, his smile shining even brighter.

Lee looked at Tyler, a satisfied grin on his lips. "You know, I’m really glad I won’t have to face you on the field. With you playing like a beast, I’d be in trouble!" He laughed.

Tyler smiled back but couldn't help thinking about what that meant. "Oh, but who knows, maybe one day we’ll meet in the NFL? You could still be my rival on the field or worse, we might end up competing for the same position on a team."

Lee gave Tyler a pat on the shoulder, his smile turning into a rare serious look. "Listen, don’t worry about that. The truth is, when I come back from break, I’ll probably be moved to another position, maybe as a guard or center. I’ve outgrown what a Tight End should be.” He said with a grin while giving a little pat on his muscular gut. “So, if all goes well, we’ll never have to compete for the same spot, better we can be an incredible duo on the same team."

Tyler looked surprised by the revelation. "Seriously? That’s amazing! But… how are we gonna figure out who’s the better player?"

Lee chuckled, shaking his head again. "Fuck who’s better, Tyler! What I really want is to play football and go pro. If it’s alongside you, even better. But enough talk, we should be having fun."

As the party progressed, the energy was through the roof. The guys started competing in an impromptu arm wrestling championship in one corner, while flip cup and beer pong dominated other spots. The music was blasting, and the drinks flowed freely. Lee, in particular, seemed to be enjoying himself more and more, his confidence soaring. His teenage behavior, despite his age, was not out of place among the Titans boys who saw him as an example to follow. He began bragging about his achievements, cracking jokes and teasing the others.

"Hey, who wants to see Bull Dawg do a backflip? Bet I can nail it!" Lee shouted, seizing a moment when Steele were momentarily absent, drawing everyone’s attention in the backyard.

"Go for it, bro!" Tyler shouted, as the crowd's excitement peaked.

As everyone gathered around the pool, Lee climbed onto a small platform, determination etched on his face. He was visibly drunk, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to impress his brother and friends. Tyler and the others watched, a mix of anxiety and fun on their faces, as intoxicated as the older man.

"Go, Lee! Show what you got!" Connor yelled, cheering on his friend.

Lee got ready, taking a deep breath before launching himself into the air. The backflip was perfect, and the impact of his massive body hitting the water was violent, soaking everyone around and sending the team boys into a frenzy.

“Bull Dawg!!! Bull Dawg!!” they all shouted in unison. As he came out of the pool laughing excitedly. Meanwhile, Tyler hugged his brother, saying, “Now I gotta do something bigger!”

“Chill, T-Dawg, you’ve already done enough! You're way cooler than I am! But you are a bit too dry for my taste!” Lee replied, shoving his little brother into the pool and falling in with him amidst laughter.

At that moment, Coach Steele approached with his usual off the field chill smile. He watched the scene, pleased to see that everyone there, just like himself, perfectly fit the board’s criteria, but he also felt the need to maintain at least a certain level of discipline. With a firm movement, he stepped closer to the group, calling everyone’s attention.

“Hey, boys! Time to stop the show!” Steele said, his voice booming over the party noise. The music faded into a whisper as heads turned to look at the coach. Lee and Tyler, still wet and smiling, climbed out of the pool, with Dawson boys striking a triumphant pose of gratitude.

“Come on, coach! We’re just celebrating!” Tyler said, laughing.

“Celebrating is great, but I need you all to remember what it means to be a Titan!” Steele began, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. “This season wasn’t just about winning on the field. It was about teamwork, overcoming challenges, and what it means to be part of a family. Each of you proved that together, we’re stronger. And that’s not just a motto; it’s our truth.”

The boys listened intently, the festive atmosphere shifting quickly to a more serious tone.

“You learned to fight for what you believe in, to support each other, and to never give up. Most importantly, you discovered who you really are. That’s what makes you Titans. And I want you to carry that with you forever. No matter where life takes you, always take with you the team spirit we built here,” Steele continued, his gaze steady and determined.

“Now, I have something important to share with you. I’ve been invited to take the position of offensive line coach at Ohio State,” he announced, and a murmur of surprise spread through the group.

“Wow, coach! That’s awesome!” Rafe shouted, clapping.

“I know many of you dream of playing at a higher level, and this is the chance I need to take the experience you had here to a new level. But that means I’ll have to leave the Titans, at least for now,” Steele said, his voice firm, but a bit melancholic. The atmosphere became heavy, the reality of his departure starting to settle in among the players.

“I want you to know that this team meant everything to me. Each of you has incredible talent, and I’ll be cheering for all of you. As soon as I get there, I’ll make sure to stay in touch. And I hope to see some of these faces in September,” he said, looking into each player’s eyes.

“And for the rest, don’t worry! I’ll personally choose the next coach for the Titans. You can trust I’ll pick someone who will continue what we started here, someone who understands what it means to be a Titan. Trust me, after all, as you all say, Coach Knows Best.”

The boys started to applaud, the energy filling the room again. “Thank you, coach! You’re the best!” they shouted in unison.

“Now, get back to having fun! Go Titans!” Steele exclaimed, raising his beer glass in a toast.

The players shouted in response, excitement taking over again. They gathered in a circle, raised their cups, and yelled: “Go Titans!”

[exasperatedoctopus]

*Watches Death Note*: Huh, what an interesting analysis of what happens if individuals with power take it upon themselves to pass judgement on others without appropriate peer review

*Watches Ace Attorney*: Huh, what a silly yet interesting analysis of…what happens if individuals with power…pass judgement without rigorous peer review…

*Watches Psycho-pass*: HUH. A horrifying society based on passing preemptive, absolute judgement on citizens…without peer review

[whatifitis]

♡ Cursing The Daylight - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando hates knowing you never sleep well so when he believes he's figured out why, he makes it his mission to save his sleepy girlfriend from sleep deprivation.

Author's note: A little blurb thing I wrote at 2 am. I tried my best 😭

WC: 1045

CW: Lando being a bit dumb and the sweetest person ever, fluff

You were currently cursing the daylight, watching as a blue bird flew past your window.

Fucker 

It was yet another sleepless night in your apartment. You continued to stare at your alarm clock, waiting for it to go off, a little reminder that if you were capable of sleeping properly, you’d still have 5 more minutes of sleep. 

For most of your life, especially in recent years, you’ve never been able to get a full night's rest. You’d always end up tossing and turning for hours, as well as waking up about 7 times a night. Every day you would feel irritated and restless due to your lack of sleep. 

However, whenever you slept over at your boyfriend's house, you always managed to get a good night's sleep. You and your boyfriend, Lando, have been together for about 5 months. The first night you two had spent together, was the first time you’d been able to sleep well. You woke up bright and early and you felt amazing, like nothing could stop you. 

Over the course of your relationship, Lando came to be aware of your inability to sleep well most nights. Whenever you would sleep in your own apartment, Lando would receive mass amounts of texts from you, all about how you slept terribly and that you either needed a nap or many coffees. 

Lando, being the ever so lovely person he is, picked up on something. The only times you would get a good night's sleep, waking up and not needing to complain about anything and everything, was when you slept at his place. 

The mattress! The boy thought, she sleeps better at mine cause my mattress is fucking mint. 

Upon realizing this, Lando goes and orders the same exact mattress he has, and has it sent to yours. He thought it’d be a nice surprise for you so that you can get a goodnight sleep every night. Another plus would be that you guys are coming up on your 6 month anniversary, this counts as a gift right?, thinks Lando. 

The day Lando gets an email stating that the mattress was out for delivery, he books it to your place, wanting to be there to see your reaction to his gift and so that he could help you bring it in and set it up. 

Lando arrives at your apartment, greeted by you with a massive smile and sparkling eyes. He wastes no time in pulling you to him by your hips and wrapping his arms around your torso. As you wrap your arms around his neck you say, “As much as I love seeing you, what are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet up later tonight for movie night.”

As Lando pulls away to look at you, the postman has just arrived. “That’s why.” he says, smiling cheekily and pointing to the truck behind him. 

The both of you watch as the postman begins to unload the mattress from the vehicle, before Lando jumps in and helps the man drag the mattress to the door of your apartment. 

Whilst Lando and the man bring the mattress into your apartment, you stand there dumbfounded. 

What the actual fuck is going on? The only thing I’ve ordered to my apartment is a new book and I don’t think the book is that big? Wait, did I order the right thing?!

As soon as the box is in your living area, you confront Lando, “Lan, my love, my gorgeous boy… what the fuck?” you ask, pointing at the big ass box in your living area. 

Your Lan stands there next to the box, all but swaying as he stands and gives you the biggest smile he could plaster on his face. 

The cheeky fuck. 

“It’s a mattress!” he says as he poses next to it, adding a pose for effect. 

“A mattress?” you ask.

“A mattress.” 

After a moment of silence, where you contemplated whether to strangle him or take his credit card away from him, you ask “Why?”

“Cause, you’re always tired and you never sleep well unless you’re at my place. So I figured out why! It’s because you find my mattress to feel so much better and comfier. I even ordered the same bed sheets I have, but I got yours in green since it’s your favorite color. They should be here tomorrow though so for tonight you can spend the night with me or we can use your old sheets.” he proposes, smiling so wide it makes your heart melt from the sweetness that you don’t deserve. 

He gets you the same mattress he has in his home, for your home. 

“I sleep better at yours because you’re there. Not because of the mattress, you muppet!” you exclaim. 

You watch as Lando’s face immediately drops, “what?” he asks. He’s truly been stunned with this information, “What’d you mean it’s not because of the mattress? You mean to tell me I haven’t helped solve your sleeping issues?! I thought I was smarter than all the doctors you’ve seen for this issue!”

You can’t help but laugh at your boyfriend's statement. 

“Gorgeous, you thought that of all the doctors I’ve seen… that none of them have thought that I was sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress?” 

Lando just stood there silent, blankly staring at a wall, likely contemplating all his life choices. 

“Fuck. So, do you not want the mattress? Seems like a hassle to return.” he states as he scratches the back of his neck, wondering how he’s going to return the heavy ass box. “Wait, you sleep better when you’re around me?” he looks at you, somewhat shocked. 

You walk up to him, taking his hands in yours and making him look you in the eyes, “Gorgeous, in the time we’ve been together, we’ve slept on couches and several different mattresses. And I always sleep well no matter where or what we are sleeping on. I sleep better because I’m with you, I feel safe with you.”

“Oh… oh!” he giggles a bit. Red starts to lightly color his face, he’s blushing, “That’s nice.”

You don’t think you’ve met anyone more awkward than this man, but you love him because of that, not in spite of it. 

[justinefrischmanngf]

something that always fascinates me is how fictional (and potentially non-fictional but i dont have any evidence for that) men (i would say women too but it seems to be a plot point that mostly relates to men) react to being called a coward because it just isn’t something that would occur to me as being a horrible insult and it’s v interesting to think about bc it’s like . idk insults really are so situational and personal i guess …….. nessa learns how to be mean 101 but no like idk it just intrigues me bc how insecure in your own ability to be brave when YOU need to be . do you have to be to find being called a coward that deeply upsetting…… obviously it’s not a NICE thing to be called but the reactions always seem so extreme……..

[wonderjanga]

Little Billy the Assistant

Zatanna was looking for the Champion. She’d wanted to ask for his help procuring an ingredient for a potion. All she expected was a short trip and maybe adventure. What she didn’t expect was running into a magically gifted orphan homeless looking kid.

Zatanna: *takes a detour a cramped street with a bunch of stalls selling stuff*

Billy: *ahead of her, heads to a gate leading to an alley, looks around for a bit before literally melting the lock off*

Zatanna: *sees this and stares*

Billy: *casts one more glance back before nearly feeling his soul leave his body at the sight of her looking at him*

He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Zatanna thought he was scared because he got caught by someone using magic in public. Billy was actually scared because she saw his civilian form do magic. Because what if she connected it back to Cap or something?!

Anyways, they made an uncomfortable amount of eye contact from across the street before Billy bolted into the alley. She tried to follow, but the crowd of the cramped street kept getting in her way, and by the time she got to the alley he was gone. Having lost him, she decided to ask Cap about the little boy about a week later when they were both at the Watchtower after he’d helped her find the ingredient she’d wanted. As for why it took a week for her to find him and ask for help? Billy had been avoiding her. Anyways…

Zatanna: “Cap, have you seen this little kid running around?”

Marvel: *immediately knew she was probably talking about him* “You’re going to have to be more specific than that Zatanna.”

Zatanna: “Okay… this little blue eyed black haired short little thing, maybe nine or 10-”

Marvel: *a little offended because he’s 12*

Zatanna: “-I saw him do magic the other day so he’s magical too. You know anything about him?”

Marvel: “Maybe? Why do you care about him?”

Zatanna: “Because recently I’ve had this idea of maybe having a little stage assistant.”

Marvel: “I thought you said you never wanted to share the spotlight or something?”

Zatanna: “That is true, but he was adorable! And I’m pretty sure he was also homeless.”

Marvel: *doesn’t know how to feel about being called adorable* “So…?”

Zatanna: “So he’d become my assistant and learn how to do his magic better since I doubt he has a teacher if I’m right about him being homeless. There’s also the added bonus of earning money which will benefit whether or not he actually is homeless.”

Marvel: *was prepared to say yes as soon as he heard money* “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Zatanna: “Oh? So you do know him.”

Marvel: “Maybe.”

Zatanna: “Maybe?”

Marvel: “Maybe. By the way, I’m pretty sure that kid you’re talking about has a job as a radio show host so he might not accept your offer if it conflicts with his schedule.”

Zatanna: “Radio show host? That’s a little retro, no? Buuuuuut… if he’s a show host, that at least means he has some pizzazz, so he could probably be good on stage too! As for the schedule thing, I mostly do night shows so he should be good.”

Billy mulled over this decision for many(two) days before deciding he’d accept her offer. As Cap, he told her to meet Billy at a popular street.

Billy: *waiting near a fountain and contemplating every decision he made up until his*

Zatanna: “Ah, it’s you! I assume Cap told you about my offer?”

Billy: “Yes? Could we uh… talk more about what the job would be like?”

Zatanna: “Of course! But first, let’s get some food in you.”

Billy: “What? Why?”

Zatanna: “Bud, you’re practically skin and bones.”

Billy: “Oh.” *sounds upset*

Zatanna: “Hey, hey, hey! No need to get upset! Try to think of the positives! I’m getting you food!”

