#me? posting something? more likely than you think!

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ pretty when you cry ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ hwang in-ho x player!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this imagine, playing dangerous, a part two, do you think you’d kill for me, one day? a part three, ultraviolence, and a part four, shades of cool.

˚ ༘♡ hwang in-ho, the man you once knew as young-il, the man who betrayed you in the most loathsome way imaginable, had taken control of your recovery. he rarely left your side in the early days, overseeing every detail with the precision of someone who understood pain all too well. his compound, sprawling, isolated, and fortified, became your prison. it was a place of unsettling contrasts, sterile medical equipment juxtaposed with lavish decor, soft furnishings that did nothing to dull the edges of the sharp reality you now inhabited.

˚ ༘♡ you were angry, your heart a storm of rage and bitterness, each glance at him igniting the fire anew. though, in the quiet moments, when he checked your bandages or sat silently by your side as you drifted in and out of restless sleep, you found yourself conflicted. his hands, steady and careful, worked with a tenderness that unsettled you more than the betrayal ever had. the small comforts he offered, adjusting your pillows, bringing you tea, gnawed at the walls of your resolve.

˚ ༘♡ days blurred into one another. your questions about jung-bae and gi-hun were met with deflection, his answers vague and evasive. each time you pressed, his expression darkened slightly, as though the weight of those unanswered truths bore down on him as well. “you’ll know when the time is right,” he would say, his voice serene, leaving you fuming with frustration and sorrow.

˚ ༘♡ as the weeks passed, your leg began to heal. the searing pain dulled into an ache, and eventually, the ache faded altogether. though your body recovered, your mind remained caged by the stark truth of your reality. in-ho allowed you freedom within the confines of the compound, but every step you took was shadowed by masked guards, their presence an ever-looming reminder that escape was futile.

˚ ༘♡ you tried anyway.

˚ ༘♡ the night was quiet, the air thick with tension as you crept through the corridors, your heart pounding in your chest. every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every shadow a potential threat. you had almost made it to what you thought was the outer gate when strong hands grabbed you, pulling you back with a force that sent terror crashing over you. the guards didn’t speak, their blank masks only adding to your dread as they dragged you back to your room, their grip unyielding.

˚ ༘♡ when in-ho appeared later, his expression was unreadable. he didn’t yell or chastise you. instead, he sat across from you, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t name. “i can’t allow you to leave,” he said softly, his tone devoid of malice. it wasn’t a threat, but it felt worse. his disappointment lingered in the air, suffocating, and you hated the guilt that bloomed in your chest.

˚ ༘♡ time moved forward, and with it, your body healed. the ache in your knee, once sharp and consuming, faded into nothingness, replaced by the intensity of strength you hadn’t felt in weeks. you could walk without hesitation now, no longer second-guessing every step. yet the freedom of movement felt hollow within the compound’s imposing walls. they surrounded you, stark and vast, a constant reminder of your captivity.

˚ ༘♡ you sat on the edge of your bed, your fingers absentmindedly brushing over the faint scar peeking out from beneath the fabric of your clothing. the skin there was pale and slightly raised, a delicate line etched by pain and betrayal. you traced it with a mix of resignation and vexation, trying to reconcile the life you had before with the one you were living now.

˚ ༘♡ the sound of the door opening pulled you from your thoughts. you glanced up to see in-ho stepping inside, his presence filling the room with an air of quiet authority. he no longer wore the faceless mask that had once concealed him, his features open and bare. though his expression was calm, the weight of unspoken words seemed to settle between you, causing the air to feel suffocating.

˚ ༘♡ “would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked. his voice was measured, each word chosen carefully. though his tone was steady, there was an undercurrent of uncertainty, as if he was bracing himself for rejection. it wasn’t a demand, nor was it an expectation, it felt almost… tentative.

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands resting in your lap. your anger hadn’t disappeared, it still lingered, simmering just beneath the surface, but it had softened with time, dulled by the care he had shown you. despite everything, despite the betrayal that still stung, he had been there, ensuring your recovery, tending to you with a patience you hadn’t expected.

˚ ༘♡ “i don’t think so,” you said at last, your tone gentle yet cautious. you weren’t trying to hurt him, though the words clearly did. you saw it in the way his face shifted, the faintest flicker of something vulnerable crossing his features before he composed himself once more.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t leave. instead, he lingered by the door, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. “you need to eat,” he said quietly. his voice lacked its usual authority, replaced instead by something softer, something that bordered on worry.

˚ ༘♡ you turned your gaze toward the window, your focus slipping to the darkened landscape outside. the compound stretched endlessly into the night, its shadowy corners likely crawling with guards you couldn’t see but knew were there. “i’ll eat later,” you replied, the words barely above a murmur. they lacked bitterness, though the weight of unspoken emotion hung in the room.

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed was thick and suffocating. you expected him to retreat, to leave you to your solitude, but he didn’t move. his presence remained, steadfast and unwavering, as if he refused to let the distance between you grow any wider.

˚ ༘♡ and though you wouldn’t admit it, even to yourself, his refusal to leave made something in your chest ache. it wasn’t anger, or resentment, or even guilt, it was something far more complicated, something you weren’t ready to confront.

˚ ༘♡ you sat on the floor of your room, your legs pulled close to your chest, trembling as grief consumed you. the weight of unanswered questions bore down on you, suffocating and relentless. your heart ached for the friends you’d lost in the chaos of the games, dae-ho, jun-hee, jung-bae, gi-hun, and the others whose faces haunted your dreams. they deserved more than silence. they deserved answers.

˚ ༘♡ tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you pressed your palms into your eyes, your breath hitching with every sob that wracked your chest. the quiet elegance of the room around you only deepened the pain, its pristine luxury a cruel reminder of the blood and suffering you’d endured to end up here. “please,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of the plea. “tell me… tell me what happened to them.”

˚ ༘♡ in ho’s footsteps were slow, deliberate, as he crossed the room to where you sat. you didn’t meet his gaze, you couldn’t. instead, you gripped your knees tighter, shaking your head as the words spilled from your lips in a broken stream. “where are they? are they alive? do they even… do they even have a chance?”

˚ ༘♡ he crouched in front of you, his movements calm but hesitant, as though he feared his presence might shatter you further. his hands hovered near yours, unsure whether to reach out. “i can’t give you the answers you’re looking for,” he said quietly, his tone soft yet somehow unyielding.

˚ ༘♡ “why?” you choked out, anger flaring through the grief as your head snapped up to meet his gaze. “why can’t you? they’re my friends, they…” your voice cracked, and the rest of the sentence dissolved into tears.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond, his silence infuriating and devastating all at once. the patience in his expression was unbearable, as though he thought his stillness could soothe the storm inside you.

˚ ༘♡ your cries grew louder, your sobs echoing in the quiet room as you pounded a fist weakly against his chest. “please,” you begged, the word almost unintelligible through your tears. “don’t do this to me. i need to know.”

˚ ༘♡ still, he said nothing. instead, his arms encircled you, pulling you gently but firmly into his embrace. his warmth was immediate, his presence solid and unyielding. he rested his chin lightly against your hair, his grip tightening as though he feared you might slip away entirely. “shh,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “i’m here.”

˚ ༘♡ you shoved him away with what strength you had, though it was feeble compared to his hold. “don’t,” you spat, your voice raw with anger and anguish. “don’t comfort me when you’re the reason they’re gone.”

˚ ༘♡ his hands settled firmly on your shoulders, his grip rigid yet careful, as though he feared hurting you but refused to let you slip away. the strength in his touch sent a wave of frustration through you, fueling a final attempt to twist out of his hold. his chest pressed against yours as he pulled you closer, his body a barrier against your escape.

˚ ༘♡ “let me go,” you demanded, your voice shaking with the effort to sound stronger than you felt. but the words wavered, your conviction cracking under the weight of exhaustion that had crept into your limbs.

˚ ༘♡ “no,” he replied, his tone low but resolute, the firmness in his voice more unnerving than anger would have been. “you need me,” he added, quieter now, his words tinged with a gentleness that made your heart clench. “even if you don’t want to admit it.”

˚ ༘♡ your struggles faltered, the tension in your body draining as the fight ebbed away. you sagged against him, your head dropping slightly, your breathing uneven and strained. his embrace shifted, becoming something softer, something that felt almost protective. his arms wrapped around you fully now, holding you close as though shielding you from a world you didn’t even recognize anymore.

˚ ༘♡ the warmth of his breath brushed against your temple, and you froze as his lips pressed softly to your cheek. the kiss wasn’t meant to persuade or plead; it was a silent confession, an unspoken attempt to reach past your anger.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, so quietly you might have thought you imagined it if his voice hadn’t carried the weight of those words so deeply.

˚ ༘♡ your entire body stiffened. the confession hit you harder than you could have anticipated, settling heavily in your chest. the sincerity in his voice wrapped around you, tugging at emotions you didn’t want to feel. your throat tightened painfully, but no words came. they wouldn’t. you couldn’t make yourself respond, couldn’t allow yourself to validate the truth in what he said.

˚ ༘♡ instead, silence fell between you, louder and more damning than anything you could have said aloud. his arms didn’t loosen their hold, his face remaining close to yours, his breath steady against your skin.

˚ ༘♡ then, as if sensing your hesitation wasn’t refusal, he leaned in. his lips met yours with a deliberate slowness, a patience that felt entirely at odds with the world he had dragged you into. the kiss was tender, yet there was an unmistakable urgency in the way he moved, as though he needed you to feel the emotions he couldn’t put into words.

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to push him away, wanted to scream that he had no right to this moment, no right to you. but your body betrayed you, your lips trembling as they parted against his. the flood of emotions, anger, despair, confusion, and something dangerously close to longing, surged through you all at once, making it impossible to pull away.

˚ ༘♡ when the kiss broke, your breath came in shallow bursts, your heart pounding erratically in your chest. his hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your damp cheeks as his gaze searched yours.

˚ ༘♡ “will you ever let me go?” you asked, the words spilling out before you had a chance to stop them. your voice was fragile, the question carrying all the weight of the fear and longing tangled inside you.

˚ ༘♡ his expression softened, the sharpness of his features dimmed by the flicker of something raw in his eyes. his hands didn’t move, his hold on you steady but not forceful. “i can’t,” he admitted, the words barely above a whisper. his voice cracked slightly, betraying the struggle beneath his calm exterior. “not in my heart.”

˚ ༘♡ the pang in your chest deepened, and the next question came almost involuntarily, your voice trembling under the strain. “will you keep doing this? will you keep the games going?”

˚ ༘♡ his face darkened, but not in anger. it was a shadow of something more potent, regret, or perhaps inevitability. he lowered his head slightly, his forehead close to brushing yours, his words deliberate and gentle. “yes,” he said, the softness of his tone cutting deeper than any cruelty could have. “i have to. one day, you’ll understand why.”

˚ ༘♡ the finality in his voice was suffocating. you stared at him, your tears still falling as you searched his face for any trace of doubt, for even the smallest crack in his conviction. his gaze remained stable, his eyes holding nothing but certainty, an unshakable belief in a path you couldn’t follow.

˚ ༘♡ the silence that followed wasn’t empty, it was heavy, filled with the unsaid words that hung between you. and as his arms tightened around you again, pulling you close to his chest, you felt the hollowness of his words settle into your own heart. hwang in-ho was a man who loved you, but he was also a man you could never truly understand.

a/n: part five!!! let me know if you have any requests and your thoughts on the story so far!!🤍

[cherrygirlfriend]

pairing: frat!rafe x tutor!reader synopsis: reader attends a frat party where the theme is to dress up as your type warnings: fluff! wc: 1.3k i got this idea from the wonderful @rafeyscurtainbangs and it had me dead because it's so funny and i can picture him wearing that… i also tried out a new kinda formatting for funsies ^_^ also i'm surprised i’ve never posted for frat!rafe? anyway first fic for 2025!

you'd never really been much into parties, your best friend constantly trying to get you to go to some of the various parties the social butterfly had gotten invited to, but you simply held up the book you were in the middle of and let out a soft hum as a way to say that you had your own plans. after some more pleading, lexi always gave up trying to convince you to come and left you in your own devices, returning in the early hours of the morning, trying to be as quiet as possible yet waking you up every time.

but this time, all the girl had to do was mention the frat party she was going to that night when you let out a sigh and told her you'd come with her. maybe there was a second reason you wanted to go, other than to just please your friend.

"we're having a party this friday."

you chuckled, turning your gaze from the book in front of you to the boy next to you, "you're in a fraternity, rafe. i'm pretty sure that happens every friday without exception."

your words caused the boy to roll his eyes, yet the small grin you'd grown to like still remained on his lips as he repositioned his backwards cap, "yeah, but it's a themed party. you should come."

"why?" you furrowed your brows in suspicion and confusion as to why he'd want you to attend, "what's the theme?"

"you're supposed to dress up as your type."

"and what are you going as? some kind of variation of jennifer from jennifer's body? or regina from mean girls?" you let out a small snort.

"guess you'll have to come if you wanna find out." the boy poked your forearm with the rubber end of his pencil, licking his lips, "i wanna see what kind of guys you are into. i bet it's some thrifty hipster dudes or some broody bad boys that secretly get hard for poetry and emily dickinson and shit."

you felt your cheeks warm from the memory as you placed the backwards cap on your head. you looked in the mirror, clad in loose jeans that hung low on your hips so it'd show off the calvin klein logo on your underwear, and a sweatshirt adorning the logo of your university. the outfit you wore looked just like something rafe would wear during one of your tutoring sessions. hell, he probably had.

lexi looked at you with raised brows, the muscular girl who usually wore dark, baggy clothes looked strange in the blue sundress she'd borrowed from you, her biceps basically protruding from the short sleeves, the girl's short black hair pulled up into a tiny attempt at a ponytail, wearing some simple makeup that you'd helped her apply.

"you're going as a frat guy? to a frat party?" she snorted, taking in your ensemble, "damn, you date so little that i had no idea that's the type of guy you were into."

you rolled your eyes, throwing her the handbag that she'd asked you if she could borrow, "and you're going as...?"

"a straight girl." lexi said, her usual shit-eating grin taking over her lips.

"in that case, you could've just worn like, a grey hoodie, those flared leggings, and a pair of white nike air force ones. most straight girls here do. i think you've failed at your assignment."

"shut up."

you were surprised by how many people actually dressed up according to the theme, especially over the number of frat boys wearing different types of skirts and dresses, some of them even sporting poorly done makeup looks on their faces.

having gotten separated from lexi almost the moment you arrived to the party, you were now leaning against the living room wall, hiding a part of your face behind a red solo cup half-full of some sort of concoction you'd found as you looked around. you'd always been better at standing aside, observing what everyone else was doing, rather than trying to join in.

you lifted the cup to your mouth and drank some of the nasty liquid, nearly spitting it out when you spot rafe chatting to his friends, just about managing to swallow it before you keel in laughter.

he stood confidently in a grey cardigan strewn over a white button-up that was so small on him it actually turned into a crop top, showing off the lower part of his abs, a faint happy trail as well as a defined v-line leading to a short black pleated skirt, his calves covered by black socks that ended just below his knees.

it seemed that your amusement had caught rafe's attention, as the moment you'd finally managed to straighten yourself up, the boy was strutting over to you, his hands on his hips in a way that almost caused you to go into another laughing fit.

"what's so funny?" rafe asked with lifted brows as he reached you, looking over your outfit with a pleased look on his face before gesturing to his own, "you don't think i look hot?"

"oh, definitely. the hottest." you snorted, bringing the drink to your lips and taking a small sip before pursing your lips in thought, "so, what's your type? britney spears?"

the boy's brows furrowed at that, "huh?"

"you look just like her in one of her music videos." you explained, your lips falling open in shock as his eyebrows continued to remain furrowed, "you don't know 'baby one more time'?"

"i haven't seen it." rafe shrugged, "what, you can't recognize who i'm trying to dress as?"

"i can't say i do. who?"

"i'm dressed as you."

you knew that if you were able to see yourself, your eyes would comically widen the moment the words left rafe's lips; and as you looked at him up and down, you realized, that his outfit was something you'd usually wear; just more lewd. "you're... dressed as me?"

"yeah. and clearly you're dressed as me."

"based- based on what?" you laughed incredulously, feeling your cheeks light up, bringing the cup to your lips and drinking just so you'd be able to hide a part of your face from the boy.

"well," rafe snatched the cap on your head, placing it on his instead, making his entire ensemble look even goofier, as he took hold of the front of your sweatshirt. "i'm pretty sure i've worn this exact same outfit."

"that doesn't mean anything… plenty of guys wear this." you mumbled from behind your cup, only to have rafe grab it from your hands, your eyes widening as you watched him finish it in one swallow, scrunching up the cup and throwing it on the floor somewhere.

cupping your chin with his finger and lifting it up so you were looking up at him, rafe brought his face closer to yours, his ice-blue eyes looking into yours in a way that made you feel like you were naked as his lips twisted into a knowing grin, "it doesn't?"

"n-"

before you could finish denying it, rafe's lips were pressed against yours; your eyes still wide open when his free hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

slowly, you felt yourself melt into the kiss, your eyes automatically closing as your lips moved against his. your hands were pressed against his chest, slowly moving down to feel his defined abs over the sheer button-up.

you could feel rafe's grin against your lips before he even pulled away, looking down at you with a knowing look on his face, the boy licking his lips causing you to bite down on your lower lip, your head spinning from just kissing him.

"so, that didn't mean anything, huh?"

[pushingdaisies1]

hihi!! i love ur writing it literally makes me kick my legs and twirl my hair its so good!! can you write one for thanos where reader is curious about the drugs hes taking and they ask for one but instead of just handing it over he puts it on his tongue and is all like “come and get it” and they make out 🙂↕️ kind of freaky my bad BUT IVE BEEN THINKING OF THIS

 ➞ ౨ৎ Princesa . . .

― ꒰ PAIRING: Choi Su-Bong (Thanos) x Reader! ꒱ ― ꒰ SUMMARY: Playing with your life to pay off your debts... you didn't expect to make connections so fast. Su-Bong, better known as Thanos, was a pain in your ass. A ear-grating, manipulative, piece of work. But a part of you found his poor attempts of flirting charming. Sure he sucked, but so did you and everyone else here. That's why you were playing these games. Quickly you both had formed a sort of connection after the first game, hell he even remembered your name. Men like Thanos just never knew when to shut up. So, before the second game, you decided to shut - him up. With your lips of course. ꒱ ― ꒰ WARNINGS: Drug usage cause you two r bonding with popping pills!! Gave reader like debt.. reasons? You got crypto scammed, sigh. Also a tad bit suggestive near the end. Other than that.. nothing else <3 ꒱ ― ꒰ AUTHORS NOTE: Tysm!! Yes ofc ohmygod I literally love this request... you are so smarty pants 4 this AGHHH ok ok ok!!! I decided to go in a more headcanon style for this one if that is all alright. If you want to submit for more characters, check out my pinned post right here, ᶻz ꒱

♡ ⦂ You were awoken with bright lights, an uncomfortable mattress, and blaring classical music. Was this what you were signing up for? Your eyes shot open as your head jerked around. Trying to take a look at your current surroundings. The last thing you remember is being knocked out with certain fumes after being picked up in an unmarked van. Did they undress you? You weren't wearing this when you were waiting to be picked up? You cringed at the thought of some random stranger stripping you down, only to change you into this. ♡ ⦂ Crawling down from your bunk, you were met with a sea of people. Bodies, the jackets they adorned wearing a number on their front and back. Counting heads, there had to be at least around four hundred people in here. Specifically four hundred and fifty-six when looking at the flat screen right above the metal dome. It was like a cramped chicken coop. Filled with people either already paranoid or oddly curious about what this all entailed. Some stayed cowering in their beds, while others moved to the middle of the room. ♡ ⦂ People weren't so happy about these accommodations. Players were already complaining, you included. It wasn't shocking that these participants already had questions. But they were all put on pause once the guards started flashing footage of people's faces and debts. Yours was on the lower scale, but it felt humiliating seeing you getting backhanded by the recruiter shown to four hundred strangers. Your face still burned from that. A familiar purple head of hair popped up on the screen. ♡ ⦂ Who couldn't remember a face like that? You remembered watching the show he was featured on. He was cheesy at least. But his vibe was funny and he ran with the whole "Thanos" gimmick. For a competition show, he was painted as a comic relief. You may have not been a diehard fan, but you enjoyed the music he made while competing on the show. You couldn't help but think about the odds of you being stuck here, with him. It is really a small world with people drowning in debt. ♡ ⦂ Amid players questioning what looked to be guards, you started to stare. Reading numbers off of the backs of players in front of you. Standing as a bystander to all of this. Funny thing, so was he. You locked eyes with him entirely on accident. As a mother and son argued, this so-called celebrity was reveling in your eye contact. You tried to look away but he pulled something that made both bile in you rise and your chest get all warm. ♡ ⦂ He flashed you a quick wink. Before shaping his pointer finger and thumb into the heart, puckering up his lips. You brushed the gesture and him off. It was a poor attempt at best. But in such dire and unknown surroundings, you couldn't help but crack a glimpse of a grin. Quickly the guards ushered out player consent forms, which meant people started to line up in single file lines. After that speech the square guard made about second chances nobody seemed to be planning to leave, and neither would you. ♡ ⦂ You easily signed your name down on the paper. Potentially your life away too. This was too sketchy even for you. But maybe you'll have some luck with this game. With the words the guard selectively used, this didn't seem to be so bad. ♡ ⦂ You especially wanted to win, you should be able to pay debts off like nothing once you got out of here. Shoving your hands deep in your pockets you slung yourself back to your bunk. Your best options were to just stay by the sidelines and hope. Hope for what? , well .. anything. Something to quell your already forming boredom. It was like you were watching paint dry, waiting for every player to sign their names down already. You decided to mind your business. ♡ ⦂ You were sat on a lower bed, tugging at the ends of your jacket sleeves. You watched as people in the lines formed talked. Whispers and murmurs with people questioning if the money is all real in between. You passed the time by continuing to count heads. Trying to find maybe other people you recognized.

