#one day I will remember to stick one in there!

[nanamiscocksleeve]

A Tight Spot

Warnings: MDNI, pegging, piv sex, voyeurism, slightly subby Sylus A/n: I know in my rules I said I don't write butt stuff, but (no pun intended) I'm coming around to the idea of prostate massage for men.

Sylus was not in the habit of hiding things from you. However, he had his own secrets, things that he felt made him vulnerable, or he wasn’t sure you’d understand.

One of those things was his ultimate, private kink; pegging. He’d tried it once by himself after reading about prostate massage but the unbelievable pleasure it had brought him blew his mind. The intensity, the absolute delight of getting an orgasm from a prostate massage had opened up new realms for him. Of course, Sylus was kinky and he loved having sex with you, but this particular bit of information embarrassed him, and he’d never dared bring it up for fear that you might judge him. 

Which is why he only indulges in this pleasure when he is alone. The mansion was empty, having sent all his henchmen home for the day, and you were heading back to Linkon City. Sylus lays on his bed, naked, remembering the way your body felt against his, the flushed heat and soft sway of your tits as you rode him, the sound of your sweet moans in his ear. His back still carried the lines scratched by your nails as you’d held onto him in the throes of ecstasy. He missed having you in his bed. Sylus firmly grips his cock, pumping his hard flesh, gritting his teeth, little growls leaving his throat as he pleasured himself.

He imagines you kneeling in between his legs, your face looking so innocent before you opened that wicked mouth and slurped him in, your tongue dipping right into his slit, making him pathetically dribble copious amounts of precum that you licked off with enthusiasm. The memory of your small hand as you squeezed his base, followed by the wet noises of his skin being suctioned by your lips was enough to almost drive him to the edge.

Sylus stops, panting, his eyes wild, blood rushing through his veins as he tries to regain control of his breathing. He knew what would take this fantasy from amazing to out-of-this-world. His tip was weeping, and he thumbs at the milky beads forming on the tip before going on all fours. His hand creeps behind his balls and he knuckles down on his perineum, feeling the faint vestiges of pressure on the little gland hidden away under his skin. He lets out a moan, flexing his buttocks, clenching and unclenching his asshole.  He feels his body starting to tingle with need, the kind that builds up when you’ve been teasing yourself for too long. 

He reaches into his nightstand, digging through the various toys that had been used over this weekend, and finds a slim, black, silicone dildo, the one he’d personally tested amongst many for his backdoor pleasure. A similar one but in red rested in the drawer as well; he was careful to never mix these two up. The red one was yours, and he’d never risk your health by selfishly using the dildo meant for your pussy for himself. He trickles a generous amount of lube on his dildo, before sticking the suction cup base to his headboard and gently backing onto it. He breathes in and out slowly, allowing the muscles to relax, then teases his tight, puckered hole with the tip, groaning as it passes through his tight ring of muscles, filling him up so deliciously. 

Sylus wonders if this is how your pussy feels during penetrative sex and the thought has him clenching, drawing the soft silicone deeper inside of him. He hopes it felt as good for you as this was for him. His cock stands proudly erect, the sensitive head brushing against the sheets as he continues backing onto the toy until he feels it press against a sensitive patch of elastic muscle and he lets out a pathetic moan. His hips arch, angling the tip of the toy until he’s able to glide comfortably, feeling the slick dildo massaging his inner walls, stimulating him beyond belief. 

His eyes close as he sets up his rhythm, each exquisite push against his prostate bringing pops of color behind his closed lids. Sweat slickens his skin as he builds up the pleasurable tension, grounding his hands and knees into the soft mattress to keep up his speed and arousal. Taking a deep breath, he pushes back further and feels like his eyes might roll into the back of his head as the toy bottoms out inside his hole, sitting right against the pulsing gland that threatened to shoot his load out. It never failed to amaze him how quickly his orgasm could form with this particular act, and the tantalizing dance of keeping himself on the edge was an intoxicating rush.

A low, gravelly, purr leaves his throat as he thrusts shallowly, letting himself be massaged so intimately at that sweet spot that he’d been oblivious to for so many years. He wondered how long he’d last this time; he had a reasonable period to himself now that no one was home, and he intended to tease himself into a mess, just to test how much his willpower could be stretched.

 He rides the dildo slowly, his hips rolling smoothly, feeling his back muscles coordinate and his ass grip the dildo in sweet ecstasy. As Sylus’s pace picks up, lewd squelching noises fill the room as he gives in to his urges. He can feel the tension building in his balls, in his belly, his hard abs quivering as the heat starts to gather in his gut. Sweat forms on his forehead, his cock twitching as he humps leaking precum all over the sheets. He can see the stains and bites his lip, feeling the way the sensation grows and ripples through him.

The next second is a blur of motion. As he’s in the blissful throes of his own passion, he hears his bedroom door opening and his name being called. His eyes fly open and he splutters in shock as you enter, losing his rhythm and almost slamming the dildo in haste. Your eyes widen in shock at the sight before you. Your big, intimidating, boyfriend, bared on all fours, with a dildo in his ass was not something you were expecting to see. Sylus scrambles off the toy, his breathing heavy and unsteady, his face burning red as he tries to cover himself.

He’d never been caught in such a compromising situation, the feeling of being vulnerable alien to him, feeling shame burn through him. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. “What-what are you doing here?” He manages to ask after a long moment of silence. 

You don’t move from your position near the door and Sylus keeps his eyes downcast. After a gap, you start to speak. “Luke and Kieran almost got me to the border but there was a really bad sandstorm. It could have taken hours for it to die down. So they brought me back here.”

“Luke and Kieran?” Sylus’s head whips up in alarm, ruby eyes widening in panic and you quickly approach him on the bed.

“They dropped me off here and went back to their place. It’s ok. It’s just me.”

Relief floods his features only to be immediately drowned by embarrassment and he averts his gaze. You see the tension in his shoulders and how fidgety and nervous he is, making you feel strange. This wasn’t your boyfriend, the confident and ruthless leader of the N109 zone that you had gotten to know. Unsure how to proceed, you gently cup his cheek. His glances briefly at you and you realize he’s waiting for you to pass judgment. Your heart squeezes to see him like this.

“Sylus. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” Your voice is soft and you kneel on the bed so that you can thread your fingers through his hair. Your touch soothes his racing heart but he’s still anxious. His voice is low as he starts to admit his actions.

“I like being pegged.” His voice sounds ashamed. 

“Isn’t that a kink?” You haven’t moved, staying close to his quivering body. 

“It’s not one that I think most men would admit to having.” You gnaw at your lip, trying to remember something, anything, that would ease his tension. 

“But…isn’t pegging the only way to stimulate the prostate? That’s a thing right? Prostate massage?” You slowly draw him closer to you so that you can rest your head on his shoulder. Your hands dip down from his hair to stroke his back and you feel him shiver.

“Yeah. It is.”

“And…it feels good right?” You probe further, trying to get him to talk. 

Sylus takes a deep breath before answering. “Yeah. It does.”

“Well, if it’s not hurting anyone and you like it, why are you so scared right now?” Sylus feels some of the discomfort in his chest release as your words wash over him. After a beat, you ask him a question.

“Why haven’t you shared this with me?” There’s no blame in your voice, just a general curiosity.

Sylus swallows, then rests his cheek on top of your hair, drawing comfort from you. “I don’t know. It’s not a norm. It’s frowned upon. Joked about. I just didn’t know how you’d react to it.”

You huff then grasp his chin and make him look at you. “Sylus, do you know how ironic it is that you made me share all the kinks that I’ve fantasized about and you’ve done them all only to hide this from me?” 

“So you-you don’t find this weird?”

“I think it’s hot when you’re being pleasured. Isn’t that that a good enough answer?” 

Sylus processes what’s been said to him and you take advantage of his distraction to push him down on the mattress, his large frame falling on it with a thump before you lay down next to him. You reassuringly cuddle his body, pressing into him and nuzzling his neck. 

“You looked like you were on the edge of a pretty good orgasm there. Before I came in that is.” 

Sylus clears his throat, traces of a blush lingering on his cheeks and ears. “Yeah, I was.” You trace your fingers down his chest.

“Would you be comfortable to do that again? With me in the room?” You ask the question carefully trying not to crowd him. Sylus finally looks at you in the face. His expression still looked guarded with a tinge of disbelief.

“You-you want to watch me?” Even as he says the words, he feels a surge of arousal. It was touching, almost intimate that you wanted to be a part of this. 

You bite your lip. “You looked really sexy there for a minute. All hot and moaning. I liked it.��

Sylus huffs, trying to regain his composure but your reaction to the whole situation was calming him down. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Your hands busy themselves on his thighs, squeezing and hard sinew, and you see his eyes softening as he realizes he can trust you with this. It pulls at you and you raise your head to kiss him, enjoying their warmth. 

His hands are working deftly to pull off your clothes, his cock hardening again at the prospect of what was to come. You, watching him, pleasuring himself, and it turned you on. There was no mistaking that little lip nibble you had done. The knowledge that he could share this vulnerability was filling him with a different kind of pleasure. 

Once he’s freed you from your clothes, he palms your breasts, groaning as your hands find his cock, pumping him enticingly. After his interrupted orgasm, the whole organ pulses, heat and sexual need filling him. He doesn’t hold back with his bites, leaving bruises on your soft skin as he touches you fervently.

Soft sighs leave your lips as you play with his cock, and you’re eager to see his demonstration on the dildo, needed to hear him make those noises of ecstasy again. “What do you need me to do?” You ask, still pumping his hard flesh. 

Sylus’s eyes are half closed, clearly enjoying your ministrations. He hesitates but asks, “Do you mind squeezing my cheeks?”

Understanding, your hands sensually leave his cock and instead, start to massage the soft rounded flesh of his rear, and he hums at your touch. You feel the muscles contracting and relaxing under your fingers and Sylus was syncing his breaths to the action. He glances over at his headboard, and you can see the dildo is still there, held in place by the broad suction cup base.

“Needs more lube,” he observes, and you squeeze his ass once more before reaching over to grab the bottle from the nightstand and hand it to him. You take note of how much he applies to the toy for future use and he begins to back himself up against it. He looks at you again, unsure. 

“What is it?” You lean up to cup his face, peppering kisses all over it. 

“I’ve…always fantasized about…someone holding me open as I…get penetrated.” He admits shyly and you feel flattered that he had opened up and asked. You move towards his legs and with care, part his cheeks, seeing his opening fluttering, similar to how your pussy would when it needed to be filled.

You watch in fascination as Sylus continues to back onto the dildo and your heart leaps as he makes contact, and watch, wide-eyed, as it starts to disappear into his hole. There’s a rush of arousal, at how hot the sight was, but you remain quiet, the room filling with Sylus’s contained moans as he pushes himself onto the toy.

“Oh Sylus…the view is so sexy.” You encourage him as he pauses in his penetration, panting. 

“Yeah?” He looks at you over his shoulder, and you nod. Your hands slowly release his cheeks which jiggle slightly as they fall back into place. Then he starts to move.

The noises that leave him drive you wild. You’ve heard him while having good sex but nothing compared to this; the way his hips started to buck in abandon, the husky, desperate way he moans as he fucks himself. Not wanting to miss a second, you quickly scramble back to his face, his expression sending a spear of pure lust straight into your core.

His ruby eyes are wide with delight, mouth hanging open in an O as he rides to climax. His gaze fixates on you and you see the flush that stains his skin and know he’s just as turned on by you, by the fact that you’re watching him so admiringly. You squeeze your breasts, teasing your nipples as you try to stimulate yourself with him, rubbing your clit in time to his thrusts, watching the way his weeping cock drags along the sheets with each thrust.

It wasn’t enough and driven by primal instinct, you quickly slide under his muscled body, surprising him. He pauses in his motions. “Kitten?” he breathes questioningly, gazing at you beneath him. 

“Sylus, I can’t. I need to experience you like this.” He lets out a guttural moan as you spread your legs and begin to guide his neglected cock into your hot wetness, the dual sensation too much for him to handle. His hole clenches, feeling the dildo snugly against his prostate while his cock was being nestled into your pussy. He lets out a deep, sultry whine.

“Fuck, sweetie. You’re going to kill me.” You stroke every inch of his body you can reach and Sylus begins to build up his rhythm, going as slowly as possible to stave off his orgasm but he feels like he’s a lost cause. 

Your pussy grips his cock, spasming with each thrust. Every time he moved forward, he’s gliding through your eager cunt, and every time he moves back, the dildo massages his aching prostate and he feels like a loser, knowing he won’t last too long this way.

You see the struggle in his eyes and talk him through it. “It’s ok Sy. You’ve held on for so long. It’s ok to cum. You don’t have to prove anything to me. Let yourself cum.” you murmur reassuringly to him and he lets out a keening groan, his hips going into overdrive as he pushes himself over the edge.