They went to a little diner and ate while discussing all the things. What his job as an assistant would be, his pay, and so on.

Zatanna: “You sure know how to talk business, little guy.”

Billy: “Thank you…?” *sounds confused*

Zatanna: “I meant that in a good way.”

Billy: “Oh. Thanks then.” *smiles*

Zatanna: *just barely resists the urge to pinch his cheeks*

Zatanna stand by the fact that this kid was, in fact, incredibly adorable. Such a cutie honestly. And he’s such a sweetheart, too. After this meeting, they met up a couple more times, so Billy could rehearse being her assistant before he actually went on stage. Then the day came that he finally had to do his job…

Billy and Zatanna: *standing behind a curtain on stage*

Billy: “Uhm… Ms. Zatanna?”

Zatanna: “Yes?”

Billy: “What happens if I’m not good at being an assistant?”

Zatanna: *pauses to think* “Well, you’d stop, but I’d still continue trying to help you with your magic.”

Billy: “You mean that?” *just happy she wouldn’t immediately kick him to the curb*

Zatanna: “Of course.” *again has to resist pinching his cheeks*

The curtains soon opened after that conversation. The show must go on!

I’ll leave it up to you guys on whether he did good or not.

[pochaccoups]

achilles’ heel — choi seungcheol

pairing — choi seungcheol x fem!reader

summary — after a knee surgery, your boyfriend feels off about his body. you’re determined to show him just how much you love it.

wc — 3.1k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, established relationship, light angst, fluff, body insecurity, body worship, petnames (baby, pretty girl), oral sex (m receiving), creampie

author’s note — hi i still think about when cheol said in a live that he wears big hoodies bc he’s insecure of his body and im still upset because i need him to know that he makes couprangs (ME) feel insane over his body that’s sooo big and strong ok enjoy

Something is bothering Seungcheol.

You’ve been with your boyfriend long enough to reasonably suspect when there’s something on his mind, and while he’s gotten relatively good at putting on a front to his members, it’s a little harder for him to conceal his thoughts from you. You, who’s ever observant and aware of his habits. You, who, when Seungcheol is sick with something even if non-contagious, somehow coincidentally feel the same symptoms. You, who is practically empathetically connected with him.

It’s not hard to notice that he’s been distant, though. Ever since he’d been able to walk again after his surgery, he’s had a weird edge to him that was never there before, like a rescue dog with trust issues. 

By no means had he become neglectful to you. Not once had he stopped treating you like you were his entire world, but it was all in the way his hugs weren’t as tight as usual. He insisted he didn’t need help with things like showering or dressing anymore—which was fair since he could walk now, but when you’d asked if he wanted to join you in the shower, suddenly he was too tired. Once upon a time you couldn’t even finish the question before he was stripped naked and next to you. 

You don’t remember the last time you’d been intimate with him. The moment your lips would make their way to his neck after a soft makeout, he’d ease you away from him, gently confessing that he just wasn’t in the mood, that he was just too tired again. 

And that’s fine with you—you’d die before disrespecting the boundaries which are so crucial to your relationship. You did miss him though, and deep down, something in your heart had told you that, along with everything else, something was not right.

You’re curled into his side one night when you find the courage to confront him.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Your suspicions are confirmed the moment his chest stiffens under your cheek. 

“I know… Why?” he asks, hesitant, as though he’s walking on eggshells.

“I feel like you’ve been acting, I don’t know, off. I’m worried about you, Cheollie,” you admit, poking your finger into his torso. 

Three of his breaths, full of contemplation, fill the air before he speaks again. 

“It’s my body,” he says. “I don’t like how much bigger I’ve gotten.”

You bolt upright, staring dead into his eyes with daggers in yours.

“That’s why you’ve been so squirmish?”

He nods his head, pouting absentmindedly, then continues. “I’ve just felt… gross.”

It takes everything in you not to smack him across the face. Your hands ball into fists, your face growing hot as rage bubbles and stirs beneath your skin. You climb on top of him, trapping his waist between your thighs as you sit upon him.

“Choi Seungcheol, you’re so stupid.” There’s an air of affection in your words, but you hope they’re stern enough to get through to him.

He groans as he hides his face in the fabric of his hoodie. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

“Because you knew it was stupid? Cheol, you were in rehab recovering from surgery. You literally couldn’t walk for weeks. Besides, you’re acting like it’s a bad thing that you’ve gotten ‘bigger’,” you say, fingers wrapping around his wrists so you can pull his hands away from his face. “Do you know how feral you’ve been making me feel recently?”

“Feral?!” he says, eyes widening as he fails to stifle an adorable giggle.

“Your shoulders are so broad now and it drives me fucking crazy,” you say, falling into a fit of your own laughter because the sound of your boyfriend’s laugh is more contagious than any sickness. 

Lacing your fingers with his, your expression hardens. In the rich brown of his eyes, his insecurity finally rears itself to you—and you’re determined to destroy every last shred of it.

“Love everything about your body, Cheol. Love when you cuddle me and hug me with your big arms, makes me feel so safe,” you confess, your smile radiating warmth. Your fingers squeeze his ones.

“Love how you can carry me around, on your back, in your arms…” You let go of his hands to flatten your palms against his stomach, smoothing up his torso slowly. His own hands, eager to never be empty, find your hips, his fingers pinching softly at you through your leggings.

“Love your thick thighs, love sitting in your lap…” You’ve reached his chest now and Seungcheol is smirking — he’s well aware of your obsession with this part of him. 

“Love when you throw me around, manhandle me like a ragdoll, pin me down…” You’re grasping at his shoulders now, leaning forward until there’s hardly an inch between your faces.

“Love when you spank me…” 

It’s then that something in Seungcheol shifts. His pants grow tighter, his hips shifting underneath you as you straddle him. He likes to think he’s a man of self-control, even when it comes to your antics. But there are times where he abandons all discipline — right now, his head is cloudy because he hasn’t let you touch him in weeks.

“You’ve been depriving me of cock all this time because you’ve been eating too good?” you say, scoffing as you reach for the hem of Seungcheol’s hoodie to tug at it. You pause, glancing at him for approval. Still with a dash of hesitation he sits up, helping you shrug it over his head, exposing himself to you.

“Don’t get too bratty, I can keep depriving you,” he retorts, but it’s playful. 

It’s like your first time with him all over again. All you’d gotten over the past few weeks were glimpses of his bare skin, a peek as he came out of the shower or changed or when his shirt lifted up as he stretched. He’s always been a little modest, but never to this extent. 

The sight of his bare form knocks every last breath from your lungs. He’s always been beautiful—strong and dependable, now even more so. His body has always given you the urge to get on your knees and worship and pray to him like the Greeks did, now it feels as though you were born to do just that. 

Then there’s a pang of violence, too, because he hasn’t even changed that drastically. He’s a little softer in his tummy, his arms a little thicker, but that’s all, really. It’s definitely not something for him to have been hiding out of disgust. Of course, it’s not all too difficult to deduce why he felt it necessary to do it—he’s an idol. It’s his job to look picturesque and perfect and flawless. His mind is bound to become mean, to turn to cruel lies of not being good enough.

Your lips leave a trail along his skin, from his collarbones, to his chest, and down his abdomen. Your hope is that each kiss will help chase away Seungcheol’s every last insecurity. It’s naive of you, perhaps, because it will take a lot more than just this to unravel what he has convinced himself of. At the very least, it’s a start.

You paw at the band of his sweats, lips hovering below his belly button as you glance up at him.

“Can I take them off?”

A nervous pause. Then, “do it,” he says, sighing softly. 

And then you’re pulling them down his legs, down his thick, hard thighs—the ones made for you to sit on. 

His boxers come next, but not before you ask for his explicit permission again. More than ever, you’re utterly dedicated to his comfort. 

It’s instinct how your hand reaches for his cock, heavy as your fingers wrap around it and so thick that your fingertips don’t even touch. The sight of it which you’ve missed so much, pretty, pink, and veiny, has you drooling already, your teeth baring down on your bottom lip. You’re aching between your legs. 

You need him inside you or you might die.

Seungcheol’s eyes sparkle as he watches your lips leave wet kisses along his length, pecking along the veins as you make your way up, then spoiling his tip with sweet smooches and kitten licks in between.

“Missed you, Cheol,” you tell him, breathy and tender.

“I know,” he says, then you take his cock past your lips and he hisses as the warmth of your mouth greets him. 

He doesn’t realise how much he’s missed this, missed you, until his tip bumps the back of your throat and you’re choking around him despite not even having half of him in your mouth yet. His hand flies to grab a fistful of your hair, still managing to treat you gently as he pulls you back.

“Easy, pretty girl,” he pleads, the rasp in his voice instilling within you an urge to listen. His effect on you is trance-like, his honeyed voice irresistible. 

You blink up at him, batting your tear-brimmed lashes at him, knowing how it makes his heart swell. You take him slowly this time, one hand stroking at his base so that no inch of him is left untouched, and you swallow him little by little. 

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, a gorgeous sound that makes the world spin around you. It rushes straight to your core, burning through you, turning you hungrier, greedier.

You can’t help but slip one of your hands down between your thighs, sliding your fingers between your folds which you find practically dripping. Your fingertips dance over your clit, circling it softly before you dip two of your digits inside to feed the insatiable flame that burns in your core. 

“Fuck, baby,” Seungcheol groans, catching sight of the way your fingers pump in and out of your dripping hole. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you—his cock twitches in your mouth as he speaks. 

The sheer size and thickness of your boyfriend’s length always proves challenging for you, but the heat emanating from deep within your core begs for you to spoil him—because his pleasure is equally yours—and has you burying him all the way down your throat in spite of the tears that spring to your eyes and the clench of your oesophagus around him. 

And the thing about Seungcheol is that his mere existence is enough to toss you out of your mind, to make you throw all morals out the window until you’re no better than a cat in heat.

He lets out a noise that’s part-laugh and part-moan as your nose nuzzles against the wiry hairs of his happy trail, never failing to be caught off guard by your eagerness even after years of being your lover. His hand settles on your cheek, at the corner of your lips that are stretched around his girth, his thumb drawing soft strokes on your skin.

“I said go easy,” he says, voice strained, but he chuckles amusedly through his words.

You bob your head back up, popping off of him briefly. Webs of glimmering spit connect your lips with his cock, and Seungcheol thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He can’t help but brush his thumb over your swollen lips while his eyes drink you in with a tender gleam. 

“Can’t help myself,” you reply, smiling coyly, then the next moment you’re back on him again, swirling your tongue around his tip.

You pull your fingers from your pussy momentarily to drag your nails along his thighs, so thick and heavy with muscle that you’re certain when you sink them into his skin he feels no more than a soft scratch. It helps when you swallow him whole again, helps keep your tears at bay just a little, helps the muscles of your throat relax so that you can bob your head up and down his length the way both you and him like it.

You don’t go too fast lest he pulls you away for ignoring his pleas, but there’s also no need for you to go too fast. Yes, you’ve missed him, missed having him like this, missed touching him, but right now that’s not what you’re concerned about. All that spurs you on is the want —the need—to make Seungcheol feel as desirable as he is to you. 

So you take him steadily, at a pace that’s enough to get him worked up and simultaneously lets your affection drip from every drag of your mouth along his length, lets you taste every inch of him and every drop of his salty precum. Your soft moans muffled by his cock merge with his ones, breathy and whiny, broken up by praises and light mewls of your name. 

One of your hands moves between your legs again, squelching as your fingers enter your throbbing cunt once more.

You refuse to break your eyes away from his, as though averting your gaze from him even for a second would mean he would vanish before you. It’s also Seungcheol’s Achilles’ heel—look into his eyes and he doesn’t stand a chance against you. 

You could predict the way curses start spilling from his lips and the way his cock starts to throb lightly in your mouth and the way his hips start to buck every time his tip reaches the back of your throat. When it comes to you, he’s weak and he will never hide it.

“Baby, I’m close,” he says, a near whisper. 

His confession prompts you to pull your mouth off of him and he whimpers, pouting shamelessly like a kicked puppy. Some alpha leader. 

“You’re really teasing me right now?” 

“Cheollie… You’ve been ignoring me for weeks and you think I’d just let you cum like that?” you say, but your voice is full of playfulness. You want to make up for the affection you haven’t been able to give him for so long, yet a part of you wants to get back at him a little. 

“I’ll remember this,” he grins.

“I know you will,” you tell him as you clamber up his legs until you’re straddling his waist, bending forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth and pouting at him. “What if I want you to finish inside me though?”

“Then let me prep you first,” he insists, giant hands finding your hips and drawing circles with his thumbs. He’s about to flip you over onto your back, but you shake your head and press a hand to his chest to keep him still. 

“I’ve already prepped myself, Cheollie, you wanna taste?” 

Before he can bicker back, you push your soaked fingers between his lips and into his mouth, and he sucks them subconsciously, lapping up every last drop of your arousal with a moan.

When his mouth is free of your fingers, he smiles.

“I still wanna touch you,” he rasps, resolute.

You lean over him until your mouth is on his again, but this time your lips slide sloppily against one anothers’ from the mess of saliva and cum that drips from them. Your hands travel up his torso, palms smoothing over his bare flesh, but touching him is not enough. 

“I wanna take care of you, Seungcheol, so please just let me,” you whisper against his lips, grinding your hips over his cock where it lays against his abdomen. 

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, sighing as your lips drop down to his neck and nip at his tender skin there. “But I’m eating you out for at least two hours next time.”

You perk back up to shoot him an unamused look, in spite of the fact that it’s really a win-win situation for you. You just hate that there’s no budging your boyfriend’s stubbornness. 

“I love you,” he says, lips curling into a ghost of a smirk.

And here is your Achilles heel, because you’re just a girl, after all. A girl not immune to her breathtaking lover’s sweet words, whose heart sways at his whispers of affection to her—to only her. 

Warmth floods your veins. The need to be one with him becomes urgent. 

Grasping onto Seungcheol’s broad shoulders, you sink down upon him, inch by inch until he’s bottomed out inside you and your moans of relief are perfectly in sync. He grips your hips so hard they’ll probably bruise, no doubt having become unused to how sweetly your warm walls envelop his cock like a hug. Meanwhile you’ve forgotten how his dick, in all its thickness, is capable of punching the air from your lungs.