Trying to find maybe other people you recognized. Hoping deep down none of your closest friends or family got roped into this mess. You felt sympathy for the mother and son arguing in the middle of the crowd, it was a sad display. You focused in and you continued to observe everyone as your mind spun.

♡ ⦂ You were yoinked out of your thoughts when you heard a loud impact against the metal bars atop you. Your eyes widened as you were met with the wide grin of... this guy again? The ends of his hair spiked up almost looking like horns. The purple in his hair was a lot more vibrant up close. It was like staring into the face of a shark. But the fear for you was replaced with interesting intrigue. ♡ ⦂ “Yo senorita, I believe you have not been introduced to me yet..” He remarked with a hand outstretched. “Thanos, but you can just call me your number-one admirer.” Visibly you grimaced, your hands still buried deep within your jacket pockets. His face still held that swagger he carried with him when he walked. But you noticed his eyes wavering just a tad. “No need to be scared of me beautiful. I can't resist not being acquainted with such a pretty face.” ♡ ⦂ “You didn’t seem like the type to use such… nice words.” You replied bluntly with a small smirk. Taking your hand out of your pocket, you shook his hand. It was only a quick couple of seconds of physical contact. His face looked like he took a large and lengthy mental pause. His words sounded hurried as he tried to make a comeback. “Well, I have to be on my best behavior. Seeing such a nice face out and about.” ♡ ⦂ Maybe you’ll humor his advances. Before you could get at least one reply in, he immediately cut you off. “You know you shouldn’t let yourself sulk all by your lonesome. I could keep you company, a cutie like you shouldn’t be sitting away from Thanos.” He boasted, looking proud of his response. You were about to roll your eyes into the back of your head. “Sure, why not? I’m positive your infinity stones will be good enough protection.”

♡ ⦂ He right away took the initiative to show off his rings and painted nails. Each finger resembles the color of said infinity stones. You couldn’t believe he was let alone real. “By the way, that guy.” He pointed to another player. His hair looked somewhat slicked back, standing by one of the bed posts of the bunk beds. Like Thanos on purpose told him to stand there. “Nam-su. A trusted friend of mine. You down for leaving reality and coming into the Thanos experience, princesa?” You cocked your head to the side as if you were examining an in-depth one of a kind art piece. “Uh-huh.” ♡ ⦂ In life, you have to take your chances whenever given them. He was an intimidating sleaze to be associated with. But even the scummiest of people had their little quirks. Especially after he finally asked about your reasons for being a participant in this. “No way, we were scammed by the same guy! We were practically destined to meet.” It seemed like he took every eye roll as initiative. Even trying to include you and another girl, player ‘096’ in the photo every player had to take. This guy just wouldn’t quit it huh? ♡ ⦂ The first game spun your sense of reality. Thank god you weren’t the first to die, that would’ve been embarrassing. What were you even thinking?! Most were able to make it across the finish line. In the hurriedness of the crowd, you noticed a sliver glint. As your eyes trembled, looking over to your far right you saw it. Thanos’s cross, its chain hanging low. In the silence with only shuffling feet and heavy breathing filling it, you could see the top of the cross unlatching open. 

♡ ⦂ You’ve never popped a pill any day of your life. If it wasn’t prescribed pain medication. But god damn did those look good to have right about now. His mood was utterly carefree as soon as he popped one. Hopping and skipping like an energetic bumblebee. Looked like it was at most ecstasy. Your nerves were killing you right now. It was shocking you hadn’t stumbled back in fear yet. But somehow you completed the game, still alive, and needing to calm the fuck down. ♡ ⦂ Once voting came around, you still felt your anxieties swirling. Your debt was too massive for you to back out now. The falling bodies of players loom in the depths of your brain. Guilt ate at the most empathetic parts of you. You could feel everyone who wanted to go home, burning stares into the back of your head. But you’ve seen too much to go back without all that money to your name. It was pointless to back out now. Your vote was met by Thanos immediately and firmly wrapping his arms around you like you were his doll. “You made the right choice beautiful! I was almost worried you were about to betray me.” It felt like both a threat and a sweetly coded warning. ♡ ⦂ You were completely withdrawn from your surroundings. Practically tuning Thanos, Nam-gyu, and Gyeong-su out. The guy seemed like a mega Thanos fan. It made your ears burn. You had a disjointed stare watching as Thanos and the little devil on his shoulder kicked the biggest reason you ended up here, Myun-gi. It was idiotic of you to even buy into that stupid crypto coin, the same coin your ex-boyfriend had insisted on you invested your good money into. ♡ ⦂ Soon he came back to where you and Gyeong-su were sitting. Gyeong-su immediately harped on the older man who had put practically his idol in his place. Practically close enough to snapping Thanos’s neck. Thanos turned to you, tapping a finger to his cheek. “You thinking of kissing it better?” He joked with a wiggle of his brow. Once again, like clockwork, you rolled your eyes. “In your dreams.” You murmured with a sneer. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Causing Nam-gyu to only awkwardly chuckle, the guy just didn’t get it.

♡ ⦂ As the glow of the grotesquely large piggy bank illuminated your surroundings, you planned a way to shake down that spikey-haired rapper. You needed to be calm and controlled for the next game. Who knows? , one wrong move and you could be getting gunned down. He seemed easy to persuade enough. You just needed to play into the palm of his hand a little bit more. Then you’d be out of anxiety city. ♡ ⦂ You were able to sleep peacefully at the thought. Quickly morning came around, and the same elegant tune playing rapidly over the speakers. People were already awake or just rising from their beds. You spotted Thanos’s bunk, a lower one in one of the corners of the room, bingo. You had your eye on the prize. You couldn’t slip up on this next game. It wasn’t an option for you or your livelihood. ♡ ⦂ You slinked over stealthily to his bunk. Catch him when he's only now getting out of bed. You saw Nam-gyu looking down into where Thanos was lying. The two were clearly in conversation. But as soon as you walked over he buzzed off. Thanos was only now closing up the locket as you appeared infront of him. You were staring him down, your palms placed right on your hips. ♡ ⦂ “I saw you pop one of those little candies yesterday.” You confronted him about it. He looked at you like you were crazy but decided to play along. “Yeah .. so? They are a Thano guaranteed little boost.” He chuckled as he began to zip his jacket up. The locket still hung low on his chest. He hadn’t slipped it under his jacket or shirt yet. Perfect point to now make your move. ♡ ⦂ “Come on what is it? I’m a big girl.” You persisted as you cornered him deeper into his space. He only seemed purely amused at your ploy. “You know what? , I’ll be nice. Come and get it.” He bragged as a defining clink could be heard from in between your bodies. “It's hard stuff princesa, you may not like it.” He purred as suddenly he plopped a pill on his tongue, mouth wide open ♡ ⦂ Your eyes expanded in shock that he was letting this happen. Were you going to stoop low and make out with a prideful buffoon just so your hands wouldn’t twitch as hard in the next death game? Well yeah, of course you were. It was either your life or a full-body buzz. So you decided to take the ladder. With ease, you cupped his cheeks as your lips landed on his. ♡ ⦂ You were rough with him as soon as he reciprocated. He didn’t hesitate at all as soon as you got closer. The exchange between the both of you was hot… almost purifying. His hands roamed over your body, his fingernails digging into your clothed hips. He was trying to pull you more into him and you didn’t stop it. Teeth clashed against teeth but no one complained. You were practically just reveling in his lips at this point. By all means, he wasn’t a bad kisser at all. ♡ ⦂ After what felt like forever you two parted lips. Hurriedly you were trying to regain your breathing and composure. He looked back at you with the biggest shit-eating look on his face. You had already ingested said pill. Your brain fogging up and your fingertips are all warm and fuzzy. As you slowly composed yourself you felt your shoulder tension ease. He just seemed proud of himself that he finally got to be kissed, by you.

♡ ⦂ You giggled at him as he had his hands against the metal framing of his bed. You plucked the cross and plopped it inside his jacket. The chain rang his neck a little. “You are… a freak.” You purred out while curling a little spike of hair with your finger. Making sure to put emphasis on your words with the role of the tongue. He reveled in how forward you were being right now. He should’ve offered you one of these sooner. “Yeah.. don’t mention it.” He replied after finally regaining his breath. ♡ ⦂ You fixed your attire up, smoothing the sensation in your hands down as you carried your hands down your chest. He tried to fix his pants in time. Before he knew it your hand was locked in his as you dragged him to where all the players stood. Every step you took was with ignorant blissfulness. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe a prick like Thanos wasn’t so bad to be around. 

― ꒰ AUTHORS NOTE: I hope this was okay!! I was really trying to get him to sound as in character-as possible. The ending was a little rushed because Tumblr wasn't saving correctly and it was PISSING me off. Don't be afraid to send a request to my inbox anytime soon! I'm currently working on requests featuring Dae-ho, Myun-gi, Se-mi, and more. Also, tempted to write something individually for the Hwang brothers? That is for future me to decide lmao. But anyway bye for now!!! ^ _ ^ ꒱

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Lucanis (and also Spite and the Crows) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Emmrich, Neve, Taash to be added tomorrow (or on Monday Jan 5th)

About Lucanis: 

Family and the past:

Lucanis learnt to cook while helping the kitchen staff at the villa when he was a little boy. One of his motivations was learning how to make churros

Side note: Lucanis mentions that cioccolata calda was his favourite drink when he was a baby, and he serves churros to a romanced Rook who picks cioccolata calda as their favourite drink. It’s all coming together! 

Lucanis wanted to be a Crow when he was a child (at least most of the time)  

All of Lucanis's relatives were Crows as well, and all of them were killed by a rival Crow house

Lucanis says Caterina would be proud of Illario hiding his plans well, as well as killing her 

Lucanis says that the hard part about setting Illario free would be convincing Caterina 

Lucanis says that nightlife was more of Illario's thing, and he never got out as much

On Crows and Antiva:

Viago still stares daggers at Lucanis for throwing his (Viago's) pet snake out of the window in a dream

Lucanis doesn't like it when people confuse murder and assassination ("Murderers are hobbyists, we are professionals")

Lucanis has taken contracts in Orlais

Lucanis doesn’t know Treviso as well as he once used to 

Heir didn’t train Lucanis

Lucanis says he has never killed an innocent “by his count” (other people may disagree) 

Lucanis doesn’t think of the Crows as a “big organisation” (unlike the Inquisition) because they stab each other too much

Lucanis became a mage-killer at Caterina’s behest (she wanted to tap into new markets)

The nickname “The Demon of Vyrantium” came from Tevinter news-sheets, though Lucanis thinks Viago started it

Lucanis says that there aren't any special tricks to killing mages. Though, if nothing else works, you can try pissing them off, as that could attract a demon that would eat the mage

Lucanis once killed half a dozen venatori while stuck inside an elevator 

Lucanis doesn’t consider himself a gentleman assassin, manners are less important than getting the job done

Lucanis sometimes spares his targets. He mentioned letting go of a servant who killed her master, as well as a 14-year-old boy. He thinks it’s wrong to kill people so young because they still have time to change

Lucanis doesn’t accept contracts without merit, and the merit is decided by the talon of the house

General:

Lucanis can make bread

Lucanis has never been to Ferelden

Lucanis isn’t interested in killing wyverns, just looking at them :)  

Lucanis has a pet snake 

Lucanis stays awake at night by cleaning his gear, exercising, studying Orlesian and knitting ("it’s just another kind of blade work") 

Lucanis doesn’t understand a lot of things people find attractive

(In a conversation with Harding) Thinking about cooking was one of the things that helped Lucanis stay sane in the Ossuary (the other was thinking about killing his enemies) 

(In a conversation with Davrin) Lucanis survived the Ossuary by shutting down and not thinking about anything except escaping

These two points sort of contradict each other. Either an inconsistency or Lucanis describing his experience differently to different people. 

The Wetlands ruined at least one pair of Lucanis’s boots

(If Rook chooses to save Treviso) Lucanis offers to pay for any supplies the Shadow Dragons may need 

Lucanis doesn't get a better bed because he's afraid of accidentally falling asleep 

Lucanis can identify the killer’s weapon and the height difference between them and the target just through the blood splatter left at the scene

Lucanis considers Grey Wardens dangerous 

Lucanis doesn’t like necromancy, because bringing people back to life is a waste of hard work

Lucanis finds the ice coffee from Minrathous offensive (Harding describes it as “snow, but made of coffee, sweet, and with cream and toffee sauce on top”)

Lucanis had never been in a romantic relationship before Rook/Neve

Relationships with other companions: 

Lucanis gets into reading Bellara’s serials (very passionately - they chat about it a bunch)

Lucanis is outraged that the Veil Jumpers don’t get paid for their work and offers Bellara his contract negotiator

Lucanis made biscuits for Assan

Lucanis is sceptical that the griffons will be safe with the Wardens

Lucanis think that Assan shouldn’t go soft (referring to the time he took care of a halla) because he is a predator at heart

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Lucanis offers to hold a funeral for Manfred

Lucanis and Harding talk a lot about dreams (mostly silly things like showing up naked for the job, getting chased by someone/something etc.)

Lucanis thinks Harding is deadly with her bow

Lucanis offers to pay Harding for being his lookout/aide at the rate of 6000 gold per contract

Lucanis offers the help of his contract negotiator to Neve after he finds out she doesn't have one

Lucanis made deep-fried peppers for Taash

About Spite: 

Emmrich can hear Spite even when he doesn’t take over Lucanis’s body (at least from a close distance)

Spite is impartial to Emmrich, believing him more than Lucanis

Emmrich says it’s impossible to separate Spite and Lucanis without killing them

Emmrich encourages Lucanis to read to Spite to bring them closer. Lucanis agrees to let Spite pick a book

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Spite asks if he and Lucanis can get rid of their skin too 

(If Manfred is revived at the Necropolis) Spite asks Emmrich to teach him how to use fire magic. Lucanis isn’t thrilled by the idea

Emmrich sets up wards to prevent Spite from leaving the room when Lucanis is asleep

Spite no longer sleepwalks after “Inner Demons” because he apparently understood the concept of space

By the end of the game, Spite has agreed to stop sleepwalking completely

Spite controls the wings (confirmed in banter with Harding) 

Spite wants to try swinging off the astrolabe at the Lighthouse

Spite is very excited about Manfred having hands and feet (Curiosity. Has. Feet!)

Spite finds the wisps in Neve’s room unnerving (as do Lucanis and Neve)

Spite likes to play with whetstones Bellara got for Lucanis (Bellara got them from the Irelin who supposedly got them from somewhere in Arlathan) 

Spite wants to try eating self-lightning candles at Blackthorne Manor

About the Crows: 

Crows frequently visit Nevarra and have received 20 contacts to assassinate the king. The King has been poisoned 7 times

Crows get a lot of contracts for Divine Victoria

Some seers in Rivain are powerful enough that there are contracts on them as well

Caterina once killed a man with a thimble

When Crows kill someone, most of the time they want others to know it was them (rather than presenting the death as an accident) 

The crows buried six different Eight Talons and rarely take contracts in Ferelden after the Zevran fiasco

[little-jana]

"Wrong Recipient"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, some minor tension

Words: 1.2k

Summary: After accidently sending a bikini picture to Spencer, awkwardness leads to confessions.

It was an ordinary evening at home. My phone buzzed on the couch beside me, a simple distraction from the mundane quiet of the night. I was scrolling through old photos, reminiscing about the summer when I’d gone on that impromptu girls’ weekend at the beach. One photo, in particular, caught my eye.

I had almost forgotten about this one. The sunlight had been just perfect that day, painting my skin golden as I stood in front of the crashing waves in a bikini. It wasn’t the type of photo I’d post publicly, but something about it made me feel confident, powerful. I grinned at the memory and decided to send it to my best friend with a teasing caption.

Or at least, I thought I was sending it to her.

I tapped the photo, quickly typed, Still got it, huh?, and hit send.

It wasn’t until my phone buzzed again moments later that I realized my mistake.

Spencer Reid: “Uh… I think you sent this to the wrong person.”

My stomach dropped.

“Oh. My. God.”

My hand flew to cover my mouth as I stared at the message. My heart was pounding so loudly I swore I could hear it in my ears. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening.

I opened our chat and saw the horrifying truth staring back at me: my photo, sunlit and confident, sent to none other than Dr. Spencer Reid.

I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or throw my phone out the window. Spencer was my coworker, my friend. Sure, I might have had a tiny crush on him (okay, a huge, impossible-to-ignore crush), but this? This was next-level mortifying.

Before I could figure out how to respond, my phone buzzed again.

Spencer Reid: “It’s a really nice photo. But I don’t think I was the intended recipient?”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t ignore him—Spencer was a genius; he’d know I was avoiding him. But what could I even say?

Be cool, I told myself. Play it off.

I typed back quickly: “Oh my god, Spencer. That was so not meant for you. I’m so sorry!”

The three dots indicating he was typing appeared almost immediately.

Spencer Reid: “It’s okay! Don’t worry about it. Mistakes happen.”

Mistakes happen. Sure. Like accidentally sending a picture of yourself looking like that to the coworker you secretly fantasized about. Totally normal.

The next day at work was pure torture.

Every time I saw Spencer, I felt my face heat up, and I had to resist the urge to dive under my desk. He, on the other hand, was acting almost… strange. He wasn’t avoiding me—far from it. If anything, he was hovering more than usual, lingering by my desk to chat about cases or throwing me quick, flustered glances when he thought I wasn’t looking.

I wasn’t imagining it—something had shifted between us.

“Hey,” he said casually during one of his visits to my desk. “Do you, uh, want to grab lunch today?”

I blinked, surprised. Spencer rarely initiated lunch plans. “Oh, sure. Yeah.”

“Great,” he said, a little too quickly, before awkwardly retreating to his desk.

By the time we sat across from each other at a small café down the street, the tension was palpable. Spencer was fidgeting with his napkin, and I could tell he was building up to something.

“Spence,” I said gently, trying to break the ice. “You’re acting weird. Is everything okay?”

He looked up at me, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. Yes. Everything’s fine. I just…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “About the photo…”

My stomach twisted. “Oh god, can we just pretend that didn’t happen?” I said, laughing nervously.

He hesitated, his eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t think I can.”

That caught me off guard. “What?”

“I mean…” He shifted in his seat, looking adorably flustered. “You looked… you looked really beautiful.”

The air between us seemed to thicken, my breath catching in my throat. I hadn’t expected that.

“Spence…” I said softly, unsure of how to respond.

“I know it wasn’t meant for me,” he continued quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t… affect me.”

My heart was pounding. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “Not just in that photo, but all the time. You’re smart, and funny, and kind, and I…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.”

My chest felt tight as I stared at him, his words sinking in. Spencer Reid, the man I’d admired for so long, was sitting across from me, confessing feelings I’d only dreamed he might have.

“Spence,” I said softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “I think about you too. More than I probably should.”

His eyes widened slightly, his hand turning to gently clasp mine. “You do?”

I nodded, my heart pounding. “I do.”

The tension between us crackled, and for a moment, it felt like the world around us faded away.

“We should probably get back to work,” he said eventually, though his voice was laced with reluctance.

“Yeah,” I agreed, though neither of us made a move to leave.

His thumb brushed against the back of my hand, sending a shiver down my spine. “Maybe we can… talk more later?”

I smiled, warmth spreading through me. “I’d like that.”

Later that night, as I sat in my apartment replaying the day’s events in my mind, my phone buzzed.

Spencer Reid: “You really are beautiful, you know.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face as I typed back.

“So are you, genius.”

His response came almost immediately.

Spencer Reid: “Dinner tomorrow? My treat.”

My heart fluttered as I replied.

“It’s a date.”