His vision blurs at the edges as an intense orgasm grips him, his hands gripping the sheets as he tries not to collapse on you. His body shakes, creamy jets of cum filling your pussy as his hole spasms rhythmically, prolonging his state of euphoria as he empties himself into you. 

Sylus carefully crawls off the dildo, then lays over you. Sweat covers each inch of his body as you lovingly stroke his hair. 

“I don’t know why you’d hide something so hot from me.”

“What’s a relationship without a little mystery?”

“Well mystery solved. Next time, we should use a vibrating dildo.”

Your eyes flicker with mischief and Sylus chuckles at your enthusiasm. 

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Old Blood, New Family

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

A/N: I set this during season 5 episode 16, the episode where the boys are in heaven reliving memories, and the sister is with them.

Requested by Anonymous

“Just keep going down the road, I guess,” Dean said. “We’ve gotta hit the end eventually.”

“Where are we?” Sam began to look around in bewilderment as the road turned into more of a tree-lined path.

“I know these woods,” you muttered to yourself. “But this…this can’t be right. This wouldn’t be in heaven.” You pushed through the trees, and it took the boys a moment to realize that you were straying away from them.

“Hey, wait!” Dean called after you, and both boys ran to catch up. “Whoa!” Dean staggered back in surprise when he caught up and got a good look at you.

“What?” You asked, frowning at him.

“You…don’t look like you,” Sam said.

You looked down, taking stock of yourself. You were a lot shorter suddenly, your body thinner and covered in bruises.

“Kid—“ Dean’s voice was low and gravelly, his eyes flashing with anger when he saw his baby sister hurt. “Where are we?”

“It’s—um—“ you had slowed down, your whole body tensing with every movement of the trees. “We’re close to my mom’s house.”

Dean grit his teeth—John had told Dean that he’d gotten you out of a rough home life, but Dean had never seen you banged up like this before—there was barely any skin showing that wasn’t bruised or cut, and you looked like you hadn’t eaten in days. Your hair was matted and greasy, like you hadn’t been allowed to shower—it wasn’t like you not to take care of yourself if you had the ability.

“Maybe it’s my heaven,” Dean spit out, his fist clenching. “Because I’d love nothing more than to beat the crap out of whoever’s in that house.” Dean jutted his chin out towards a house in the distance—your house.

“It’s memories,” Sam reminded him gently, although he didn’t look any less angry. He masked it quicker, however, and turned to you. “Let’s just keep walking—we don’t have to stick around here.”

“I just—I don’t know why this would be in my heaven,” you babbled. “I mean I-I never wanted to see this place again, and I thought that—“

“Hey.” Sam put his hands on your shoulders, snatching your attention. “It’s ok, forget about it. This whole place seems pretty screwy, let’s just go.”

“No no no.” You flinched away from the brothers when an angry voice yelled your name through the trees. Your body went into autopilot, sending you to the one place where you could feel safe. The boys tripped over roots and bushes as the struggled to keep up with you while you dashed and ducked through the woods, coming to rest only when you’d reached your haven.

A huge root from a towering oak tree created a wooden shield that you ducked behind, huddled among the leaves as you caught your breath.

“She’s coming she’s coming she’s coming,” you whimpered, rocking back and forth as you struggled to breathe.

“Hey, hey,” Dean soothed. “Kid, she’s not gonna touch you, I promise. She’s never gonna hurt you again, we won’t let her.”

“You can’t touch her,” you whimpered. “It’s my memory, remember? You-you can’t do anything.”

“I—“ Dean swallowed. You were right.

“What’s that?” Sam’s head shot up. “Did you hear that?”

“She’s coming,” you sobbed, burying your head in your knees.

“No, no, not her voice,” Sam insisted. “It’s—“

There was another voice calling out your name in the distance—a man’s voice.

When you heard it, your head popped up.

“Wait, I…I remember this,” you said, wiping your tears as your breath slowly got stronger. “She brought a man home again,” you breathed, glancing through the trees trying to see the source of the voice. “I-I had thought it was just another drunk one-night stand, so I ran for here. But-but when he found me…”

“There you are.” Your explanation was cut off by the appearance of John Winchester stepping around a tree. “Easy.” John held his hands up innocently. “I wasn’t tryna scare you there.” John took in the little nook you’d hidden yourself in. “I won’t tell your mom about this little hiding spot, I swear. I just wanted to talk to you. I…I don’t know what your mom has said about me, but I…I’m your dad, kid.”

You didn’t say anything; you just stared up at the man.

“Your mom, she…she didn’t want me to meet you,” John went on. “I had a bad feeling about that.” John took in your battered appearance. “It’s because she hurts you, right?”

You nodded timidly, remaining silent. The brothers just watched, unable to find the words; dad had never told them exactly how he’d gotten you, and they’d never imagined it would be this bad.

You flinched hard when your mother’s voice rang out again, closer.

“Hey, it’s ok,” John soothed. “I’m not gonna let her hurt you. Look, I know you don’t know or trust me, but I wanna help you. Nobody deserves to be treated the way your mom treats you. Now I can’t exactly go to the cops about this, because they’re gonna have a lot of questions about me that I can’t answer. So I need you to make a choice right now.” John placed his hand on your cheek, his touch feather light. You leaned into subconsciously—no one had ever been that gentle with you before. “You gotta choose,” John continued. “If you wanna stay here with your mom…or come with me.”

You swallowed hard, gaping up at John.

“My life’s not easy,” he added. “I move around a lot—I’ve got two boys, they’re a lot older than you, and I can’t promise you’ll always be safe, but…but I can promise that I’ll never hit you like she does.” John swallowed. “What’s it gonna be, kiddo?”

You stared up at John for a long moment, his rough but gentle hand still on your cheek. His soft eyes bore into yours, and he never once looked away, even as your mother’s voice got closer.

You threw yourself into John’s arms, almost knocking him off balance.

“Please take me away,” you whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes. “Dad, please take me with you.”

John’s arms tightened around you as he cradled your head in his hands.

“I’ll take you home, kiddo,” he breathed. “I’ll take you home, I promise.”

Dean noticed when the memory of John began to fade, and he rushed to take his father’s place, taking you in his arms as you started to cry.

“I’ve got you,” he promised. “Sweetheart I’m right here, I got you.”

The woods had faded away, along with John and your mother’s voice and the bruises on your body.

“That was the first time I ever felt safe.” Your voice was muffled against Dean’s shirt as you refused to let go of him. “Dad saved me.”

“I know,” Dean said. “I know, kiddo.”

“We—“ Sam swallowed. “We have to keep going.”

“I’m ok,” you sniffled, finally pulling away from Dean, but still gripping his hand in yours. “I’m—I just…seeing him again…”

“Hey—“ Sam pulled you away from Dean long enough to wrap his arms around you. “I know, I know. I’m so sorry, I never knew…what it was like before he found you.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Your smile—albeit faint—was finally returning as you looked up at your brothers. “You guys are my real family.”

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[diremoone]

it’s just a scratch! (it isn’t) | sylus.

a/n:: apparently receiving a head injury leaves plot bunnies behind too lol [ sylus fluff ;; tis mildly selfship coded ;; i whipped this drabble up in about an hour haha ]

Sylus watches you pause as you lift the mug to the cabinet. Your brows furrow and proceed to slowly spin the mug around curiously.

“Sylus?” You halfway turn to him to look from your peripheral.

He glances up and replies, “Yes?”

“What am I doing?”

“Unloading your dishwasher, I believe.”

A pause, then a small, “Oh,” escapes your lips. Then you put the mug up and close the dishwasher. He’d finish it for you later.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks, eyes glancing up at you from the book in his hands.

“About the same… Uhm…” You space out, staring at the TV for a good ten seconds before coming back to reality. “Maybe more dumb than usual.”

Sylus chuckles. “You’re not dumb. You just sustained a head injury.”

“Which has made me feel dumber,” you point out.

“Which is why I’m here,” he adds.

“To tell me I’m dumb?”

He scoffs in disbelief and closes his book as he remarks, “To make sure you don’t smack your head into anything else while you’re recovering and on leave, sweetheart.”

You feel the fluster creep to your shoulders and your cheeks at the nickname, ducking your head down bashfully.

Sweetie, when he’s teasing. Sweetheart, when he’s being soft and caring. You often hear more of the latter nowadays.

“It’s just for a few days. My symptoms should clear up come the day I go back for a checkup,” you grumble. “And it wasn’t even that bad. My elbow took the brunt of it.”

“I’m aware of all that. And until then, I’ll be sticking around to make sure you’re okay, kitten.”

But the cute moment ends when you cuss profusely, hands flying to your head in the spot where you’d gotten hit. Sharp pains crawl down from the spot, nearly debilitating and making you hunch over.

You faintly register something hitting the couch, followed by large hands guiding you by your shoulder and waist to sit down.

Sylus doesn’t like the way your body rocks in his hold, head bobbing up and down while your eyes are screwed shut from the pain, hissing when it flares. He takes his hand and gently cradles the back of your head, pulling you to his shoulder to find rest. If you had been standing, he’s sure he would’ve had to catch you before you hit the ground.

Thirty seconds in total pass before the pain in your head finally dies down. You still feel a tingle, but don’t mention it.

You inhale, then speak softly, “It passed.”

It takes a few seconds for Sylus to reply. “That was the worst one yet.”

“That you’ve seen,” you try and joke. But the grumble of dissatisfaction tells you he’s anything but amused. In fact, you might’ve just put him in a worse mood.

“I guess that means I’ll be staying over for quite some time, even after your next doctor’s visit.”

You lift your head from his shoulder and stare pointedly. “Sylus, no.”

“What? You don’t like my company?”

“It’s just not necessary for you to stay and watch me. I’m a big girl,” you argue.

“A big girl with a head injury,” he “corrects” you with a grin. “And don’t worry about your little friends. I’ll disappear for awhile when they decide to come over.”

You sigh in defeat. “You’re making my head hurt.”

“Then stop arguing, kitten.” And then Sylus’s voice drops an octave, expression changing from cheeky to concerned. “Let me take care of you. Your head meeting that table after that giant Wanderer tossed you wasn’t pretty to watch, you know.”

This time, you finally hear him, and he sees it.

You know where this is coming from. You know this comes from whatever past you two had together that you can’t remember (but apparently Sylus does) for the life of you. His concern for you is always genuine, you know this. Underneath every layer of teasing and cheekiness, you know Sylus means it when he says he wants to take care of you. And you can only imagine what you must’ve looked like getting tossed like a ragdoll by that Wanderer you’d fought.

You sure as hell know what your head feels like.

“Alright, you win.” You shift yourself onto his lap, getting cozy and laying your head back on his shoulder and closing your eyes. “Just make sure to jet when my friends come over. The last thing I need is a tremendous headache about how the leader of Onychinus is in my living room tending to me.”

He chuckles, then presses a long, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Deal.”

[amazinglyashy]

hi! i was wondering if i can request lads boys comforting their s/o bc their cat has passed. my baby passed today and i’m grieving really hard. thank you and have an amazing day🫶🏻

Moving this one up immediately in my box just to express my condolences. Your baby was very loved, I'm sure, and I hope you get through this tough time with care <3 I'm sorry for your loss. It's a tough time, regardless of who you're losing. My partner's grandpa passed a couple years back and I remember us crying, laughing and bowling, crying again, and talking a lot. Heck, I went to a craft store right after I heard the news and wandered around for two hours without any goal. I think I bought lolipop sticks. Take care love <3 You'll get through this. I know it's hard.

LaDS men when your pet cat has passed away

Xavier -

Since he lives so close by, your baby was his baby too, so he's devastated. Not equally so, he knows you spent more time with them, and you had them long before you had met him, but still- the pain exists.

The both of you are a bundle of blankets for a long while, just lying in the comfort and going through the both of your phones as you look for every single photo or video that has your cat in it, even just a little bit.

Lots of tears, but lots of laughs as well.

Everything is clear and apparent with every single memory the two of you go through- every little quirk your cat had, every little habit they had-

You both have a really nice time just talking about your cat, and any of the goofy mischief they used to get up to.

Of course you cry, and of course Xavier holds you through it. He knows how hard this is for you, and he knows it'll pass.

But until then, he's got you.

He's always got you.

Zayne -

He may be pragmatic to an extreme sometimes, but when it comes to grieving, he knows how hard it can be on the human psychic.

Not to mention on someone like you, who's already been through enough.

He'll definitely ask you if you want a hug, and if the answer is yes, he'll hold you, squeezing you so snugly and for so long that surely his muscle memory doesn't know a different position anymore.

Warm tea or cocoa, his old cardigan on your shoulders, pillows and blankets surrounding you on the couch, and just…

A lot of care.

If you ask him for any opinions or advice, he probably won't be able to give it to you. He doesn't want to risk anything coming out abrasive when you're still so tender, so he'll settle for condolences and anything comforting he can think of.

"I know it hurts. And you can try as you might, but the hole they left won't ever manage to be blocked out. All you can do is keep going, and hold their memory close."

Sylus -

Deep breath, it's going to be alright.