Still, there’s no hesitation in the way you start to bounce your hips on him and it’s not long before the burning stretch fizzles into a glowing pleasure in the pit of your stomach. 

When you’re above him like this, you’re able to take in the sight of all of him. His biceps, bulky and thick, his shoulders, sturdy and broad. Every inch of him is so perfect that you wonder how he’s all yours. You hate to think about how he could have possibly felt disgusted by himself. If he wasn’t already yours in real life, he would be in your dreams, exactly as he is as he lays beneath you. 

It’s overwhelming. Feeling him again after so many weeks, the way his cock drives into you so deliciously, his sculpture-like body—you’re not sure what does it, probably a mixture of everything, but before you know it your pussy is clamping down on him and your entire body quivers with a wave of

“Fuck, I’m cumming too, baby, I’m right with you,” he utters, staring at you as if you descended straight from Heaven.

“No,” you say, and your hips halt their bouncing, yet your fingers are still toying with your clit as you recover from your orgasm. 

Seungcheol whines at the cruelty of it.

“Not until you agree this body is sexy,” you say, teasing, grinding your hips painfully slowly along his cock—certainly not enough to keep up any kind of stimulation.

He gives a pained, exasperated laugh, and thinks fuck, he’s in love with you. He’s not sure what he’s done, maybe saved a life or two in a past life, but even that seems like it’s not enough for him to deserve you. 

The way your walls squeeze down on his cock makes his head spin. If he doesn’t cum soon he thinks he might die.

“It is, okay? I love this body. Now please, please, keep going,” he blurts out, stroking his hands up and down your thighs sweetly, pouting up at you so irresistibly.

“Say it’s sexy.”

He whines again, painfully desperate. His voice breaks when he repeats your words; “my body is sexy.”

You smile like a little minx when you start to bounce up and down him again, even harder this time. Seungcheol moans, such a gorgeous sound, and before long he’s grasping at your waist and pulling you flush against him as his cock throbs and he fills you up with spurts of his warm seed.

As he comes back down with heavy breaths, you pepper his neck and jawline with saccharine kisses. 

“I love you,” you say, relishing in the weight and warmth of his strong arms wrapped around your nude body, in the feeling of his soft yet firm torso that’s one with your own. “You’re perfect to me.”

[sooniebby]

hey I just recently found your blog while scrolling through tags and I’m so in love with all your ocs (especially Yubin and mind reader’s guy) I love reading your works :) sometimes I even reread them cause they’re just so *chefs kiss*

So far, I’m really looking forward to the mind reader since there’s so much tension and it’s just such a neat idea. Just imagine if the two got paired up for a group/partner project 👀 the poor guy is going to lose his mind while the mind reader gets front row tickets to it

(not necessarily a request but you’re free to write about it if you want to!! I just wanted to mention the idea since I’ve been thinking about it a lot ever since I read about the two)

Aw thanks so much! Glad you like them, your idea is really good, I had to use it! As usual, bottom male reader. Based on this post.. added more characterization

Xavier Young.. that was the name of the pervert plaguing your thoughts. Just like right now, while you desperately tried to pay attention to the girl in front of you—talking about what part you’ll have for the group project..

But there’s just this nagging sound filling your head. Xavier.. thinking about fucking you.. again.

It was even worse this time. At the table, he sat directly across from you, practically staring you down.

‘Ah… he’s so cute. Wish he’d look at me instead of her..’

You made sure to never glance his way.

‘He was blessed with such pouty lips… shit, I wanna bite them’

You pursed your lips heavily so it was just a thin line.

‘I’ve never seen him in a short sleeved shirt.. or shorts for that matter.. shit, why’s that hotter than him just showing himself off?’

You contemplated taking off your jacket but decided you just weren’t comfortable enough to do that. Oh well, you’d just let him have that perverse thought.

“So… (Name) and Xavier can take the pictures...”

“Excuse me?”

And here you were, forced to walk around the university taking pictures with just Xavier. Standing beside him, he was tall.. he practically dwarfed you. Briefly, you thought about seeing just how much size he had compared to you.

And it seemed Xavier was thinking the same thing.. although obviously, dirtier. Much to your dismay, his thoughts were filled with fucking you in the library (gross!).

“You’re so small… this bump in your belly is from me, yeah?” His inner self said, tracing his.. much larger hand across your stomach, lightly pressing down on the obvious bump from his cock.

You wanted to kill yourself. And the fact that you.. kinda.. sorta.. wanted to know if that would actually happen if he were to fuck you.. hey, it’s just curiosity!

You tried to push his perverse thoughts away and filled your head with your own thoughts.. though they kept going back to wondering if.. everything about him was big.

Though in your head, you knew he probably just liked you for sex. Nothing more. All of his thoughts on you have been about sex—you felt a little disappointed at that but brushed it off. At least someone thought you were sexy.

You bent down for a moment to take a picture of a group of squirrels when you heard the sound of the camera going off. You looked up and Xavier was looking away with a sheepish grin on his lips.

Did he.. take a picture of you? You shook your head. No way… you pushed the thoughts away and continued taking any picture that you could from the constantly moving animals when out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Xavier take a few pictures of you before turning around to take pictures of the nearby lake.

Holy shit.. he did! You moved a bit closer, wanting to see what he was thinking when he took those photos. But he wasn’t thinking. He was totally blank. It took a moment before he thought about anything.

‘I’m so fucking hungry… hope (Name) won’t mind if we take a break..’

Sure enough, Xavier asked if you guys could get something to eat. Soon you found yourself sitting across from him as he ate his cafeteria pizza

It looked fucking disgusting.

‘This is nasty… but I’m so hungry.’

You couldn’t help your snicker from his thoughts. Xavier looked up at you and raised an eyebrow, wondering what was so funny about him eating pizza.

It was mainly silent for the rest of time. You listened randomly to other people’s thoughts as Xavier’s seemed to just be about how nasty his pizza was.

“You dating anyone?”

“Huh?”

You look over at Xavier as he wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand.

“Dating?”

“Uh… no. Why?”

Xavier only grinned and looked at camera, checking his photos that he took. That was the end of it but you could hear his thoughts.

‘Hm, he’s cute but I could’ve taken better ones.. ah, can’t wait to take nudes photos of him.’

You choked for a second, coughing heavily in shock. Xavier handed you his water and lightly patted your back.

‘Damn. He coughs a lot… would he cough like that if he deep throats my cock..?’

Well, his dirty thoughts were back. But you still really wondered, why the hell did he like you?

Your head was suddenly being filled with Xavier’s thoughts again. Mainly sex, of course. He seemed to really love sex in semi public areas.

In a weird idea, you listened to his fantasy closer, wanting to see how far he would go.

And.. it’s pretty far. Spanking seemed to be a favorite, judging by how he kept dreaming about spanking your ass. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing it lightly to earn your little whimpers.

But, something new was a dream in what you could only assume was his bedroom. He was doing something on his computer, playing a game maybe. But you were there on his lap but not in a normal way. You were sitting on one of his legs, his muscular leg, mind you.

You were rutting your clothed cock on it, maybe chasing your own release by how loud your whines were. But he wasn’t paying you any mind. He was just playing his game. A few times, he’d look at you and look as if he’d touch your aching cock but then just go back to his game.

It was like you were using him but even then he was in control.

And you liked that. Even though it was just a dream, you felt your real cock twitch in your jeans. Fuck, another boner.

“Liked it?” Xavier suddenly asked.

You looked up at him in shock, noticing just how close he was to you now. You parted your lips to ask what the hell he was talking about when he shamelessly pressed his hand against your growing boner, earning a gasp from you.

You couldn’t even control yourself as you bit your lip tightly to muffle your moans. Xavier’s hand so easily engulfed your cock, teasing it slowly. It was like he was trying to wake it up even more.. and you could only think about someone accidentally seeing this and the fact you wanted him to continue.

He leaned down and pressed his lips close your ears, to make sure only you heard what he had to say.

“I said… did you like it? It was really hard to think of a dream you’d like.. but I’m glad you like me being in control. It’s certainly my favorite.”

Mother fucker… he… he knows you could read his mind?!

Just who the fuck was this guy?

Heheh~ how was that? I wasn’t sure if i should go through with it but i think i like this turn of events. Sorry if this wasn’t as smut heavy, don’t worry, the next part will be 🤭

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life69 @chill-guy-but-cooler @nakedtoasterr @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @smellwell @millecka @bowieisbored @iwishtobeacrow

(Ask to added to my tag list for all posts or just for part 3 of mind reader!)

[p0orbaby]

It’s Called Free Fall

summary: therapy makes you realise a lot of things

warnings: none

a/n: there’s not actually any alexia in this, but she is mentioned

word count: 2.7k

part 1

-

The therapist’s office feels like it’s been curated for someone far more refined than you—someone who actually takes their therapy seriously, rather than as an ironic lifestyle choice. The walls are a pale, flat grey that veers perilously close to lifeless, and there’s this overwhelming sense of emptiness, like everything here exists for display rather than use. The chairs, two narrow-backed leather things angled just slightly towards each other, appear less like furniture and more like sculptures. You imagine some recent graduate from a New York art school positioned them just so, meticulously arranging each one to make sure it induced the precise mix of discomfort and luxury.

The table between you and Dr. Vargas is another matter entirely—a sleek slab of polished mahogany, thick enough that you could lean your entire weight on it without even a squeak of protest. Its surface is bare except for a single leather-bound notebook, a fountain pen and a ceramic dish, all aligned to a degree that feels almost militaristic. There’s not a single loose thread in the rug, not a fingerprint on the glass of the one window facing out onto a garden view that’s suspiciously verdant for the middle of winter.

Even the fern, perched in the corner like it’s waiting for its close-up, seems too green, too lush. It’s ridiculous, but it’s all part of the aesthetic, this carefully curated minimalism, the kind of cultivated restraint that says, “We don’t need embellishments. We’re here for the truth.” You’re here, supposedly, for honesty and revelation. But to you, it all feels a bit too staged, like a hotel that boasts a “homely charm” but is actually cold and sterile beneath the surface. You suspect Dr. Vargas might even mist the plant herself in some sacred ritual of maintenance, a sort of last-minute grounding exercise to fill the silence between clients.

You settle back in the chair, draping one leg over the other, and make a mental note to mention it next time you’re in some magazine interview. “Austere,” you’d say, “but in a chic way. I once caught my therapist hand-polishing the leaves of a houseplant.” You let yourself savour the image for a moment, glancing at the fern, which seems to return your gaze with silent judgement.

Dr. Vargas has her pen poised in that infuriatingly neutral way, a half-smile that somehow manages to be both welcoming and utterly unreadable. She’s mastered this look; the expression that says, I’m here for you while also suggesting she’s already a step ahead, already written your entire profile out in her head, neatly categorised into sub-headings like “Avoidant Tendencies” and “Control Issues.”

You begin with a sigh, throwing a glance at the ceiling in mock contemplation. “I’ve been thinking about another place. A chalet, maybe. Something in the mountains this time.” You pause, letting the idea sit, feigning like it’s just occurred to you. “Somewhere remote, where people can’t just… get to me”

You’re fully aware that she sees right through it. This isn’t her first rodeo; you’re sure she’s dealt with hundreds like you before, masters of diversion who fill sessions with banalities rather than facing anything real. But Dr. Vargas, in all her maddening professionalism, gives nothing away. She just tilts her head, the soft scratch of her pen against her notebook barely there as she writes something down.

“A place to escape,” she offers back to you in that maddeningly placid tone.

“Yes. Escape,” you echo, knowing full well the word holds no weight here. Escape from what, exactly? You let your leg bounce a little, as if the rhythm might lend some gravity to your words. “And there’s this new project I’m in talks with—A24, actually. They want me to do something… serious. A proper rebrand. Gritty. Artistic.” You drawl out “artistic” with the faintest of smirks, like you’re amused at the thought of it all. A lifetime of playing these games, and you’re practically a pro by now.

Dr. Vargas’s face betrays not a flicker of interest or amusement. She simply nods, that little encouraging tilt of her head again, like she’s waiting for you to get to the real point, the heart of the matter. But you’re not giving in so easily.

“It could be big, you know,” you continue, lifting your chin a fraction. “And I’ve got Alexia, of course.” The name slips out, deliberately nonchalant, though you feel its weight instantly, like it’s left a mark on the air between you.

Dr. Vargas raises her eyebrows, ever so slightly. “Alexia,” she repeats, not quite a question, not quite a statement. Just… acknowledgment, and yet it still feels as if she’s plucked something out of you without you realising. You don’t like it, the way she turns your own words against you.

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging. “She’s… brilliant. On the field, off it. You know, she’s—” You trail off, allowing a smirk to play on your lips. “Not bad to look at, either”

She gives no reaction, doesn’t even break eye contact. You imagine her poker face would rival that of any seasoned card shark. But it’s her silence that presses at you, coaxing out more than you intend to reveal. It’s a trick she’s used before, and yet here you are, willingly falling into it.

“Honestly,” you continue, almost laughing as if sharing some private joke, “you should see her after a match. There’s this… intensity, this rawness. Shirt off, sweat-drenched, eyes still blazing from the game. It’s… invigorating.” You roll the word around like a fine wine, savouring it as you go. “It’s like the universe threw me a bone, just when I was getting bored”

Dr. Vargas finally moves, a slight shift of her head, her mouth curving up in a near-smile. “And yet, you’re here”

Her words drop between you like a carefully placed stone. You scoff, rolling your eyes, but there’s something in her expression—an almost imperceptible softness that somehow feels like an accusation. “Therapy’s a hobby,” you shrug, leaning back, as if the very idea of anything deeper is laughable. “I’m always in therapy, Doc. News flash”

“Yes,” she agrees smoothly, not missing a beat, “but you don’t usually bring her up”

“Come on,” you counter, with a smirk that’s designed to look careless, “I bring her up all the time”

“Not like this”

Her voice is calm, almost gentle, but her gaze sharpens, pinning you in place. You feel a spike of irritation, or maybe it’s something else. You cast a look towards the fern, now faintly silhouetted by the afternoon sun, its shadow long and narrow across the wall, an unasked-for third party in this strange little dance. The absurdity of the whole scene hits you, but before you can fully detach, she’s speaking again.