[bunni-v1]

Aventurine NSFW Headcannons

🍓This took me so long to get done, and I'm not 100% satisfied, but I wanted to get these out. There's so much I left unsaid, and I feel like if I kept going it would never stop. So enjoy the very basics of what I feel Aventurine is like in bed. Smaller posts are coming in the future so I can take time to work on the genshin stuff I have coming, alongside requests I plan on doing a full fic for <3

Tagging: @the-original-skipps (mwah mwah, just for you pookie)

Tw: Mentions of past sexual assault; Aventurine has unhealthy views of sex; Aventurine's past; NSFW; Pretty vanilla ngl; grammar errors

Info: Aventurine x Reader; Angst; Fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

MDNI

-Aventurine and sex do not mix well – at least, not at the start. 

-Much like love, he has a very jaded view of sexual intimacy. He was (heavily implied to have been) sexually assaulted by many different unsavory types when he was younger. His body wasn’t his own then, and the sex was brutal and unkind – something he hated.

-As he grew, both in stature and into his title of Aventurine of Strategems, his hatred of sex turned into something different. It was still hatred, he hated the act more than anything in the world most times, but he realized his body was good for something.

-Aventurine was an attractive man, despite his eyes being a less than savory feature to most people. His body was lean and lithe, his clothes and hair perfectly styled and trendy, not to mention the air of mystery he had drew people in like moths to flame. 

-All of it was crafted by his own two hands, of course. He was attractive because he wanted – no, needed to be. So, he made sure he was, of course, no one would do business with him otherwise.

-Pretty as a peacock, you could hardly tell he was once a slave or a dirty Avgin boy.

-He’s pleasantly surprised to find that the body he so hated being born into was a good business tool when he needed it to be.

-People really will do anything to get off, and as much as it disgusted him to do such depraved things, he would do whatever he had to to get what he wanted.

-He’d scrub his skin raw in the shower afterward, trying desperately to get the smell of sex off him. Hoping that if he scratches hard enough the ugly purple bruises will wash away with soap and water. They never do, and they leave him feeling vile until they fade.

-Regardless men, women, monsters – he really didn’t care what he was fucking so long as it got him what he was looking for.

-That’s what sex is to Aventurine, a transaction. He scoffs at the idea of it being anything more than that. Sex was rough and sweaty and all kinds of disgusting, how could anyone derive pleasure from that? You fuck, you cum, you say goodbye. Simple. As. That.

-Ah, but, then again you come along and you just love challenging his worldview don’t you? With your pretty little eyes and your sweet, comforting words. You always make him question himself. It would be annoying if he didn’t love you so damn much.

-Your first time with him is… incredibly unpleasant. It’s not as though he doesn’t account for you or your wants, but there’s a disconnect. He’s too… pliant and yet all too controlling. First times are rarely good, but this felt alien. Like the person you were with was not your beloved Kakavasha, but some strange man taking his place for the night.

-He’s doing things he thinks you want, he’s saying sweet words he’d whispered to hundreds of other partners, it’s all that he thinks you need, what he’s decided in his head that you’d like, rather than something that comes from knowing you.

-He doesn’t ask, he just gives and takes and then it’s over. It’s unfulfilling and empty, leaving you with a dull ache in your chest.

-He doesn’t even offer you or himself aftercare, and you find him scrubbing his skin red in the shower afterward like he was trying to rid himself of any trace of you.

-It makes you feel terrible. Like you’re some whore he’s picked up off the streets and not his long-term partner with whom he’s shared some of the darkest parts of himself.

-You cry into those expensive satin sheets, ruining them with your sniffling. It’s quite the sight for Aventurine to walk back into.

-He expected you to be asleep, or at least resting in some capacity, but crying? His heart sinks as he rushes to your side, then somehow falls further when you tug yourself away from him.

-He’s perceptive enough to realize that he had been the one to put you in such a state, but he didn’t really understand why.

-When he’s able to calm you enough to get you to talk to him, you’re able to explain that you felt so disregarded. There was no connection or love or care from him, did he not feel you were worthy of sharing that in moments of intimacy?

-That makes him sick. Never in a million years would he want to make you feel as though he does not love you, despite previous behaviors. You were his whole world, part of the reason he continued to exist. How could he ever make you feel unworthy of him?

-He nearly spirals there, but your tears are enough to remind him that he is not the one who needs love and reassurance. So, always eager to learn and grow with you, he asks you what you believe sex should be like… and it’s quite different from what he understands.

-You describe it like an extension of yourself. A means of intimacy and trust a level deeper than words and affection can get you. You are vulnerable during sex, you are at your weakest and you are sharing that with the person you love. It’s the most intimate thing you could do with a person, and while it can be fun and it can simply be because it feels good, it can also be because you love the other person so deeply you have no other way to express it.

-Aventurine finds the definition to be rather naive, but you had always been a bleeding heart. (Which he, regardless of if Kakavasha or Aventurine was leading charge, would give anything to protect). Yet… Kakavasha likes it. Kakavasha wants to do that with you, he wants to show you how much he loves you, he wants to hold you even closer and share such sweet nothings with you.

-He tries to toss it out initially because if he thought about it like that he would have to confront himself. Look that trauma in the eyes and acknowledge that, once again, you’d proven him wrong in a way he was annoyingly not expecting.

-But as the days go by and you slowly begin to become physical with him again, he wonders fondly how it would feel. Taking his time with you, he means.

-He couldn’t help but wonder how nice it would be to really feel your skin under his fingers. To kiss every inch of you, to hear you sigh his name like he crafted the heavens with his own two hands. Ah, Kakavasha won again, it seems.

-So he goes to you, like an apologetic puppy, and he apologizes for how terrible he was. How he reflected and regrets it, and he wants to try again and let you take the lead this time. 

-Despite everything, you say yes, and you allow him this second chance to redefine his worldview yet again.

-Aeons it’s life-changing sex. 

-Slow, careful, and all kinds of intimate. He’s still on top because he could not trust even you to be on top. He needed that control. But he listens to what you need, and he finds he’s very good at servicing you. Just as good as he is at spoiling you with his riches.

-You guide him to kiss you deeply, tongues tangling in a tango to a tempo only the two of you could enjoy. You show him how to leave love bites that make his spine tingle. How different parts of your body make you feel different kinds of pleasure. He gets to feel your skin beneath his fingertips, taste your very being on his tongue, and swallow the angelic cries of his name.

-It’s a kind of intimacy and affection he’d never been afforded in his life. A vulnerability he hadn’t expected himself to enjoy, and yet as he sobs into your shoulder at his release, he finds himself wanting more.

-It becomes a problem, really. One taste of it and you have both your sweet Kakavasha and the hardened businessman Aventurine absolutely addicted. In the privacy of his condo, he can lust after you all he wants. You would never deny him the pleasure of freedom, though you would tell him no after the third night in a row for your aching hips. (He will draw you a bath and book you an appointment at the finest spa he can get you into for the next day.)

-In his office, or during a meeting, or talking to the Doctor, however… that’s a problem. He wasn’t supposed to like it that much, but that intimacy had him aching through his expensive slacks. 

-He thinks about it all the time, and he’s taken to locking his office doors and keeping the blinds shut airtight for more than half the day. He hopes no one notices how many bathroom breaks he takes during meetings. He tries his best to forget the boner he popped in front of the esteemed doctor talking about finances.

-You literally have him addicted to being in love with you, it’s quite the conundrum you’ve found yourselves in… but, would you really ever want to change that? He’s very good in bed after all, so it can’t be that bad.

-Aventurine is a switch-leaning top (so sorry Aventio shippers), and I say this only because he does not like relinquishing control. Especially when he’s in such a vulnerable state, especially with his past traumas, he would rather be in charge than trust you and have you hurt him.

-He softens up significantly as time goes on, and he is more willing to allow you to service him how you please, but he never really gives up his control. There’s always a reminder that he has the say-so in what does or does not go.

-That being said he is very giving, without having to be asked he will happily do whatever you need of him. It’s just in his nature to service, those pretty little moans are all the payment he needs.

-I won’t lie and say he isn’t a tease, though. He’s incorrigible, actually. He loves to tease you, be it with his words or his actions, he loves getting you squirming beneath him.

-He’ll mumble against your throat how needy you are for him, how you’re already so worked up and he hasn’t even gotten past your clothes, how cute you are when you’re so needy for him. His fingers will graze you with such feather-light touch you’ll whine at him, and he always coos at you like a needy little thing – as if he isn’t the one tormenting you.

-He’s a fan of edging, which just comes with the territory too. He spends hours of his time building you up to your orgasm, crooking his fingers and swirling his tongue so you’re right there, and then he’ll pull away leaving you crying for more.

-It’s all worth it when he does let you cum, though. The orgasm shaking the very foundation of you, sticky fluids staining yet another pair of satin sheets. 

-That’s not even mentioning his dick, which he is just as talented with. It’s slim, the same shade as the rest of him, with an upward curve that rubs against your g-spot so very well without him having to try.

-It fits so snugly inside, and if you watch closely you can see the effect you have on him as his perfect poker face cracks just a little. He loves to feel you from the inside, it may be one of his favorite things in the world.

-You are warm and squishy and so very accepting of him, conforming to the size and shape of his member like you were made to do so. Like you were made for him and him alone, it’s a deeply romantic thought that he would scoff at if he were in a less hazy mindset.

-He’s rarely rough with you, preferring to show you how much he loves you more softly, though he can be rough upon request.

-Sometimes if you get him jealous enough he’ll be rough on his own accord, but never uncaring or unloving. Even when he has you face down, ass up he makes you feel like the most precious gemstone in the entire world.

-He likes sex slow and long, preferring if it is dragged out across multiple sessions with sweet nothings and gentle care between the breaks. 

-However, he rarely has the free time for such things, and as such he gets very good at making the most of the time that he does have.

-Because of his high sex drive, quickies are common, but they are no less fulfilling than the long sessions he enjoys having. 

-He’s adept at getting you to cum in under five minutes with his fingers, he can do it in two with his tongue thrown in, and that’s usually fast enough for him to quickly get off and get back to what he needs to do.

-Unfortunately, he isn’t the kinkiest guy. He doesn’t like tying up or being tied up, he’s not a fan of power play, roleplaying seems to turn him off (again, not a fan of power play, which a lot of scenarios include this), no hitting or degrading, and pretty much anything that could remotely involve hurting either of you is a no from him.

-He thinks for a while he’s fine with it, and he is willing to try anything once, but it only takes him one time to realize he does not like physical or mental pain. It’s not sexy, it’s traumatizing and he won’t be convinced to try it.

-He does, however, really enjoy you wearing lingerie. Lacy ones dotted with expensive stones are his favorites. Frequently you’ll find a set sent to you in pretty packaging with a little note telling you to ‘enjoy your present.’ Meaning, he wants a picture of you in it ASAP.

-Also a fan of seeing you in his clothes. If he spots you lounging about in his shirt after a long day of work, he’ll be all over you like a helpless puppy.

-Cockwarming you when he works from home is a favorite of his, liking the way you wiggle and squirm as he combs over documents. His poker face really is something impressive, you have no clue how he’s re-read the same sentence ten times as you clench around him again.

-Office sex is unlikely, purely because he doesn’t like you being anywhere near IPC headquarters if he can help it. But if you do stop by for some reason, the likelihood of him bending you over the desk and fucking you raw is about 99%. He does miss you a lot during the day, after all, you can’t shame him for indulging in his favorite treat after so long without it.

-He just truly, deeply loves you. Once he begins to have a healthy relationship with sex and associate it with you rather than the horrors of his past, it’s nothing but loving and delightful. He takes the whole idea that it is an extension of his admiration for you very literally, and showers you in his affections through sex.

[gold-onthe-inside]

greylist

verb (transitive): to hold (someone) in suspicion, without actually excluding him or her from a particular activity

who? spencer reid (s6, post-JJ, pre-Doyle) x tech analyst!reader summary: when your celebratory drink with penelope is disrupted, you end up at a bar with the person you famously cannot get along with even if you were paid... until you do. based on: request by @brownbunnyb: I’m thinking something along lines of me being Penelope’s best friend and coworker and she sees how much me and Spencer bump heads and she sets me up on a blind date and the guy end up being Spencer (she does it on purpose) and we get a little too tipsy and he invites me over to his place and I stay the night and he confess his feelings bc he assumed I was sleeping word count: 3k a/n: r is an intelligence analyst for the counterintelligence division, and roommates with penelope, famous for not having any of the pleasance and charm that penelope does (the grumpy to her sunshine) and for not getting along with men, including spencer. i may have gotten carried away with it.

You don't get many off days in counterintelligence, but when you find a chain of coded messages about a military officer in Alaska trying to sell classified documents to the Russians, and manipulate him right into the hands of an undercover operative, you have to celebrate somehow. There aren't many easy wins in your line of work, not like Penelope who comes to your shared apartment with an arrest on her belt almost every week, and when you hear the front door close, Penelope walking in with her heels in hand, you have no doubt that she's on a high from a solved case.

"Hey, so I figured we'd leave in 15," you said, stepping out from the bathroom in a sleek black dress with a cut out by your hips, your walk stuttering at the sight of Kevin in the doorway behind Penelope, who was wincing. "And you forgot," you said, unsurprised, your hands falling from your ear where you had just fixed a gold hoop.

"I'm so sorry," Penelope cried, rushing towards you. "I swear, I swear I had it written somewhere that we were going out, but this reservation opened up at L'Auberge, and you know we've been on the waitlist for months--"

You held up your hand, stopping her. "Go," you said, with patience that seemed to be bottomless when it came to Penelope.

"I swear, I will make it up to you right now," Penelope said and you frowned instantly as she pulled out her phone.

"You don't have to--"

"Ba-bup, nothing out of you," Penelope interrupted, picking up the phone. "You're going to a bar. I don't wanna hear any excuses, you still owe me for Friday. You will be there by 7." She looked to you. "7?"

You shrugged helplessly, glancing at Kevin who just seemed amused by his girlfriend.

"Where are you going?" Penelope repeated the question, then looked at you.

"Crown and Crow," you said, knowing better than to get in Penelope's way, watching her as she repeated it to the phone, then snapped it shut, looking at you with a giddy smile.

"Okay, have fun, don't be mean, and have a cute cocktail on me," Penelope said, kissing your cheek, leaving a smear of lip gloss. "You deserve the win," she said, then promptly disappeared off to the bathroom to change for her own date.

You looked at Kevin. "Home by midnight, no more than three drinks, capiche?" you said, firmly and he held up his hands in surrender to you.

"I couldn't afford it," he said and you nodded, satisfied. You slipped into your classic black pumps, grabbed your purse, keys, and a black coat before stepping out, the door closing before you remember to ask Penelope who your date for the night was.

You're on your first drink when he arrived, almost spitting it out at the sight of Spencer as he searched the bar for Penelope. If you rush into the bathroom, maybe you don't have to deal with him tonight… but then he spots you, and frowns as he raised a hand before walking over. "No Penelope?"

"Date with Kevin," you replied, not hiding your sourness. Don't be mean, my ass. This is her making it up to me?

"Oh," he said, looking confused. "So… why am I here?"

"Evidently, Pen's playing matchmaker tonight," you said, keeping your voice even and he sighed.

"Should've figured," he said quietly, then gestured to the empty seat beside her. "May I?"

"Since you're here," you replied, sipping your rum and coke.

"I take it I'm not who you expected," he said as he flagged the bartender for a soda.

"Given the history of our interactions, no, you're not." You watched his arm fall to the oak bar, his hazel eyes on you, sparkling darkly in the low amber light.

"Disappointed?" he asked and you took a breath in.

"It's not all you," you said, tipping the glass as you take a sip. "Supposed to be celebrating an op, but Penelope bailed."

"Criswell's case?" he asked and you sighed, his question stinging like the back of your throat.

"Criswell's case," you scoffed. "I do all the work and he's the one they credit? I swear to God, you Special Agents--"

"It's hardly my fault that Criswell's name gets put on the report. He was the arresting officer--"

"Only because I led the guy right to him," you argued, looking at Spencer and then you just sighed. "You don't get it. You're not an intelligence analyst."

"No, I do," he insisted. "I know you think we all come home with wins every week, but it's not me, or the BAU, or even the FBI that gets the credit. It's the local police department who can't pull their heads out of the asses, sorry, long enough to realise that all they need is to empathise to catch their killers."

You looked at him, with a mix of surprise and respect, and a little amusement at his apology after saying 'asses', and he ran out of steam at your look. "T-The point is, I get it," he continued. "You probably don't sleep for days, and if you do, it's not enough. You're probably going to suffer from debilitating eye strain in your 70s, and all for some half-wit tactical analyst to get the credit. You're right to be pissed, but getting mad at me isn't gonna get you anywhere."

You wet your stained lips, downing the rest of your glass, and stare at it for a moment. "I've been kind of unfair to you, haven't I?" you asked, looking at him.

Spencer looked at his clear glass, bubbles of soda rising to the surface. "Kind of feels diminutive," he said and you laugh, a brightness in your eyes that wasn't there a minute ago.

"Be grateful I admitted anything at all," you said and he nodded graciously.

"Of course. Thank you for the bare minimum," he said and you huff.

"Look at that, the robot knows sarcasm," you teased and he made an offended noise before watching you snicker. "So, just the soda or are you gonna drink something stronger?"

"Just the soda," he said and you know better than to ask as you order yourself a mojito. "So, how did you do it?" Spencer asked. "How'd you track him down?"

You shrugged, not particularly in a bragging mood. "It wasn't that hard, really. I already had an alert set up for requests for encryption keys, and there was no reason for this military officer in Alaska to request them. He didn't have the clearance or approval from someone who did to have eyes on it. All I did was figure out what he wanted access to and fudge it and put a code in so I could track the user before giving him the encryption key. Then it was just a matter of posing as a buyer for the intel."

"Child's play," Spencer remarked dryly, his lips curling and you shrugged.

"If you can learn sarcasm, I can learn humility," you said, sipping your mojito and it was his turn to laugh quietly.

"It's a new look on you," he said, meeting your gaze, and you're not sure if it's the rum, but there's a moment of tension, and you're half-convinced he's leaning in to kiss you when your phone beeped and it shatters like you've dropped your glass. You fumbled through your purse for your cell, pulling it out to find a text message from Penelope.

Penny: Kevin's staying the night.

How was this night getting worse by the minute?

You: Can't you go to his place?

No reply. It turned out your bottomless patience wasn't so limitless, and Spencer could tell.

"Problem?" he asked, raising his soda to finish it.

"It appears I'm homeless for the night," you replied, downing your entire mojito in one go.

"Hey, hey, slow down," he insisted, pulling the glass away from you, but it was just mint and ice now. "What do you mean?"

You grasped Spencer's shoulder. "See, Data, when two people go out on a date, which is a kind of human mating ritual, one of them offers their habitat to copulate in, never mind the other females who maybe sharing said habitat," you said, mocking and he swatted your hand away, knowing you well enough to know you were just projecting your irritation on to him.

"You could just say that Garcia was taking Kevin home, you don't have to be so--"

"Mean?" you asked hollowly and Spencer pursed his lips.

"Hostile," he replied and you nodded.

"It's fine, I'll just flirt with someone and let them take me to their place," you said, slipping off your seat.

"Hey, no," Spencer said firmly, his hands loosely grasping your arms. "A) you're drunk--"

"I had two drinks--"

"And B) Penelope would kill me if I let you become one of our cases. You can stay with me."

"What? No," you protested. "I'm mean and unfair to you, why would you--"

"Because no matter how much disdain you hold for me, I'm not actually a bad guy," he said patiently. "Can you honestly tell me you trust anyone else in this bar to not take advantage of you?"

You sucked your cheek in and sighed. "No," you said petulantly, and Spencer stood up, holding your coat up for you to help you into it.

He doesn't drive and you share Esther with Penelope who needed it tonight, so you're on the Metro back to his place, Spencer's hand on your waist keeping you standing until there's a place to sit. You realise, rather dully, that if you weren't wearing your coat, his hand would have found the cut-out of your waist, and you wonder what it feels like. "I'm never drinking rum again," you murmured. Clearly, it was poisoning your mind.

"Sure, you won't," he said dryly, standing in front of you and you have to look up at him to see his eyes.

"You're really tall," you said, distastefully. You don't like having to crane your neck just to look at him… not that you like looking at him. It's easier to be mean, you decide, when you can look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry, the doctor said there's no cure for it," he replied, clearly mocking.

"I could always lop your knees off," you said helpfully, smiling up at him and he snorted.

"I think they've been through enough." He watched the frown form on your forehead, and, stupid impulse, he moved his hand to smooth it out. "I was shot in the knee a couple years ago," he explained. "Reconstructive surgery."

"Must make kneeling hard," you said without thinking and he tilted his head at you, his hand returning to your waist.

"Was that a joke?" he asked and you shook your head.

"No, I'm just--" The train jolted and Spencer grabbed your hips before you could fall, your hands on his arms. "Embarrassing," you finished as he righted you, then guided your hands to the pole. He was warm, smelling like Irish espresso. It must be nice, being his girlfriend, smelling that all the time. What is wrong with me?