Loss is definitely something he's familiar with- and it's partially why he doesn't have anyone of his own. Mephisto may have a personality, but he's also mechanical. There's no way for him to disappear, because every bit of data in him gets saved, just in case.

But there's also no way your cat will disappear either, because Sylus has saved every memory of her, to make sure you will always have something should this day arrived.

He just didn't expect it to come so soon.

Doesn't matter what job he has, it's left to Luke and Kieran. He's by your side to care for you in whatever capacity you may need. He takes a lot of initiative, but he also asks you a lot of questions too. He doesn't want to risk making you uncomfortable, and he knows you're extra tender right now.

A lot of physical affection if that's what you need, and a lot of ideas to help you through it- whether he takes you out somewhere to help distract you from the pain, or goes through old memories with you to help you grieve through it, he'll do anything.

For as long as you may need.

Rafayel -

He hated cats.

Except for this one.

That was partially your fault, but also partially the darned cat's fault for being such a love.

He's devastated, both for you, and for himself.

He'll hug you- kiss you. Anything he can think of that usually cheers you up, even though he knows there's really nothing that's going to help right now.

He's been there, he's experienced loss. He knows what you're going through, and unfortunately- he knows that also means there's not really any helping it.

Someday when you're ready- could be in a month, could be three years from now, it doesn't matter at all him- he'll make you probably one of the favorite gifts you'll ever receive from him.

It's a portrait of your past baby, flowing full of life and color with eyes that sparkle almost as well as theirs did back when they were still around.

Almost.

And sometimes, 'almost' is more than enough to help ease the pain.

[httpdwaekki]

massage | l.m. - s.c. - h.h. - y.j.

summary: you're sore and stressed but luckily your boy is there to help. collab w/ @giddyfatherchris <3

wc | ss: 5.4k | 5

warnings: fem! reader, use of noona (jeongin), nudity (not sexual), descriptions of pain, definitely typos bc i wrote most of these a long time ago, probably more but you get the generally consensus.

a/n: i would like to give ilya a formal apology for how long it took me to write these, truly an egregious amount of time LMAO. but she never rushed me once and i love n appreciate that more than she knows. also made these way longer than they needed to be but, anyway! i hope you all enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3. (also sorry if the writing style feels different for some, i wrote these months apart so it might get weird lol)

please consider donating to this fundraiser!

part 1 | my library

banners by cafekitsune

(photos are not mine! credit to owners!)

minho

wc: 1.5k | ss: 1

you didn’t argue it further knowing it was futile.

he wraps an arm around your waist as you both say your goodbyes, helping you walk back to the car. you were both spending the day with his members, chan had found a new trail he wanted to explore, inviting all the members and you to tag along.

about half way into the trail your ankle started to flare up, causing you to start limping. it was an old injury that just didn’t heal correctly so being on it for long periods of time causes pain as well as swelling. you tried to hide it because you were having a good time but minho clocked it almost immediately.

once you were sat in the car, minho rounded the car, popping the trunk of the car to grab something. he opens the door, sitting while placing a bag in your lap before starting the car. “what’s this?” you asked softly, opening the bag.

“i figured your feet would hurt after walking for so long so i brought comfier shoes for you.” he explains as you pull out your crocs and a pair of soft socks. you stick out your bottom lip, heart warming from the kind gesture. you kick your old shoes off, replacing them with the softer pair, placing the old ones back in the bag.

“thank you 자기야.” leaning over, giving him a kiss on his slightly pink cheek, settling back in your chair. he smiles, putting the car in gear before grabbing your hand, looking into your eyes as he places a kiss to the back of it. “anything for you.” he whispers against your skin, dropping your joined hands in his lap before taking his foot off the brake.

the ride home was silent beside the music softly playing in the background as minho drove. you leaned towards him, hissing as your ankle and foot began to feel tender. he squeezes your hand, placing a kiss to it, rubbing soothing circles to the back of it.

“we’ll be home soon 야기.” you nod, trying not to think about the throbbing pain, focusing more on the passing landscape. 

soon the car pulls up to your shared apartment, luckily there was an open spot in front of your building. you unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle, letting go of his hand before he grabs it again. you pause, looking at him confused, “what’s wrong?” you ask softly.

“just wait a second, let me help you.” he waits for a response, big eyes staring into yours. you nod, allowing him to help. he smiles, placing one last kiss to the back of your hand before unbuckling, making his way to your side.

he opens the door, pointing to the bag by your feet, “let me take that first.” you hand it over before carefully scooting to the edge of the seat. he puts the bag on his back before reaching down for you.

you take his hands, planting your feet on the ground, hissing at the slight pressure you put on the sore appendage. “take your time, okay? don’t push it.” he says, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand once more. you nod, taking a deep breath before carefully standing up.

he helps pull up the extra weight, helping you lean against him a bit once at your full height. once you move out of the way, you push the door closed as minho adjusted his grip on your waist.

“ready?” you nod, smiling as you slowly limp your way to your door, suddenly thankful you lived on the first floor. he quickly unlocks the door, placing the bag to the side before slipping off his shoes.

“do you need help?” he asks, pointing to your feet still in your crocs. you shake your head before holding onto his arm, slipping your feet out of the shoes cautiously. he helps you to your room where he sits you down on the bed before opening the closet.

“do you wanna take a shower now or later?” he asks, rummaging through clothes for something more comfortable for both of you to change into. you thought about it for a second, knowing you probably should, but just wanting to relax and stay off your foot.

“i’ll shower a little later, once it starts feeling better.” you respond as he walks over with two sets of clothes in hand. he places yours down next to you, “do you want help getting changed?” you nod your head before answering, “maybe with the shorts, please.” you smiled up at him.

“of course 야기.” he says, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead while reaching for your shorts. he taps your thigh, then his shoulder, causing you to stand up, balancing on his shoulder.

“i’m gonna unbutton these now, okay?” he asks, his fingers brushing the metal of your pants. you nod before he undoes the button, pulling down the zipper, sliding his hands into the fabric, pulling it down your legs.

you lift each leg to let him take the fabric off them, wincing as you put pressure on the hurt one. he kisses the leg of your hurt ankle, rubbing it softly as he tosses your pants to the side. he grabs the shorts on the edge of your bed, getting them ready for you to step in safely.

“ just one more time 자기야 .” he says, waiting for you to step into them. you adjust your grip on his shoulders one last time before stepping into it. you bite your lip in pain, as you slip the second leg into the fabric, letting him pull them up your legs completely. 

he places a kiss to each thigh before you sit back down. “thank you, min.” you smile before he gets up, leaving a kiss on your lips as he goes. “anything for you, 야기.” he smiles back before grabbing his stack of clothes on the bed.“i’ll be right back okay?” you nod and watch as he walks into the bathroom not bothering to shut the door. 

you slip off your shirt, replacing it with a softer, bigger one, throwing the old fabric in the same direction as your pants. you get up to walk (limp) your way to the kitchen to grab a cold compress before you relax.

you made it to the door before minho leaves the bathroom. “what do you think you’re doing?” he asks from the doorway, his hands full of medicine, lotions and wraps. “i’m going to get a cold compress from the freezer?” you ask in a small voice, feeling like a kid that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“sit back down before you make it worse please.” he scolds, pointing to the bed as best he could with full arms. “but i-” you cut yourself dramatically points to the bed once more. you sigh, shuffling your way back to the bed, where you sit down once more.

he walks over, setting everything down on the foot of the bed before gently grabbing your leg, slotting himself between them, placing the hurt one on his lap. he grabs the medicated lotion, lightly massaging the swollen area.

“oh that feels nice.” you sigh, sinking into the pillows behind you as he continues his work. he does that for a good 15 minutes, pausing when he hits a particularly sore spot before continuing with a softer touch.

you didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until he finishes wrapping up your foot and ankle, grabbing a pillow to place under it. “i’ll be right back love.” he whispers, placing a kiss to your hair before leaving the room.

he comes in a few moments later, with more supplies in hand. he places a water bottle, snack and medicine bottle on your bedside table before, carefully placing the compress to your ankle. he gently presses down, pulling a sigh from you as you feel the cold seep through the wrap.

he grabs the snack bar, opening it before handing it to you, who happily takes a bite out of the sweet bar. he opens the bottle of water, trading with you once you finish your snack. he watches you take a couple sips before opening the medicine bottle, holding out 2 pills for you.

you take them from him, putting them in your mouth as he grabs the trash to throw out. he enters the room once again with another water bottle, placing it next to yours.

he grabs a blanket carefully laying it on top of you before making his way to the other side of the bed. he turns on the show you’re watching together before settling in next to you, wrapping his arms around you.

“thank you for taking care of me, my love.” you whispering, leaning into him, placing a kiss to the arm closest to you. he tightens his arms around you, placing a kiss to your hair, “anything for you, 자기야 .” you smile, melting into him, where you both stay for the rest of the night.

changbin

wc: 1.1k | ss: 1

you weren’t technically lying, you were tired. you didn’t tell the whole truth either.

it was your fault, truly, you worked out yesterday, didn’t properly stretch and you certainly didn’t drink enough water after your workout. you were so worried about some work to finish up that you forgot about it.

so unfortunately this led to you getting a charley horse in not one, but both calves. you had woken up this morning, stretched and both of your calves immediately seized up. the pain was immediate and lasted for about a minute.

you probably should’ve told bin but, you didn’t feel like getting lectured on top of everything else you had going on. plus, he had enough going on, he didn’t need to worry about your silly little muscle cramp.

you were moving around-semi fine. it did hurt to walk and your legs feel super tight but it was nothing to worry about- and certainly not for changbin to stress over. that was short-lived however, as soon as he arrived at your apartment, he clocked you immediately.

“what did you do?” he asked as soon as you opened the door.

“what? no hi baby! how are you? how was your day?” you pouted. “all i get is a what did you do?” you said in your best bini impression. “yeah it is because you hurt my baby and not even you can get away with that.” he shot back.

you roll your eyes at his comment. “will you at least get inside before you chastise me.” you widen the door to allow him to pass. once inside, he sets his bag and keys down while kicking off his shoes.

“so?” he asks, looking at you. “i just got a charley horse bin, i’m fine.” you reassure him softly. you saw it in his face as soon as the words left your mouth.

you quickly raise your hand as he opens his mouth. “i know, i don’t want to hear bin please, i just want to lay down.” you say, feeling defeated and tired. “okay bunny.” he sighed, grabbing your hand, placing it around his waist before wrapping his arms around you.

you both stay there for a minute before bini pulls away, places a kiss on your cheek. “can i carry you to bed?” you nod before he picks you up bridal style, pulling a squeak from you in surprise. you quickly wrap your arms around his neck and he carries you to your room.

he carefully lays you down on your soft mattress before walking into your bathroom. he walks back out, massage oil and towel in his hand.

you move to sit up, giving him space, getting ready to give him a massage. but when you look up, he’s just staring at you, almost hurt.

“what are you doing?”

you tilt your head in confusion. “sitting up to give you a massage.” you say, eyes big as you look at him. he walks over to you shaking his head, “no bunny, lay back, i’m giving you one.” he sets the folded towel and oil at the edge of the bed before moving your leg to sit.

“but i told you i’d give you one.” you mumbled, your eyes following his movements. “did you really think i’d make you give me one when you’re clearly tired and hurting?” you look down as you realized how silly it sounded.

“baby,” he places a gentle hand to your cheek, forcing you to look at you. “why don’t you ever let me take care of you?” he asked, eyes filled with love and concern. you shrug, “i’m just not used to asking for or receiving it i guess.”

his thumb gently rubs the soft skin of your cheek, “will you let me take care of you please?” he asks softly.his thumb gently rubs the soft skin of your cheek, “will you let me take care of you please?” he asks softly.

you give him a small nod. “okay.” he smiles, leaning forward to cover your face in kisses, before you giggle, softly pushing him away. “binnie!” you squeak. “okay okay.” he giggles, backing away.

he goes to help you lay back but not before stealing one last kiss. you try to act annoyed but your smile gives you away. “do you want to watch frieren?” he asks as he helps you move your pillows and blanket to get comfy.

“yes please.” you reply, fixing the soft blanket he placed over you. he hands you the remote for the tv before sitting down, placing your legs atop his. he puts the towel under your legs before putting some of the oil in his hands, gently rubbing the tight muscle.

“let me know if it hurts okay?” you give him a quick nod and smile before pressing play, snuggling under the soft fabric. he adds a little more pressure, you let out a small noise, the muscle feeling tender.

he immediately stops, “are you okay?” you nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “it’s just tender, it feels good though.” he guy, understanding, continue his massage, a tad bit lighter.

you both stay like that for at least 20 minutes, binnie switching legs half way through. it only took a few of those twenty to drift off, not fully sleeping but definitely not conscious.

until binnie stopped his movements, gently wiping away the excess oil. you open your eyes and look down, admiring the sweet boy in front of you.

once finished with the task at hand he meets your eyes and pauses. you give him a sleepy smile before making grabby hands to him. he giggles, moving your legs, throwing the towel to side, carefully laying on top of you.

you wrap your arms around him as he places kisses all of your face, pulling giggles from you in the process.

he stops for a moment and admires you, “what?” you ask softly. he shakes his head, “you know i love you right? and i’ll always be here to take care of you.” he’s looking at you with so much love. you nod your head, bring one hand to his soft cheek.