“You’re talking about her differently. More… openly.” There’s no edge to her tone, no overt judgment, yet it feels like she’s peeled back a layer, glimpsed a part of you you hadn’t meant to reveal.

In the moments that follow, you stub out your cigarette on the pristine ceramic dish Vargas keeps on the table, the one she’s claimed is “not for smoking” but never actually moved after that one session. You’ve taken it as tacit permission, though you know damn well it irritates her—just another way to test the boundaries in a room that prides itself on having none. That’s half the point of these sessions: see how far you can stretch them. How much she’ll let you say, or not say. And you’ve mastered the art of saying absolutely nothing, all while filling the space with empty words.

Dr. Vargas doesn’t speak, doesn’t press, which is almost worse than if she did. There’s just the persistent softness in her eyes, the quiet implication that she understands more than you’d prefer. You remember Alexia’s eyes looking at you like that once, right after you’d tried to make some grand point about the nature of relationships—one of those pseudo-philosophical tangents you like to go on. She’d just looked at you, with a kind of bemused patience that felt a little too genuine, a little too close to knowing you.

You roll your shoulders, shake off the memory. But it clings.

“Alright,” you say, letting the smoke spill out as you form the words. “Maybe I don’t do ‘love’ like everyone else. I’m not here for a candlelit dinner and a mortgage. I’m not,” you add with a quick laugh, “one of those people who turn into some sap over a nice couple’s holiday in Santorini”

Dr. Vargas gives a small nod, an acknowledgement rather than agreement, her expression neutral but open, giving you room to continue.

“But, yes. Fine.” You take another drag, a deliberate pause. “Maybe I… care about her. I care about her. She’s different, alright?”

“Different how?” she asks gently, with an infuriatingly patient tone.

You groan, shifting in your seat. “Come on, don’t make me quantify it. That’s your thing, not mine.” You know you’re stalling, using your usual deflections, but there’s an itch underneath it, a part of you that feels raw just acknowledging that Alexia is, in fact, ‘different.’

You can feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to take the bait you’ve laid out for yourself.

“Fine, you want specifics?” you sigh, feigning annoyance, though you know you’re the one who’s led the conversation here. “She… laughs at my worst jokes. Like, really laughs. Not in a polite way, but genuinely, like she thinks I’m the funniest person alive, even when I’m barely trying. It’s stupid, really, but it gets me”

“And how does that make you feel?” Vargas leans forward, like she’s zeroing in on something significant.

You chuckle, low and dismissive, waving the question off with your cigarette. “How do you think it makes me feel? It’s… fine. Nice. A bit strange, maybe. I’m not used to being seen like that.” You pause, the weight of that admission lingering in the air between you.

She doesn’t react, doesn’t push; she just lets the moment settle, knowing there’s more.

You sigh, smoke curling up around you, as your mind goes back to other little things—the way she has this weird ritual of picking all the green M&Ms out of the bag and tossing them to you, claiming they’re “bad luck.” How she insists on reading the morning news out loud, in that silly, exaggerated announcer voice, just to make you laugh while you pretend to read emails. Or how she makes you tea at exactly the right temperature, handing you the mug with a grin like she’s just given you a priceless gift. These are things that, on the surface, should be forgettable, the kind of mundane moments that fade. But they don’t, do they? Not with her.

Dr. Vargas’s voice interrupts your reverie, soft but insistent. “You’re smiling”

You realise she’s right; you’re smiling without even meaning to, and it’s a small, stupid smile, the kind that feels too open. You try to erase it, but it’s too late. The vulnerability’s already there, a quiet confession written across your face.

You roll your eyes, more at yourself than at her. “Alright, so what? So she’s… alright, she’s fun. She’s got that energy, you know, that lightness. It’s kind of… refreshing”

The words slip out unbidden, and you feel a pang of something resembling regret. Refreshing. A word that implies something else by omission—that most of your life, most people you’ve known, have been exhausting. The irony isn’t lost on you: someone so completely different from your own brand of detached sarcasm, from your carefully cultivated ennui, has managed to slip under the radar and wedge herself into your carefully controlled life.

Dr. Vargas watches, her silence pressing you forward.

“Look, I don’t think about it too much,” you say, trying to inject a casual note into your tone. “I don’t need to psychoanalyse every smile, every inside joke. I’m not here to have my relationship broken down into neat little psych terms”

“Maybe you should think about it,” Vargas says gently. “Maybe that’s why you’re here”

You scoff, but there’s a softness in the sound, a hint of resignation. Because she’s right, isn’t she? You came here because, as much as you don’t want to admit it, this thing with Alexia has started to matter, in a way that’s both terrifying and strangely compelling. You’ve always prided yourself on staying a step removed, on being a spectator in your own life, observing rather than fully engaging. But with her, you’re finding it harder to keep that distance.

“Fine,” you mutter, leaning back, letting your head rest against the chair, staring up at the ceiling as though the answers might be written there. “Maybe she’s… special”

The words feel strange in your mouth, too vulnerable, too open. You don’t say “special” often, especially not in this context. But there it is, a reluctant admission.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m in love with her,” you continue, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “She’s great—don’t get me wrong. She’s amazing in bed. I can’t remember the last time someone made me cum so much. And she’s got this thing about her, you know? Like this fire, this intensity. It’s like when she looks at me, she’s looking right through me. And yeah, I guess that’s… intoxicating. But that’s all it is. Right?”

Dr. Vargas nods, a small, subtle gesture. “Why does that scare you?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you watch the smoke dancing away from your cigarette, dissipating into the air, leaving nothing behind but a faint, lingering scent. You think about what it is you’re so afraid of—because there’s something there, something you can’t quite name, a sense that if you let this thing with Alexia continue, it might change you in ways you’re not ready for.

“Because I don’t do… attachment,” you say finally, the words coming out sharper than intended. “I’ve built a life that doesn’t depend on anyone else. And she’s… she’s a complication”

You can feel Vargas watching you, sensing the weight of what you’re not saying, the unspoken truth that this isn’t just about Alexia, that it’s about something deeper, a fear of vulnerability, of losing control. She doesn’t push, though; she just waits, letting the silence do the work for her.

After a long pause, you take a breath, letting your gaze drift to the fern by the window, its leaves glossy and perfect, so meticulously maintained it almost looks fake. You wonder if it’s ever felt the strain of trying to keep everything together, to present a flawless exterior while something more fragile lurks beneath the surface.

“You know,” you say, almost to yourself, “it’s funny. For the longest time, I thought love was just a distraction, a temporary fix for people who couldn’t handle being alone.” You take another drag from your cigarette, exhaling slowly. “But with her, it’s… it’s different. It’s like she makes everything brighter, sharper, like she’s tuned into some frequency I didn’t know existed”

Dr. Vargas doesn’t respond, just nods, letting you continue.

“And the worst part?” You chuckle, a self-deprecating sound. “The worst part is that she’s getting to me. She’s in my head, even when she’s not there. I find myself thinking about her in the middle of the day, wondering what she’s up to, if she’s thinking about me too”

There’s a fragility in the admission, a crack in the armour you’ve built around yourself. And it terrifies you, this sense of letting someone in, of letting them get close enough to matter.

You stub out your cigarette, watching the last curl of smoke dissipate into the air. It feels like a metaphor for something, though you’re not sure what.

Dr. Vargas gives you a small, knowing smile. “Maybe falling in love isn’t as bad as you think it will be,” she says gently.

You shrug, trying to play it off, but there’s a part of you that knows she’s right. Because for all your detachment, all your carefully cultivated distance, there’s something about Alexia that feels like home, like she’s a part of you you didn’t realise was missing.

“Maybe,” you say, the words soft, barely audible.

Love. The word lingers like an uninvited guest. You try to dismiss it, try to laugh it off, but it keeps creeping back in.

[lilsha-onthebeat]

A Night in Piltover

Summary: As tensions rise in Piltover, a chance encounter leads to an unexpected evening between you and Caitlyn, the sharp-witted Enforcer with a heart for justice.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets of Piltover. The air was thick with the scent of metal and oil, the sounds of gears turning and voices mingling creating a symphony unique to this vibrant city. You navigated through the crowd, your mind racing with thoughts of the day’s events.

Caitlyn had been hard at work, her dedication to protecting the city evident in the way she carried herself. You admired her tenacity, her unyielding spirit in the face of chaos. Today, however, something felt different. There was an unspoken tension in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the city was on the brink of something big.

As you rounded a corner, you spotted Caitlyn leaning against a lamppost, her signature hat casting a shadow over her face. She was deep in thought, her gaze fixed on the horizon. You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to approach her or give her the space she clearly needed. But your curiosity got the better of you.

“Caitlyn?” you called out softly, stepping closer.

Her head snapped up, and a smile broke through her contemplative expression. “Oh, hey! I didn’t expect to see you here,” she replied, her voice warm, yet laced with an edge of exhaustion.

“Just taking a stroll. You look like you could use a break,” you said, noting the shadows under her eyes.

“Believe me, I could,” she sighed, pushing herself off the lamppost. “But there’s too much happening right now. The Undercity is restless, and I can’t help but feel like something bad is coming.”

You nodded, understanding her concern. The divide between Piltover and the Undercity had always been a source of tension, and with the recent skirmishes, things were bound to boil over. “You know you can’t do it all alone, right? Even the best Enforcer needs a hand sometimes.”

Caitlyn chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling under the dim light. “You’re right. Maybe I do need a break.”

With that, she took a deep breath and looked around. “How about we grab a drink? Just to clear our heads?”

The suggestion took you by surprise, but you couldn’t hide your excitement. “Sure! I know a great little place not far from here.”

As you led her through the winding streets, the weight of the day slowly began to lift. You found solace in her company, the conversation flowing effortlessly. Caitlyn’s laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help but feel at ease.

Arriving at the inn, you found a cozy corner table. Caitlyn ordered a couple of drinks, and soon you were sharing stories—yours filled with the mundane, hers interspersed with tales of daring escapades and narrow escapes.

“I once had to chase down a smuggler through the rooftops of Piltover,” she recounted, her eyes lighting up with the memory. “I swear, I’ve never climbed so fast in my life!”

You laughed, picturing her agile form darting across the rooftops. “I can imagine! You must’ve looked like a real-life superhero.”

“Maybe I should get a cape,” she joked, her smile wide. “You’d make a great sidekick, you know.”

“Only if I get a cool codename,” you replied, your heart racing at the playful banter.

The night wore on, and as the drinks flowed, so did the conversation. Underneath the flickering candlelight, you shared your dreams, your fears, and everything in between. Caitlyn listened intently, her gaze never wavering, and you felt a connection growing stronger with every word spoken.

Eventually, the atmosphere shifted, the weight of the world creeping back in. Caitlyn’s smile faded slightly as she looked out the window, the lights of Piltover twinkling like stars in the night sky.

“Do you ever wonder if we’re fighting a losing battle?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You reached across the table, placing your hand over hers. “I believe in you, Caitlyn. You’re making a difference, even if it feels small at times. And you’re not alone in this.”

Her eyes met yours, filled with gratitude and something deeper. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear that.”

In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble. You could see the determination in her gaze, the strength that made her who she was.Caitlyn's fingers intertwined with yours, a gesture that sent a warm rush through your body. The connection felt electric, as if the air between you was charged with unspoken words and possibilities. You could sense the vulnerability beneath her stoic exterior, and it made you want to protect her even more fiercely.

"You really are remarkable, you know," you said softly, squeezing her hand. "Not just as an Enforcer, but as a person. You care about this city and its people, and that’s rare."

Caitlyn smiled, a hint of shyness creeping into her expression. "I often feel like I’m just one person against a tide of chaos. It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed sometimes."

"You’re more than just one person," you replied, your voice steady. "You inspire others to fight alongside you. You’re leading a change, Caitlyn. Even if it’s slow, you’re making a difference every day."

Her eyes sparkled with a mix of appreciation and something else—an emotion that felt intimate and profound. "I wish I could see it that way all the time. It’s easy to get lost in the darkness, especially with everything going on in the Undercity."

Your heart ached for her. The burden she carried was heavy, and yet she bore it with such grace. “You don’t have to face it alone. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

Caitlyn’s gaze softened. “That means more than you know.” She paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “You know, I’ve never really taken a break from my duties. This is… nice. I don’t often allow myself to just be.”

“Then let’s take a moment,” you suggested, a smile tugging at your lips. “Just you and me. No Enforcer duties, no chaos. Just us.”

As if on cue, the tavern filled with laughter and music. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, and you could feel the tension of the day melting away. Caitlyn leaned back in her chair, a playful glint in her eyes. “Okay, let’s see how well you can keep up with me in a game of cards.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Cards? You think you can outsmart me?”

“Oh, I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” she replied, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

After ordering a deck of cards, you settled in for a night of playful competition. Caitlyn was as sharp as her reputation suggested, her strategic mind making every match a challenge. Each victory felt like a small triumph, and each defeat was met with good-natured banter.

“Best two out of three?” you proposed, unable to resist the competitive spirit that had ignited within you.

“Make it three out of five and you’ve got a deal,” she countered, her eyes shining with determination.

As the games progressed, laughter echoed around the cozy tavern. The atmosphere felt electric, a blend of friendly rivalry and genuine connection. You found yourself lost in her presence, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the way her cheeks flushed with excitement.

With the final game nearing its climax, Caitlyn leaned in closer, her expression serious yet playful. “Alright, if I win this round, you owe me a favor. And trust me, I’ll think of something good.”

“And if I win?” you asked, a smirk creeping onto your face.

“Let’s just say I’ll have to think of something equally enticing,” she quipped, a glimmer of challenge in her eyes.

The tension built as you both played your hands carefully, each move calculated and strategic. Finally, after a nail-biting finish, Caitlyn laid down her cards with a triumphant grin. “I win!”

You let out a mock groan, feigning defeat. “Alright, what’s my fate?”

She leaned back, contemplating for a moment. “Hmm… I want you to promise me that you’ll always be there to remind me of the good things in life, even when things get tough.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sincerity of her request. “That’s it? I thought you’d ask for something wild.”

Caitlyn chuckled softly. “Believe me, you have no idea how wild I can get. But for now, this is what I want.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you. “I promise. I’ll remind you of the good, always.”

With that, the tension shifted again, morphing into something deeper, something more profound. Caitlyn’s expression softened, and you could feel the air around you thickening with unspoken words.