The rest of the ride is silent, and then he's guiding you out of the carriage and onto the station closest to his apartment. He tapped both your metro cards, which you don't remember giving to him, before walking out of the subway with his hand on the small of your back, and you're out of quips and clever things to say. You didn't think that was possible, but maybe the train jolted it out of you. Or maybe the rum did. But you're silent all the way to his apartment, and a little curious about how he lives.

He lets you in, letting go of your waist, and you don't see how his hand clenches, too busy taking the apartment in. The wall's a lovely green and he has lamps that remind you of old libraries with the green steel shade, and he has bookshelves everywhere, nothing with a contemporary cover on it. They're all old hardbounds that you're compelled to touch reverently, foreign titles that you're able to decipher. "Of course you have War and Peace in the original Russian," you scoffed, tracing the golden Russian letters while he set your purse down on his coffee table.

"You can read it?" he asked, surprised and you look at him with narrowed eyes.

"How do you think I posed as a Russian buyer of international secrets?" you asked and he held his hands up in surrender.

"My bad," he admitted, trying not to look impressed. But it was the truth, you were impressive. It was impressive enough how skilled you were at coding and creating algorithms, able to take over for Penelope without complaint from anyone but Derek who would get shut down every time he tried to call you baby girl. In a lot of ways, you were like Penelope, always ready with a pop-culture reference and a barb, preferring steel over sexual innuendo. In the early days, he had been sensitive to it, avoiding you when he could, but he'd seen your softer side when Penelope had been shot, how you'd been unafraid to yell at Rossi for pushing the boundaries of interrogation with her. He knew you were kind, really, you just weren't very generous with it.

He filled up a glass of water, walking over to you, doing his best to keep his gaze off your waist as he passed it to you, noticing you perusing the Art of War… in the original Chinese. "Don't tell me… Chinese too?"

"Kind of a prerequisite for counterintelligence," you said, swapping the book for the water, and an uncomfortable expression flashed across your face, shifting in your heels. He was an idiot, he should have noticed it. You were standing for so long in the train. You frowned as he knelt silently, hand grasping your ankle and you lifted your heel so he could take it off. One, then the other. "Thanks," you said quietly, unused to his kindness.

"It's not that hard," he said, standing up, putting your heels by your purse.

"What is?" you asked and he looked back at you.

"Kneeling," he said simply and it's stupid but your heart stops for a second, caught off-guard. "I'm gonna get you something more comfortable to wear. Finish that."

Oh, this was not good. You were not going to catch feelings for a man you've told everyone you know, which is mostly Penelope, and by association Kevin, that you hate. Your phone beeps and you pick it up.

Penny: Talked to Emily, you can stay at hers.

Escape. Emily can pick you up, you get along with Emily just fine, Emily's not a tall brunet with hazel eyes and makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. Emily's safe. You could be safe… or you could be with Spencer.

You: Don't bother, I'm already at Spencer's. You owe me so big.

You simply hope it sounds more casual and unbothered than you feel.

"So, I couldn't find anything that fit-" he started and you flinched as he walked back into the room, holding sweats and a t-shirt, almost dropping your glass, and he looked at you with wide eyes. "Sorry, carpeted floors," he said, assuming that was why you were so startled, and walked over, swapping your empty glass with the clothes. "They'll have to do, I'm afraid."

You nodded. "Bathroom?"

"Inside, on your left," he said, frowning as you rushed away.

You have to roll up the legs of the pants so you can actually walk in them, too afraid to ask for shorts for the fear that he might just hand you a pair of boxers, and then you really would crack, just like that.

You stepped out eventually, finding him setting up the couch with blankets and pillows, and he looked at you, his expression unreadable in the low light. "I know, they're baggy and I look awful."

"No," he said quickly, sitting on the couch. "You don't. Look awful, that is. Even if they are baggy."

"Right," you said, if only to move on to something else. "Um… do you have any cotton balls or something? I have all this make-up--"

"Sure, yeah," he said, moving and almost tripping over the coffee table in his rush to service you.

"--wouldn't want to ruin your pillows," you said to deaf ears, following him with a frown as he retrieves a cosmetic bag from his dresser. "Why do you have that?"

"Uh…" He looked at you with a wincing expression. "Halloween," he said, hoping it would suffice, and it did. You've seen him come into work at the end of every October with props and gimmicks. Emily ended up pawning off a Baba Yaga head to you that still hangs in your cubicle. You've named her Meredith.

"Right," you replied and he handed it to you.

"What, no clever retort?" he asked and you shook your head.

"No, I think the cosmetic bag speaks for itself," you said, showing him the pumpkin shaped cartoons on it, and he sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he said dryly and you snickered as you headed to the bathroom.

"Does Morgan know about your clown make-up?" you asked and he lingered in the doorway.

"Please don't," he begged, watching you dab removal cream on the pad and wipe your make-up away. You're teasing and mean, hostile and snappish, but you're not cruel. You've kept secrets for him before, like the magazine cover of him and Lila from 2005 that Emily almost finds if not for you distracting her with a linguistic question, your hand stealthily picking it out of his drawer, and then tossing it to him when she turned her back.

"Depends, do you have clown shoes somewhere in your closet?" you asked, smiling as you ridicule him.

"No, the shoes I rented, the nose I own, the hair I spraypainted," he said and you look at him.

"Seriously?" you asked with a giddy grin. "Please tell me there are pictures."

"What? No!" he retorted, in that high pitch where you know he's lying, "Even if there were, why would I show you?"

"Because you know I can find them anyway," you retorted.

"Not if they're not digital," he snapped back, thinking he's pulled a fast one until he sees your devious grin. "No. Absolutely not."

"You've made a horrible mistake letting me into your home," you said, grinning giddily.

"You're a terrible person," he said, blocking your way bodily. "Sadistic, twisted, horrible--"

"I'm gonna find it," you said, stepping towards him.

"Not if I lock you in here all night," he said, but it was weak, he knew it was. He'd cave the minute he heard your pleading voice, or pretending to vomit. You tilt your head at him.

"Show me the pictures, Spencer," you said and his shoulders sag.

"Alright, come on," he said, resigned, leading you to the bedroom and pulling at a locked drawer in his desk before picking up the album. You plopped onto the bed, curling your feet up underneath you, Spencer sliding into bed beside you with the album on his thighs. "Please don't be mean," he asked, looking at you with a pleading look.

"If I don't have something nice to say, I won't speak," you promised, and he opens it up, knowing it's the best you can offer. You instantly clap a hand over your mouth at the sight of ten year old Spencer dressed like a Russian gymnast. So, he was that extra as a kid too.

"You… dressed like that all night, and you survived?" you asked, looking at him and he shrugged.

"I didn't actually do much trick-or-treating. But my mom would help me make my costume and I'd watch scary movies when she was asleep."

There's a Ghostbuster's costume, a vampire costume, a Frankenstein costume, all creative and handmade, and you watch Spencer age through the photographs, until he's 14 and you're half-asleep on his shoulder.

A fondness warms his chest as he tucked hair behind your ear. He's never seen you unmade like this. You weren't as flamboyant as Penelope (you once said Bowie wasn't as flamboyant as Penelope), usually in greys, browns and blacks, with plain jewellery and simple make-up, and tonight had only gone up in tone by your eyeshadow, grey and silver, with black eyeliner.

But now? You looked vulnerable and pretty, unarmed, and he carefully laid you against the pillow. Maybe he thinks he'll get over it if he says it, or 'manifest' it like Penelope says, and it's not exactly a heavy thing he says, but he whispered it as he stroked your hair back in place.

"I wish you liked me as much as I like you."

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ sad girl ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! there is also a part one to this story, million dollar man! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ one week had passed since your boyfriend, sang-woo, reappeared in your life under strange circumstances that made your blood run cold. for two agonizing weeks, he had vanished without explanation. then, he returned, battered and hollow-eyed, his face bearing scars that seemed etched not only into his skin but into his very soul. he had come to your door clutching a bag of cash, his body trembling, his clothes soaked with sweat. “wait for me,” he had whispered, his voice hoarse and desperate. you promised you would, and so you did.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop replaying that moment in your mind, every detail a puzzle you couldn’t solve. had he been involved in something criminal? was he tangled in debts or worse? the thought that he might be ensnared in something far beyond your understanding consumed you. the sight of him, standing there, so broken and afraid, haunted you. you didn’t want to believe he was in danger, but deep down, you couldn’t dismiss the fear.

˚ ༘♡ then, this morning, a text came through on your phone. it was brief, offering no answers, only an instruction, “come to my house.” no explanation, no reassurance, merely a summoning. the clock had barely struck six, but you didn’t hesitate. sleep clung to you as you threw on the white, wool coat he had gifted you months ago for your three-month anniversary.

˚ ༘♡ the streets were quiet, the morning air biting at your skin as you made your way to his home. every breath a battle against the anxiety clawing at your chest. when you reached his door, it swung open almost immediately.

˚ ༘♡ before you could say a word, he pulled you inside, his movements quick, the door closing behind you with a soft click. the air inside was warm, contrasting the chill outside, but it did little to ease the tension in your body.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re here,” he murmured, his voice low, and then his lips kissed your cheek, cool and brief, a gesture that was both familiar and foreign. the touch left your skin tingling, not with comfort but with unease. his eyes lingered on you, their usual sharpness dulled by something you couldn’t place, something sinister.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped back from him, your voice trembling but firm. “you have to tell me everything right now,” you demanded, though the weight of your exhaustion seeped into every word. the fear you’d carried for weeks had worn you down, leaving sorrow in its wake. “i can’t keep living like this, with all the secrecy and half-truths. it’s killing me.”

˚ ༘♡ as you glanced around, you noticed his home looked different, emptier than you remembered. furniture was missing, and stacks of boxes lined the walls, their presence unnerving. your eyes narrowed as you turned back to him. “are you moving? why didn’t you tell me anything?” your voice cracked with disbelief. then, anger surged, and you shoved his chest, your frustration spilling over. “this has to stop! you can’t keep throwing money and gifts at me, thinking it’ll distract me from everything you’re hiding!”

˚ ༘♡ his posture stiffened, his muscles taut under the pressure of your words. his jaw clenched tightly, and for a moment, he looked away, as though searching for the right response. when he spoke, his voice was strained, his frustration cutting through. “if you would only give me a chance!” he snapped, the sharpness of his tone filling the room. his chest heaved and fell rapidly as he struggled to compose himself.

˚ ༘♡ letting out a slow, deep breath, he rubbed his temple, his hand trembling slightly as he pulled off his glasses. without them, his eyes looked more vulnerable, the walls he so carefully built around himself momentarily exposed. “why can’t you trust me?” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with a mixture of anger and hurt. “why is it so hard for you to believe in me?”

˚ ༘♡ the scars on his face had faded slightly but still marred his handsome, angular features. your eyes lingered on them, the memories of his battered appearance resurfacing with a painful clarity. tears welled up, blurring your vision, and a tightness settled in your throat. “then tell me,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo exhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the truth he was about to share. “it was business dealings,” he began, his tone measured, “not illegal, but high-risk. it was meant to be a way to increase my earnings, and it worked. it was highly profitable and lucrative in the fiscal aspect. it was presented as a secure business opportunity.”

˚ ༘♡ you narrowed your gaze, suspicion flaring. “how much money are you talking about?”

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated for a moment before meeting your eyes. “forty-five billion six hundred million won,” he said, his expression unreadable.

˚ ༘♡ your breath hitched, your mind struggling to process the sheer enormity of the figure. “what?” you managed to choke out, your disbelief evident. “sang-woo, that kind of money doesn’t come without strings attached. it can’t be clean.”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened, and he looked at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. “do you trust me enough to believe it is?”

˚ ༘♡ you faltered, the strength of his question bearing down on you. he wasn’t explaining, he was testing your loyalty, your ability to have faith in him despite the glaring inconsistencies. deep down, doubt clawed at you, but your love for him, flawed and reckless as it was, overpowered your reservations. “i trust you,” you murmured, guilt creeping into your voice. “i’m sorry for questioning you.”

˚ ༘♡ he nodded, the tension in his frame easing slightly, though his gaze remained guarded. “the investment fund ended a few weeks ago,” he continued, his tone darker now. “it got messy, very messy.” his bruised hand lifted, gesturing to the faint scars on his face. “this… was the price of my involvement.”

˚ ༘♡ the word lingered between you, heavy and suffocating. you stared at him, the weight of his choices crashing down on you like an unbearable tide. “why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “don’t you know I would have stood by you? no matter what?”

˚ ༘♡ his eyes darkened, and his voice rose intensely, startling you. “because I didn’t want to drag you into my problems!” he shouted, the force of his words filling the room and making you flinch. the reaction caught him off guard, his frustration fading as he noticed the fear on your pallid face. he let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his disheveled hair before pacing the length of the room. when he returned, his expression softened, and he cupped your face gently, his touch warm despite the tension. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with regret. “i didn’t mean to scare you. i’m sorry.”

˚ ༘♡ you had hoped that hearing the truth would make things easier, that it would bring the clarity you craved. but instead, it felt as though the distance between you had grown wider. “sang-woo,” you said softly, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions, “i don’t care what you’ve done or what happened. i only want to know that you’re safe, that we’ll be okay.” tears spilled freely down your pale cheeks, salty streaks marking the anguish you couldn’t hide.

˚ ༘♡ his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you in a way his words couldn’t. his hand moved slowly along your back, a comforting motion that was far different than the turmoil brewing within you. “everything will be fine,” he whispered, his tone firm yet almost pleading. “i promise, it’ll all be fine.”

˚ ༘♡ despite his reassurance, you couldn’t shake the pang of unease in your stomach. his words might have been meant to comfort, but they felt fragile, as though they could shatter under the strain of whatever truths still remained hidden.

˚ ༘♡ “i love you,” he murmured, his hand gently tilting your chin until your eyes met his. his gaze was steady, filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “i want to spend my life with you. to get married, have a family…”

˚ ༘♡ a shaky laugh escaped through your tears, a fragile moment of relief breaking through the tension. “alright,” you said softly, wiping at your damp cheeks. “let’s start with something simple. how about we go get something to eat?” your fingers brushed against his tired, weathered face, tracing the lines of exhaustion etched into his features. “you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in days,” you added with a small smile.

˚ ༘♡ sang woo’s lips curved upward, faint but genuine. “that sounds good,” he replied, his voice carrying a gentleness that was almost unfamiliar after everything.

a/n: i thought sang-woo wouldn’t tell his girlfriend about the squid game, with how concerned he is with maintaining a perfect reputation. let me know if you have any other requests! 🤍

[taelophone]

Luigi M; A Look ⋆˙⟡ — A Luigi Mangione Analysis ⋆⭒˚｡⋆. A/N: I am not claiming to know or understand him as a person lol. I simply wanna do a lil surface dive on him as a person to try and shed some light on what I think he's like!

Please note; All links are tweets Luigi himself has reposted, or are things from his mouth that he has typed. VIA Reddit, twitter, etc etc. All retweets will be marked with *

⟡ Luigi as a person (good, and bad)

⋆ After many many hours of scouring this man’s socials and any sort of archive of him I can find, I’ve gathered a handful of interpretations and ideas as to what Luigi was like prior to his surgery. And I say that last part specifically because he showed a v drastic change directly after his surgery, and literally went M.I.A.

Luigi is a very empathetic and intelligent man, this is a surface level fact that we can all agree on. He’s been shown to go out of his way for other people even when he doesn’t have to. But please don’t let that fool you this man is a KEYBOARD. WARRIOR.

⋆ He LIVES for the debate. In fact, he fucking loves debating. I wouldn’t go as far as saying he loves arguing, but if there’s a point being made and he feels strongly about it, he will type pages upon pages of text explaining in great detail exactly why you are wrong.

He’s said time and time before in a retweeted post that freethinking* is a very important part of life, and here’s where I say he’s…a bit of a hypocrite. His love for debate kind of keeps him from seeing another person’s POV, which makes for a hell of a storm when disagreeing with him. In short, he’s stubborn. A very stubborn man, but he is open to hearing the other person out versus not listening to them at all.

And I have a strong feeling his stubborn demeanor coincides with the fact that he knows he’s smart. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like he usually knows what he’s talking about, but that’s the problem. If you tell him about something that’s been bothering you or going wrong in your life, he will spit out 99 solutions for you. He’s the kind of guy where he will probably resort to both comfort AND unsolicited advice, although its likely he got better at the latter later down the line.

⋆ Shying away from him being stubborn, there’s another key part of this man that I DONT SEE BEING TALKED ABOUT ENOUGHHH OMG. SASSY MAN. SASSY SASSY SAASSSSYY MAN.

You can expect shade, eye rolls, silent treatment, head shakes, and possibly even a snarky comment from him. He’s all about becoming a better person and stuck on self betterment, but he is not afraid to show his visible disdain for something. He has very dry and unexpected humor, but he doesn’t realize it. He’s funny in a way where he doesn’t mean to be.

But when he’s trying to make a joke? Oh god help me he’s so so so cheesy and so corny that it makes you just wanna curl up and die (but no seriously, he’s so corny that it’s funny). His sense of humor is so cheesy, think old vine and 2018 humor.

⋆ Another key part about him is his love for travel, and being a “geek” by nature! This man loooooovesss his Pokemon, let me tell you. Was in a whole subreddit dedicated to Pokemon go, word committed for half a page about backpacking essentials, and was almost always posted up somewhere that wasn’t his house. I can’t say he’s the type for spontaneous trips, as the only time he has been known to take was during the beginning of his breakdown.

Because of this, I feel like he’s more likely to be a marvel and MCU fan. He also read a couple of the Harry Potter books, and we can assume that he liked the series enough to rate them 5/5s lol

⟡ My takeaways. Deeper analysis

⋆ Luigi gives me massive INTJ vibes. Contrary to popular belief, I feel he’s more introverted rather than extroverted. He’s expressed clear comfort in solitude, and aligns perfectly with the personality category.

INTJ description;

“INNOVATIVE,INDEPENDENT, STRATEGIC, LOGICAL, RESERVED, INSIGHTFUL. DRIVEN BY THEIR OWN ORIGINAL IDEAS TO ACHIEVE IMPROVEMENTS.”

However, I could see him being an ISTP, who are characterized as

“ACTION-ORIENTED, LOGICAL, ANALYTICAL, SPONTNEOUS, RESERVED, INDEPENDENT. ENJOY ADVENTURE, SKILLED AT UNDERSTANDING THINGS.”

⋆ He’s a very big geek! More than likely has a soft spot for nostalgia content or things that remind him of childhood. We can expect him to be into things like Ben10, Cartoon Network, old Nickelodeon, and other shows such as The Office, Law & Order, true crime, and philosophy content!

⋆ Expect him to be a giving lover. Would absolutely love words of affirmation, quality time, and acts of service. He’d be more than willing to give you gifts and shower you in lavishes, but it’s not his main love language as he believes love goes beyond materialism and who can spend the most on who. Handmade gifts are a go! Expect 3D printed trinkets, pictures, cards, etc etc.

⋆ Absolute communication god. He’s stubborn, but he’s not stubborn enough to not tell you when something is wrong. It’s just not his speed and he thinks it’s pointless to not tell someone, especially your partner, when he’s upset or what’s got him in a bad mood. He also expects this same behavior from you as well. The whole “I don’t wanna tell you what’s wrong” shindig would annoy the FUCK out of him. FAST.

⋆ He doesn’t give possessive or jealous lover type ngl. Growing up with two sisters and being absolutely showered in female companionship, he understands how that could possibly make you feel and doesn’t even blame you for it. As a result, he’d be extremely understanding if you were friends with men.

⋆ Please don’t ever get in an argument with this man lmfao. That is one battle you cannot and WILL NOT win. If it’s petty and a matter of “I didn’t say so and so,” he WILL show up with receipts. Would very much start busting out his big boy words just to confuse you. Catch him throwing old English into the mix. But if it’s a legitimate argument, and you have a reason to be upset, he will apologize before it can even get off track.

⟡ Luigi’s Brain

⋆ Alright kids here’s where we get a little controversial. What’s going on in Luigi’s mind?

I just wanna start this section off by saying I am not a licensed psychologist, nor do I major in psychology. I have no ties to this topic whatsoever, and am just speaking from what I’ve seen in myself, and what I’ve seen in him.

Neurodivergence. Luigi has a habit of exuding very neurodiverse behavioral patterns that I could tie to one of two things. Autism, or OCD.

⋆ Luigi openly expressed a lot about his wills and wants on his various social media platforms, and one thing I’ve noticed is his strong need or drive for self-improvement. Please don’t get me wrong, it is incredibly important to want to improve yourself and that is a perfectly healthy goal to have. However, Luigi’s drive for self-improvement and ‘getting better’ had a direct impact on his relationships, lifestyle, and more. This is likely what influenced his 6 month period of self-isolation and cutting off his family members.

Perfectionism “type” OCD is a branch of the umbrella term of OCD in which can be identified by repetitive behaviors, such as excessive exercise, something he continued to engage in even with a bad back, insistence on specific routines or ways to do things to achieve perfection, and occasionally rigid and inflexible thinking patterns, as I described him being likely to have above.

not everyone experiences OCD the same way, and me and Luigi are obviously going to experience it differently considering we are two completely different individuals. As someone with perfectionism OCD, I am just calling what I see in my eyes.