“i know, baby, and you know the same goes for your right?” your thumb gently rubbing the skin as he nods. he quickly leans down, placing a loving kiss to your plush lips before rolling over, pulling you into his chest.

he pulls a blanket over both of you, letting you get comfy, handing you your plushie before wrapping his arms around you. “love you so much bunny, okay?” he reassures once more, placing a kiss to your temple.

you sink further into him, placing a kiss above his heart, “you love you too, my binnie, so much.”

hyunjin

wc: 1.3k | ss: 2

to say you felt overwhelmed was an understatement.

you knew hyunjin would do anything for you, he’d drop everything if you asked him too. however, you never did, always worrying about burdening or annoying him no matter how much you preached the opposite.

you were stressed out, in pain and on top of that feeling so guilty. because not only did you cancel on your boyfriend and his friends but now, you made your boyfriend also cancel on his friends.

so now here you were, sitting on your couch, still in your work clothes, tears streaming down your face as the guilt, stress and pain overwhelmed your senses. 

so much so that you were unaware of said boyfriend using his key to enter your apartment.

he was immediately alarmed by the uneven breathing coming from your couch. he made quick work of discarding his shoes and bags before finding the source of the noise.

“hey, hey, angel what’s going on?”

he rounded the furniture as shot up, looking at him. “i’m sorry.” you sobbed, covering your face in the process. he quickly makes his way to you, kneeling in front of you, one hand on your head, thumb brushing your forehead.

second hand gently rubbing the arm closest to him. “hey, what’s going on, hm? what are you apologizing for?” you feel him rest his chin on your shoulder.

you shake your head slightly, feeling suffocated under all the negative emotions. “breathe baby, breathe.” he pulls your hands from your face in an attempt to help you breathe better.

“can you sit up for me?” he whispers, thumb still rubbing soothing circles on your forehead. you shake your head, “it hurts.” you whimper, turning to face him.

“your back?” you nod, unshed tears gather in your eyes. he leans forward, placing a kiss to your forehead. “okay, will you let me help you? i just wanna help you feel better but you gotta sit up okay?” 

he can see the stress in your face, “it’ll be okay, okay? i promise. i just wanna get you to the bathroom so i can run you a bath okay?” you’d be lying if you said that didn’t sound divine.

you nod your head slightly, prompting him to give you a kiss before readjusting. “okay my baby, i’m gonna help you sit up before you stand okay?” 

“okay.” you nod, already holding your breath in preparation. he gives you his arm to hold as you pull yourself up. he gives you a countdown before pulling you up, moving your legs to the side of the couch.

you hiss in pain as you finally sit up, “you did so good for me baby.” he places a kiss to your temple. he stands, putting a hand out for you to grab.

you prepare yourself to follow him, as you grab his hand, taking a deep breath before pulling yourself up, “ow.” you whimpered before stumbling into him.

he catches you before you can fall, bringing you into his arms. a few tears shed as the pain shoots through your lower back, gripping hyunjin’s hand, letting out a few labored breaths..

he rubs your back gently and your head. rests against him, trying to breathe through the pain. “you’re doing so good baby, you’re halfway there. let me know when you’re ready.” you nod your head, taking one last deep breath.

“okay, i’m ready” you mumble. he turns as you grab his arm to hold as you walk. you focus on your breathing the whole way to the bathroom before he helps you lean against the counter.

“do you think you can stay like this while i get the bath ready?” he asks, eyes filled with concern and worry. you nod, giving him a small smile, “thank you hyune.” you say, bringing a hand up to rub his cheek.

“anything for you my love.” he says before grabbing your hand, placing a kiss to your palm.

you watch as he sets up the bath, starting the water, making it as hot as he can take it before adding the epsom salt and bubbles. once everything was added he made his way over to you. 

“i’m gonna help you undress okay?” you nod your head before carefully lifting your arms. he grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, tossing it to the side.

he reaches behind you, undoing the clasp to your bra, kissing each shoulder and he pulls the straps down. “my beautiful muse.” he hums, giving your bra the same fate as your shirt.

you shiver, feeling exposed but the movement once again made the pain shoot up your spine. “ah.” you hiss, taking a deep breath once more. “i know baby, i’m sorry. just a little longer.” 

he makes quick work of unbuttoning your jeans, cautiously pulling them down each leg. once they were pulled down, he did the same with your underwear. “okay hold my shoulder while i take them off.”

once he feels your hands grip his shoulders, he taps one leg, prompting you to lift it. he does the same to the other leg before once again tossing the fabric aside.

“there we go, i’m gonna help you get in then i’ll join you okay?” you nod before grabbing his hands once more.

he helps you step in, holding you steady as you sit down. you let out a sigh of relief as the hot water soothed your spine. you lean back, hyune placing a kiss to your temple before leaving you.

he searches through your cabinet before grabbing the massage oil, placing it to the side of the tub. he quick undresses, as you slowly shift forward, giving him space behind you.

he shuts off the water before he steps in, carefully sitting behind you. you go to sit back before he stops you. “hold on baby, i’m gonna try and massage it a bit okay?”

you pout, “but that’s my job.” he shaked his head, dark hair swishing back and forth with it. “not today, today i’m here to make you feel better.” he says before putting some oil hands, warming it up a bit.

“can you lean forward a bit or does it hurt?” you slowly cross you legs before carefully leaning forward. you felt a slight stretch in your lower back, letting out a sigh. hyunjin’s hands lay against your back, thumbs rubbing soft circles.

“you okay baby?” you nod a bit. “i’m good.” you mumble, trying to relax a bit more. hyunjin’s hands glide across your back with ease, stopping at each knot, giving it extra attention.

you were basically falling asleep when he came across a particularly sore spot, a gasp from you. he immediately stops his hands, resting them on your back.

“i’m sorry, baby.” you shake your head. “it’s okay, just a little tender now.” he places his hands on your sides, pulling you back slightly, carefully bringing you to him.

you gently lay against his back, sighing as you feel the hot water surround you from the shift. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer, placing a kiss to the side of you head.

“i wish you would’ve told me it was this bad.” he mumbles into your ear, playing with the bubbles around you.

you lean your head against his, “i’m sorry.” you play with his fingers, stopping his movements in the bubbles. “you have so much going on and i didn’t wanna add to that.”

you felt his head shift next to you. “hey,” you turn your head to him, “no matter what i have going on, i wanna be there for you when you’re hurting okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your head. “promise?” he asks, taking his hand to grab yours, lacing your fingers together. “i promise.” you lean fully into him, basking in the moment.

once the water ran cold, hyunjin helped you out of the tub, and into some comfy clothes. once he got you settled in your bed with your heating pad, he ordered dinner before joining you in bed. 

and that is how you stayed for the rest of the night (apart from hyunjin grabbing your food) wrapped in the arms of your favorite boy, feeling much better than before.

jeongin

wc: 1.3k | ss: 1

you were were getting ahead on some prep for your bakery when jeongin texted you. you started wrapping up the strawberries you prepped for the cheesecakes the next day, dating them before going to put them in the cooler.

but as you turned around, container of red fruit in hand, you felt a jolt of pain in your knee before it gave out. luckily you were close enough to the countertop you were able to set the fruits down safely before finding your footing.

you look down and find your knee to find it swollen, fighting against the fabric of your pants. you sigh gently massaging it, hissing slightly as a shock of pain spreads through your knee. you place weight on your knee, finding it stronger than before but still weak.

you carefully making way your way to the cooler placing them gently inside. you turn around, placing your hands on your hips, looking at the kitchen around you, feeling proud of what you accomplished.

you were also thanking your past self for asking ryujin to clean the floors before she left because there’s no way you would’ve been able to. you made your way over to your work station, wiping down the table and discarding your trash. 

you turn off all the lights, and headed out the door just in time to see jeongin’s car pull around the corner. you waved and gave him a smile, locking the door behind you. you walked to the car trying (and failing) to hide your limp.

seeing this jeongin immediately parked the car, getting out to meet you halfway. “hi bubba.” you smiled as he approached you. “hi noona,” he gives you a quick hug and peck on the side of your head before pulling away.

“what’s going on with your knee?” he asks, voice laced with concern. “nothing, it’s just a little sore-” he cuts you off. “noona, i love you but if you say it's nothing to worry about i’m gonna lose it.” you giggle and shake your head.

“there’s nothing to worry about, my knee gets like that every once and a while i’m okay.” you smile, trying to ease his concern. “i’d believe that if i didn’t just watch you limp over here.” he says, folding his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“ while i appreciate the concern,” you smile, you unfold his arms, sliding your hands in his, “i promise i am fine, it’s just a little swollen and sore. nothing a little ice and aspirin can’t fix.” you place a kiss on his cheek, moving to get to the car.

well at least you were trying to until your knee gave out once more, causing you to stumble. he catches you before you can fall, wrapping an arm around your waist, “woah! okay y/n, that’s not normal!” he exclaims, helping you stand.

“okay it looks bad but i promise it’s fine, i have it under control.” you tried reassure him, but he wasn’t buying it. “y/n.” his tone was stern and his eyes were worried. you sighed, knowing what had to be done. “i know.” you whispered, looking down. “but i can’t afford to go right now.” he sighed, pulling you into him, placing his arms around you.

“peach, you gotta get this checked out please, you’re making me worried.”  you feel a slight sting behind your eyes, turning your face into his neck, wrapping your arms around him. “don’t worry about the money, okay? but we gotta get this figured out before it gets worse.” he whispers next to your ear, placing a kiss there.

you nod, taking a deep breath, pulling back looking at him. “okay, i’ll call tomorrow.” he smiles, placing a kiss on your temple. “okay good, now let’s go home hm?” you sniffle nodding. “yes please.”

he walks you to the car, helping you in the car, closing the door and making his way to the driver’s side. he grabs your hand, placing it on your thigh as he started the journey home. once he pulls into the parking lot of your complex, helps you out of the car.

“we’re gonna take it slow okay?” you go to open your mouth but quickly shut it, seeing the stern look on his face. you grab the hand he holds out, slowly make your way up the flight of stairs, one by one.

once making it into the apartment, you both kick off shoes, making your way into your room. “go shower, i’ll grab your clothes and towel for you.” he squeezes your hand as you part ways. you slowly make your way to your ensuite while he heads to your closet.

you turn on the water, making sure it’s set to warm the ridding yourself of your work clothes. once naked, you double check the temperature of the water before carefully stepping in, making sure to find your balance against the wall. 

you heard a knock on the door before it opens, “peach?” he calls out, “i got your towel and some comfy clothes for you, i’m gonna set them on the counter okay?” you hear as he places the collection on the counter. “okay, thank you i.n-ah.” your heart warms at the act, wondering how you got so lucky. he takes a seat on the toilet, taking out his phone, scrolling through a delivery app.

“noona, what do you want for dinner?” he asks, “i was thinking ramen.” you can’t help the smile on your face as you sit under the water. “that sounds perfect.” 

you both fall into casual conversation as you finish your shower and he finishes your order. you turn off the water and peek around the curtain, finding jeongin standing with your towel in hand. you reach your hand but he pulls it away before you can. he leans forward, “kiss please.” he purses his lips, waiting.

you giggle, rolling your eyes before giving him a quick kiss, “pleasure doing business with you.” he smiles, handing you the soft fabric. you wrap the towel around you, stepping out of the shower as jeongin walks about into your room, giving you privacy to get dressed.

you quickly dry off, carefully getting dressed, leaning on the sink to put on your shorts. you walk back into your room to find jeongin on your bed with lotion and massage oil next to him.

he smiles as you enter the room, patting the spot next to him, signaling you to take a seat. you make your way over, sitting against the pillows, being mindful of your knee. once settled he moves to sit in front of you, gently placing your leg on top of his.