“I really enjoyed this,” she said quietly, her eyes searching yours. “Thank you for being here with me.”

The sincerity in her voice made your heart flutter.

---------

A/N - hey, basically my first post! I hope whoever sees this like it!! I might write more, but I'm not too sure!!

Have a great day, don't forget to drink water and eat!

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ do you believe in love? | gojo satoru

wc: 808

summary: you’re both 23 when you first ask gojo about love.

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are mentioned, a bit of sad, there is a swear, kind of a will-they-won’t-they, alludes to some of gojo’s possible internal struggles, might feel a bit ooc? but i like to think gojo does have serious conversations once in a while 

a/n: the kind of gojo i envision in this is inspired by all the teen dad/dad gojo fics that i’ve ever read, most notably 'teen dad gojo' by @seravphs and 'keeping up with the fushiguros' by @/augustinewrites. this isn’t an addition to any of their works, but the way they write and characterise gojo has shaped the way i understand him (and ultimately how i write him) in these little blurbs of mine :’) please do check their works out if you have the time, it’s some of my favourites!! :’)

collection masterlist: conversations on love you are here -> 02. tell me about love (show me how)

“Do you believe in love?” 

You don’t think he hears you at first, but that’s impossible; the night is quiet, with only you and Gojo sitting by the steps of the dormitory entrance. His dangly long legs brush against yours, lingering barely. 

Since Suguru’s defection, Gojo’s gotten a lot more contemplative. He hides it a lot, especially with Megumi and Tsumiki around, but there are times that you catch him spacing out. There’s a far away look on his face and his demeanor completely shifts, rambunctiousness fading into something more restrained, if only in that moment. 

Other times, you’re let into that space with him, like now. 

“I do.” he replies, uncharacteristically succinct. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it. 

You weren’t expecting it, to be honest. With everything that’s happened to him so far, you were ready for a flat out cynical ‘no’. But—

“But,” he continues, “not for me.” 

There’s the ‘but’. 

He turns to look at you, eyes covered by the bandages he’s been opting for more recently. You’ve known Gojo since you were both 15, and somehow, you’ve gotten good at guessing what he’s always hiding. 

“You wanna tell me why?” you nudge. You figure this is good for him—or at least you hope it is. 

Getting Gojo to actually sit and have a real conversation with you has been increasingly difficult since Suguru disappeared. Taking in the Fushiguros, then the higher ups assigning him missions back-to-back-to-back—it’s been a lot. And you worry about him, if he’s even been able to sit down and process everything, if he’s even given himself the chance to feel for once. 

“Not really,” he shrugs, turning back to the garden in front of you. There isn’t much to discuss, it either fits in his life or doesn’t. When he’s meant for a purpose much larger than himself, small wants remain at just that: small, negligible. 

You huff, unable to hide your disappointment, “Okay.” 

But, you respect him and what he wants (or does not want) to say. 

As you stare out with him, Gojo eyes you from the side, the pout on your lips a teenage souvenir you still carry now at 23. He breaks into a small smile, the corners of his lips curving up slightly, fondly. 

“It’s just not meant for me, that’s all.” 

He doesn’t look at you when he says that, too. 

You slowly avert your gaze from the grass in front of you, focusing on him instead. His smile is still there, although it feels resigned, like he’s accepted this long ago. 

Gojo has never been meant to handle something so delicate and fragile—his divinity keeps him untouchable from such pure things. 

Still, you want to tell him that that’s not true. That you think love is meant for everyone, even in this fucked up, cursed world—especially in this fucked up, cursed world. 

You want to tell him that love is meant for him too. 

“Do you wish it were?”

He hums, arms stretching back as he leans on his wrists. His head dips back, looking at the sky. There’s a pause, then an exhale before he continues, “There’s no point thinking about it, I guess.” 

A non-answer. You take what you can get; it’s hard enough getting Gojo to be honest with you, much less talk about things like this. The night continues this way: you exchange anecdotes about your latest missions, then talk about Megumi’s most recent involvement in a school incident. Serious questions pop up here and there but you don’t push, and Gojo is willing to share what he can. 

.

.

.

You are 23 when you first ask Gojo if he believes in love, and he does, but what he doesn’t tell you is this: that he only believes it because he sees it in you—through the things you do, for Megumi and Tsumiki. For him too. 

There’s always been this unspoken thing between the two of you. He doesn’t know what to call it—never has, but it’s comfortable and safe, so he tries to keep it that way. 

Suguru has left an unpatchable hole inside of him that only you can seem to touch, softening the jaggedy edges so it doesn’t cut as deep. When he first showed up with Megumi and Tsumiki that one Friday night, you had all the questions in the world; he could see it, feel it in the furrow of your brows and the tapping of your foot. But instead, you asked this: “Have you guys eaten dinner yet?”

Gojo cannot afford love, not yet. Not when there’s still so much at risk, still so much to do. The cons significantly outweigh the pros on both ends, so this will have to do for now—this unspoken thing, that he hopes one day, he can finally call for what it really is.

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[honeybeefae]

Potions (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Eris Week Day Two: Heir

Summary// A recent concoction has hit the fae market that is said to bring about your primal instincts to help fertility. When Eris first suggests it you laugh, thinking it is just another herb or supplement that will fail, until you both drink and realize just how primal it turns you.

(This is hot, filthy, dirty, just primal smut. I’m talking about knotting, A/B/O, breeding, fucking. If that’s not your vibe then you have been warned and if it is, well, we should definitely be friends. Enjoy!)

@erisweek2023

WARNINGS: SMUT, Knotting, Primal Play, Aphrodisiacs, Breeding, A/B/O Dynamics, Slight Cum Inflation?,  I don’t want to spoil anything else but it is dirty. 

With how hard fae pregnancies are to come by it is a wonder that something like this hadn’t been made sooner. Eris had had it delivered to him by one of his healers and advisors, their eyes sparkling at the idea of an heir being conceived with the special potion made by the healer himself. 

At first, Eris hadn’t even wanted to bring it to you, knowing how difficult it was for you month after month of not becoming pregnant, but as he saw you grow sadder each week he finally caved.

 This is how the two of you came to be sitting in the quiet of your secluded cabin, away from the court’s gossip and stares, with the heart-shaped bottle resting on the table between the two of you. 

“So what is this supposed to do exactly?” You ask quietly, gingerly picking it up and watching as the dark red liquid swirled from the movement of your shaky hands. “And how is this any different from the other herbs and medicines the healer has already been giving me?”

“It is said to call upon our basic, primal instincts to help with the conceiving part,” Eris explained again, blowing air out of his mouth. “I’m not sure exactly how it works or what it does but that is how it was explained to me.”

“And do you think it will work?”

“I think there is only one way to find out.”

You frown, contemplating, before twisting open the top and popping the cork. Eris stands and grabs two small glasses which you pour into. The smell is sickly sweet, almost like cherry medicine, and you try your best not to wince as you bring it up to your mouth. 

“Can we agree before we drink this that if it does not work…we just try not to worry about it? Conceiving, I mean.” Eris says softly, watching you with concern. “I know how much this has been bothering you and I do not want you to feel pressured or think that I am angry with you. These things take time and this drink, at most, is probably just going to be a fun night of sex for us. Nothing more.”

“I know I’ve been struggling I just,” You sigh, your eyes looking down. “I’m so ready to have a child and I know your advisors, the court, and even your mother have been pressing me for when I will finally have one. I just feel like I’m letting everyone down.”

He reaches out for you and grabs your free hand, squeezing it as he says, “You could never let anyone down, Y/N. I cannot say I know the pressures of being a woman in this circumstance but I can imagine them. Just please know that no matter what happens, whether it works or not, I love you and I do not care if I have to wait forever or even if it never happens. All I want is your happiness.”

You give him a sincere smile, tightening your fingers around his as you hold your glass out for him to clink. “Cheers then…to at least a long night of fucking each other.”

“Cheers, little fox.” Eris grins, giving you a flirty wink before downing the potion as you follow his lead. “It certainly tastes…interesting.”

“Nasty,” You blanch, your nose scrunching in disgust. “It tastes nasty.”

“Well the healer is probably more attuned at creating medicines than he is flavorful potions I would assume.” He shrugs, lounging back on the couch and patting his lap. “Why don’t you come over here and sit with me while we wait and see what this does?”

You don’t need to be asked twice as you shimmy over the table and crawl onto him, nuzzling your face into his neck as he kisses your temple and runs his fingers through your hair. It is sweet, domestic, and you savor it as you kiss his neck. 

“I do wonder what it means about becoming primal…” Eris muses. “Do you think it will make us mindless beasts? Just rutting into each other?”

A giggle escapes your lips as you raise your head to look at him, rolling your eyes as he smirks. “I think it will do the same as the other medicines have and slightly, slightly, raise our libido. Though I do not think we need help with that.”

He grins wolfishly and cups the back of your head, bringing your lips to his as he kisses you slowly. His lips never fail to take your breath away as they move against your own, molding perfectly together as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Pleasant tingles are going from your scalp to your toes as you swipe your tongue against his.

“Mmmm,” Eris growls, his hands grasping your hips while you teasingly grind down onto him. You were surprised at how wet you were already becoming, feeling the wet spot growing in your underwear. “It’s not nice to tease, little fox.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lord.” You smile against his mouth, your skin starting to feel clammy as you pull back for a moment. “Are you hot? Like sweaty?”

“I’m a little warm…” He trails off, looking down in surprise to see his white shirt almost completely soaked through. “What the hell?”

“Is it the potion? Is it like an allergic reaction?” You stand, touching the back of your neck which is slick with sweat. “Stars I’m the same way-what is that smell?”

You sniff at the air, trying to find the intoxicating smell that was starting to drive you insane. It was like you were one of his hounds are you bent down over Eris who was still looking down at his shirt, finding the source right at the pulse point of his neck. “Fuck Eris, you smell so good.”

Another warm gush of wetness coated your outer lips and thighs as you licked him from the hollow of his throat to the base of his ear, tasting the mix of pheromones and sweat while he abruptly pushed you off and stood. You felt like you were in a daze as you looked up at him, hurt and confused before you saw what had him freaking out. 

Eris’s hair was growing thicker, and coarser, while his body seemed to swell slightly in the muscles and planes of his chest. He raises his hands as you watch his nails become sharper and pointer, almost like claws, as he whispers, “I don’t know what’s happening to me…”

Your eyes trail up as he starts to lick his lips and his teeth, curling his top lip to show off his canines as they also become sharp. His amber eyes turn to gold as he stumbles back, tearing at his clothes until they were scraps on the floor, and unleashing the full change to your view. 

“Eris, what’s wrong? What’s happening?” Your tone is full of worry before your mouth drops open at the sight of his bare body, seeing the hair that has grown on his chest, forearms, and thighs, as your gaze finally falls to his cock.

It was already long and thick before but now, with whatever the medicine was doing, it had become even bigger. You could see the veins throbbing as he became hard under your eyes, the head an angry read as it hit just under his belly button. However, that isn’t the most concerning thing as you see a knot form just underneath his dick. 

A large, throbbing knot.

“Oh my gods.” You breathe, eyes wide, as you look back into his eyes. The man before you was no longer your Eris, no longer the High Lord of Autumn. No, this was a beast. A red, hungry beast who was watching you like a fox would its prey.

“I’ve never felt like this before…” He growls, even his voice an octave lower and gravelly while he licks his lips and stares at you. 

“Like what?” You question breathlessly.

“Like I want to fuck you until you’re overflowing with my cum, your womb stuffed as I drain every last drop into that pretty fucking cunt.”

Before you could fully react to it Eris had stomped over to you and ripped off your clothes, letting them fall to the floor it tatters as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked. You whined loudly, looking up at him as he fisted his cock and slapped it against your cheek roughly. “Suck it, pup. Take this hot, thick dick down your throat like a good girl.”

You opened for him without hesitation, gagging as he rutted into your face until the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat. Normally Eris would check in on you before being rough, making sure you were okay, but this wasn’t Eris. He had no qualms about your comfort as he threw his head back and groaned loudly.

And as you took it, as you slobbered all over him, you realized you liked it. 

The way he was treating you, the way he smelled, the knot, everything was driving you fucking wild. You were sure you were dripping onto the couch as he used your mouth for his pleasure. It was so hot and you could feel your mind going blank as you lost yourself in the experience.

“That’s it, that’s it, FUCK!” He roared as you played with his knot, moaning around him. “Swallow it so fucking deep, pet. Oh, fuck.”

He was throbbing inside your mouth as you ran your tongue over the veins and the underside of his dick, tasting the salty musk of him before he unexpectedly pulled himself out of your mouth. “Hands and knees, slut. Now.”

Eris stroked himself as you quickly clambered into position on the small couch, wiggling your ass in the air to entice him as he took position behind you. He landed a rough smack on your ass before he started thrusting swiftly, his cock desperately trying to find your hole as you shoved a hand down to try and guide him.

It only took a few seconds before he found his mark and you cried out in pain and pleasure as he speared you down on his member, fucking you like an animal. You tried your best to stay upright but Eris shoved a large hand between your shoulders, forcing your face into the pillows as he grabbed your hips and fucked.

“Such a good little breeding whore,” He praised, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass echoing across the cabin. “Such a perfect cock slut for me to use. That’s all you’re good for, right? All for me?”

“Fuck yeah-” You choke out, turning to look back at him which only spurred him on further. “Just for you, Eris. Only you.”

His claws dug into your skin and you swore you could feel him piercing your skin but you couldn’t care, didn’t care, as he fucked you dumb. Both of your juices were making the wettest, sloppiest noise as it dripped out of you and onto the couch. 

You started to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the shockwaves of pleasure overtaking your body as Eris found that spot deep inside of you that had your vision filling with white spots. Moan after moan spilled from your mouth as he chased his release, growling at the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly.

“Cum. Cum for me.” He ordered roughly, dominantly. “Fucking cum all over my cock.”

His words unlocked the gates as you whimpered and cried out his name, your entire body shaking while you hit the best orgasm of your life. You could feel your cum creaming out of you as you buried your face into the pillow, biting down, while he smacked your ass once, twice, and then a third before he stilled inside of you.

The knot was trying to bury itself in your cunt but you were too tight for it to fit which caused massive frustration for Eris as his cum started leaking out of your hole. You winced when he pulled out, yelping when he turned you over to your back and loomed above you.