⋆ I saw someone make the argument a while back that Luigi could possibly be a narcissist, and while I don't necessarily deny that he can come off as pompous in some of his tweets, I do not think this is the case.

For Luigi to be a narcissist means that he wouldn't be able to make meaningful connections with people around him. Every person that has met or come into contact with Luigi only had good things to say, but I'd like to focus on his...straightforward or out-of-touch* tweets.

Luigi is a no-nonsense man. He's very left-brained and thinks as such, literally. He demonstrates a tendency to solve and think and plow through anything he registers as a problem. Have you ever asked "well, why can't we just print more money?" when told about the cash crisis? That's exactly whats going on in this tweet.

His first instinct when faced with the topic of Japan's birth rate is to try and solve it. Luigi may be hyperfixated on stats and data, which would clarify why he allegedly word-vomited to the hoes about birth rate data. He's not trying to come off as rude or ignorant, and frankly, I don't really think his tweet is that crazy either, he just might not know that this isn't something considered a social topic.

I feel like we're ignoring a lot of his more out-of-touch* (re)tweets, though. Scrolling through Luigi's page, I can understand what he's trying to get at, though lol. He's made it very clear that he's an intense supporter of complete equality*, he doesn't want anybody to be undermined in their contributions to society. Regardless of gender, sexual identity, race, etc. But again, he's thinking so literally and has trouble effectively communicating that in a way that is "neurotypical." This paired with the way he word vomits, and just his overall typing style and cadence, It just feels like he may be on the spectrum!

I do not have a link for this as his Reddit account was fucking obliterated, BUT, I do remember it being rumored that Luigi was apart of several neurodivergent support groups and subreddits!

I hope I helped humanize him a bit more for you guys! Lmk what you think of this little summary as it’s my first time doing something like this EVER lmfao😭

[nobodyfamousposts]

Scarlet Lady Top 10 Favorite Characters: Number 10

For @zoe-oneesama

Okay, I realized as I was writing these that there is way way WAY too much to each of these and why to be able to put them all into one post, so I'm breaking them down into individual essays focusing on each one to keep them palatable.

So without further ado....

Number 10: EVERYONE

Yeah, I know it may be cheating but at this point it was the only choice I could make.

I came to regret making this list, specifically because I couldn’t seem to make up my mind as far as who all would be on it. I reread the entire series. I kept switching people in and out as I was reminded of characters or scenes I loved. And I came to a realization that there is no character in the whole of this series I didn’t enjoy to some extent that they didn't deserve some love in this list and I kind of wish I could have added all of them just to give them all some spotlight.

Yes, it is partly because everyone is vastly improved compared to Canon. But as I reread the series, it came to mind that if Canon didn’t exist and I didn’t have the comparison between the characters, I still very much would have loved this series and everyone in it.

Cause and Effect Exist

It's important to have a setting in which the characters and their actions make sense for the world they live in. When the setting is supposed to be modern day earth, we need the people to be able to show that they are capable of surviving in it on a day to day basis without being so massively incompetent that they would do something like accidentally ingesting poison. Or forgetting how to breathe.

I would think it would be obvious, but sometimes Canon makes me wonder. Which is never a good look for a show that is supposed to have some level of seriousness and involve superheroes.

Here’s the thing Canon can’t seem to get: when a majority of the things that go wrong in a plot are because of everyone having to be stupid to make the plot work, you have a problem with the writing. Changing the material in a story so that younger people can enjoy it does NOT mean dumbing down the characters and throwing in arbitrary lessons with no real reason to them. Even if the show itself is geared towards kids, you can’t treat the audience like they’re stupid.

In Scarlet Lady, the people aren’t stupid.

Silly, yes. Wrong, often. Overdramatic, definitely. But while they may make stupid choices sometimes, they aren’t so dumb that anyone should have concerns about their ability to function at a higher level than an overcaffinated 2 year old.

They’re fooled initially the way many of us would be with a biased story that hits the news first. Oblivious to the problems in a situation that they logically wouldn’t have much direct insight into. Prone to making mistakes and incorrect judgement the way that anyone would. That's normal. That's expected.

But they’re not so incapable as to forget things that happen right in front of them between one day and the next. Or even between one scene and the next.

Things carry over. We see cause and effect. We see consequences—bad and good. And those consequences extend not only for the episode or season but for the entire series.

Aurore KNOWs Alec cheated her before and maintains a tight control over him and prevents more of his antics.

Adrien and Alya maintain a cold attitude towards Lila for some time after her reveal as a liar. And it even remains a point against her as used by Chloe as herself and as Scar to discount what she says.

The boys of the class remember Adrien’s “love letter to Marigold” and try to win him her merch because they’re bros like that. 

Adrien himself remembers the instances of his dad being a massive prick and instead of being surprised and “sad boi uwuwu” each time it happens like it’s supposed to be a surprise that the massive prick would choose to be a prick, he very clearly moves through the stages of grief to the point of a sort of acceptance that involves planning around and even for him.

Gabriel’s horrible parenting and general lack of concern for Adrien or his wellbeing as he ends up a casualty of various akuma attacks was played off for laughs when such incidents occurred. Then they were brutally called out against him in the Finale as a way to counter his claims of doing everything for Adrien’s sake. And the big reveal of the Birthday Scarf…utilized in the last way anyone would have wanted.

And Chloe is perhaps the biggest example as her antics ARE NOT forgotten or ignored by anyone. The classmates still interact with Chloe and are relatively nice to her, but they don’t just forget that she’s treated them horribly. They don’t act surprised when she does anything horrible. Nor does anyone just laugh it off or excuse it as “just who she is”. We see follow up to her behavior—the class fully expecting her to cause trouble and actively try to plan around it. People calling her out on past behaviors. And even bigger consequences as time goes on. Such as Adrien breaking off the friendship. And a blink and you miss it fridge logic moment in Ikari Gozen when you realize that when they said she was banned from all future Gabriel-involved competitions, they meant it.

The fact that by the time the big reveal happened that Chloe was Scarlet Lady, no one was shocked.

Story-wise, this is showing the passage of time and the effect the events of the story are having. It’s showing that there is lasting impact and that what happens to the characters matters.

Meta-wise, this is Zoe rewarding us for paying attention.

Continuity exists in Scarlet Lady. Time exists. The people exist. When anyone does anything, you get the sense that they aren’t operating in a vacuum. The things they do matter. There are consequences. There is an impact. And if there is an impact in the story, there will be an impact on the audience.

Which leads to…

Character Depth/Character Growth

Usually in TV shows of this nature, if there ARE character arcs for the side characters, they only occur over the course of a single episode devoted to focusing on them before moving on elsewhere. 

Canon didn’t give us that much at all in favor of having every episode that should focus on other characters learning and growing instead forcing Marinette to be wrong in some way and learn an arbitrary lesson that often would have better served for someone else.

In Scarlet Lady, the arcs we get are impressive for all that they’re relatively unobtrusive. They aren’t big. They aren’t world-ending. And the thing is, most change in life isn’t. It can just FEEL that way.

Like the way it felt for Kim when he first found out Ondine liked him and then had his confession to her screwed up.

And the way it felt for Kagami when she lost that first match against Adrien.

Then there’s the way it felt for Chloe when she was dismissed by her mother, had her popularity go downhill, and ended up losing her Miraculous.

…or the way it felt for Adrien when he discovered his dad was Hawk Moth.

The reactions we witness are in a great part due to actions outside of the characters’ control, but are ultimately a result of the experiences they have had and the ways they have changed as a result.

The question becomes: are the characters that we meet at the beginning pretty much identical to how they are at the end? Is the world?

The answer in Scarlet Lady is no.

Whether because the characters themselves change or our perception of them does, we can see that they have all undergone some sort of events that create a difference between the start and end points.

Not all of them HAVE to undergo some big emotional arc. Not all of them NEED to. But the characters still mostly go through some sort of growth by the end that I feel make them stronger and healthier people.

You’ve got the big life-altering changes like Lila and Sabrina.

You’ve got the little changes like Nino and Ivan.

You’ve even got the most minuscule, beginning stages of change in Chloe.

You’ve got growth that creates such perfect setup with Mylene when she starts off scared and traumatized by how things went with Stoneheart then is the one who confronts him in the end. And the parallel between the finale and the beginning when she returns him to normal by kissing him just like they did in that first episode to change him back then, too! (Just….GOD, I CANNOT GET OVER THIS!)

You’ve got them reaching out and making friends and relating to people they hadn’t before.

And by the end of it all, we get characters who feel like people rather than props.

They don’t all have to change. They don’t necessarily need to go through an entire emotional arc and back again. They just need to be part of the world they’re in.

Nino doesn’t just pop into existence when Adrien or Alya need someone to interact with. Kagami isn’t just a non-horrible or non-evil love rival for Adrien or a stepping stool for him to “practice“ at being in a relationship before it’s time for him to try the “real thing” with his endgame pairing. Luka isn’t just a decent guy who is the only actual form of support for the female lead and yet only lacking that precious “male lead” title or all around just not “Adrien enough” to fill the role.

Adrien isn’t just a “sad boy” meant to be a main love interest, Villain’s Morality Pet, and the one everyone idolizes and chases after just cuz he’s the male lead and that’s how you show he’s desirable I guess. Marinette isn’t the atlas keeping the story alive because no one else is apparently capable of learning lessons and changing, or even just the bare basics of functioning as individuals. Chloe isn’t just there to be horrible for no reason and get away with it so she can continue to be horrible until the writers suddenly need her to be sympathetic.

And the rest of the classmates aren’t just some Greek chorus there to fill the background.

We see them interact. We see them making jokes or jabs. We see them even…*gasp* having different opinions!

And on something as major and life-controlling as feelings about the “Hero of the City” no less! Why, that’s the sort of thing that would break up friendships and determine who you can sit next to at the cafeteria! The horror! The scandal!

And…oh hey. This puts the characters in different groups. It links them with characters other their Canonically designated pairings and groups. This lets them disagree on things and not need to vilify any of them. This creates implications that add depth to the story and to the people in it.

The characters can disagree without being enemies. They can be wrong without having to be evil. They can make mistakes without having to be stupid. And they can change and grow—both for better and worse.

And we see both and in different ways. SO many different ways.

Adrien goes from excited and impulsive to buckling under the forced responsibility and weight of a partner who hinders more than she helps.

Lila goes from selfishly bad and self-serving to selfish but friendly with better direction of her talents in a less self-serving way.

And Chloe just goes from selfish and bad to selfish and worse..

I mean, it says something that the combination of Lila’s growth and Chloe’s fall from grace resulted in Hawk Moth being unable to use Lila as a tool for his Heroes Day plot like he originally intended.

The key is that whether they necessarily grow or become better people, these characters are still IMPACTED by the events around them and AFFECTED as a natural result of the world they live in. 

You can’t help but feel for them in some way as a result. It’s part of why I love them.

The other part of why I love them is a bit more epic though…

Crowning Moments of Awesome

If there’s one thing I love, it’s seeing characters be awesome. I love it when characters get to be awesome. I would love to see more of it. Especially when the ones involved are characters you wouldn’t normally expect or get to see have a chance to shine.

And it’s when you see these characters be awesome that you really get the sense that yes, this character would work as a hero.

Seeing Max help against Robustus. Seeing Kim help against Odine. Alix stepping in during Pharaoh, calling out her brother’s fan fiction, and helping the heroes escape the security system at the Lourve. Alya stepping in during Copycat to clue Chat in to what’s going on and later keeping Anansi distracted to keep her away from Chat while he’s trapped. Rose kicking Nightmare!Chat in the face to defend Marinette even when she’s on the run from her own nightmares in Sandboy. Luka leading groups twice to stepping in and helping the heroes deal with akumas. Nathaniel standing up for Marinette and Sabrina when they’re accused in Rogercop and then helping the heroes in Reverser.

These little moments of support make such a big different and really make it make sense that the heroes would trust these people with magical jewelry to help them in battle.

And the little moments of characters being petty or strong or smart or turning the tables or just showing off what they’re capable of. Even without superpowers.

Adrien getting petty revenge for Nino and finding a tactic to counter Gabriel in the future.

The Police Force in Rogercop just saying “Nope” to obeying an obvious akuma. 

Zoe manipulating akumas twice to help the heroes. Her two Reasons You Suck Speeches to her mom and Bustier.

Every instance of payback that Tikki gets against Chloe.

Everyone in the Finale. Just…EVERYONE in the Finale. The characters who manage to avoid akumatization by either spotting the flaws in the illusion or refusing to give in to fear and even protecting others. Nora smacking any akuma that enters the home. Claudie pulling off Power Mom and ordering Max to stop attacking the city then helping to calm him down. Prince Ali and Juleka freeing Rose by kissing her! Chris, Ella, Etta, and Manon saving Mylene! Mylene saving Ivan with a kiss in a direct callback to how they first got together in Stoneheart! (Yes, I am still stuck on that!) Ondine saving Kim! Lila and Sabrina saving Alix! Luka facing Riposte alone and unarmed and then Kitty Section saving Kagami! ALL of the Heroes making a final comeback to help take down Hawk Moth for good! Just—AAAAAH!

How could Miraculous have peaked with this in Season 2 when this is Grand Finale material? Because there are few things more awesome than getting to see ALL the characters the heroes met and befriended and helped throughout the course of the story stepping up at the final battle to help take the Big Bad down!

Like…can we just take a moment to appreciate how everyone gets a chance to stand out in some way? Not all of them necessarily good, exactly (looking at you Andre). But still stand out and be memorable. Even characters who didn’t originally get much focus. Especially characters who were originally functioning as cardboard cutouts to fill a scene.

Anyone remember Aurore? How for the FIRST akuma in the pilot of the series and one who is quite frankly the most interesting and noteworthy, we don’t really get to see her again except in the background.

In Scarlet Lady, we got to actually look in to the contest and how she lost as well as the aftermath. She wasn’t some arrogant showoff who deserved to lose to the “sweet down to earth rival”, she was a girl who legitimately tried her best and had valid reason to be upset. Seeing her get revenge on Alec for cheating and humiliating her on live TV was well worth it.

Or how about the Photographer? Just there to take photos of Adrien in the park for a photo shoot or be the school photographer, but otherwise has no personality and is only remembered for his weird “spaghetti” line.

In Scarlet Lady, his role is two-fold. He acts as a sort of supporter for Adrien in his crush. Taking really good pictures of him being happy with the girl he likes. Taking more class photos at the behest of this girl for the sake of a friend who missed out on the class picture. And then there’s his OTHER role as a sort of antagonist to Chloe. He becomes one of the only ones in the early seasons willing and capable of dismissing her tantrums.

They’re both given more character. They get moments to stand out and BE awesome. So is everyone.

EVERYONE. From the classmates and big named characters we see regularly to the side characters who only appear once or twice. They all get some good scenes and focus that give them their own identities. All of them are memorable. None of them can really be ignored or forgotten. And part of what made making this list so difficult was that I found myself getting attached to pretty much everyone as I came across each of them that I couldn’t quite make up my mind.

Everyone in this fic has done something to make me happy and warrant my approval. Even the characters I normally wouldn’t like at all had their moments to shine and elicit an “okay, that was cool” from me.

Thus I grant this spot to everyone. To all the characters I don’t get the chance to mention. To all the ones I like albeit somewhat less than others. To all the ones I know are horrible but can’t help but like regardless. To all the ones I fought with myself for THREE MONTHS over which one would get this spot.

I love all of them.

[romantic-misty]

about this kind of posts... I finally have to say smth because I'm annoyed both ways:

(sorry OP, I don't wanna offend you - I wanna offend some sort of ppl)

you shouldn't tell people your (actually human's) basic needs, if you need to beg for bare minimum it's not your fault they don't show effort nor even ask anything because it doesn't cross their mind to do simplest things somehow, they're just egoistic non caring assholes and you repeating yourself won't help much

some ppl can't truly guess some stuff which means they also can not question you on the matter they have no idea about so sure! speak your mind - tell 'em what you like and hopefully they will understand and remember - nobody is a telepath and you should inform others about your thoughts from time to time instead of forcing them to always jump around you or else "they don't give a fuck about you" or smth as it's probably untrue

just because EVERYONE doesn't mean you also have to be like this - if someone is manipulating/forcing you to do things you don't wanna because it's "normal" - believe me, it's not and even if - you have a right to be "weird" so different

not everyone has to say YES forever to something, people have moods and change their mind, remember to explain or at least tell someone you aren't in the mood or changed your mind but also don't forget asking each other if someone is into smth at the current moment unless otherwise specified like "you always can hug me unless I tell you to stop" and such, mistakes and accidental crossing boundaries happen but most important thing are good intention and a lot of discussing, don't break someone's trust constantly proving it wasn't a one time thing

if you weren't assertive enough and someone took advantage of you - don't blame yourself for not saying NO (especially if they were constantly making you feel unsafe to actually stop them or brainwashed you into thinking you want this etc.) - they should check if you're fine with smth and not use the fact you froze and was unsure or didn't have time to set certain boundaries, topis should also continue after certain actions and you can go back to it anytime! no matter what others say - it's never too much for the right person <3

you doing something you hate or what even traumatises you to meet someone's needs because it's compromise... no, it's not - if you're not enough for someone doesn't mean smth is wrong with you - it's probably not a match and that is ok! you will be loved elsewhere by being yourself, if someone cares more about their needs than hurting you with them then they're not a good person (yes, it's mostly about sexual needs) - and no, cheating isn't a proof you didn't give them enough, they can always leave but they're cowards and want to have both :)

if you sh or have depression - don't assume no one gives a shit about you just because they don't question you when you say "I'm fine" - harsh truth - even tho I totally understand why you say that phrase still nobody has to do anything besides accepting it - they might feel like you don't wanna talk about it as it's either personal or you don't trust them enough and maybe just prefer to take your mind out of this as topic is triggering so they won't risk making you feel even worse, say the truth or tell them why you don't wanna talk about certain things because lying to people might make them truly believe you, they have their own issues too they can be occupied with, they can be simply tired and even feel hurt that you don't want to open up to them or show their respect in this way and let you have space - you don't know what's in their mind so if you assume smth about them then think how they feel when you decide to hide the truth from them - as I said, you still have reasons and maybe right to but it doesn't make them immediately evil for not doing more/what you want without you actually TELLING them, I know it's hard and scary and some don't even deserve to know but there are those who truly love you and will understand and will help/support you - you're not a burden! I am aware you don't wanna worry anyone but you can as it's part of being a friend/partner/family and if someone acts like an ass towards you by calling you an attention seeker - they are the problem, not you

silent treatment is manipulation and if you try to show you being offended by that instead of trying to talk things through first you are not good, sorry not sorry

balance is everything but ppl don't wanna meet half way EVER so...

your needs motherfucker do you speak them

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Davrin (and also Grey Wardens and griffons) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Neve, Taash to be added tomorrow (or on Monday Jan 5th)

About Davrin

Family and past:

When he was a kid, Davrin broke his arm when his aravel sailed off a ridge 

Davrin stlll considers himself Dalish and thinks that will never change

Davrin hasn’t seen his clan since he left the forest. He misses the clan (‘it comes and goes’), Dalish food – especially halla milk and butter — and the sense of a common purpose. The last is why he joined the Wardens

Eldrin lives on his own, not together with Davrin’s clan

Just like Bellara, when Davrin was little, he wondered what it was like to his own house, shop at the market and make friends with outsiders

Davrin isn’t bothered by the idea of fighting the Elven gods because he never really believed in them, but he is worried about how the events of the Veilguard will impact the reputation of the elves

General:

Davrin drinks beer and wine

Davrin hums to himself :)

Davrin can speak some Dwarven 

Davrin doesn’t get the Fade - it’s just too many things at once (the place where spirits live, origin of creation etc.). He has difficulties believing it because it’s something he can’t touch or see 

Davrin would’ve left D’meta’s Crossing’s mayor to die

Davrin dumps griffon waste right into the Fade. No reservations about it whatsoever

Life with the Wardens:

Davrin says he never got used to hearing/sensing darkspawn after joining the Wardens

Davrin knows Ramish (protagonist of the Horrors of Hormkar)

The first group of Wardens Davrin fought with had a special system for fighting ogres. One of them would be “Cheese” (bait), drawing the ogre's attention while the others shot it with arrows (so Davrin can either use a bow or was always the Cheese) 

Monster hunting: 

Davrin can't take most books about monsters seriously, as they are not up to his standards

Fighting monsters is all about the thrill of the chase and tracking a target down rather than the victory

Davrin prefers to fight flesh-and-blood monsters rather than demons

Davrin takes full payment upfront when he hunts monsters for coin

Davrin has many monster trophies (Harding finds them disturbing)

Davrin does taxidermy 

Relationships with other companions: 

(In conversations with Bellara and Neve) Davrin genuinely believes Lucanis/Spite can kill them all 

(In conversation with Harding) Davrin proudly says Lucanis couldn’t take him 

Davrin made a little statue with a skull for a face as a gift for Emmrich’s colleague at his request

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Davrin offers Emmrich to become a monster-hunting team (“Warden and lich. From darkspawn to demons, we've got you covered.”), thinking they could score a lot of coin

Davrin also offers Neve to set up shop together. “Minrathous Monsters and Murders. If it's claws and fangs stirring up trouble, we've got it covered.” Neve suggests Emmrich (and Manfred, if he's alive) joins them

Davrin and Neve met before the events of the Veilagurd on what Neve calls “The Vol Dorma Job”

About Assan and griffons:

Griffons like shiny things. Assan even once stole one of Bellara’s crystals (but later brought it back) 

(If Sent to Arlathan Forest) Griffons seem to 'remember' patrolling the forest, like it's a genetic thing

(If sent to the Wardens) Griffons listen to Evka

There’s no definite age for when a griffon is ready to carry a rider. It’s more about size and discipline 

(If Rook is in romance with Davrin) Assan gets a little moody/jealous after Davrin and Rook get together

Fade spooks Assan, so he doesn’t fly too far away from the Lighthouse 

Assan eats pastries from the kitchen

Assan doesn't like eating vegetables, but Davrin got him to eat carrots after Taash pointed out he needed more fibre in his diet

Assan misses Manfred when he dies

Assan can dive underwater and eat fish

Assan is curious about Neve’s wisps

About Wardens/misc:

Wardens slip Worry Weed into each other’s ale for kicks (it causes paranoia)

There is no definite timeline of how long a blighted person can survive without the Joining. It all depends on the person

Evka is good at telling spooky stories

Weisshaupt has a world-class library with books over a thousand years old

Wooden carvings can become haunted if blood gets on them

Wardens usually eat cold gruel for meals. Nobody knows what's inside it

[peachesofteal]

MELOS (PART TWO)

main masterlist / Azriel's masterlist

Part One 5k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni. Blood, feelings of fear and panic. Reader POV. Trauma. Protective Azriel. Canon-compliant, post ACOSF and HOFAS. "I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness"

The fly amanita has been eluding you.