“which one?” he asks, holding up the two bottles. “uh, the oil, but only a little please.” he nods, knowing you hate the feeling of anything greasy. he gets to work gently rubbing your knee, making sure to not apply too much pressure.

you both sit in silence while he worked his magic. you took in his side profile, taking this opportunity to truly take in his appearance. his soft skin, his boba eyes, his dimples that peak out every once in a while.

he senses someone looking at him causing him to look up, locking eyes with you. his cheeks become a light pink, “stop staring at me, weirdo.” he mumbles, continuing his task on your knee. you gasp in offense, “you're lucky my knee hurts or i’d kick you.” you pout, sinking into the pillow behind you.

he giggles before placing a kiss to your knee, moving to rub the underside of our knee. you hiss but soon relax as he works the sore muscle. you fall into conversation once more, him recounting his day as you relax further and further into the bed.

you end up falling asleep halfway through his story about hyunjin’s cuteness aggression halting dance practice once more. he looks over as soft breaths leave your lips, careful moving and placing your legs on the bed and a soft blanket over you.

placing a kiss on your forehead he leaves to prepare bowls, utensils and drinks for dinner, only waking you once it arrives. he brings it in with all other necessities to help soothe the pain in your knee, spending the rest of the night pampering you and icing your knee.

do not repost

i hope you all enjoyed! i kinda got lost in the sauce and made these alot longer than they should've lol but hopefully they're still good! please let me n ilya know what u think! love u guys <33

[n0vazsq]

Way of the heart | OP81 x Reader

pairing . . . oscar piastri x racing!engineer!reader

summary . . . After a tough race, Oscar has nothing to look forward to more than spending time with (Y/n)

request . . . kind of?

word count . . . 1.1k

warnings . . . none!

alexavia yaps . . . i really hate this one for some reason like its not the best i could do but i wanted to write something so yeah!! the person who wanted this (im sorry i forgot your user), if you want another story i will totally write it!! tysm for asking <3

Oscar slumped into the chair in the back of the team garage, still in his racing suit, the helmet beside him on the floor. Today’s race had been brutal, everything going wrong until he finally crossed the finish line in a place he didn’t even want to remember. No matter how much he tried to forget it, the disappointment still clung to him.

As the crew packed up around him, you walked over, carrying a bottle of water and a quiet look of understanding. You’d worked with Oscar long enough to know when he needed a moment to think and when he needed someone to remind him he wasn’t alone. Today, he needed the latter.

“Rough day,” you said softly, offering him the bottle. He accepted it with a quick nod, cracking it open but not taking a sip.

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered, letting out a short, frustrated sigh. “Everything went wrong, didn’t it? Every call, every turn… feels like I let everyone down out there.”

You didn’t rush to disagree or to tell him it was all fine because you knew Oscar didn't want you to. Instead, you waited a bit, giving him the space to breathe.

“You know, racing’s a lot like life. Sometimes it’s out of our control, even when we do everything right. We all saw you fight today,” you said gently. “One tough race doesn’t define who you are as a driver.”

He glanced up, the frustration in his eyes softening as he met your steady gaze. “Thanks,” he said, managing a faint smile. “Not sure what I’d do without you, honestly.”

You laughed lightly, leaning against the wall beside him. “Lucky for you, I’m sticking around, win or lose.”

His smile widened a little, and after a few moments of quiet, he stood up, finally letting go of some of the weight he’d carried off the track. “Hey,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I know it’s late, but do you want to grab some food? Just… need to be somewhere that’s not here.”

The restaurant he picked was cozy, tucked away from the noise and chaos that followed you on racing weekends. He knew you’d love it, remembering how you mentioned your love for Italian food

When you walked in, his heart skipped a beat. You wore a smile that was both warm and teasing, the one that always seemed to make everything feel a little less overwhelming.

He stood, smiling sheepishly. “Hey, you look… great,” he said, his voice a little unsteady. The nerves of the race had melted away, replaced by a different kind of nervousness that he couldn’t ignore.

You grinned, taking a seat across from him. “Thanks, Piastri. It’s nice to see you in a non-race setting for once. And I have to say, you look pretty good.”

He laughed, glancing down at his simple outfit. “I tried, y’know, for you.”

The waiter took your orders, and as the evening went on, you two spoke about anything and everything but racing. The conversation drifted easily from favorite movies to random childhood memories. You two talked about wild stories and embarassing moments, laughing at every single thing.

But Oscar’s mind kept wandering back to you. How you’d been there every step of his career, how you’d seen him at his worst and still chose to believe in him. At one point, as you were laughing at a joke he’d told, he couldn’t help but stare a little, his heart pounding in a way that felt completely different from the adrenaline of racing.

The laughter quietened down, and a comfortable silence fell between you both. Oscar looked down at his hands, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “You know,” he began, a little quieter now, “you mean a lot to me. More than just… my engineer or friend.”

You looked up, your expression softening, and he felt his courage swell just a bit. “I think I realized that today, after everything went bad on the track. Just seeing you there, not judging me, not telling me what I should’ve done differently, just… being there. It made all the difference.”

You reached across the table, placing your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’d be there no matter what, Oscar. You’re a brilliant driver and a good person. Bad race or not, that doesn’t change.”

His cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through him. He turned his hand to hold yours, letting the silence speak for itself. And for a moment, all the disappointment and frustration faded, replaced by a quiet joy that he hadn’t expected to feel tonight.

Later, you walked together under the night sky, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warm evening inside. He found himself wishing the walk could last forever, just the two of you, away from the chaos of everything.

Eventually, you both settled on a bench with a view of a beautiful fountain. The sound of the water filled the quiet spaces between you, and he reached over, slipping his hand into yours again, holding it with a confidence he hadn’t felt earlier.

“This feels perfect,” you murmured, leaning against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I wish every night could be like this.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting against him. “It’d be easier if we weren’t always at a race or in different cities every other week.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, looking out at the fountain. “But I think… I think it’s worth it.”

You turned to him, your gaze meeting his with a warmth that made his heart race. He took a deep breath, the words he’d been holding back finally finding their way out.

“Do you… maybe want to meet my family? Make it official?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain but hopeful.

You raised your eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Oscar, I think we’re already there. You didn’t have to ask. And of course, I'd love to meet your family.”

He chuckled, feeling a weight lift as his heart swelled with happiness. “Then consider this official.” He leaned in, taking your lips in a kiss.

The kiss made butterflies fill your stomach, it was soft, but also made you crave more. It was something magical, like straight out of a movie. Oscar had his hands on your waist, and yours tangled in his hair. It somehow made it more intimate, more personal. You didn't want it to end.

When you finally pulled back, the smile on your face was everything Oscar ever wanted to see.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the car, and for the first time that night, Oscar felt a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what happened on the track, he’d always have you there, his biggest supporter, his steady presence.

And with you by his side, he knew he could face anything that came his way.

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au) - camgirl edi!

smut - voyeurism, porn watching, sharing, ambiguous ending; again, this is a non-canon part of sseoi! also ik this scenario is unrealistic but read for the vibes!!!

obsessed with this previous part posted, and can’t stop thinking about how the boys used to chirp at simon for calling his fave cam girl his girl, only for it to end there, anyway.

how johnny was the first to find out when he caught simon listening to your stream like it’s a fucking podcast while he was taping his stick.

it was still too early in the morning for practice, but simon had been out with a minor lower injury and no one was really shocked that he’s the first in the rink when he got his permission from their physio. it was nice to see their A excited to get back on ice because truthfully? they needed him back. the team wasn’t straggling by any means but there’s an obvious difference with simon out which was why johnny found himself just as excited when simon told the group chat the good news, bounding in early for the morning skate too.

there were soft murmurs slipping past the cracked door when he made his way, and johnny pushed through the entrance, expecting maybe someone else with riley — maybe their captain or their coach — but it’s just their A.

and his phone, at full volume and full brightness, showcasing a… porn?

amateur porn, from the looks of it.

“uh?” was all johnny could say.

simon looked up, not even really appearing to be mortified that johnny just walked in on him watching a porn live-stream; the healthy sheen on his face did not even break for an embarrassed blush and, really, johnny started wondering if there was something he was missing.

“hey, mate,” simon greeted, still unaffected and screw it, johnny decided to ignore the wet squelch coming from the phone to reach forward and clap his arms around his friend.

“good to see ye back, man,” johnny said, chuckling. simon rumbled a quiet laugh too, looking pretty pleased and at peace like there’s no raunchy moans rumbling from his speakers—

you know what? fuck it.

“so you pent up in a different way, or?” johnny asked, nodding at the phone.

simon blinked, brows wrinkling in confusion for a second, before clarity washed over him, so obvious that johnny could track the moment he remembered what he had been listening to before johnny walked in.

“oh,” he huffed, shoulders shaking in another burst of quiet chuckles. “y’ve got to see ‘er. fuckin’ beautiful, this one.”

that… was not what johnny expected but he dropped on the cubicle beside simon to peek at his screen. apparently, he glanced at the right time as he watched the way your cunt stretched around the girth of your vibrator, made of glass, and the image you made was so startlingly lewd that johnny couldn’t even help groaning in appreciation too.

simon grins with something akin to pride, like he was telling johnny, “see? what’d i tell you?”

johnny would forget about that day until simon’s blunder of using his public account to blast his feelings for you, his clearly-not-just-pure feelings, made national news. their poor PR and media intern were working overtime to fix simon’s mistake because of course simon did not stop at just retweeting your website’s link while professing how he’s never cum so hard for anyone. no, he had to take it a little farther — he mass liked about fifty posts that you have made in two months time in the span of the three hours since they’ve flown back from tampa.

it was hell; apparently his profile was so thoroughly linked to your own with how active he was within those three hours of liking everything he could, that they suggested he just delete his profile and start anew. johnny doubted he was going to, what with his brand deals and other things, but then you poked back at simon and simon was so enamoured that he just took off the rails and flirted with you publicly.

he was unbelievable. simon was horny and yearning — a weird mix, but one that… worked, apparently, because here you are now, standing before them, all pretty and breathtaking.

johnny can’t even deny that he’s not distracted because, well, because they’ve seen you.

naked.

and getting fucked to the point of snot and tears.

fuck, this was not an easy meet-and-greet.

.

it was difficult to not cross the line when chirping at simon about his new relationship but garrick had been firm with his reminder, staring them down with that downturned tilt of his lips that spoke of no-nonsense. and no one ever wants to disappoint their captain so they steered clear of the obvious, like the fact that they all, at one point, watched your videos because simon just wouldn’t shut up about you. he was damn near close to waxing poetry which would have been cute if, you know, simon did not sound like a pervert who’s clearly whipped for a stranger.

it was funny then. it’s downright petrifying now.

they know more about you than they wished they did, like the fact that your go-to toy when the ejaculating dragon one is in the ‘wash’ is that vibrating dildo that is probably half the girth of johnny’s arm which is to say that it’s fucking thick, but still, you were able to bully all of that in your pussy, whining and mewling, before fucking down on it so hard it was bulging out of the soft pudge of your belly. or how you like having your nipples clamped. or how you have such a thing for oral stuff that you’d deepthroat a dildo while bouncing on another one.

it was a whiplash, going from watching you touch yourself in ways unfathomable to seeing you in front of them, giggling as you and simon share quiet conversations like they’re some sacred things.

fuck.

not even kyle, with his big announcement, could fake normalcy because you were a locker room name. they’ve all recommended different videos to each other — hell, all of them are still in that group chat they made to share links with each other. sure, simon had created it but no one really put it to rest — messages like, “she got anything in [x] cosplay?” or, “saw a short clip of her rubbing her pussy on her washing machine in twitter, does anyone have the full ver?” were getting passed around.

you were the darling girl of the team, and now simon’s got you cuffed.

it was easy to pinpoint the source of tension — the guys want a taste.

johnny stares at you and simon, and the secretive little smiles and heated looks that the two of you are sharing with each other, and realizes that maybe, just maybe, they are allowed it.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Kiyoomi Sakusa General Profile

Yandere! Kiyoomi Sakusa x fem!reader

TW: kidnapping, stalking, drugging, controlling behavior, Kiyoomi is secretly a wee bit of a misogynist, he makes a few comments about Reader's weight but there's no explicit descriptors, allusions to reader purposefully hurting themself, reader suffers a minor concussion but it was an accident, implied noncon, mentions of physical abuse, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

DARLING PROFILE:

Considerate

Kiyoomi is not an especially generous person. He’s civil, sure, and adheres to social customs enough to not be considered too rude, but he’s never really understood the need to stick out one’s neck at the expense of others.

And so Kiyoomi is equal parts intrigued and frustrated by a darling who’s empathetic and cognizant of others’ desires and wants. He thinks it’s admirable, if not a bit naïve, but it’s not until they stick their neck out for him that he really begins noticing them.

It’s small things – offering him the package of communal sweets first so that he can have the first bite, their smile seeming too big when they tell him that they know he hates when other people touch his food first. It’s the way they always ask about his day, asking about specific details when his blanket statement of fine doesn’t seem to be enough.

(And specifically, it’s the way they ask about how he felt, rather than simply what he did. It makes him pause and think, glancing at them like they’re crazy, but finding himself slightly intrigued because he can’t remember the last time someone had asked about his feelings.)

It irritates him, more than anything, but as his friendship with them grows, Kiyoomi finds himself almost growing protective over how invested his darling is in others. It’s dangerous to be so selfless, don’t they know?

They’re practically asking to be taken advantage of, and while Kiyoomi tries to convince himself that he doesn’t care in the beginning, it becomes harder and harder to maintain that air as his feelings slowly begin festering.

It’s just a sign of stupid kindness, he thinks, but it nonetheless draws him in, desperation to be seen by his darling insatiable.