“You’re wasting it pet,” He tsked, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he came face-to-face with your still-sensitive mound. “Let me fix that for you.”

Your back arched as he took his tongue and started tongue-fucking your abused hole, groaning at the taste of both of your cums mixed together as he desperately tried to fuck it back into you. Both of your hands flew to his head, gripping on for dear life as he moved up to your clit.

He flicked it back and forth with the tip of his tongue, his nails digging into your thighs as you tried to squirm away. “Nuh uh, little fox. You’re staying here until I’m fucking finished breeding you.” Eris growled, pushing two of his fingers into your needy pussy as he started to stretch you out. “I’m going to make sure you’re nice and stretched out for me, ready to take this knot like a good fucking slut.”

“Eris, please,” You whine, your hips rutting up as your sensitivity turns to pleasure again. “Please, I need more.”

“You need more, pet? Need more of this cock?” Eris taunted, pulling away after slurping more of your juices up. “Open your mouth for me.”

You did so quickly, sticking your tongue out as he appeared above your head and spat into your mouth. It was dirty and disgusting but it made you tighten around his fingers, the vulgarity of it only turning you on even more as he smirked. His fangs poked out from his lips as he said, “Dirty whore, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Enjoying being treated like a breeding bitch?”

Your head bobs up and down but it isn’t enough for him as he thrusts deeper, harder, and grabs your face painfully. He squeezes, pushing your lips together as his upper lip curls back in a snarl. “Fucking say it.”

“Y-yes I enjoy it!” You admit in a high-pitched voice, groaning when he added a third and fourth finger. “I enjoy being your little breeding bitch, it’s all I want, all I need.”

“Is it what you need, pet? Are you ready to take this knot in this tiny little cunt? Ready for me to fuck you until you’re a drooling, cum-filled cocksleeve?” He stares into your eyes, pupils dilated so big you could hardly see the gold anymore as you whine your agreement. “Then turn back around.”

Eris pulls his fingers out and sucks on them while you get back on all fours, waiting for him to mount you. He watches you, contemplating, before he sits down and yanks you backward roughly. You gasp when he holds you up by your hips with ease, lining up his cock with your pussy before sliding you all the way down.

Both of you moan and close your eyes, the angle making him feel ten times deeper as he orders you to ride him. You place your hands on his shoulders, holding onto them for dear life as you roll your hips. It feels otherworldly and with each thrust down, the head of his dick hits your g-spot with a marksman-like accuracy.

“Ooooh fuck, Eris, you’re so deep,” You cry, biting down on your bottom lip as you throw your head back in pleasure. He growls and jerks your chin back down, your eyes flying open as he kisses you passionately.

“Eyes on me, pet. Don’t you dare fucking look away.” He commands, shifting between your fucked out face and the way your cunt swallows him whole. “Such a pretty pussy taking my cock so well, ready to be bred until your stomach is swollen and your tits are leaking.”

The imagery makes you whine while Eris emphasizes his point by bending down to suck on your tits, your nipples extra sensitive as he nips at them with those long canines. You grip the back of his head, feeling the coarse hair between your fingertips as you continue to bounce up and down on his cock. 

Already you feel as if you are getting close and he can tell, can feel your walls fluttering around him. What little control he had snaps and he grabs your ass roughly, leaning back on the couch as he starts fucking up into you. The only sound in the room being his animalistic growls and wet fucking.

Pain blossoms in your uterus as he goes deeper than ever, hitting your cervix, but you could care less as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold onto him. You can smell his scent again, feeling his racing pulse, and you sink your teeth into it just as your orgasm starts to come to a crescendo.

The tangy taste of blood in your mouth doesn’t deter you as you scream his name loudly, feeling him bite down on the junction of your shoulder as he roars and buries himself knot deep. It slips in with ease this time, locking you together as his hips keep rutting deep into you.

His cum is as hot as fire as it coats your inside, filling you up until you could see your lower stomach start to bulge out from just how much he was pumping inside you. Eris pulled his teeth out of your skin, blood staining his teeth and chin just as yours was, and pressed your foreheads together.

Both of you were panting like dogs as his thrusts finally slowed until he was completely still, though you could still feel his cock throbbing. He brushed the hair away from your neck gently, whispering your name into your ear while you sagged into him exhaustedly. 

“So good, pet, you did so well,” He praised, kissing your temple as you gave him a small smile. “I’m so proud of you for taking it all.”

“Thanks, love.” You whisper while running your fingers down his back lazily. “That was…”

“Amazing?” Eris finished for you, cupping your face gently as you nodded and gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes. “I agree. I guess it was different than everything else we’ve tried.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying it again sometime.” You tease, kissing him for a moment until he pulls back with a knowing smile. “What?”

“Did you think that was it, pet? That I am done with you already?” He tilts his head, running his thumb over your cheek. “No, no, no, no, no. This was just the beginning. I meant what I said about fucking you until the very last drop…and that was just the first pour.”

You gulp, eyes widening, as you feel his knot slowly shrink until it comes out with a wet squelch. Eris smirked as he nuzzled into your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent, before whispering, “Time to fill you up again, pet.”

[littleredwolf]

Compromised

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 1,438

Summary:  An undercover mission goes awry, but Bucky had good reason to blow his cover.

Warnings: Mentions of intended sexual assault, brief mention of using alcohol as a coping mechanism, blood. 

--

Your mind was a battlefield as you wrestled with your thoughts, contemplating your options and trying not to give into the panic that was creeping in. 

You'd been working undercover alongside Bucky for weeks, tracking an asset that could provide valuable intel on a new terrorist organisation that had recently cropped up. When your target had sent some of his cronies to request a meeting with the super soldier, you'd been less than enthused. 

"Don't worry, doll. I'll only be gone for an hour, tops."

Bucky's reassuring words rang in your ears as you paced the motel room, the ticking of the giant clock on the wall taunting you with every second that passed. He'd promised an hour, yet it had been almost three. 

Your worry gnawed at your insides. You couldn't risk compromising the mission, but you couldn't sit around waiting for the worst either. Digging out the burner phone you'd packed for an emergency, you dialled the only number you'd saved on the contact list. 

"Steve, I've lost Bucky," you blurted before he even had the chance to speak. 

There was a long pause before he replied.  

"Okay...how long has he been gone?"

"Almost three hours…"

"You didn't think to call sooner!?" 

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you felt a headache coming on. 

"I didn't know what to do! He was only supposed to meet the asset and touch base, it wasn't supposed to take this long!" 

"It's okay, Y/N, we'll find him," Steve reassured as he picked up on the increasing panic in your tone. 

"Is his tracker still on?" You asked after a moment's pause, listening intently to Steve asking FRIDAY to pull up Bucky's location history. 

"Hmm, it says here that he's been sitting in the bar across the street for the last hour…" he mused, sounding just as baffled as you felt. 

"You're seriously telling me I've been going crazy with worry and he's been sitting in a bar this whole time!? I'm actually going to kill him," you grumbled, grabbing your jacket from off your bed and slipping on your shoes.

"Try not to be too hard on him, Y/N…Bucky doesn't do things without reason," Steve offered, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. 

"I can't promise anything, but I'll try. Thanks for your help, Steve." 

"No problem, just don't leave it so long before you get in touch next time, alright? And be careful."  

"I'm always careful, I'll let you know if we run into any trouble," you said your goodbyes and hung up, immediately removing the SIM card from the back of the phone and stomping on the device. There was no such thing as being too cautious when it came to undercover work. 

Satisfied with covering your tracks, you left your room and made your way across the street in search of Bucky. 

–

The bar was surprisingly quiet for a Friday night and it didn't take long to locate the super soldier sitting in a booth at the back. He was alone, which was a good sign, but one look at his brooding expression told you that all was not well. As you slid into the booth beside him the smell of whiskey filled your nose - Bucky drinking hard liquor was never a good sign. 

"A little early for the heavy stuff, don't you think?" You remarked, to which he simply shrugged and took a long, meaningful sip. He winced as he lowered his arm and you noticed he was favouring his left side. 

"You're hurt," you observed, leaning to get a better look and gasping at the dark patch on his shirt that he'd tried, and failed, to hide beneath his leather jacket. "You're hurt and you're bleeding! What the hell!?" 

Bucky shooed your hands away as you attempted to get a better look at his wound. "It's fine, I'm fine. It'll heal soon enough." 

"At least let me have a look, it might get infected!" You implored, to no avail. 

"Y/N, it'll be alright," he insisted, much firmer this time. You met his gaze and studied him for a moment. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you rarely got to see, causing your worry to multiply tenfold. 

"What happened Buck?" You asked softly, placing a hand over his. 

"It doesn't matter," 

"Well it does to me…I've been going out of my mind with worry and all the while you've been here, covered in blood and drinking the one drink you turn to when things take a turn for the worse…you can't tell me it doesn't matter when clearly something has happened, so I need you to tell me." 

Bucky remained silent as he considered your words. There was no way you'd be letting this go anytime soon, so with a sigh of defeat he began to explain. 

"They took me to our target's safehouse and a load of his goons were sitting around a table playing poker…they were speaking russian but I guess they didn't realise I'm fluent because they weren't very careful about what they were saying…" 

He grimaced at the memory and you squeezed his hand for reassurance. 

"What were they saying, Buck? Was it valuable information?" 

He shook his head. 

"Then what?" 

Bucky took another swig of whiskey and studied his glass for a moment. It was clear from his set jaw and tense shoulders that he was uncomfortable with the subject matter, but you needed to know the truth. 

"They were talking about you…" 

"Why the hell were they talking about me?" 

"I'd really rather not repeat what was said," he admitted, fixing you with a pleading look. You pulled your hand away and straightened up. 

"Bucky Barnes, if they were talking about me then I have a right to know what was being said!" 

You hated how stern you sounded but you were growing frustrated in your impatience. With another grimace, he finally confessed.  

"They started arguing over a girl - going on about who would get 'first go' and who'd make her scream the loudest…" he paused, his jaw setting in a hard line. You were sure you could hear the glass cracking under the vice-like grip of his vibranium hand, and you placed your hand on his flesh arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

"I just assumed they were making vulgar jokes about their girlfriends at first…but then one of them said your name and I snapped…" 

You winced as the glass shattered in his hand, but he didn't even flinch. "They were planning on assaulting you, Y/N, as soon as I left with their boss they were gonna come here and-" 

"Shhh," you quickly soothed, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear and affectionately stroking his cheek. It was a forward gesture, but you'd been friends for long enough to know it was one that he was comfortable with. He leaned into your touch and sighed. 

"I messed up, Y/N, I've compromised the whole mission," 

"It's okay, Buck…"

"I should have just ignored them and sent you a message to get somewhere safe, but I couldn't help myself…" 

"Bucky…" 

"I should have controlled my temper - it's not the worst I've heard on a mission - but as soon as they said your name, I...I just lost it…" 

"James," the sound of his first name finally got his attention and he turned to fully face you.  

"I could never live with myself if anything happened to you on my watch, doll," he admitted, taking your hand from his cheek and holding it in both of his. "And I know I've fucked it all up, but I couldn't take that risk."

"It's okay, we'll figure something else out," you reassured with another squeeze of his hand. 

Truth be told, messing up the mission wasn't an easy pill to swallow, but when you considered what could have happened, it made the loss a little easier to accept.

"We'd better get out of here before he sends people after us," you stated, shuffling along the seat to exit the booth. You waited for Bucky to follow suit and linked your arm in his as he stood. 

"Thankyou for having my back, Buck, I appreciate it," you said, reaching up on your tiptoes and planting a tender kiss on his cheek. 

The red flush of his cheeks didn't go unnoticed. He threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head as you left the bar.  

"I'll always have your back, doll," he promised with a smile. "'til the end of the line." 

[drdemonprince]

Hi Dr. Price,

I’m a huge fan of your work and I’ve found it immensely helpful in figuring out who I am.

In recent years I’ve discovered I am both AuDHD and Bi. My partner is also Bi and very supportive. However we have been together for over a decade and I’m struggling a lot lately with the fact that I’ve never actually been with anyone else. I’ve been spending a lot of time in queer spaces online and finding myself wishing I could at least experience some of what they do.

I love her more than anything and would never do anything to hurt her. She’s not interested in opening things up in any way, which I completely respect and to be fair I’m not even sure that’s truly something I would want either.

I guess I’m just asking if you have any advice on these overwhelming feelings of missing out on aspects of life I never knew I even missed? Other than using porn to get it out of my mind as I’m worried that’s affecting our relationship sexually, which is another issue. Should I find a dating sim game or something to push all of these thoughts on to? It’s kind of messed up but I feel like if I was allowed to flirt online and not actually act on it that might satisfy me? I don’t know.

If nothing else thank you so much for your work and giving me a space to get this off my chest. ❤️

Because I am of the mind that most longings for queer expression/recognition/community cannot and should not be met with media consumption, I'm not going to tell you that there is any kind of game that can simulate queer erotic contact in a way that will be remotely satisfying for you.

You and your partner's desires for your relationship and its boundaries are important and matter, but alongside that, I would also encourage you to listen to that urge that tells you that you'd love to flirt online with a sexy queer stranger as a way to let a little of the steam off.

The wants you are feeling are real, and when disregarded or left unattended they can spiral out in all kinds of unpleasant ways, from just regular garden variety frustration, to resentment, to conducting years long emotional affairs with agoraphobic instagram thot boys you met online (not that I know anything about that).

You want to be recognized by another queer person as a sexually desirable, available person, you want to feel the rush of a developing romance, you want the future to be filled with possibility and excitement, you want to know that your life is not over and that there's still more to learn about yourself and more experiences to enjoy -- these are all good things. These are important things, and I promise you that it is very unlikely that you won't get to experience more desire, attraction, sexual contact, romance, and heartbreak in the years to come.

Most relationships end. Those that last more than a couple of years undergo dramatic shifts over the course of their tenure. And so, it is very likely that you and your partner will either eventually split, or your various desires and capacities will become incompatible in certain ways, and you will contemplate some kind of change to the relationship dynamic (or someone will fail to communicate this and cheat. hopefully not that one. But if it does happen, well. It's very common and not the end of the world or even necessarily the end of the bond).