It’s speckled red cap is usually so easy to spot, but you’ve been trudging through the woods all day, turning over logs and peering around tree trunks to no avail. You’re getting closer and closer to the break in the forest, the one bordering a large meadow rich with wildflowers, the one you hardly venture to unless you’re truly desperate for something specific.

You’re seriously considering it when something dusky red catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you breathe a sigh of relief as you spot the healthy patch of fungi. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you sink to your knees, digging down to the roots. The soil is wet, freshly damp from a recent rainstorm, and it sticks to your fingertips. “Such a pain in-“

Magic scrapes at your skin. Long gruesome fingers of something unseen try to clutch at you, drag you away, and your power surges to meet it, beating it back to the gloom it calls home. You shudder. The magic from your mother's blood, the gifts the Middle grants you, are enough to keep you safe, protect you from most things in this place, the ones nefarious and full of malice, but that does not mean they do not try. 

You exhale, breathing freely in the crisp winter breeze whispering through the trees, rustling the deadfall into small vortexes that spin across the wood, twisting upward in a delicate dance of changing seasons. You lift your face to the sun just as the wind turns dark, smoky grey, and then explodes in a burst of ink, onyx spilling around the mushrooms, wisps snaking through the stems towards your knees.

You swat them away.

Azriel.

You grit your teeth. Don't think about him, don't think about him, don't think- 

A shadow brushes against you like a feather, and you hiss. 

Azriel.

The male who tortured you. Used you. Gained your trust to hurt you. Suffocated you until you thought you were going to die, until spots appeared in your vision and your heart slowed. The male that hurt you, in more ways than one. 

Fooled into falling for a ruse, you believed it meant something every time your heart thundered when he was near, how your magic crooned for him, tried to reach for him, touch him. The pain you saw in him, over and over again, a mirror to your own, led you to believe in a fairy tale that never existed, a stupid notion about two halves of a whole, only for it to crumble and reveal manipulation and lies.

And after it all, whatever he gleaned from you he must have determined to be inconsequential, since no one has shown up at your door to haul you away for execution. No one came to imprison you, or banish you, or torture you, again. No one came to take you away from your home, your life, like you were expecting.

He did it for nothing.

The shadows are an ever-present reminder.

Ever. Present.

They collect in the corners at work, they trail along the ground as you run your errands, go to dinner, visit your only friend in the city.

Thankfully, they seem to stay out of your house, though in the middle of the night, it’s not so easy to tell.

You shoot them a glare. “Run back to your master and leave me alone, for the hundredth time.” You have no concept of a Shadowsinger’s magic, or an Illyrian’s, no idea if the shadows see, or hear, or speak. Their presence frustrates you, and his hoarse attempt at an apology that night still haunts you. Why does he not just come to speak with you? Explain himself? Justify his actions?

It’s been weeks, and still nothing. Silence from the Spymaster. Your rage that was once all consuming is starting to cool, leaving a mess of confusion and pain in its place. 

You need to let it go, you must, but the music persists, faintly there in the back of your mind, a melody you can’t forget.

It’s a double-edged sword, one that slices and stings. You see him in your nightmares, and your dreams. In the dark, you hear his voice, cold and calculating, pacing around you in a suffocating circle, and in the sun, you see him in the Middle, ablaze in a mist of brilliant blue, brushing his lips against yours.

You’ve grown familiar with how a room changes when one of the Wraith sisters arrive. Shadow rolls in like a fog, dissipating as they materialize, grey gossamer turning to smoky quartz, taking shape as a beautiful female, her eyes iridescent like black pearls. 

Rarely, do the twins ever come together. 

Today is the exception. 

Cerridwen gives you a half smile, gaze lingering on your clothes. “If I made you a new frock, would you throw this one out? It’s nearly in tatters.” You huff.

“This is my work frock; it’s supposed to be a bit messy.”

“It’s not messy, it’s falling apart.” She raises an eyebrow, and Nuala places a slender hand on the stack of brown paper wrapped packages on the table.

“How are you?” The question is loaded, expectant, and they watch you, analyzing every second of whatever is showing on your face.

“I’m fine.” Are you? The lie is so painfully obvious, and they exchange a look. 

“Azriel,” Nuala begins cautiously, “has asked if you would be open to seeing him.” You freeze.

“I..”

“In a public place of your choosing, in the city.” The very idea tips you off balance, blindsides you. Could you do it? See him? 

“With a third party, if you would like.” Cerridwen adds. Maybe this is your chance at closure, an opportunity to put it to rest. “Take some time to decide, and we’ll-“

“No, no. I’ll do it.” You scramble to think of a place where you’ll feel safe, somewhere you’ll be among many, and not few. “Is… Rose and Thorn okay? It’s in the Palace of Thread and Jewels.” They nod.

“Of course. And a third party?” You shake your head. Something in your soul assures you no chaperone is needed, and you allow it to guide you. “Very well.” Nuala waves her hand, wisps of storm clouds floating around her fingers-

And then Wraith sisters are gone.

He’s there before you.

Seated at a table outside, elegant and sculpted, an exquisite, eldritch beauty accentuated by strong, chiseled lines. His skin glows golden brown in the warm bath of the sun, flecks of caramel and green, honey and oak painted together like a priceless landscape in his irises. His wings are tucked in a tight formation at his back, but even in restraint, they shudder, their membranes more unique than a snowflake, more delicate than a spider’s web.

He’s almost too stunning to look at. The beauty of a god. A prince of shadow, shining in winter’s glow.

Suddenly, you’re very self-conscious, fighting the urge to pick at the frayed threads of your dress, too aware of how faded its once emerald green is, how fast your heart is beating, anxiety and pin pricks of fear cascading up your spine, coupled with an undeniable longing that shakes you to your core.

An ocean tide too strong drags your eyes to his, holding you captive in its current, the two of you suspended, floating, woven together in a melody, same song you’ve been hearing, feeling, all this time, elusive, empyreal notes harmonizing across your soul, your magic. The heat of the patio, magic humming in the air producing the equivalent of a warm spring day, urges you out of the cold and towards the table, meeting him where he stands, so tall he towers over you. 

“Hello.” Your stomach flips. This is suddenly harder than you imagined, and you’re being torn in two, afraid and yearning, two sides of a coin. His eyes gentle, and he moves back a fraction, giving you space. You manage to clear your throat.

“Hi.” You can’t look away, and finally, after a second turned eternity, he motions to the chair.

“Would you like to sit?”

“Sure.” The words are stiff, like your back, and you hold yourself rigid, hands clasped together in your lap.

“Thank you for coming, I… I know this was a lot to ask.” You nod, unable to make your mouth move. “Are you well?”

“Yes.” You’ll need more than one syllable answers to get through this, and you fight against the vice squeezing in around you, trying shake loose the battle raging in your blood. There's a need to protect yourself, fortify yourself... and another, one humming a song of wonder, of desire, a song you don't know the words to. He takes a deep breath.

“There’s nothing I can say to excuse what I did, and I know you have no reason to trust me, but I-“

"What you did? You tortured me, you terrorized me. You made me feel like I was dying. and I... why did you… why did you waste your time tricking me into thinking you were… we were… it was all fake.” Your voice breaks, and his eyes flash with despair. “You tricked me into trusting you, letting you get… close,” you study the tabletop, fingertips tracing loops in the woodgrain, trying to maintain your control. You can’t let him see how badly it hurts; how awful it is to know whatever you thought was happening between the two of you wasn’t real, how he's shattered your own trust in yourself. How could you not see the deceit? How could have fallen for such a blatant deception? How could you allow yourself to be hurt like that? These are the questions keeping you from sleep as they toss about in your mind, scolding you, chastising you for allowing yourself to be so weak. Stupid. “Why waste all that time if you were just going to do it? The act itself was... it was terrible but the manipulation, the lie that came with it, feels worse somehow.” Your cheeks heat with shame, mortified at the tears now blurring your vision, and his hand twitches, almost jerks towards yours before sliding away.

“There are no words in any language, anywhere, to tell you how sorry I am. I would spend a lifetime earning your forgiveness, if you’d let me.” Everything you want to fight back with, the words you wish to bury him with, die on your tongue as you stare at him with wide eyes. “I don’t deserve to see you or ask for a moment of your time. I don’t even deserve this chance you’ve given me today but… nothing was a trick, it was not fake. I was a fool.” You know you should say something, but still nothing comes, and there’s a rising uneasiness emanating from his, shadows shivering around him in a halo. “I would ask you to strike a bargain with me.” What?

“A bargain?” He nods solemnly, face set with resolve, foreign limerence weighed down by sorrow reflecting in his gaze.

“Allow me to spend some time with you, to show you how sorry I am, to prove how real it was, and in return, I will owe you a debt.” You fight to keep your face blank, smothering an outward ripple of shock. Maybe he’s gone insane.

“You… the Spymaster of the Night Court… would owe me a debt.” You chew on it, toss it around between your cheeks, try to digest the enormity of it. A debt could be anything, it’s a favor, a wish, a request that must be granted, no matter what it is. You could ask that he drink a vial of poison, and he’d have to do it. Could ask him to leave Pyrthian, and he’d have no choice. Most importantly, you could ask him to leave you alone. Forever. “And if I asked you to never speak to me again?” He winces.

“That would be your right.” This is a bad idea. Your magic trills, vibrating with a strange yearning, again guiding you away from the rational choice and into an agreement.

“I will see you once a week for a month, and in return, you will owe me a debt,” you extend your hand, “and swear not to harm me.” You add hastily, expecting him to refuse, or attempt to change the terms, but he meets you with zero hesitation.

The magic hits you like a gale force wind, wild and too strong, planting itself in your skin to push ink to the surface.

A tree.

The roots sprawl around your wrist, twisting upward into a trunk and then outward into branches, spreading wide until they’re nearly touching on the inside of your forearm. He snags a finger under the cuff of his shirt to reveal the tattoo’s twin, the concrete vow between the two of you plain as day.

What did you just do? 

You’re taking advantage of the first meeting. Having a second with you, a powerful, formidable second, gives you an opportunity to trek into a more dangerous, more unstable part of the Middle in search of a rare mineral.

You’re also using it as punishment, irritated with the small twinge of guilt growing in your side. He strides along at your side silently, shadows skittering ahead across the forest floor, disappearing and reappearing at will, as if they’re scouting and reporting.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?” He finally asks, cocking his head to the side as you stop for a moment to catch your breath. He’s not winded at all, of course, and you’re starting to regret this choice, while also trying to avoid staring at him. Every time he moves into your line of sight, your palms sweat and you remember how his laugh sounded on the steps of your house, how he earnest he was when asking you questions. You remember the kiss, and the way his mouth felt upon yours. You remember it all, and butterflies take flight in your belly. 

But being alone with him in a dangerous place such as this, is also a stark reminder. A reminder of the last time you were alone with the Spymaster, truly alone, and how it ended. 

“There’s a cave a bit from here where a very rare crystal grows. Its mineral compound is a key piece to a specific elixir.” His lips twitch into a small, barely there smile, reading between the lines.

“You’ve brought me along for back up.” You smirk.

“You didn’t say what spending time together had to entail.” You shift your backpack. “It's just past this bog up ahead.” He stops short, eyes sharp, tensing.

“A bog?”

“Yes. You know… like a swamp?”

“Of Oorid?” You blink.

“You know the Bog of Oorid?”

“I’ve been there.” Now it’s your turn to scrutinize him. Could you have underestimated this male, again? 

“Why?” You shiver. You’ve visited the Bog before, twice, and left each time with a new scar, a new nightmare.

“We were looking for something.” We? Questions brew in the back of your mind, so many of them they’re hard to contain, but you’d hate to appear too interested in him and his adventures.

“Did you find it?”  He nods and says nothing. Fine then. “It’s not the Bog of Oorid, just a boring swamp. C’mon.”

You withhold a key piece of information regarding the swamp.

It’s quite hateful, if you’re honest, and a small part of you weeps at your own vindictiveness, but the vengeful side feels too smug, too satisfied.

“It’s this way.” You take the lead, stepping into the ankle-deep muck. “Sorry, you’ll have to get a bit dirty.” The trees here are warped, bent to the undertow of the swamp, stripped of their life, yet still thriving, flourishing in the inert, foul water. Wicked, and greedy, they creak and coo, relishing each cursed step Azriel takes. Your magic crests, drawing up through the Middle, and you smile to yourself as the mud reaches mid-calf. Right about now-

He hisses.

“Are you alright?” You call innocently over your shoulder, now paces away, reveling in the sound of him fighting against the sludge's hold. When he doesn’t answer, your heart quickens, and you turn.

He’s shaking his head, wings flared at his back, muscles flexing beneath his leathers, trying to work himself free, and you bite your tongue to keep from telling him it won't work.

The swamp is a collector, a keeper of things, admirer of the rare and unusual. You’re sure it’s never ensnared an Illyrian before.

“Careful,” you sing, “struggling makes it worse.” He’s knee deep but surprises you when he breaks a leg free and takes another step, cobalt blue siphons beginning to gleam, shining into the dark green stagnant water and pockets of mire. Interesting.

“Clever little witch.” He's amused, reverent, and you're irritated by his reaction. “How does it not trap you?” Keening echoes through your soul, frantic and tortured. It’s reaching for something, crying for something, steeped in a distress you don’t understand. An incessant tugging, the faint sound of a melody. A chiming of bells, ringing, and ringing, and ringing. You steady yourself with a deep breath.

“I ask it not to. My magic comes from the Middle, like my mother’s. It makes things... more amenable to me.” You make it sound far worse than it is to spook him, but he only watches you with interest, keen eyes dissecting you from the inside out.

“And will you ask it to release me?” 

“Maybe.” You shrug. He sinks farther, now trapped to his mid-thigh, and your pulse races. You had planned to leave him here, trap him here until you came back, but your magic is clawing at you, heart trying to beat out of your chest, fear and panic colliding with an instinct buried so deep, it can’t be cut out or ignored, an instinct trying to push you into his arms, pleading with you to help him. It hurts, trying to fight it is like trying to swim against a current, your muscles screaming at the struggle, your power thrashing in your veins. The music is no longer a delicate, enchanting thing but a symphony flowing into a fortissimo, brass and strings and keys digging into your soul.

It's too much, your heart pounds in your ears, magic shredding your restraint.

It's too much, and you long to go to him. 

Release him, you command the swamp, and it tightens its embrace, a lover clinging to another, refusing to relent.

Is this not for me?  

No. He is mine. Release him. Now. You press onward, urging the swamp to relax, it’s reluctant acquiesce bringing you a relief so strong you have to hold yourself steady. It recedes, and the two of you stand face to face, chests heaving. You don’t understand what’s happening to you, what this war that rages in your magic, your heart, your entire being means.

He closes his eyes, the shadows receding, disappearing entirely as he takes a long, measured breath, his hand pressing against his ribs, still deep in the dredge of the fen. 

"Are you alr-" 

“Is there anything else I should be aware of, before we continue?” He cuts you off, the heat radiating from his body coming in waves, and you push against the pull.

“No.” You croak. He inclines his head.

“Very well. Lead the way.”

“Why don’t you winnow here?” You're seated on a rock outside the mouth of the cave. The trek itself is the most dangerous part of this task, and the crystal retrieval was uneventful. Boring, even, as you walked side by side with Azriel in silence, contemplating the unexpected amount of remorse over the swamp settling in your stomach like lead.

“I don’t winnow to most places in the Middle if I can help it.”

“No?”

“You never what will be waiting for you, or what you will discover, when you arrive.” You take a bite of your apple and sneak a glance at him. “You’re not angry. About the swamp.”

“No.” He’s preternaturally still, but rife with intensity, alight with an ache you can’t describe.

“Why?”

“I deserve far worse from you.” You say nothing, because what can you say? It’s true.

But if it’s true, why does it feel so awful? 

You stand abruptly, eager to separate yourself from this situation, this confusion and confliction. “I should get these back.” Winnowing from the Middle, at least, is a perfectly safe option, and you’re eager for the escape now.

“Next week?” Your head is pounding, limbs twitching like your body has a will of its own, and suddenly you’re drained, magic and will quickly depleting. He steps closer, brows knitted together in concern. “Are you okay?” No. 

“Y-yeah. I’m going to… I’m going to go.” He frowns.

“You look ill.”

“I’m just tired. The swamp takes it out of me.” You lie weakly with a halfhearted smile that lacks conviction, and before you can do something stupid like reach for him, you draw on your power, giving him one last look. “Next week.”

You’re at the Palace of Bone and Salt when it happens.

The market is packed to the brim, overflowing, most caught up in the approach of Winter Solstice. It’s still weeks out, but all are always eager to celebrate the city’s favorite holiday. Boughs of holly and evergreen, ribbons of red and green decorate the square, twinkling fae lights nestled high and low. You’re looking for bone marrow, but can’t help loitering by the chocolatier’s stall, his perfectly crafted confections artfully arranged in pyramids stretching far past your head. He catches your eye with a smile. “Would you like to try anything?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. They always look so lovely.” He pulls a pink chocolate swirl from the collection that’s caught your eye and holds it out to you.

“On the house then, for Solstice.”

“Thanks so-“ Your gratitude is stolen by a groan, one rattling upward from beneath your feet, the entire market rumbling so violently the stalls creak, their goods tipping to the side.

A quake. 

They’re rare, but not unheard of. The mountains breathe, stretching and straining, the plates they’re built upon occasionally shifting and realigning, all of it causing Velaris’ foundation to shake. These things you know, but you’ve never experienced it firsthand, and you didn’t expect such… force.

The shopkeeper dives beneath his counter, others running in every direction through the market, panic and fear permeating the air. They’re looking for cover, afraid the second and third story buildings may come crashing down on their heads, while others try to outrun it, sprinting away as fast as they can manage.

It’s pandemonium. Everyone is being tossed around, marble and wood falling and rolling, and you’re frozen, rapidly trying to weigh the options, decide what to do when something catches your eye.

A child.

She’s standing in the middle of an aisle, screaming for her mum, and without hesitation, you snag her around the waist to tuck her into your chest, covering the back of her head as you curl into a ball and huddle beneath the counter of the first stall you see.

That’s where you stay, for the next ten minutes. Curved over this little girl who can’t be more than two, holding onto her as tight as you can to quell her screaming, trying to calm her. Things fall on you, something scrapes the side of your face, and it stings, but you don’t let go. You can’t.

You’re somewhere else in your mind. In the Middle as a child, running as fast as you can to the boundary, trying to get to safety as your mother howls. Claws scratch down your back, blackened, putrid magic tries to drag in the bowels of the forest, all while horrid shrieking and crying fills your head. The boundary is too far, and you fold yourself into a hollow, a damp, muddy nest inside the base of a tree where you hold your breath and sit really still, just like you were taught.

The quake ricochets around you, but the screeching in your ears is not from this time, this moment. It’s from then, you and this small child in your arms now the same, scared, alone, and crying for your mothers.