Smart

Unfortunately, Kiyoomi is a bit of a snob. And although his profession isn’t exactly academic, he still likes to think of himself as a man with decent taste, or at least someone with a good head on his shoulders. And so, having a darling who is equally as intelligent is something that Kiyoomi absolutely must have.

He can’t tolerate a ditzy partner, finding himself growing too irritated to stand being around them. Instead, he needs a darling that’s quick-witted, perhaps even snarky like him to match his wit and challenge him intellectually.

Despite what proves to be a distinctly possessive and controlling edge in his relationship with his darling, he does truly find their intellect and ability to think for themselves wildly attractive.

(He limits this, of course, feeling that his thoughts and feelings are ever so slightly better for his darling’s wellbeing, but it’s still a significant source of where his attraction is stemming from.)

And because Kiyoomi needs to have been friends with his darling for a significant period of time before his infatuation fully settles in, his darling needs to be smart enough for him to feel like they’re an equal in a platonic, friendship-based setting.

They don’t need to be a genius, but Kiyoomi respects those who are inquisitive and able to foster a healthy curiosity about the world around them. It’s sweet, and while he’s never given much thought to having kids (because while he feels he’d be a decent father, he’s not sure if he could handle having such disgusting things latching onto his leg or drooling over his shoulder), the mother of his children absolutely must have a good sense of judgement and wits about her.

It’s just so appealing to him, and even as his obsession festers and grows, eventually trapping his darling away, he still expects to see that fire in their eyes, loving the way they seem to understand what he’s thinking without him even needing to say it.

Flexible

Because Kiyoomi is so particular, in order to develop a friendship with him, his darling needs to be flexible. They need to be able to understand his preferences, and understand that he’s moody.

A stubborn darling that butts heads with him will only lead to Kiyoomi growing frustrated, and instead he’d prefer someone who’s more complacent with his own desires. It’s a trait that Kiyoomi is a bit embarrassed to say he finds attractive, if only because it’s an admission of knowing that he can be difficult to be around, but the comfort that his darling provides for him in this aspect is one that makes his feelings grow exponentially.

He wants to feel comfortable and cared for in their presence, and a darling that’s willing to do whatever he would prefer not only soothes his anxieties, but it spoils him in a way that makes his heart flutter, his cheeks blooming ever so slightly pink and his palms clamming up a bit.

It’s just so very sweet, and it leaves him feeling only more eager to be in their presence, desperate to spend every waking moment he can with them.

And as his infatuation continues, this is a key trait that allows his feelings to fester and grow to the degree of feeling constantly on edge without his darling in his sight.

He��s able to insert himself into their life more easily this way, able to control every aspect of their life, keep them away from potential suitors, keep them looking at him and him only.

Clean

This one isn’t as imperative, but similarly to matching his intellect, Kiyoomi appreciates a partner who’s naturally cleaner. He’s comforted by the knowledge that his darling isn’t dirty, that when he gets brave enough to reach out and oh so carefully, hesitantly run his fingertips over the soft skin of their palm, that they’ve washed their hands recently.

He likes knowing that the wonderful, lovely scent of their hair is a mixture of their natural scent and shampoo, making his eyes roll to the back of his head because he just wants to keep inhaling and inhaling, breathing in as deeply as humanly possible to consume as much of them as he can.

There’s this subtle sense of pride that settles into his chest when he enter their apartment for the first time, pleased to see the way their living-space reflects his own – perhaps with elements of their personality, maybe more colors or patterns or photographs of friends and family, but it’s almost too easy to see himself pulling his darling into his side on the spotless sofa sitting in their living room.

It’s disturbingly easy to fantasize about pulling the covers of their well-made bed over his head, black curls brushing against his darling’s navel as he travels lower and lower, listening to their gasps and moans as he greedily laps at the spot between their freshly washed legs.

It’s just reassuring, and it only pushes his obsession deeper because he takes it as yet another sign that he and his darling are entirely compatible, a perfect match that he’d be a fool to let go.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Gradual

Despite his status as an internationally known professional athlete, Kiyoomi’s habits haven’t changed much since his youth. He’s still not especially interested in any sort of romantic relationship – he’s picky, incredibly so, and it takes him an extremely long time to feel comfortable enough with someone to actually be willing to be open and vulnerable with them.

(Particularly in the context of anything intimate – he needs to be very, very comfortable with them to reach the point where he’d willingly kiss them, touch them, or, god forbid, be inside of them.)

He’s not fully against the idea, but he’s realistic enough to know that he’d be a hard partner to please, and he just isn’t all that interested in finding someone. He’s got his career to worry about, and with all the traveling he does and his own personal idiosyncrasies, it would just be easier to not have a significant other.

And frankly, this mentality sticks with him – you have to have known Kiyoomi for quite some time before he develops feelings for you. At the absolute minimum, he must’ve been truly friendly with you for three years; that way, he can solidly say he finds you tolerable, that you’re acceptably clean, not too annoying, someone he doesn’t hate being around.

And even once his feelings begin forming, it’s a slow process – he doesn’t just suddenly wake up and decide that he’s in love with you. No, it’s much more gradual, much more subtle – he doesn’t even know it’s happening until it’s too late, after all.

It starts off as little things that he notices; a new haircut of yours (it was just a trim, something small and something even you had difficulty noticing) that he comments on absentmindedly, telling you it looks nice, this hairstylist is much better than the last one.

He’ll notice that you’ve changed your style a bit; maybe you bought a new pair of pants and you’re a little nervous about wearing them because they’re cute, but it’s a new color or a new cut or just a little bit outside your comfort zone. (He’ll blink and stare when you settle into the other chair at the café, your nerves getting the better of you as you ask what he’s staring at, only to get the rather flat response are your pants new? I like them.)

He's always been observant, noticing little things about you, but normally they’re things about your personality, or things about your likes or dislikes. He knows your favorite ice cream flavor, and which brands to avoid when he’s buying you some for your biweekly movie night (something you had to beg him to start, but now he finds himself looking forward to – enough that he’s counting down the minutes in practice that day, dark eyes glancing at the clock every few minutes and sighing lightly at how slowly time is moving).

He’s always known you were a bit of a klutz, and that your spatial awareness leaves a lot to be desired, just because he knows you. You’re tight friends, after all. But lately the things he’s been noticing are less platonic and less general, and more relating to your looks.

He’s never noticed that you have a fleck of another color in your eyes – it’s pretty, and when you turn your head just right in the sunlight, it makes your eyes glow.

He’s never noticed that you fill out your clothing very well; he’s gotten teased for spending so much time with you, sure, Hinata or Atsumu’s dramatic assertions about how the two of you must be more than friends always making him scoff and roll his eyes, disgusted by the implications. But now he finds himself wondering, late at night, with guilt gnawing at him, what it would be like to actually undergo those implications – being physical with you, that is.

His gaze is lingering on your pants a little more than usual, dark eyes staring just a hair too long at your ass, the jeans tight and accentuating every curve you have.

He’ll force himself to stop thinking about it, wondering where the hell that thought had sprung up from, rolling over in bed and shutting his eyes tightly, praying for sleep to come and for the images of the few, accidental times he’d seen you in your bra to stop flashing through his mind.

He notices that his thoughts towards you are changing a bit, but he tries not to think about it. You’re friends – aside from Komori and his teammates, you’re his closest companion, and developing feelings for you would ruin the fragile thing you have. Except his denial of his feelings doesn’t magically make them go away – he’s noticing how often he touches you, without even consciously realizing it. When you hand him some cash to repay him for some snacks he bought you, your fingers brush against his, and he actually freezes when he feels it.

(Your hands are so fucking soft – not hard and calloused like his, not rough and scratchy from years of smacking rock hard volleyballs.)

He never realized that he unconsciously let his hand rest on the small of your back when you guided him through crowds, trying to find the shortest route to minimize his discomfort. (He’d always liked that about you – your acceptance of his dislike of large crowds and germs, never making him feel weird or like a freak for it. You’d even shared an irrational fear or disgust of your own, just to make him feel better – it didn’t, but he appreciated the sentiment.)

Small things begin compiling up for Kiyoomi – things he’d never really noticed or thought about before, but now seem to be at the forefront of his mind. And yet, he still represses his feelings – no, he doesn’t want a girlfriend, and if he acknowledges his feelings for you, he'll want to push your relationship in that direction, to not suffer in silence because he wants more more more.

And yet, as time passes, Kiyoomi finds that he simply can’t not acknowledge what he’s feeling – it’s too much, too strong for him to ignore. His heart physically aches when he’s not around you, his mind racing and whirring with thoughts of what you’re doing, how you’re feeling, who you’re with, if you’re thinking of him.

It’s overwhelming, and it gets to the point where Kiyoomi literally cannot function without recognizing just how far gone his feelings for you are – it's effecting his playing, his relationships with his teammate, his eating habits, even his sleeping. You’re just too all-encompassing, his feelings to fucking intense – intense enough to leave him staring at his ceiling night after night, the bright screen of his phone illuminating his bedroom as he scrolls through photo after photo after photo of you.

Always you.

Possessive

Kiyoomi’s feelings, while strong and nauseating and so, so very good, really end up intensifying to an unbearable level from a single, main cause – he absolutely cannot stand watching you interact with other men.

He can’t repress the way jealousy claws at his throat, making his mouth taste sour and his gut twist because who the fuck is that man you’re talking to?

All it takes is one instance of a man flirting with you while Kiyoomi is present for these feelings to spark up – frankly, he's shocked that the man had the gall to approach you when you’re with someone as famous and handsome as Kiyoomi Sakusa, but perhaps he’d only felt confident enough because you were smiling at this stranger, standing close to him, laughing at a joke.

His fists clench up, dark brows drawing tight as he watches, the bustling café too loud for him to pick out exactly what’s being said. Seeing the way another man looks at you makes his gut sink, and even once you return back to him (with the food you’d ordered for both of you, since you know how much he hates talking to strangers), he can’t shake off his sour mood. From that moment forward, Kiyoomi is forced to confront his feelings – specifically, the ugly, twisting mess of emotions he feels whenever you’re around another man.

He grows possessive of you remarkably fast, hating when your attention strays from him, particularly if the new target is another person. Another man, really. It makes all these insecurities begin sprouting up in his chest – things he thought he’d long moved past, doubts and self-criticisms that make him feel weak, helpless, pathetic.

When he sees you catch eye contact with the man passing you on the sidewalk, your smile and small good morning makes him think about whether this stranger can stand being in a crowd for longer than three minutes. (He probably can, something Kiyoomi can’t – this man could take you to all those concerts you talk about, and he could take you to fun amusement parks and be in the crowd at sporting events and museums and all sorts of things that Kiyoomi can’t.)

When he sees you laugh and apologize to the man you nearly ran over with your shopping cart in the grocery store, Kiyoomi can’t help but notice how easily the man’s smile comes, his entire aura radiating positivity and happiness, the little tease and joke he makes in response to your apology making Kiyoomi’s hair bristle, unease sitting in his chest because no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t be so carefree and socially comfortable.

(Would you prefer someone more confident and natural in social settings, someone who can make you laugh so easily and introduce himself to strangers, shaking their hand and telling them with any sort of honesty that it’s nice to meet them? Kiyoomi hopes not, please be no.)

He grows pessimistic at the prospect of you interacting with others, because Kiyoomi recognizes that he probably isn’t your type. It makes him feel insecure, worthless, ugly, but more than anything it makes him panic, his fingers shaking and his knee bouncing because he absolutely cannot allow another man to come along and sweep you off your feet.

He needs to do something – and do it quickly, because you’re beautiful and gorgeous and funny and sweet and smart and so fucking perfect, and surely another man will realize that soon and you’ll be gone forever, all while he’s left to watch and stand by, forever regretting that he let this happen. And so, Kiyoomi decides that his only option is to try and limit your time with other men – meaning, he needs to monopolize more of your time, keep you with him, your company limited to only your family, coworkers, and him.

It’s the only way – and while he’s never been particularly subtle about anything, even you will be shocked at how blatantly he acts on this desire.

He's calling you up more, sending texts with flying fingers asking if you’re busy tonight, if you’d like to move your movie night up a few days, if you’d like to go get lunch at the ramen shop Bokuto won’t shut up about, if you’d like to stay the weekend with him at the VRBO he’d already rented on a beautiful little lake.

(He won’t tell you he’d chosen that one specifically because there was both a lake and a hot tub present, meaning he’d get to see you in your swimsuit hopefully more than once, but still.)

He becomes desperate to get your attention solely on him, and while you’ll be surprised, you won’t give it too much thought. Kiyoomi’s always been a little strange, and if he wants to further your friendship, you wouldn’t put up a fight.

But then he’s also scowling when you bring up the name of any other man, even when you’re alone – talking about any of your friends or any of his teammates gets him clenching his fist so hard his perfectly manicured nails dig into his palms, sometimes even pressing hard enough to draw blood.