How does it feel to confront this information? That in all likelihood, this relationship will either end, open up in some way, change dramatically in its dynamic, or be marked by one or both parties stepping out in some way, however small, be it an online flirtation or a kiss at a party or a sexual affair? I think your feelings in response to that information is important too. And that regardless of what you and your partner decide for the time being, it is an important series of potentialities to reflect on and emotionally prepare oneself for. Also worth asking: are these potential futures ones that you can speak to your partner about? One of them will likely be headed for you in time, not through any fault of your own or due to lack of love, but simply because people change and relationships develop, just like a person develops. Whether or not these are subjects that can be broached is itself valuable information, too.

Now personally, I am very biased, but I think there is very little harm in having some virtual sex with a consenting stranger, roleplaying sexy interactions online, even getting on a dating or cruising app and posting a few anonymized photos and seeing what kind of attention you get and enjoying the rush. I think that kind of thing is all within the realm of the harmless and forgivable, but hey, my sister just ended an engagement over her fiance doing that kind of thing, so not everyone agrees with me clearly.

But I think it is worth at least contemplating the full, long continuum of infidelity that exists, from having a whole secret other marriage and family and keeping a partner in the dark about it on one end, say, and making bedroom eyes with a cute person at the bar and fantasizing about what if what if what if, on the other. If your partner did anything along that whole continuum, you might be hurt, and likewise they might be if you do.

You say you love your partner more than anything and would never do anything to hurt her. But you can't really promise yourself that. Every partner hurts one another in some way or another, sometimes even intentionally, over the course of a long relationship. But hurting one another in a relationship is, also, not the end of the world. We all make mistakes, say things we regret, lose control of our faculties at times, or are simply forced to reconcile that what we need conflicts with what another person does. And sometimes we put our needs first, even though it's uncomfortable.

I don't regret the times I cheated. I regret the lack of communication and cowardice that brought me to that half-formed, unarticulated decision. But I don't regret ever having chosen to listen to needs that had been powerfully screaming inside of me, typically for years before I attended to them.

I think you and your partner should continue having very frank conversations about these topics, and do your best to regulate your own anxieties and feelings of relationship threat when the other party brings up an activity or an idea that makes the other feel scared. The choice isn't to remain monogamous or to become fully polyamorous with no hierarchy. There are a lot of activities you can both decide are either okay or not okay, and conditions under which you will engage in them.

Even what counts as "monogamy" is subject to fierce debate, that's part of why so many jealous straight people destroy one another so easily. Is texting someone you think is cute in a flirtatious but ultimately just friendly way cheating? Is dancing with someone else cheating? What kind of dancing is okay and is not? Is cuddling on the couch? Working on erotica together? Kissing? Is watching porn with someone else cheating? Is masturbating to a video they sent you?

You might have a very visceral response to these questions, but those are just like, your opinions. They are not set in stone and you can easily find another monogamous person who is just as adamant about completely opposing rules and definitions of what monogamy means to them. And so, it's worth talking with your partner and really being honest with yourself about what it is you want to do, what is decidedly off the table, and what the hell it even is that you two are talking about when you discuss your relationship and its limits.

If it were me, and if I could wave a wand and make you and your partner feel okay about and agree to a set of relationship limits, I think you should consider flirting with actual queer people online. But I can't control other people's behavior or emotions, as much as I have tried. But you can at least contemplate (and then discuss) alternate ways of getting the kind of attention that you desire.

There are lots of things you can do to scratch your itch that are not having sex or dating someone else: LARPing (there is larping that has a sexual or romantic component!). Tabletop games. Acting or improv that incorporates romantic or sexual elements. Going to a sex party and just WATCHING people do stuff. Going to a gay bar and just hanging out and socializing. Going to a cruising bar and watching people fuck. Going to a dungeon for a class or a demo. Going on gay speed dating but secretly agreeing that you're not actually going to take anybody home, you're just gonna see how it feels. Wearing a slutty outfit to pride and waving and winking at people. Exchanging heartfelt letters with a queer friend who you have chemistry with but who respects your relationship.

These are just some ideas, but the possibilities are limitless. One day, you and your partner might agree that you are open to having sex with other people, or flirting, but not to them having other lasting relationships. maybe you'll have threesomes together or one partner will watch the other fuck casual hook-ups. Or maybe you'll just break up. Who knows what the future holds! No matter what it is, you can figure it out with both love and commitment to your partner, but also the courage to name what you are feeling and to honor your desires. None of those things have to be incompatible, and monogamy doesn't have to be incompatible with getting a little thrill here and there either.

Good luck!

[bitethedevil]

I’ve been recently contemplating the idea that no representation of Raphael in the HoH actually looks like him. From Haarlep to the paintings and statues. Aside from the Ascended Fiend face in the archive, every depiction is off. (Of course I know it isn’t that deep. A lot of it was EA stuff, but I like to have fun.)

Do you have any thoughts on this? Why would our favorite cambion fill the home with less than accurate portrayals on himself.

Depictions of Raphael in the House of Hope

In that universe, I 100% think it’s Raphael being Raphael. The two portraits I remember are the one at the fireplace where he is holding a staff and the other one being the one in his armor.

I think it’s like those old paintings of nobles irl. They are not really accurate depictions of the person, but rather a reflection of the beauty standards at the time and society.

The “beauty standard” in the Hells would be to look as scary and as unemotional as possible, I’d imagine. I think the scary part is most seen in portrait one and the unemotional part in portrait two.

In portrait one, he looks powerful and scary. His anatomy is sharper and thinner to make him look even spookier, and his expression is stoic. He also looks like he is mid-battle or conquering something which fits in perfectly with the standard of the Hells. Everyone is expected to participate and contribute to the Blood War. That painting is Raphael going “look how good I am at deviling and how fierce I look despite being a bard”.

The second portrait is much the same. In this one he looks physically stronger than in the first one and the bard part that we see in portrait one (signified by the staff and clothing) is left out. He is in full armor and has a flame from his hand. This portrait, I believe is an homage to daddy. The fire from his hand symbolizing the hellfire from Mephistopheles and he noticeably has the same pale eyes that Meph is described to have. This one is him pointing out that he is also physically strong and related to one of the most powerful devils of the Hells. It wouldn’t surprise me if the other things in this painting that don’t look like him are things that make him look more like daddy dearest.

Now the statues are interesting too. People say that they are supposed to look like Mephistopheles. I’m not sure. Some of them look like Raphael himself like this one:

The others just look like devils to me. I honestly think it’s so simple that it’s Raphael again going “look I’m deviling. I like devils. I’m not a mortal”. I also believe he 100% sees himself like this. I definitely also think there is some self-hatred or dislike that he is making up for with all of this.

He’s such a silly little dude. It’s all just him wanting everyone to see how scary and devilish he is.

(Thank you for the ask <3 Super interesting question)

[thewardenisonthecase]

Honey and Lavender

Lucanis Dellamorte x Grey Warden!Rook

Read on AO3

Summary: Rook has never been in a relationship before. Lucanis is bad at communicating his feelings. One simple act of making dessert has strange consequences.

A/N: This was inspired by a post I saw and that scene that didn't make it into the game.

word count: 2,814

The job was not yet done. 

Caterina was still being held captive and Ilario still lived. There was still much to be done, but a small weight had just recently been pulled off his back. 

Him and Dawn. Together. 

Lucanis had contemplated how he would do it - how he’d show her how much he cared. He had never had a relationship before, his previous attempts failing spectacularly. He spent a few nights thinking about his options. Knives were out of the question, and he didn’t think he could pull off those grande declarations of love that often happened in the romance novels he read. 

No, Lucanis had to play to his strengths, and if there was one thing he knew how to do well - besides killing - was cooking. 

So he got to work, making cioccolata calda just for her. He smiled, fondly remembering that night at Café Pietra. His cousin had just left and he decided to inquire about her sweet tooth. 

“I only discovered it once I left the Circle.” She had explained in between drinking. “We weren’t really allowed this sort of food in the Gallows, but once I was out, I got to indulge in all sorts of sweets Thedas had to offer.” She shook her head and chuckled. “It only got worse after I became a Warden. I swear, the taint makes your stomach grow in size with how hungry I felt.” 

Lucanis also remembered another part of their conversation, one that had left him surprised. 

“Like a kiss goodbye, huh? And how would a first kiss be?” She asked. 

“Honey and lavender cream. Sweet, intriguing…and you? How would you describe it?” 

He noticed how Dawn’s cheeks had turned red in embarrassment, as she looked down. “I, uhm, wouldn’t be able to tell.” She sighed. “I can’t describe something I’ve never had.” 

“Oh. I see.” 

“There’s just never been…well.” She said, hesitating. 

Lucanis did his best to hide his shock. He’d thought a woman like her would have had more experience in this department than him. But it seemed the two had that in common. 

“In matters of the heart, one must be discerning.”  

Dawn looked at him, and he swore he saw a small glint in her eyes. “When it’s right, you know.” 

And now, he did know. 

. 

Lucanis confused Dawn in a way no man had before. 

First, he’d completely ignore her feeble attempts at flirting, only for then to almost kiss her before walking away, never addressing what happened. 

He pulled away and now she had known why, after visiting his mental prison in the Fade, the one he had made for himself. She thought that after all that, he would put even more space in between them as he sorted himself out, but instead, Lucanis had made dessert just for her. 

What did it all mean? 

The dinner alone and food all for herself had been good. They had talked, only a little, but it had warmed her heart. She knew he had feelings for him, and the gesture only solidified that but she was still confused. 

Dawn asked Davrin, her closest friend, what he thought of it. He put it in the simplest terms. 

“It means he likes you.” 

That had been followed by a long rant about the dangers of ‘involving yourself with an Antivan Crow’ but it only brought a frown to her face. 

If he liked her, why didn’t he say so?

Of course, the dessert had been great, but Dawn never had been in a relationship. Could she even call it that? Sure, she liked him and he liked her, but was that enough to say they were together? 

They hadn’t actually talked about that, and she felt too embarrassed to bring it up, so things continued as they used to. 

Bad attempts at flirting and stolen glances. But there had been new development. There were times where she’d turn around and find him looking at her, a stupid grin on his face. 

Where before he’d turn away, once he was caught, now he’d smile. Actually smile at her. 

Maker, what was happening. 

. 

It all came to a head because of Davrin. 

It was late in the afternoon, and the warden elf had decided to do some sparring with Lucanis. His reasoning had been “If you plan on killing a god, you have better be ready for it.” 

The crow smirked. “So you want me to pretend you’re Ghilna’ain and attempt to kill you?” 

“Don’t even think about it, Lucanis.” Davrin said, getting into a fighting stance. 

They began to throw a few punches, none that really hit as both men kept dodging. They went on like that for a couple minutes, until things began to get heated. 

“Be careful, you two.” Rook said, as she approached the two men.

“Rook!” Lucanis said through gritted teeth, as he tried to pry Davrin off of him. “What…are…you doing here?” 

“Davrin asked me to watch and make sure you wouldn’t try something when his guard was down.” 

“If anyone’s trying anything, it’s him.” Finally, he managed to shove the Warden away. “I say we’re done for today.” 

“What? Scared to embarrass yourself in front of your girlfriend?” Davrin had taunted, a smirk on his face. He had meant it to be playful, unaware of what would happen next. 

Rook made a sound that was a mixture of a nervous cough and a laugh. “Girlfriend?” 

“Why, yes? Aren’t you two a thing now, after all that dessert.” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” Lucanis and Rook had said, at the same time. She looked at him confused. “No, we aren’t…right, Lucanis?”

“I…I thought we were.”

She crossed her arms, and Davrin took a step back. “But then why didn’t you say anything.” 

Lucanis frowned, matching her confusion. “But I did. The dessert…” 

“I thought that was just your way of saying thank you. I didn’t think you were asking me to be with you.” She said, a little sharper than she intended. 

Lucanis looked at her with saddened eyes. “Rook…” 

“I-” She began to say but stopped herself. She rubbed her forehead and sighed heavily, before turning around and saying. “Sorry, I-I have to go.” 

They watched as she ran inside the Lighthouse. Lucanis would have followed but Davrin grabbed his bicep. “Give her a minute, before you screw things up more.”

“But I-” 

“Look, I don’t know what you two have going on, and Rook’s never been in a relationship before, so if I discover you did something to hurt her feelings-”

“You don’t have to finish.” Lucanis said, freeing his arm. There’s nothing Davrin could threaten to do to him that would come close to what he’d to himself. 

He sighed as he ran inside, going to Rook’s room. He needed to clear things up. If she didn’t think they were together, did that mean he had made a fool of himself, thinking she’d ever reciprocate his feelings? Maybe he had been right in not opening his heart, in pulling away and- 

No. He shook his head. He mustn't think of that. Not after everything in the Fade. What he needed was to find Rook. 

But when he entered her room, she wasn’t there. 

“Dawn?” He called, but no one answered. He quickly ran to the infirmary, and also found the place empty, besides Varric’s stuff that they left there. 

When he left, he stumbled upon Bellara. 

“Oh, hey Lucanis.” 

“Bellara, have you seen Rook?” 

“I haven’t spoken to her directly today but…a few minutes ago I did see her running to the Eluvian. She didn’t tell me where she was going though.” 

“Mierda.” He whispered. “Thank you, Bellara.”

She frowned. “Is everything alright? You look troubled.” She gasped. “Oh no, is Rook in trouble?” 

He shook his head. “No, no. If anyone’s in trouble, it’s me.” Bellara looked at him, confused but he only said “I have to go.” before running to the eluvian as well. 

“Be careful!” He heard Bellara shouting as he ran downstairs. 

He stared at the Eluvian and began thinking on where Rook could have run to. 

Lucanis ruled a few of them out. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t go to Minrathous or the Necropolis if she was distressed. He considered Rivain, but remembered how much she complained about the endless sand there. 

And considering what had just happened, he doubted she’d go to Treviso. Arlathan was a possibility but he believed he had better chances in the Anderfels, as her friends were there. 

With a destination in mind, he stepped through the eluvian, journeying through the Crossroads until he reached the Hossberg Wetlands. 

. 

“Mila, have you seen Rook?” Lucanis asked the girl, as he approached the Wardens. 

“She was talking to Antoine and Evka a few minutes ago..” Mila pointed to where the couple stood. “She seemed upset.” 

“Mierda.” He whispered, hoping the child didn’t listen. “Thank you, Mila.” 