Even once the rumbling stops, you don’t move. Too afraid it will start again and you’ll be caught in the open, you wait. The sticky, festering sap of the memory clings to your synapses, refusing to let you go, embedding itself beneath your skull like it needs to live there, as if you could ever forget. There are moans from the injured, confusion and worry from those who took shelter, but multiple voices rise over the din of everyone else, giving instructions, looking for the wounded and those who need help immediately.

“- was right here, but she let go of my hand… there were too many-“ a frantic female’s voice echoes over through the market, and her terror is met by a kind, reassuring voice.

“We’ll find her.” The girl in your arms makes no attempt to free herself, still shivering in your hold, clinging to you with all her might, and you stay rooted to your spot.

There’s a brush of magic against your mind, a gentle caress that probes the dense sedge wall, and you push it away, opening your eyes to see a beautiful female crouched in front of you. “Hello.” The High Lady. The little girl finally moves, wriggling against you.

“Mara!” Her mother calls, rushing over and scooping her into her arms, sobbing. She looks her daughter over and then holds her tight before trying to approach you. “Thank you, thank you,” she’s reaching for your hand, trying to squeeze it in a manner of gratitude, of love, but you can’t move, still grappling with the noise ringing in your head. There’s more conversation, more of the High Lady’s voice, patient and gentle, and another’s, deeper, heavier.

“-shock, maybe?”

“-go get him,”

“Cassian-“ The second voice is enough to startle you back to yourself somewhat, and you carefully stretch your limbs, crawling out from under the counter and away from them, standing up on your own two feet. The High Lady holds her hand out as if you steady you. “Easy. You’re hurt.” Hurt? You instinctively touch your face, fingers coming back stained crimson. You need to get out of here, need to get as far away from all of this as you can. You’re still trying to right yourself, convince yourself you’re here, not there.

“Maybe you should sit down.” The other one, the big Illyrian who you met in this very place months ago, watches you with concern. You’re shaking, lungs expanding, searching for as much air as they can find, warm trickle of blood falling over your lips and down your chin. Pain registers slowly, no longer isolated to your face, but in your side too, and when you press your hand to your ribs, wet fabric squishes beneath it. More blood.

“Let's get you to a healer,” the High Lady tries, motioning to your head, your side, and when you don’t respond, she frowns, glancing at her companion. The wailing is finally quieting to a point where you can properly think, but words still won’t come, and she’s about to say something else when shadows swirl around the three of you, and Azriel drops from the sky.

Azriel. Your heart sings his name, and the double-edged sword cuts to the quick, opening you up to a strange spark in your chest.

He looks… awful. Insane, even. Wide eyes find you, his wings stretched into a defensive position, shadows spread around him in a dark cloud, and his fear is so palpable you swear you can feel it. All you can do is stare at him as he frantically takes you in, focus never wavering, even as he speaks to those at your side. “What happened?”

“We found her under here,” Cassian points to your hiding spot, “protecting a little girl. We think she’s in shock.”

“She needs a healer.” He grits, hands flexing and relaxing from flat palm into fist, repeatedly.

“We know.” The High Lady angles her body between you and the Shadowsinger. “Az,” her voice is serious, with an undercurrent of authority, “maybe you should back-“

“You need a healer.” He ignores her, and you shake your head. You need to get out of here, to get somewhere safe where you can try to rip out the rot of these memories still nipping at your heels. 

“I need to go. Home, I need to go… home.” I need to go home? That’s the best you can come up with? Cassian snorts, and Azriel says your name, an edge of dominance cutting through the haze of your mind. The blood loss is making you woozy, and the ground is unsteady, continent turning over as you start to feel sluggish. Your vision grows blurry, and then there’s a hand on your cheek.

“Look at me, it's okay.” Azriel murmurs, and you try. You do. There’s something about his touch, the texture of his hands that soothes you, comforts you, but the world is falling away, and darkness is taking you, tugging you into the lull of sleep.

You curl your fingers into his shirt, a last-ditch effort at staying upright, at staying awake, looking up into a never-ending swirl of hazel, green moss and bright umber drenched in panic.

They’re the last thing you see before everything goes black and you slip under.

[er1nne]

the interview with drew goes viral (do not copy or plagarize, original work)

Your phone buzzed incessantly on the coffee table, notifications pouring in like a tidal wave. You had been trying to ignore them, focusing instead on the lukewarm coffee sitting untouched next to your laptop. But every time your gaze strayed to the screen, that unmistakable thumbnail glared back at you: Drew Starkey’s Red Carpet Interview Goes Viral.

You reached for your phone hesitantly, chewing on your bottom lip as your thumb hovered over the video. It wasn’t like you hadn’t already seen it—you’d watched it at least five times since it went live just hours ago. And yet, the views were climbing at an almost alarming rate.

1.8M views. 2.3M views. 2.9M views.

Your stomach flipped as you opened the video again. The screen flickered to life, and there you were, standing under the bright lights of the red carpet, microphone in hand, smiling up at Drew Starkey like you’d just won the lottery.

“Drew,” your recorded voice greeted, a bit too bright, a bit too eager. “Welcome. How does it feel to be here tonight?”

The video cut to Drew, his piercing blue eyes and easy smile capturing the camera—and apparently, millions of viewers. “It feels surreal,” he said in his calm, measured tone. “Like stepping into a moment that’s bigger than me.”

Bigger than him? The comment section certainly didn’t think so.

You reluctantly scrolled down, unable to stop yourself from diving into the chaos:

• “THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER. HELLO?!” • “Girl, you’re me. I’m you. We’re all the same.” • “Drew Starkey calling this interviewer good at her job and smiling like that??? ” • “Her laugh at the end!! She’s so flustered but trying to keep it together.”

You groaned, burying your face in your free hand. “Flustered” didn’t even begin to cover it. Watching the interview now, with the clarity of hindsight, made you cringe in the most infuriatingly embarrassing way. You hadn’t just been professional—you’d been fangirling.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love your job—you did. Interviewing actors and being part of the glittering world of film was your dream. But there was something about Drew Starkey that had completely unraveled you. Maybe it was the way he spoke, thoughtful and deliberate. Or the way his eyes lingered, like he was seeing past the bright lights and chaos to something more grounded. Or maybe it was the way his hand had brushed against your elbow when he leaned in, sending a shiver down your spine that you still couldn’t quite shake.

You glanced back at the video, biting your lip as the final moments replayed.

“By the way,” Drew said, his voice quieter now, leaning in just slightly, “you’re good at this.”

Your recorded laugh was a little too soft, a little too nervous. “Well, thank you,” you’d replied, the words nearly catching in your throat.

The camera lingered on him as he walked away, and you swore you could see him glance back at you, just for a moment.

You closed the video, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you. “It’s just a clip,” you muttered, trying to convince yourself. “People are overreacting.”

But even as you said it, another notification popped up on your laptop, this time from Instagram. You opened the app, scrolling aimlessly through the flurry of tagged posts and stories from the event. And then you saw it.

Drew Starkey had liked the video.

He liked the video.

Your breath caught, your heart leaping into your throat as you stared at the tiny heart icon next to his name. He hadn’t commented, hadn’t reached out—but that single like was enough to set your nerves alight.

You picked up your phone again, scrolling back through the comments on the video. People were analyzing everything—your body language, the way you laughed, the way Drew looked at you like you were the only person on that carpet.

• “No, but seriously, he’s into her, right? RIGHT?!” • “I’m not saying they have chemistry, but they have CHEMISTRY.” • “Lord when is it my turn.”

You exhaled sharply, setting your phone down with more force than necessary. Your thoughts raced as you paced the small living room, the memory of Drew’s gaze replaying in your mind like a broken record. Was it all in your head? The playful teasing, the subtle almost-touches, the way his smile had softened just before he walked away?

It was his job to charm people. He did this all the time. And yet…

You couldn’t ignore the warmth in his eyes when he’d said, “You’re good at this,” or the way his hand had lingered just a second too long when it brushed against yours. It hadn’t felt like part of the act—it had felt real.

And now the whole world had noticed, too.

You sat back on the couch, groaning softly as you buried your face in your hands. “What am I supposed to do with this?” you muttered, though no one was there to answer.

Your phone buzzed again, another wave of comments flooding in. This was going to be a long week.

[hanniewho]

⋆˚࿔ Vivid Dreams𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ Summary: You told your roommate about your vivid dreams, but now you don't think it's a dream anymore.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I'm sorry for not posting for a few days. I got caught up with my graphic design project, and I had to walk around the city to take pictures, and my feet are killing me. I'll answer some of you guys' request ASAP 🙏

𐙚˙✧˖° Words: 6.0k

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Noncon, Creampie, Overstimulating, Fingering, Degrading, Name calling (slut), P in V, Squirting, Slapping, Slight choking in you squint, Manipulation, Telling her that you love her as she fuck you w/o your consent, Porn mentioned, Spitting. (Lmk if I miss anything :3)

⋆✦ Pairings:Pitfighter g!p Vi x Afab reader and a bit of jinx(your roomie)

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

"You know, I've had the strangest dream again," you murmured, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your roommate, Jinx, barely glanced up from her book, a non-committal "Mm-hmm" her only response as she flipped a page.

"It's always the same, you know? This...this woman with the most piercing eyes I've ever seen. She's powerful, dangerous even. And she keeps telling me things I don't understand." You paused, watching Jinx's reaction, hoping for something, anything that suggested she was actually listening. But her gaze remained glued to the book in front of her.

"Jinx, are you even listening to me?" you sighed, a hint of frustration tinting your voice.

Your roommate, Jinx, looked up from her book with a sheepish grin, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Huh? Oh, sorry, I zoned out for a sec. What were you saying?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but return the smile. "It's fine," you said, standing up from your bed. "It's probably just my mind playing tricks on me anyway." You walked over to the small kitchenette and began rummaging through the cabinets for a snack to curb the early morning hunger pangs. The apartment was silent except for the faint rustle of pages turning as Jinx went back to her book.

As you pulled out a box of crackers, she looked up, suddenly alert. "Oh, uh, hey, have you had someone over last night?" she asked, her tone casual but the curiosity in her eyes unmistakable.

You froze mid-reach, crackers in hand, and turned to face her. "What? No, why?"

Jinx's cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of red as she hastily closed her book. "Well, uh, it's going to be awkward, but last night when I was fixing my gun, I heard some... sounds coming from your room." She paused, searching for the right words, then blurted out, "It sounded like you were having sex, or I- ARE YOU WATCHING PORN?" The accusation hung in the air, awkwardness thickening like smoke in a closed room.

You stared at her, crackers forgotten in your hand. "What? No, I was just sleeping!" you protested, feeling your own cheeks grow hot. "What makes you think that?"

Jinx bit her lip, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. "Well, it's not every night I hear someone going 'plap, plap, plap' in there," she said, mimicking the sound with a teasing smirk. "It's like someone's slapping a fish around or something."

You furrowed your brows, utterly confused by her accusation. "Jinx, I was alone. I swear," you said, your voice firm. "It's probably just the pipes or something." But even as you said it, doubt began to creep in. The dream had felt so real, so vivid. Could it be more than just your subconscious playing tricks on you?

Jinx's smirk faltered, and she leaned back in her chair, eyeing you skeptically. "You sure?" she pressed, her curiosity not quite satisfied.

You nodded, setting the crackers on the counter. "Positive," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "I was just sleeping." But the memory of the dream washed over you again, the feeling of fullness and the sound of your own voice crying out in pleasure echoing in your mind. It had been so intense, so real, that you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just a vivid fantasy.

Jinx leaned back in her chair, her curiosity piqued. She tapped her chin with a finger, her eyes drifting off into the distance as if piecing together a puzzle. "So, about your dreams," she began, pausing to gauge your reaction. "What really happened?"

You turned to face her, the memory of the dream still lingering in your mind. The woman from your dream, her eyes so intense and filled with passion, had felt so real. "It's nothing," you replied, trying to brush it off, but your voice betrayed you, shaky and uncertain.

Jinx's eyes searched yours, and she leaned forward, placing her book aside. "Look, if something's going on, you can tell me," she said gently. "You know I'm not going to judge."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the secret pressing down on you. "It's just...it's so weird. In the dream, she was...doing things to me," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And it didn't feel wrong, or scary. It just felt...good."

Jinx's gaze softened, and she reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Dreams are just that - dreams," she assured you, her voice soothing. "But if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you."

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. You hadn't told anyone about the dreams, not even your closest friends. But there was something about Jinx that made you feel like you could trust her with the darkest of your secrets. So, you decided to take a risk and opened up. You recounted the dream in detail, the way the mysterious woman had taken you in her arms, the sound of her breath against your neck, the feeling of her hips grinding against yours. Jinx's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't interrupt, just nodded along, listening intently.

When you finished, you felt both relieved and embarrassed. You avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the crackers you hadn't realized you were still holding. "It's just so... intense," you murmured, fidgeting with the box. "I don't even know who she is, and yet she's all I can think about."

Jinx was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then she leaned in, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Well, what does she look like?" she asked, a playful lilt to her voice.

You described the woman from your dream: her short, spiky hair, the muscular physique that spoke of strength and agility, and the piercing gaze that had you feeling both vulnerable and safe. As you talked, Jinx's expression grew thoughtful. "Hmm," she murmured, her eyes lighting up with an idea. "I might know someone who fits that description."

Her words sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you turned to face her fully. "What? Who?"

Jinx's grin grew wider as she leaned back in her chair. "My sister," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Vi. She's got that same look in her eyes when she's... concentrating. And she's definitely got the moves."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Vi. The woman from your dreams had the same name as Jinx's sister? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? "Vi?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Your sister?"

Jinx nodded, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Yeah, you know, the one who's always breaking down doors and causing a ruckus?"

You felt your cheeks flush hotter. "I-I don't know what to say."

Jinx leaned forward, her grin morphing into a smug smirk. "Well, if you're that interested, I might be able to arrange a meeting."

You stared at her, your heart racing. "What? No, I didn't mean..." You trailed off, your thoughts tangling in a mess of excitement and anxiety. "It's just that the dreams are so intense," you protested weakly.

Jinx's smirk grew knowing. "Intense, huh?" she said, her tone teasing. "Well, if you're ever curious about the real deal, you know where to find her. But maybe you should tell her you're a fan first."

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "I don't know if I could handle that. Besides, it's just a dream," you said, trying to convince yourself more than anything. But the way Jinx's eyes gleamed with mischief had you wondering if there was more to the story.

Jinx shrugged, picking her book back up. "Suit yourself," she said, her tone light. "But if you ever change your mind, just let me know."

The rest of the day was a blur. You couldn't concentrate on your classes or your studies, your mind a tumult of thoughts and sensations from the dream. Was it possible that Vi, the woman from your dreams, was actually Jinx's sister? And if so, what did that mean? Was your subconscious playing a cruel trick on you, or was there some deeper connection at play?

That evening, as you lay in bed trying to fall asleep, the memory of Vi's powerful embrace consumed you. You felt the ache between your legs, the same ache that had been present every time you woke up from the dream. It was maddening, and yet you couldn't ignore it. The desire grew stronger, and before you knew it, your hand was moving under the covers, exploring the wetness that had gathered there.

You opened your eyes to the darkness of your room, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears. The dream had been so vivid, you could almost feel the weight of Vi's body on top of you, her strong thighs pressing into yours as she moved in a rhythm that was both fierce and tender. The sensation grew more intense with each passing moment, your hips bucking against the pressure of your hand.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with light, and you gasped as the figure from your dreams leaned down and kissed you hard. "Oh fuck, you're awake," she murmured against your lips, her voice a gruff whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. It was Vi, just as you had imagined, her short hair a wild mess around her face, her eyes glinting with a mix of surprise and desire.

You stared up at her, heart pounding in your chest. This couldn't be real, could it? You tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but all that came out was a strangled sound. Vi pulled back, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "You okay?" she asked, her voice softer now.

You nodded, still unable to form coherent words. She was really here, in your room, her body pressing down on yours, her cock still inside you. You felt a mix of fear and excitement, unsure how to react.

Vi studied you for a moment before a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. "I see," she murmured, her eyes darkening. "You liked it, didn't you?"

Your body seemed to respond of its own accord, your hips moving slightly, the friction of her cock still buried inside you sending waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't deny it, not with the evidence of your own arousal so clear. "I-I don't know," you stuttered, but the words lacked conviction.

Vi leaned closer, her breath warm against your cheek. "Lie to me again, and I'll make sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow," she whispered, a hint of a threat in her voice that only served to excite you further. Her hand slid down your body, cupping your ass and squeezing gently. You gasped, your eyes widening with surprise.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks - this wasn't a dream. This was really happening. You felt the weight of her body pressing down on you, the solidity of her cock still embedded deep inside you. The smell of sweat and sex filled the air, and you could feel your own wetness mixing with hers.

Vi took your silence as consent, her smile growing more wicked. "Good," she murmured, and began to move again, her hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as she filled you up, the sensation of being claimed by someone so strong and dominant overwhelming.

Her hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice with a hunger that was palpable. Each touch sent sparks of electricity through your nerves, making you squirm and gasp beneath her. You felt vulnerable and exposed, but instead of fear, a heady mix of desire and excitement took over.

Vi's eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze stealing your breath away. "You're so fucking beautiful," she murmured, her voice a gravelly growl that resonated deep within you. The way she said it, it didn't feel like a lie or a line; it felt like a truth she had discovered and couldn't help but voice.

Your body responded to her words, your muscles tightening around her cock. She groaned, her grip on your hips tightening as she pushed deeper, her movements becoming more urgent. You felt a thrill of power, knowing that you had this effect on her, this powerful, almost mythic figure from your dreams.

Her hand slid up your body to cup your breast, her thumb flicking over your nipple. You arched into the touch, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. Vi's eyes never left yours, watching your every reaction with a hunger that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

As she picked up the pace, you felt your orgasm building, the pressure growing with each thrust. You bit your bottom lip to keep from screaming, the intensity of the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. You could feel her own need, the tension in her body as she held back, drawing out the moment.

Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you tried to anchor yourself to reality. But it was no use; you were lost in the haze of pleasure that Vi was creating. Her movements grew more erratic, her breathing ragged as she approached her climax.

You felt your own orgasm building, the tension coiling tightly in your stomach. You didn't know if you could handle this, didn't know if you wanted to. But your body had a mind of its own, responding to her touch like it had been starved for it.

Her hand slid down to the juncture of your thighs, her fingers finding your clit and beginning to rub it in a rhythm that matched the pounding of her cock. You gasped, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure grew too intense to bear. You could feel your muscles clench around her, desperately trying to hold onto the sensation, to keep her inside you forever.

Vi's movements grew more frenzied, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck," she muttered, her voice strained. "You're so tight, so wet." The words only served to fuel your desire, and you found yourself bucking your hips up to meet her thrusts, your body begging for more.

The sound of your skin slapping against hers filled the room, a cacophony of pleasure that seemed to resonate in your very bones. You could feel your orgasm approaching, a storm of sensation building inside you, ready to break.

Vi's hand on your clit was like a masterful conductor, guiding you closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke was precise, each touch a masterpiece of pleasure that had your toes curling and your back arching. Her teeth grazed your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and you knew you were moments away from the most powerful climax of your life.

Your body tensed, muscles coiling like a spring ready to release. With one final, deep thrust, Vi sent you over the edge, and you screamed out her name, the sound muffled by the pillow you had shoved into your mouth to stifle the noise. The pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around her, clenching her cock like a vice.

Vi's own orgasm followed closely behind, her hips bucking wildly as she filled you with her release. You could feel the heat of her seed inside you, a strange, primal sensation that only added to the intensity of the moment. Her breathing was harsh and ragged in your ear, and you realized with a start that she was whispering your name, her voice filled with a raw emotion that didn't quite match the cold, calculating demeanor she usually had.

As your body began to relax, she leaned back, her eyes never leaving yours. With a sudden movement, she pulled out of you, making you gasp with the sudden emptiness. Before you could react, she brought her hand down in a harsh slap across your pussy, the sound echoing in the silent room. Your eyes snapped open, and you jolted at the unexpected pain and pleasure that shot through you.

Vi smirked, watching the shock play out across your face. "You liked that, didn't you?" she taunted, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

Her hand hovered over your sensitive flesh, and you held your breath, waiting for the next slap. "I said, did you like it?" she pressed, her voice low and demanding.

You nodded, unable to form the words. The sting of her hand had sent a jolt of pleasure through you that was almost unbearable. You felt your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and desire.

"So, you liked that, huh?" Vi's smirk grew wider as she watched you squirm beneath her. She slapped your pussy once more, this time a bit harder, and you gasped aloud. "You're going to get used to this," she murmured, her voice a dark promise. "Being used like a cumdump by a girl you never even knew existed."

Your eyes watered from the pain, but the ache between your legs grew stronger. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, knowing that she had taken you without your consent but finding yourself desperate for more. "Vi," you whimpered, not knowing what else to say.

"That's right," she said, her voice low and smoky. "Call me by name, let me know who owns you now." Her hand moved to grip your jaw, tilting your head up to look at her. "Open your mouth, pretty girl," she ordered, her eyes gleaming with a dark excitement.