You’ll notice his discomfort, the way he tenses up, how his voice gets terse and he talks less than normal, and when you ask him about it, he’ll only bite out an I don’t want to talk about another man with you. It’s cryptic, kind of, and it’ll take you aback, but you’ll respect his wishes, mentally noting how odd his behavior is.

And really, that’s how it’ll all progress – you’ll write off Kiyoomi’s strange, possessive behavior, which only makes him further push the envelope, not allowing you to talk about another man in his presence, or even look at them or stand close to one. It’s too much, and it’ll make you uncomfortable, but Kiyoomi’s too far gone.

And frankly, before you pluck up the courage to actually seriously confront him about it, it’s too late – your mouth is already being covered with the chloroform rag, your body going limp and landing in his arms, the sound of him deeply inhaling next to your hair and the low whimper he lets out making you dread when you’ll awaken even more.

He just wants your attention on him, and even more than that, he can’t accept the idea of you leaving him – you’re close, you’re friends, even though the word makes him spit, and he won’t let you leave him. You aren’t allowed to, he won’t let you. So don’t even bother trying.

Controlling

Tying into his more possessive traits, Kiyoomi slowly begins morphing into someone you hardly know.

He becomes blinded by his obsession with you, allowing himself to become more and more omnipresent in your life, worming his way into every little aspect of the way you live, from who you spend your time with to the clothing you wear. Though he’s not particularly subtle, the beginnings of his more controlling behavior will actually spark up long before he realizes how he feels for you.

Much before he’s come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t mind waking up with you wrapped in his arms every morning, he’s telling you that you really should consider waking up at a more reasonable time. It doesn’t matter if you’re a chronic oversleeper, or if you rise with the sun every morning – you’re always doing something wrong, really, and Kiyoomi will point it out to you.

(This is done in a genuine effort to get you to healthier, though. It doesn’t really feel like it when he’s criticizing you for your lack or overindulgence in sleep, his words snarky and cutting, but the motivation behind his prodding into your sleep schedule is to make sure that your body is getting the appropriate amount of rest. To make sure that you’re taking care of yourself, really – because Kiyoomi simply doesn’t trust that you know how.)

Long before he realizes that he wants to press kisses against the column of your throat and feel your soft, warm pulse underneath his lips, Kiyoomi recognizes that you don’t take perfect care of your skin. You could always use a better moisturizer, a better toner, take more time in the mornings and evening to make sure your skin is glassy and smooth and soft.

(He won’t insinuate that you’re ugly, of course, because Kiyoomi is many things but not a liar. But that doesn’t mean he won’t make comments about how he thinks you’ve gotten more pimples recently because your creams are expired, dropping skincare recommendations on you unsolicited and without batting an eye. And when they arrive on your doorstep the next day, shipped with the fastest service possible that you know costs nearly double the regular speed, you can’t even truly get mad at Kiyoomi – after all, his skin is perfect, and maybe he does know more about skin care than you do. The least you could do is try the new products, right? It would be rude not to.)

He’s always been a bit controlling about how he wants things done, but where you’re concerned this is only amplified – it’s a response to caring about you more than anything. He loves you, feels such deep, horrible yearning for you that he feels he must have a say in your life. He’s a successful man, with the last puzzle piece of his life missing being a sweet, loving wife who dotes on him and he on her in return.

And perhaps it’s a coping mechanism to make up for all the years of feeling ostracized, having minimal friends and even less romantic pursuits, finding himself suddenly feeling the pressure to make sure that everything is absolutely perfect because can’t fuck up what he has with you.

He’s become too dependent, too reliant on your presence in his life, and he becomes all-consumed and paranoid at the thought of accidentally doing something to dissuade you from wanting to spend time with him. He won’t change himself for you (or, at least, not too drastically – just enough to keep you interested in him, just enough to keep you in his life), but Kiyoomi is putting every possible effort into making sure that everything goes according to plan.

Expensive dinners are meticulously analyzed, dark brows furrowing at each potential obstacle as he mentally rehearses for the date.

(He’ll order to smoked fish fillet, and you’ll have either the pasta or maybe the salad. But wait. Is it rude to recommend the salad to you? Would you perceive it as a comment on your weight? He wants to see you eating more vegetables, but he doesn’t want you to think he finds your body displeasing – absolutely not, not when he spends most mornings with a hand pressed against the shower wall, water mixing with sweat and dribbling down the curves of his back, other hand feverishly pulling and tugging at his cock, your name slipping between his lips like some sort of prayer.)

He's planning out who will attend your wedding, the seating arrangements, the colors and flower choices, even what your dress will look like and how you’ll style your hair. (It sounds sweet, really – except that it isn’t, because if things don’t go exactly how he’s expecting them to, Kiyoomi will panic, worry eating away at him because no no no! Everything needs to go according to plan, otherwise things will fall apart and you’ll look at him with disappointment and just the thought is making it hard to breath and he needs to see you right now and reach out and touch you and hear you say his name fuck fuck fuck -)

He becomes overly concerned with every little behavior that you exhibit, always making a comment on this or that, his eagerness for your approval (and your obedience) making it difficult for him to notice the way you roll your eyes or how you hesitate, slightly offended at the way he tells you to stop eating like you’re poor, chew slower.

Everything is done with the intent of trying to better your relationship, to make sure the two of you are as compatible as possible, but the execution will leave you often times feeling as if he’s purposefully belittling you, your irritation and anger growing but then tapering out when he looks at you with those eyes.

It’s hard to stay mad when you’re nearly his only friend, the authenticity in his voice when he says that he loves you making it hard to stay mad at one of your closest friends. Just don’t say that – it’ll have his eye twitching, something ugly clawing at his chest because in what fucking world are you two just friends? 

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

As a general rule, Kiyoomi does not handle jealousy well. He’s always been an envious person, but once his attachment to you forms and he becomes aware of just how badly he needs you – both emotionally and physically – his jealousy only increases, his intolerance of other people greedily sucking up your time lowering monumentally.

Because really, that’s what it is, isn’t it?

Other people – worthless, unknown, people who don’t even really know you like he does – wanting your time and attention all for their own selfish, gluttonous desires. It’s disgusting, frankly, how these people think they have any right to see your smile, to hear your voice, to feel your hand brushing against their own when you’re handing something to them.

(And oh, what an experience that is – Kiyoomi’s entire body stiffens up when he feels your skin against his, his mouth feeling dry and his pupils dilating because god, you’re so soft and warm and he’s never felt this urge before – the urge to reach out and take more, to keep touching you and feel his way up your arm, to press against the curving bones of your collarbone, to thumb over the plains of your ribcage, to take a handful and squeeze what he’s sure are two very, very soft and supple breasts… Just the thought has him breathing heavily, staring at you with this look that makes your skin crawl ever so slightly, the intensity and the concentration nearly scaring you.)

His possessive streak is bad enough that he finds himself actively seeking out men who may be interested in you when he’s in public with you – you’ll be happily chatting away, animatedly waving your arms as you tell him about the latest episode of your show you’ve been watching, and while he wants to be listening, to give you his full, undivided attention and watch the way your mouth moves when you speak, how your eyes light up, hear how you occasionally say his name, the lilting Ki-yoo-mi making his knees weak, he can’t focus.

Instead, he’s glancing around the cafe you’re sitting in, mentally noting every man and what they’re doing – there’s a brunette in the corner with his laptop open, what looks like email after email being fired off with rapt, quick fingers flying over his keyboard.

An irrational pang of fear shoots through Kiyoomi – do you ever receive emails at such a rapid pace? How often do men email you, and is truly as professional as you claim? How well do you know the mind of a man looking at you as nothing more than a walking pussy?

Another man is sitting near the fireplace, his phone in hand a scowl sitting across his features. He’s practically yelling into the receiver, telling off what Kiyoomi presumes to be his secretary because of some misplaced papers. Kiyoomi winces, grinding his teeth and clutching onto his coffee cup tighter because has any man ever yelled at you like that? Have you ever been screamed at, wrongfully blamed for something, or have you ever cried because of some horrible, lousy man?

(Kiyoomi isn’t a particularly violent person, but the mental imagery of leaving the man’s face purple and blue makes something warm and fuzzy and good settle in his chest, a sense of satisfaction and a rush of adrenaline nearly making him dizzy.)

Even the cashier has Kiyoomi on edge – he’s smiling like an idiot, greeting each customer with that infuriating, chipper tone of his, and it’s immediately making your coffee partner irritated, wondering with only the smallest big of insecurity whether you’d like that more – someone more outgoing, someone more friendly, someone less difficult than him.

Every time he's with you, the constant feeling of sizing up the other men in the vicinity is always weighing him down, the fear that you could potentially lose interest in him and instead develop an attraction to someone else leaving his paranoid and quite frankly scared – you wouldn’t leave him, would you? You wouldn’t abandon him, would you?

The thought is enough to make him guide you towards a less crowded area, back towards his apartment, back to where it’s just you and him – how it should be.

Kiyoomi knows he shouldn’t have let you talk him into coming to the supermarket. There’s a reason he pays for his groceries to be delivered to him – it’s too busy, too loud, too many unaware people walking around with no regard for personal space or respect. It’s irritating, really, but you’d been looking at him with those pearly eyes and fucking pouting, and how could he have possibly said no to that?

Not when you were saying his name with that low tone of yours, practically purring it, making it nearly impossible for him not to snap and tangle his fingers into your hair, to pull you as close as physically possible and suck hickey after hickey into the sensitive, delicate skin of your neck. He’d been a goner the moment you’d brought it up, and it’s only now, as he’s standing at your side in the bread aisle, that Kiyoomi feels the full regret of his decision.

After all, the rather attractive blond man at the end of the aisle certainly hasn’t slipped his notice – the man’s tall (though not as tall as Kiyoomi, of course), decently muscular (though Kiyoomi knows he has much more definition in his quads, the lines dancing along his thighs and calves drool-worthy compared to the stranger’s), and staring rather intently at the shelved loaves in front of him.

It makes Kiyoomi’s eye twitch; he’s purposefully placed himself between you and the stranger, hoping that this vantage point blocks as much of the man from your view as possible. You’re too engrossed in your selection process to really notice, Kiyoomi knows, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying, the nagging voice in the back of his head urging him to minimize your chances of even acknowledging this mildly attractive stranger.

He’s still got that familiar unimpressed look in those dark eyes (mixed with a touch of adoration as he watches you bite your lip and furrow your brows, the sight pulling at his heart and almost, almost making him forget all about his jealousy), and that look only darkens as he hears footsteps on the linoleum flooring behind him.

He moves closer to you, opening his mouth to tell you that you should just grab the nearest loaf and leave, but the man beats him to it. His voice is timid, scared, even, and for just a split second it leaves Kiyoomi feeling smug – for all this man’s physical attractiveness, surely you wouldn’t want such a meek, submissive man. Not when you could have someone like Kiyoomi – someone stronger, more masculine, more dominant, more of a man.

The man’s question is innocent, all things considered – he reaches towards the loaf of bread you’d already stashed away in your shopping cart, pointing a finger and asking where did you find that?

Immediately Kiyoomi’s stiff, every muscle in his body going taut because no matter how you react to the man’s question, he won’t like the result. Your mouth parts into an adorable little ‘o’ that gets Kiyoomi biting his lip, before you smile and point towards the opposite end of the aisle, answering with a chipper, oh-so-fucking-cute response of right down there!

Kiyoomi’s brows knit together as the man thanks you, moving forward to go in search of the loaf you’d guided him towards. As the man passes, those dark eyes settle on his figure, leaving him to pick up his pace, the heavy weight of Kiyoomi’s stare making him noticeably uncomfortable.

As soon as the man is out of earshot, Kiyoomi snatches your wrist, his grip tight and making you nearly wince, his other hand reaching out to grab the loaf you’d been eyeing. Come on, we’re leaving, is all he says, walking with purpose in the opposite direction of the man.

You’re out of the grocery store before you can blink, Kiyoomi slipping his credit card back into his wallet and guiding you towards his car. You’re confused, really, and as you blabber on about how he didn’t need to pay for your groceries and ask about what’s gotten into him, Kiyoomi can only usher you into the front seat, throwing the grocery bags into the trunk and taking a final glance around him. The man seems to still be in the store, and Kiyoomi clicks his tongue, a small pang of relief racing through him.

As he settles into the driver’s seat and puts the car into reverse, he glances over at you, soaking in the sight of you in his car with his old sweatshirt on. His lips quirk up at the edges, the smile small, before stepping onto the gas, driving away from the store and trying to forget the sight of your smile being aimed at someone else.

He grips the steering wheel hard, focusing on the sound of your voice to calm him – your voice saying thank you for the ride, Kiyoomi, you’re the best.

(A sound replaying over and over and over in his head later that night, with the too-bright screen illuminating your photographed face and casting shadows over his naked body covered in a light sheen of sweat. The best, huh?)