“Of course!”

He approached the two Wardens. 

“Lucanis. What are you doing here?” Evka asked. 

“I’m looking for Rook. Mila told me she had just passed through here?” 

“Yes, we were talking to her.” Antoine said, not paying much attention to the crow as he worked on some strange device. “She was seeking advice on-”

He was cut off by Evka loudly clearing her throat. The two shared a look, silently communicating with each other before Evka turned to Lucanis. “Rook was…upset. Do you know anything about it?” 

“I…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “May have something to do with it.” 

Evka’s knuckled tightening around her hammer was probably not a good sign. Antoine placed a hand on her shoulder. “For your sake, I hope you figure it out quickly.” 

“Thank you. Did she-”

“She didn’t say where she was going, but she did use the eluvian.” Evka cut him off. 

Lucanis nodded and headed back there. 

. 

In Arlathan, he also found no trace of Rook. Even places he had ruled out before, the Necropolis and Rivain, he ended up visiting just to be sure but found nothing. 

Lucanis was growing worried. What if something had happened to Rook? What if one of the evanuris agents had gotten to her? If she had been killed? 

What if he never found her and told her everything he felt?

Lucanis took a deep breath. He had to remember that Rook was a capable woman, she could fend for herself and she had the advantage of being a warden - neither the blight nor darkspawn could surprise her. 

The sun was beginning to set and he decided he’d try one more place before returning to the Lighthouse. There were only two places he hadn’t been to yet: Minrathous and Treviso. 

He had ruled out his home, but it’d make more sense for her to be there. At the very least, the city wasn’t destroyed due to her choices and there was the chocolate she liked. 

With a deep breath, he made his way to Treviso. 

. 

It was nighttime when he arrived, the moons shining bright in the sky. He could smell in the air that it would rain soon. 

He closed his eyes as he considered where he would go. As he took another deep breath, gathering his thoughts, Spite spoke. 

“Smells like...earth. Lavender. Rook was here.” The demon said. 

“Can you find her?” Lucanis asked. 

“Find Rook. Can do.” 

. 

Dawn hugged her knees, as she looked to the sky. It had begun to rain, the water soaking her clothes and hair but she did not care. 

She never had this many chances to just stop and look at the moons. Not in the Gallows and most certainly not with the Wardens. She had finished eating the last of the sweets she had bought, but there was an emptiness in her not even sweets could help with. 

Maker, what had she done? Running away like that. For all the time she spent telling Lucanis he needed to communicate his thoughts, she went and did the exact opposite. 

Grand leader she was. 

She was driven out of her thoughts by the sound of steps near her. Turning her head, she saw Lucanis, hands on his hips, also wet from the rain, breathing heavily. 

“Do you have any idea…how much time I spent today looking for you?” He said. 

“Lucanis, I- how did you find me?” 

Skeletal purple wings sprouted from his back as he said “I had a bit of help.” He walked towards her as she stood up. “Dawn, I’m…I’m sorry.”

She frowned. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m-”

“No. Please, I have to say this.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not being clear in my intentions. I haven’t done…this before. I was never the charming one and after the Ossuary…you’ve seen it yourself. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings.” Lucanis took a step forward. “I’m bad with words, so I did what I thought was best, what I thought would show…” He stopped himself and sighed. “I told you it wouldn’t be enough.”

“Stop.” She said, getting closer to him and holding his gloved hands. “It was more than enough.” Dawn shook her head. “I’m not used to people liking me. I’m not used to being cared for. So when you made dessert just for me, I got scared. I didn’t know if it meant more, and I was scared of asking and ruining whatever we had. And then Davrin said all these things and I’m…” She looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry too. I should have told you how I felt, I shouldn’t have ran away.” 

“And what is is that you feel?” 

“That you’re the right one.” She put it simply. 

For a moment, the two stayed like that: standing on the rooftops of an abandoned building, while it rained and they held hands, unsure of what to say. 

Dawn saw Lucanis look to the side, his lips thin, and she realized Spite was talking to him. Then he closed his eyes. 

“This is what I should have said before.” Lucanis looked at her, with those sad eyes of his, and with a deep breath, he began. “I want you, Dawn. I cherish the moments we’ve had more than you could ever imagine, and you’re in my mind more than I’d like to admit. You’re my sky, the dawn that comes after a long night of terror and I am scared of losing you, but I can’t bear the thought of us being apart. I don’t know where this journey will lead us, but I’ll go wherever you tell me, as long as you’ll have me.” 

She stared at him, overwhelmed with emotions. She didn’t know what to say, because nothing would compare to what he had said. And then she remembered her friend's words earlier that day. 

“Sometimes, you just have to go for it.” Evka said. “Like killing an ogre. You don’t think, you just..do it.” 

“Embrace the moment.” Antoine added. “We wardens aren’t afforded many of them, so you must make the most out of the ones you’ll be granted.”

Just do it, she thought to herself. 

And so, Dawn closed her eyes and leaned forward, kissing Lucanis. 

. 

Of all things that day, Lucanis did not expect to be kissed, but it was a pleasant surprise.

Much more than just pleasant, actually. 

The kiss itself was quick, ending too soon. Her lips were softer than he had imagined and they tasted of chocolate and caramel. 

When they pulled back, her pupils were blown wide and redness spread across her face. Her hair, which was usually kept in a ponytail, was down and stuck to her forehead and neck. 

For a moment, he felt breathless. She was beautiful. 

“Sorry, I-I should have asked.” She whispered. 

He shook his head, as he swept the hair from her face.

“You have no idea how long I waited for this.” Lucanis whispered. “May I?” 

She nodded. He put his hands on her cheeks, cupping them, as he brought her face towards his, their lips meeting once again. 

It was a bit awkward at first, both of them suffering with inexperience, but after a few seconds, they figured it out, Dawn’s hands finding his waist. The kiss deepened, causing him to softly moan, and Lucanis felt Spite’s wings sprouting once again from his back.

After what felt like a lifetime, the two stopped, both breathless, eyes closed as their foreheads touched. 

“This was…wow.” She said. “I think you were right.” 

“About what?” 

“About the honey and lavender.” She smirked and he gave a small chuckle. 

Then, Lucanis whispered “So what does this mean for us?” 

“It means that whatever happens next, we do it together.”

He smiled. “I quite like the sound of that.”

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

--

Title: || Lament of the Fallen || 

CW(s): yandere content, angst, reader briefly contemplates murder 

Prequel to this. You can honestly read these two in whichever order you want. 

I think I cooked with this one. Can you tell that corruption arcs are one of my favourite tropes? It’s part of why I like writing yanderes so much. 

-- 

If you were to describe your existence in this world with one word, it’d be “anomaly.” It sounded strange, but it just felt like the only right word to use. 

You were an anomaly; someone who couldn’t exist, one who shouldn’t exist by the laws of the world, and yet, you did anyway. A real Schrödinger’s Cat – that's what you were. Maybe that’s why you reacted the way you did. 

“Oh, hello.” The woman said surprised as she turned her gaze to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.” 

You let out a nervous laugh, hiding the disappointment in your voice. “Yeah, I suppose not. I’m [Name]. I’ve been traveling with the heroes for some time.” 

She smiled. “Well, any friend of Time’s is a friend of mine. I’m Malon. Nice to meet you.” You shook her hand. It was calloused from hard labour, yet it was still as warm and gentle as you remembered. 

Of course she wouldn’t remember you. You were an anomaly in her– no, in everyone’s lives. This was your fourth time “meeting” her, yet she looked just as clueless about your existence as the last. It saddened you. But what did you expect? Did you think that she would retain her memories of you and jump out to greet you, like she did with her friends, even just once? That she’d happily tell jokes and stories with you over tea? 

It was in these moments when it became all the more obvious that you did not belong here. Not in this house, alongside the Chain, this whole world. 

But maybe it’s because of this fact that you were the one most likely to be able to change this world. 

-- 

Raindrops weighed down your hair, the locks sticking to your unfeeling face. You tried to not let any emotions show, but there was still a slight tinge of sadness in your eyes as you faced the people you once considered friends. 

“Tell them what you want to say, but don’t take too long. I don’t want to be kept waiting. Not in weather like this.” 

You said nothing, just faced away from Dark Link as he left the scene. 

“Welcome to the other side, [Full name].” And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone with a rather stunned group of your so-called heroes. 

“[Name], what is this? What is he talking about?” 

It’s ironic. For so long you’ve waited for a moment like this; where you could finally tell them off for everything they’ve done, the crimes you’ve seen them commit in the name of ‘protecting’ you, tell them how you’ve grown to hate them. Yet words failed you in this critical, seemingly once-in-a-lifetime moment. 

Somewhere deep down you knew that nothing you could say would satisfy them. They would never accept any of this. 

Still, you should probably say something as your final words for them before you disappear from their live forever. So you steeled your gaze and with a sigh you opened your mouth. 

“There is no point in you continuing your quest. Go home. Live long, peaceful lives.” You spoke clearly. “From now on, this fight is mine.” 

Confusion was clear in all of their faces and your words did nothing to alleviate it. If anything, it just made things worse. A hand grabs your shoulder as you try to turn away. It takes all your inner strength to not shudder at the contact. “[Name], what did he do to you?” 

“Don’t you dare touch me.” You spat venom at Time as lightning struck nearby, as if perfectly timed to highlight the harsh look on your face. That was seemingly enough to get him to back up a little. 

“This has to be a possession, right?” Wars muttered to himself as he looked into your cold eyes. You weren’t like this just a few hours ago. Sure, you looked tired a lot more often recently, but he had hoped that going to bed early would help. There was no other explanation. There couldn’t be. 

“[Name], you’re talking nonsense.” Twilight stepped forward to try and mediate. “You’re upset and tired, I get it. Let’s get you out of the rain, dry you off and we can talk this thr-” 

“I’ve made my choice. This journey ends here.” You shot back, silencing them all. “Leave. You’ve done enough.” 

What the hell had that bastard done to you? What lies did he feed you? Everything was just fine this morning, yet now that time felt like it was eons ago. Yet as they looked closer at you, they began seeing things they hadn’t noticed before. 

Had you always had bags under your eyes? When had you began to smile less? Was your posture always this stiff? When was the last time you gladly embraced any of them? Talked to them? They always kept a close eye on you, they should know the answers to these questions. Why couldn’t they remember? 

When did this aura of dark magic around you appear? 

Wind’s voice broke though the silence. “Give [Name] back!” The boy dashed forward, ignoring the orders to stop. Frustration and recklessness clouded his thought process, making it easy for you to deflect his attempted punches. So much like a petulant child; crying and resorting to anger when a toy is taken from them. 

Finally having had enough of him, you gathered energy into your leg. Might as well test out these new powers. With all the strength you could muster, you kicked the boy away from you. Fortunately for Wind, Hyrule was there to catch him before he could crash headfirst into a tree. 

“Let go of them! [Name] would never do this – any of this! They wouldn’t team up with that monster! They wouldn’t leave us! So give them their body back, you nasty witch!” Wind managed to speak despite having the air knocked out of him. 

“Maybe you just don’t know me as well as you seem to think you do.” 

Immediately a sword was pointed at your throat, kept just a hair’s breath away from cutting the skin. Clearly, you’ve managed to touch a nerve, given Legend’s reaction. “Enough. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’m not letting you leave with our enemy.” 

“You’re always like this.” You couldn’t hide the frustration in your voice. “Even when I beg you, you never loosen your grip. You’ve completely isolated me from everyone who isn’t you. Despite everything, you still act like you’re in the right.” 

Sky spoke up after making sure that Wind was alright. “We’re just trying to keep you safe.” 

Oh, that’s the final straw. You grit your teeth. 

“Maybe you are trying to protect me. BUT HOW CAN I PRETEND THAT IT’S RIGHT?” You grabbed the sword’s blade with your hand, the tip scratching open a shallow, but long, cut on your neck as you tried to move the weapon away from you. 

“[Name], don’t-” 

“All I know is that deep down inside, nothing about my fate will change BECAUSE OF YOU!” 

Dark energy overflowing, despite your bleeding and hurting hand, you grip Legend’s sword so hard that it breaks. Rain began to swirl in the howling winds as thunder bellowed and lightning flashed all around. 

There was no avoiding this fight, either for you or them. It was obvious that they were a lot more apprehensive about this, but they still took out their weapons. In turn, you waved your hand and pulled a sword out of the aether. 

In a way, you had the advantage. Sure, they had numbers on their side, but their objective in this fight was to capture you, and yours was to escape. Meaning, they had to hold back, while you could be as lethal as you wanted to. Moreover, they were not aware of what new powers you possessed, and you knew all of theirs from watching them fight so many times. 

Blows were traded, arrows dodged, magic fired. All the while, each member of the Chain tried to “talk sense into you,” but you stayed silent and continued your attack. You knew that if you hesitated here – even for a moment – they would win. 

You were beginning to get tired, and the boys looked a little winded too. It was time to end this once and for all. Using the surrounding trees as makeshift stairs, you leapt high into the air, where none of their non-lethal attacks could get to you. The sword in your hands began to glow with dark magic. 

You could do it. You had the power. You had the advantage. They couldn’t dodge this, they couldn’t block this. You could do it right now. 

Make them pay for the suffering they caused. 

You didn’t know if these thoughts were your own or if you were being influenced by the Shadow. And that scared you. 

You weren’t a violent person; you always wanted the best outcome, you never wanted to assume the worst in people, you didn’t like fighting or getting hurt or hurting others. Has your time with these people fundamentally broken you? Has their twisted love for you changed you into someone you would hate? Would you even be able to recognise yourself in a mirror? 

You saw their eyes widen in horror as you took hold of your sword, ready to attack. Your iron grip on the sword faltered subconsciously. Still, you took a swing, sending a wave of dark energy towards your targets. 

By the time that the dust had settled, it had stopped raining. The Chain laid on the ground, unconscious, but still breathing. The least you could do was position their bodies so that they don’t wake up in unnatural positions. With effort you dragged them all into a pile, all of them holding each other up. 

You took one last sorrowful look at the people you once held so close. “Live. That is my final message to you.” 

“Farewell, Heroes of Courage.” 

And with a wave of your sword, you cut a tear through reality and disappeared into the portal. Anomalies shouldn’t exist. They couldn’t exist. And soon, they would believe so too. 

--