You obeyed, your mouth opening slightly, unsure of what was to come. Vi leaned down, her spit glistening in the soft light of the moon filtering through the curtains. With a flick of her tongue, she sent a wad of saliva into your mouth, watching as you closed your lips around it. The taste was surprisingly warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Swallow," she demanded, her grip on your chin firm. You did as you were told, the act strangely intimate and degrading all at once. Her saliva slid down your throat, leaving a trail of wetness that seemed to echo the wetness between your legs. Vi's eyes never left yours, her gaze a mix of challenge and triumph.

The reality of what had just happened began to sink in. You had been taken by your roommate's sister, a woman you had only ever dreamt about, while you were unconscious. It was a violation, a betrayal, and yet your body sang with satisfaction. You were torn between anger and a desperate need for more.

Vi leaned down, her breath hot against your ear. "You want me to stop?" she whispered, her voice a dark caress. You hesitated, the words on the tip of your tongue, but the truth was that you didn't. You were scared, yes, but also unbearably turned on. You bit your lip and shook your head, and Vi's grip tightened. "Good," she murmured, her teeth grazing your earlobe. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

With that, she slammed back into you, her cock filling you completely. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling of being stretched to your limits sending shivers down your spine. Your nails dug into the bedsheets as she began to fuck you with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and lust. You had never experienced anything like this before, and yet you found yourself craving it, your body moving in time with hers as if you had been doing this for years. You felt like a ragdoll in her powerful grip, utterly at her mercy.

Vi's hips ground into you, her movements unrelenting as she claimed your body over and over again. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your core, making your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to process the sensations, but all you could do was feel. Feel her, inside you, dominating you.

Her hand found your throat, her thumb pressing against your pulse. "Look at me," she whispered, her voice a hoarse demand. You opened your eyes, meeting her intense gaze as she continued to fuck you, her thumb moving in slow, deliberate circles against your skin. The intimacy of the gesture was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the roughness of her movements.

The pleasure grew, a crescendo of sensation that you couldn't fight. You felt the beginnings of another orgasm building, and you whimpered, your body desperately seeking release. Vi's eyes never left yours as she drove you closer to the edge, her own breathing growing heavier, her strokes more erratic.

Her thumb pressed harder against your throat, and the sudden rush of fear only heightened the pleasure. You could feel your heart racing, your body responding to the mix of pain and pleasure in a way that was almost primal. "Beg for it," she growled, her voice thick with need. "Tell me you want it."

Your voice was hoarse from the gag of pleasure, but you managed to force out the words. "Please," you whimpered, "I want it."

Vi's grin grew wider, the power in her gaze never wavering. "Good girl," she purred, her hand tightening around your neck, the pressure just shy of painful. "You're going to come for me now."

Her words were a command, and your body obeyed. You felt the orgasm crest over you like a wave, your muscles clenching around her cock as you were consumed by the most intense pleasure you had ever felt. Your eyes rolled back in your head, a keening cry escaping your lips as you shuddered beneath her, the sensation of her thumb on your throat only amplifying the intensity.

As the climax washed over you, you felt a sudden gush of wetness, your body squirting out a warm jet that soaked the bedsheets and made Vi gasp in surprise. She stilled for a moment, her eyes going wide before a grin of pure satisfaction spread across her face. "Fuck," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "You really are something else."

You lay there, panting and trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure still rolling through you. Vi leaned down, her breath warm against your neck, and whispered, "I'm not done with you yet." Her teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Her hand left your throat and slid down to your clit, her fingers beginning to rub it in a slow, teasing circle.

You moaned, your body already responding despite the fear and confusion clouding your mind. "No," you managed to gasp out, pushing feebly at her chest. "It's too much, I can't..."

Vi just chuckled, the sound low and dark. "You think I care?" she murmured, her eyes glinting with a sadistic excitement. She slapped your pussy again, harder this time. "I didn't ask if you could take it," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "I'm going to use you until I'm satisfied, and you're going to take it all."

You whimpered, your body already beginning to respond to the mix of pain and pleasure. It was wrong, you knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help the way your hips lifted to meet her hand, the way your breath hitched in anticipation of the next blow.

Vi's grin grew, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "That's it," she murmured, her voice a dark purr. "You're going to be such a good little slut for me." She slapped you again, the pain making your vision swim before pleasure flooded your senses, your body arching off the bed.

Her fingers slid back inside you, pumping in and out with a rhythm that was relentless and punishing. You could feel her knuckles brushing against your clit with each thrust, sending sparks of sensation shooting through your body. You moaned, the sound muffled by the pillow still pressed to your face.

As the pleasure mounted, you felt something inside you snap. The words you had held back for so long, the words you never thought you'd say to someone like Vi, tumbled out of your mouth. "I love you," you whimpered, the confession weak and pathetic.

Vi's movements stuttered, her eyes widening with shock. For a brief moment, she seemed to freeze above you, the hand that had been so brutally claiming you going still. Then, she leaned down, her voice a low rumble. "What did you say?"

You repeated the words, your voice stronger now, though still a whisper. "I love you, Vi." It was the truth, and you didn't know why it was, but it was as clear to you as the moon outside your window. The woman who had just violated you in the most intimate way possible had somehow stolen your heart in the process.

Vi's expression softened, her eyes searching yours for a sign of deception. But all she found was raw, desperate need. Her hand stilled on your clit, her cock still buried inside you. "You don't know what you're saying," she murmured, though there was something in her tone that suggested she wasn't entirely convinced.

You shook your head, the tears of pleasure blurring your vision. "I do," you insisted, your voice a broken whisper. "I love you, Vi. I don't know why, but I do."

Vi stared at you for a moment longer, her eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or fear. But all she saw was the truth of your words, reflected back at her in your glassy gaze. With a groan that was almost a growl, she leaned down and claimed your mouth with hers, her kiss brutal and possessive.

Her tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your submission as she began to fuck you once more. Each stroke was deep and hard, a declaration of ownership that resonated through your very soul. You moaned into the kiss, your body responding eagerly to her touch.

Vi's hand slid down to cup your ass, lifting you up to meet her thrusts. The angle was perfect, sending her cock deeper with each powerful push. You felt the head of her cock brush against your g-spot, the sensation making your eyes roll back in your head. "Mine," she growled against your lips, claiming you in every way possible.

Your legs wrapped around her waist, holding her tight as she ravaged you. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and her grunts of effort. It was a symphony of lust and dominance that you never wanted to end.

You gripped the headboard tightly, the wood digging into your palms as you tried to hold on to something, anything, in the face of the overwhelming pleasure. Each time she drove into you, you felt like you were being split apart, only to be put back together with a new piece of her embedded deep within you.

Her hand left your ass to wrap around your throat again, the pressure increasing slightly as she pulled back, only to slam into you with even more force. You could feel her getting closer to her own release, her body tensing and her breathing growing ragged.

With a whine of desperation, you reached up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from your throat and instead guiding it to your chest. You needed more, something to anchor you to the world as your body was lost in the maelstrom of pleasure she was creating.

Vi's hand complied, cupping one of your breasts roughly. You moaned into her mouth, feeling her palm against your sensitive flesh, the calloused pads of her fingers grazing your nipple. The feeling was almost too much, your body already on the edge of another orgasm.

With a growl, she broke the kiss, moving her mouth down to your neck. She bit down, hard enough to leave a bruise, and you couldn't help the whine that escaped your throat. She soothed the sting with a flick of her tongue, her teeth scraping against your skin as she moved to your collarbone.

Her hand squeezed your breast, her thumb flicking your nipple in a way that sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You felt the pressure building again, your body responding to her every touch, her every move. It was like you were a marionette, and she held all the strings.

Vi's rhythm grew more erratic, her breathing harsher, and you knew she was close. You tightened your legs around her, pulling her deeper, silently begging for her to let go. You felt the head of her cock pulse inside you, and the pressure was too much to bear. With a scream that was muffled by the pillow, you came again, your body shaking with the force of it.

This time, the orgasm was accompanied by a gush of wetness that soaked the bed and spattered her face. Vi chuckled darkly, her hand coming down to pat your pussy gently as if she were praising a pet that had performed a trick. The sensation was strange, almost tender amidst the harshness of her fucking, and you squirted again, the warm liquid hitting her cheek and mixing with the sweat already there.

Vi's strokes grew harder, more demanding, as she neared her own climax. You could feel her cock swelling inside you, her hips slamming into yours with a force that was almost painful. Your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure grew too intense to handle, your teeth digging into the pillow to keep from screaming.

Suddenly, she pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. You looked up to see her stroking her cock, her eyes never leaving yours. "You want me to cum inside you?" she asked, her voice a mix of challenge and temptation.

You nodded, unable to find the words to answer. Your body was on fire with need, and the idea of feeling her fill you up was almost too much to bear. Vi's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back in, lining herself up with your entrance. With one final, powerful thrust, she sank back into you, her cock pulsing as she reached her climax.

You felt the warmth of her release flood you, filling you completely. It was a strange feeling, one that was both humiliating and thrilling. Your body was no longer your own; it was hers to use and abuse as she saw fit. And as she emptied herself into you, you realized that you had never felt more alive.

Vi pulled out slowly, her cock leaving you with a wet pop. You felt the emptiness keenly, your body already missing the feeling of being filled by her. She sat back on her haunches, her chest heaving, and looked down at you with a smirk. "You're mine now," she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Before you could react, she leaned down, her hand moving between your legs. You felt a finger slide into your pussy, and then she was scooping out the cum that had leaked out, her gaze never leaving yours. The act was strangely intimate, a claiming of your body's response to her. She brought her hand up to her mouth, her eyes never breaking contact as she licked the cum from her finger with a slow, deliberate motion.

"You taste so sweet," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "I can't wait to have more." The words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and anticipation. You had no idea what she had planned for you, but you knew it would be intense.

You looked up at her, trying to gather the strength to protest. "Vi, please," you gasped, your voice weak and trembling. "I can't take any more."

But Vi just smiled, a wicked glint in her eye. She leaned down, her face inches from yours, and began to pepper your cheeks with gentle kisses. Each one was like a butterfly's touch, light and feathery, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking she had just given you. She kissed your eyelids, your nose, the tip of your chin, her lips moving with a tenderness that was almost tender.

Her hand continued to play with your sensitive folds, her thumb circling your clit lazily. "You're so beautiful when you come," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "I could watch you all night."

The gentle touch was too much, your body already overwhelmed with sensation. "Please," you begged, not sure what you were asking for. Whether you wanted her to stop or keep going, your words hung in the air, a silent plea for mercy.

Vi's eyes searched yours, the smirk slowly fading into something softer. She leaned closer, her thumb still circling your clit with a maddening gentleness. "Can I- can I kiss you?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

For a moment, she seemed surprised, the tenderness in your voice reaching something deep within her. Her hand stilled, and she looked at you, really looked at you. Then, with a nod, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle and searching. It was a stark contrast to the brutality of the past moments, a kiss that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken promises and dark secrets.

Your body responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around her neck, pulling her closer. You tasted the salt of her sweat, the tang of your own arousal on her mouth. It was a heady mix that only served to heighten your need for her. Vi's hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, you forgot about the pain, the fear, the confusion. There was only the two of you, lost in a passion that seemed to burn brighter than the sun. Your bodies melded together, moving in a silent dance that spoke of a connection that went deeper than just flesh and bone.

Vi's thumb began to move again, her gentle strokes sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You moaned into the kiss, your hips lifting to meet her hand. She broke away, her breath hot against your cheek as she whispered, "Do you want more?"

You shake your head, "I really can't." Your voice was barely audible, a soft protest against the onslaught of desire that was consuming you. But Vi was insistent, her hand moving faster, her eyes never leaving yours. "You can," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr. "You're stronger than you think."

Your breathing grew more ragged, your chest heaving as you struggled for air. The room felt like it was spinning, the pressure building inside you like a volcano ready to erupt. You could feel the blood rushing to your head, the world going dark around the edges. "Vi," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea. "I'm gonna pass out."

But she just chuckled, her eyes never leaving yours. "Not yet," she murmured, her thumb moving even faster. "I want to watch you come one more time."

Your body was on the edge, teetering between agony and ecstasy. You couldn't take it anymore, but somehow, you also couldn't get enough. Vi's thumb was a brand on your clit, her hand moving with a precision that seemed to know every secret of your body. You felt the pressure building again, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

"Come for me," she whispered, her voice a dark caress. "Come for me, my little slut." The words sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core, and with a scream that you didn't recognize as your own, you did. Your body arched off the bed, your back bowing as the orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You felt yourself tightening around her hand, your pussy clenching and pulsing as you spasmed beneath her. Vi's eyes were alight with triumph and hunger, watching the show she had orchestrated with a greed that was almost palpable. She didn't stop, her thumb still working your clit as you rode the waves of pleasure.

The orgasm was unlike anything you had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. Your toes curled and your nails dug into the bed, the fabric tearing beneath your grip. The room was a blur of sensation, your thoughts scattered to the four winds as you lost yourself in the feeling of her hand on you.

Vi's thumb didn't relent, the steady rhythm keeping you on the edge of the cliff, unable to pull back from the precipice. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation as she pushed you further than you had ever gone. "Vi," you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. "Please, I can't."

But she just grinned, her eyes gleaming with a dark excitement. "You can," she whispered, her breath hot against your cheek. "You're going to come for me until I say stop."

Your eyes rolled back in your head, the world going fuzzy around the edges. You couldn't take much more of this, you were sure of it. Each stroke of her thumb was a brand, a mark of ownership that seared into your very soul. But as much as your body protested, it also craved more. The pleasure was an addiction, and Vi was your dealer.

Her hand was relentless, the strokes coming faster now, the pressure increasing until you thought you might shatter. You felt another orgasm building, a monster in the depths of your core that threatened to consume you. "No," you moaned, your voice weak and trembling. "Please, no more."

But Vi wasn't listening, her eyes locked onto yours, her expression one of pure, unbridled lust. She leaned down, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was almost gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of her hand. You could feel her smile against your lips, the warmth of her breath mingling with your own.

The pressure built, your body a tight coil of pleasure and pain. You felt yourself slipping away, the edges of your vision going dark. "Vi," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't..."

But she was unrelenting, her hand moving faster, her thumb a blur against your clit. You felt yourself falling, the world around you fading into a sea of sensation. You tried to hold on, to keep your eyes open, but it was like trying to grasp at water. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, dragging you under and leaving you gasping for air.

As the pleasure consumed you, your vision went dark, the room spinning out of control. You felt yourself slipping away, the last of your strength leaving you. Your body went limp, the tension draining from your muscles as the world grew quiet. The only thing you could hear was the distant sound of your own ragged breathing.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the uncomfortable weight of your clothes. You were fully dressed, your pajamas sticking to your sweat-soaked skin. The bedsheets beneath you were new and clean, the smell of fresh laundry filling your nose. For a moment, you wondered if it had all been a dream, a twisted nightmare that had felt all too real. But then you felt the ache between your legs, the sticky mess that was a testament to what had just transpired.

With a groan, you pushed yourself up, your muscles protesting the sudden movement. Your body was sore, a delicious reminder of the relentless pleasure Vi had wrung from you. The room was quiet, the only sound the distant echo of the city outside your window. You knew you had to face the music, had to tell Jinx what had happened. So, you took a deep breath and slowly slid off the bed.

Your legs wobbled, threatening to give out beneath you, but you managed to stay upright. Each step towards the door was a battle, your body still pulsing with the aftermath of your encounter. You didn't bother to smooth your hair or straighten your clothes; you knew that your disheveled state would be the first clue that something was amiss.

As you opened the door, the cool air of the corridor hit you like a slap in the face, jolting you fully awake. You stumbled into the hallway, leaning against the wall for support. Your heart was racing, your thoughts a chaotic jumble of lust, fear, and confusion. You had to tell someone, but who? Jinx was the only one you could trust, but how could you explain?

You could hear her laughter from the living room, the sound echoing down the hallway like a taunt. She seemed to be talking with someone, her voice a mix of amusement and something darker that you couldn't quite place. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You had to tell her, had to make her understand what had happened.

As you stepped into the room, you saw Vi sitting on the couch, her legs sprawled out in front of her, looking as if she owned the place. Jinx sat next to her, a smug smile playing on her lips as she glanced up at you. "There you are, sleepyhead," she said, her tone mocking. "Soo, about yesterday when I told you about my sister, here she is!"

Jinx's elbow jabbed into your side, and she winked. "Well, have fun guys," she sing-songed, her voice dripping with mischief as she got up and left the room, shutting the door behind her with a snicker. You stared after her, your mind racing. What was she playing at? Did she know what Vi had done to you?

Vi looked up at you, her eyes glinting with a knowing look that sent a shiver down your spine. She had the audacity to smile, a smile that was both sweet and sinister. "Hi," she said, as if you were two strangers meeting for the first time. "Nice to finally meet you."

[cheetabites]

☆彡 age ain’t nothing but a number ˳༄꠶

characters: park gyeong seok (player 246), kang dae ho (player 388), and hwang in ho (player 001 / the frontman)

˳༄꠶ summary: headcannons i have regarding if you - their partner - were younger than them (fem intended! reader, and all legal babes 💋)

park gyeong seok (player 246)

★ he works as a portrait painter near an amusement park, he’s been approached by many younger woman. they usually directly express their interest in him by flirting but he usually brushes it off with a smile and a timid shake of his head. regarding this, i don’t think it would’ve been a problem if he’d gotten into a relationship with a younger woman; he is a the type of older man to get really shy about it though

★ despite the hierarchy in korea where juniors are supposed to automatically respect their elders, gyeong seok doesn’t really push it too much. he treats you as an equal with a bit of extra pampering - he does believe that since he’s the older one in the relationship, he should carry most of the responsibilities, whether that be household chores, bringing money home, or just caring for you and his daughter

★ he isn’t too sensitive to other’s opinions on your relationship, but there are some times where he worries about the age gap. it’s mostly out of worry for you though; i mean he’s nearing closer to finally turning forty and he has a young daughter. he just wants you to be happy. although if you talk it out with him and ease his worries, then i think thoughts like those will eventually dissipate

★ sex with him wouldn’t be any different even if you were younger, he’d still have the same kinks. although he would treat you more gently just to make sure he doesn’t “hurt” you

★ his daughter doesn’t mind the age gap either. you’re sweet, thoughtful and you make her dad happy. the only way she’d ever question the age difference would be from an external factor like whispers from other parents that she overhears or if one her classmates says something about it. if this does happen though, you and gyeong seok would obviously clear stuff up for her

kang dae ho (player 388)

★ to be honest, when he first met you he didn’t even think that you were younger than him. it was only when you clarified your age that he realized that he was older than you. he still pursued you despite it though, because you were both legal adults and he found himself captivated with you; he does tend to get with older women though, more often than he does with younger women

★ he’s another one that gets a bit shy about the fact that he’s dating a younger woman. you and his friends love to tease him about it too, just so you can hear him stutter as he tries to figure out a comeback; if one of his friends make a bad comment about your relationship though, he’ll post tf up. but make sure to drag him away, he’s not really good in physical fights

★ he’s more shy when he subs for you. something about you being younger than him yet having all this power over him makes him red in the face (and rock hard in his slacks)

★ i feel like he’d try to coddle you, but you’d hit him with the “i had you crying and begging for me last night, i can take care of myself.” he’d pout when you’d brushed off his advances, but would eventually get over it; he just loves you sm

★ with you, he honestly acts like a himbo. don’t get me wrong, he’s not unintelligent, but it’s like he’s so starstruck with your presence that it kinda short circuits his brain; it makes him all the more lovable though!

hwang in ho / 001 / the frontman

★ this man does not give one flying fuck that you’re younger than him. in fact, it boosts his ego that he was able to bag such a beautiful young baddie like you; just know you’re gonna be as spoiled as hell

★ he’s so detached from people’s opinions that he could not give less of a rats ass about their opinion on your relationship. if it does somehow tick him off though, then he’ll just put a bullet in them

★ if you’re his significant other, there isn’t much of an opportunity to return back to society. he doesn’t want to risk you interacting with other people - especially if you were a previous player; you disappeared without a trace and then suddenly returned to society? it would cause more problems than solutions. he makes sure to make it up to you in other ways though, he doesn’t want you to be unhappy

★ he tries to hide your relationship from the guards, but since you can’t leave he eventually just lets it be. there isn’t much to do at the facility / where the games are held so the guards are constantly exposed to you trailing after him wherever he goes, curious as ever - you often ask him random questions and he regularly indulges in you to keep you satiated. i can just picture you trampling around the halls doing whatever you want in the most fabulous outfit that he gifted you - obviously breaking the rules - and the guards just give eachother a look, kinda saying “damn, if we did that boss would fire - a bullet at - us.”

★ sex with him is relatively the same. but with a younger partner, i believe things like thigh riding and a daddy kink will appear sometime after you get intimate together

the end! I hope you enjoyed <3!