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Really, as soon as Kiyoomi realized that his feelings for you were something so much deeper than he could ever imagine, he’d begun planning for your eventual relocation to his home. There’s a variety of reasons why he’s so eager, so insistent: it’s easier, and it makes more sense.

Because really, while Kiyoomi doesn’t want to steal you away, he doesn’t really have much of a choice, does he? You’re too independent for your own good – you’re always going out and doing things, seeing people, putting yourself in a position not only of meeting potential love interests, but also one of danger.

 Kiyoomi rationally knows that you’re strong and can make informed decisions, but there’s a part of him that slowly grows to doubt your abilities. It’s not that you’re incapable, but more like you aren’t the most qualified to make choices about your own health and life.

And really, doesn’t it make more sense for him to guide you? Kiyoomi, who is successful, wealthy, the pinnacle of health and fitness, and much more calm and collected than you. Surely he knows better – and you’d agree, wouldn’t you?

You always seem to support his choices, laughing and telling him that he’s so predictable and logical whenever he rants about his teammates and general annoyances. You always sound so in awe of him, the praise and tone going directly to his head, making his palms feel a little clammy and his voice getting a little hoarse because oh, being seen and complimented by you feels very, very good.

And so really, it only makes sense that Kiyoomi steals you away – he’s already controlling, but he isn’t with you at all hours of the day, and can you really be trusted to be constantly making smart, responsible decisions every waking moment?

You don’t know what’s best for you, and in order to have you in peak health and keep you utterly, completely his, this is the only way. But to Kiyoomi’s credit, he gives you ample opportunity to willingly come to him. His attempts to ask you out are, objectively, not particularly romantic, but his requests for you to stay the night are met with little resistance from you.

It’s typical, after all, for you to stay over at his place in his spare bedroom after you’ve drunk just a bit too much, sleeping off the tipsiness because Kiyoomi will be damned before he lets you out on the road in the wrong state of mind.

(Not for the safety of others, of course – solely for you, because if you were to get injured or, god forbid, die, Kiyoomi genuinely thinks he may never recover, the pain and guilt of losing you driving his mad with grief. Besides, you look very, very enticing all tangled up in his spare sheets, your pretty body so scantily clad in the t-shirt he’d loaned you and a pair of workout shorts that ride very, very low on your hips. Enticing enough to have him standing in the doorframe of the room, entirely motionless as he watches you slumber, swallowing thickly and not letting his eyes drift from your form for sometimes hours on end, just watching and waiting.)

But then those requests to spend the night start happening more days out of the week than you’re comfortable with, happening multiple nights in a row, so much so that you’re starting to spend more time at Kiyoomi’s place than your own – and so when you start denying his requests, he resorts to one final tactic.

Of course, it doesn’t feel good to be unscrew a few things under your bathroom sink as he ‘uses the restroom’, but it’s necessary. When you call in a panic later that day about how your apartment is flooded and your landlord is furious over the water damage, Kiyoomi will try his best to be sympathetic, to not sound as flat and mildly pleased when he offers to let you crash at his place for a few days until it all gets sorted out. He’ll mess with your piping first, then your thermostat.

(He’ll tell you on the phone that losing your heating during the height of winter isn’t a joke, I don’t care how many blankets you have you’ll still freeze to death – and who’ll have to organize your funeral? Me, so don’t be selfish.)

Then he’ll go so far as to start stealing things out of your apartment – of course, he’s always been a bit heavyhanded in ‘borrowing’ your things (mostly inconsequential things that he knows you wouldn’t notice, like little knick-knacks or pairs of clean socks – things that make him feel more connected to you and are the perfect size to fit underneath his pillow at night, of course), but then he starts looting away more serious items. Your books go missing, your jewelry, cups from your cupboards, even going so far as to steal your laptop or your speakers or anything else he knows you’ll miss.

And when you’re running to him and telling him that someone’s targeting your apartment, that you’re feeling unsafe, that you think someone’s been repeatedly robbing you and breaking into your apartment, he'll only sigh and tell you that you’d be stupid to not live with him for a while, that you’re practically asking for death by staying in that tiny little thing you call an apartment for any longer.

And in the event that you’re still planning on living on your own after all these attempts to force your dependence on him, Kiyoomi will see no other option – having you live with him is like his own personal heaven, and he’ll be damned if he loses the feeling of falling asleep under the same roof as you, of hearing your pretty snores and seeing the peaceful expression on your face as you slumber.

You’re just too damn perfect, and so you really, really shouldn’t be too surprised when Kiyoomi’s got the rag held over your nose, his words cold in your ear as he tells you to stop struggling, you’re only making this harder. After all, he’s made himself perfectly clear – it’s not his fault you didn’t pick up on the signs.

As a captor, Kiyoomi retains a lot of his mannerisms from before stealing you away. He’s still a bit harsh with you, his tongue biting and cold, but the difference becomes that Kiyoomi doesn’t bother trying to hide the nature of his feelings anymore.

You’d been aware that his interest shifted from a more platonic to romantic nature sometime along the way, but now there’s absolutely no way to misinterpret his actions – not when he’s resorted to making you sit so close to him on the couch, those dark eyes expectant when you don’t immediately shuffle into his side. He’ll stare for a while, before sighing, like it’s all some big chore, then grabbing you and forcing you to practically sit in his lap, all the while grumbling about you being so damn difficult, aren’t women supposed to love cuddling?

He’s making you take all your meals with him, forcing you to sit at the modest wooden dining table, the rather bland meal of white rice, fish and a roasted, unseasoned vegetable looking less appetizing with every day.

(He won’t let you cook, however – his protective tendencies show most when it comes to you being in the kitchen, if only because he doesn’t trust you to not injure yourself. There’s just too many possibilities – you could cut yourself, burn yourself, use the cheese grater or the potato peeler to tear off a layer of skin, you could squeeze lemon juice into your eyes or get jalapeno residue at your waterline. There’s just too much that could happen, and while Kiyoomi would absolutely love to have you entirely dependent on him if you were to become injured, the idea of knowingly letting you hurt yourself makes something bitter tinge in his mouth, his legs getting restless and his fingers twitching because he needs to do something to prevent that from happening.)

He’s curating a wardrobe for you, making sure to dress you in his favorite colors, rich fabrics, comfortable designs, things that he thinks will make you happy but still fit his tastes. (And besides, you’ve always complimented him on his own fashion choices – surely you’d trust him on this too, right?) There’s lots of complimentary colors and designs to match his own clothing, enjoying the way you two look right when you’re together, a smile gracing his lips and prompting him to twirl a lock of your hair around his finger, bringing it up to his lips and letting his tongue dart out ever so quickly, just to catch a small taste of you.

He’s controlling, always dictating what you do, what your plan for the day is while he’s gone, but it’s always done with the intention of trying to keep you safe and what he hopes will make you happy.

He’s investing a large portion of his very generous salary to getting the best supplies of any hobbies you have (as long as they revolve around music, art, anything that couldn’t possibly hurt you), always demanding you show him the progress you’ve made that day. It’s a desire to get you to interact with him, but it also makes pride swim in his gut to know that you’re getting better using the things he bought for you.

(And perhaps, there’s even some small part of you that’s improving to impress him… Just the thought makes him gulp heavily, having to shift his pants ever so slightly because the idea of you wanting to impress him, to seek his approval, to make him happy gets him hot under the collar.)

Life will become very monotonous with him. It’s a routine, with any deviation planned out in advance, Kiyoomi finding comfort in the order and consistently. It helps quell the anxiety stirring in his gut when he’s away for tournaments or away-matches, his knee always anxiously bobbing as he imagines what you’re doing.

He’ll whip his phone out nearly ever five minutes, tapping into the multitude of cameras he has set up around the apartment just to keep an eye on you, visibly relaxing when he sees you tucked up into bed, stepping out of the shower, or even reading on the sofa.

(He’s harsher than normal when Hinata bounces up and asks what he’s looking at, his words dripping in an extra layer of venom as he tells his fellow spiker to get away from me, it’s a private matter. Because he’ll be damned if he lets anyone see you in any sort of intimate, raw way – you’re for his eyes only, and Kiyoomi would rather cut off his left hand than let the redhead get even a glimpse of you.)

Kiyoomi is omnipresent, a trace of him present in every aspect of your life, and while it’s exhausting, humiliating, enraging, you’ll eventually grow tired of trying to rebel. He’s a patient man, but you can only handle so many derogatory comments, so many failed escape attempts (he has the best, most up-to-date security measurements around the apartment, of course) before you decide it may be better to simply accept this as your new fate.

After all, Kiyoomi isn’t that bad, right? You’d been friends for years – you know he’s a good person, and perhaps this is just a lapse in his judgement. Maybe he’s not thinking clearly. Maybe he’ll lose interest in you, or decide that what he’s doing it wrong.

You’ll cling onto the hope, repeating the mantra over and over in your head, but by the fifth year of living under his lock and key with a baby nursing at your breast, it’ll be very, very difficult to pretend that this isn’t your reality.

So really, it’s in your best interest to just accept him, to accept this – you’ll be happier this way. He promises.  

PUNISHMENTS:

In general, Kiyoomi is actually remarkably patient with you. Somewhere deep down, below all of the twisted, dark manifestations of his feelings, he does truly love you. And while his controlling behavior and the way he expects you to give him all of your time, attention, energy, and focus is exhausting and at times dehumanizing, Kiyoomi never truly wants to hurt you.

And as a result, it’s unlikely that he’ll ever lash out in a way more substantial than verbally. He’d never physically hurt you, as seeing you with even the slightest discoloration or bruise makes him near inconsolable, anger seeping into every part of his body because you absolutely cannot be hurt, not when he’s the one who’s supposed to be your perfect, caring, protective partner.

He won’t take away your basic rights, either – though, in all fairness, they’re effectively gone once he realizes the depth of his feelings for you. He forces you to spend all your time with him, share meals and wear the clothing that he picks out for you, and so aside from forcing himself to be present while you relieve yourself or perhaps feeding you with his own hands, there really aren’t too many personal rights that he could take away even if he wanted to.

Kiyoomi does have a tendency to be a bit mean when he gets frustrated or afraid, however. You’ve always known this about him – his snarky personality is what initially drew you to him as a friend, but there’s something more cutting and biting about the way it feels when he’s looking at you with a mix of such devotion and anger, the love pooling in those dark eyes scaring you even more than the way they crinkle at the edges, wrinkling dotting his forehead as he frowns and scoffs at you.

It’s hurtful, really, when he makes comments about things he knows you’re insecure about – perhaps your weight, your smile, your curves, your laugh, your intelligence, anything and everything because he needs to make you understand how you’re making him feel, how it hurts him just as much as it hurts you.

It’ll make your eyes sting, the venom in his voice enough to make you crumple in on yourself, and it’s only after Kiyoomi’s left and calmed down enough to breath normally again that he realizes just how truly devastated his comments make you. He’s softer, after that, approaching you with shaking hands and a tone that’s laced with something almost akin to fear, calling your name and pretending that it doesn’t slice through something soft and vulnerable and weak inside him when you flinch at his touch.

He’ll be kinder after that, spoiling you with your favorite foods (even the unhealthy ones, which would normally never be available to you, what with Kiyoomi’s obsession with keeping your diet squeaky clean), watching hours upon hours of your favorite movies and shows, even material purchases of new clothing and expensive jewelry.

It’s not enough to truly make you feel better, but as time passes and the realization that Kiyoomi is truly all you have in this lonely penthouse apartment of his, you’ll grow to appreciate it, even if his words still echo in your head.

But really, what primarily sets Kiyoomi off is your disobedience – his controlling tendencies are so ingrained into him by the time that he’s stolen you away permanently into his home that he simply cannot handle when you aren’t utterly compliant with his every whim and wish.

In his fantasies of you living with him and staying by his side, fueled by possessive need, you’re always so eager to please, doing anything and everything you can to make Kiyoomi happy. And when you contrast this idealized version of your behavior, it’s a rude awakening for him that you aren’t truly happy with him yet, that things aren’t as perfect as he wants them to be. And so, as a defense mechanism he lashes out, spitting out words and lies that make both of your hearts hurt.

But truly, what really warrants the term ‘punishment’ is what happens when something even bigger happens – when you hurt yourself. It doesn’t even have to be purposeful; it still results in utter, blind panic consuming him, his heart racing in his chest and a cold sweat dripping at his brow because you’ve somehow managed to cut your thumb while he was at practice.

It makes him see red, desperation tinging his movements, making his hands tremble and his feet practically flying as he rushes you into the bathroom, applying too many anti-bacterials and wrapping your thumb tightly enough to nearly cut off the circulation. It’s pure, unadulterated dread that seeps into his bones, a panic like he’s never felt before, and this leads to the most extreme reaction Kiyoomi will have to your behavior – that is, he doesn’t like slipping the pill into your food, but your body needs time to rest. You need time to rest. He needs time to simply hold your limp, unconscious body in his arms, clutching onto you like a lifeline and pressing you as tightly against his body as possible just to prove to himself that you’re here, that you’re alive, that you haven’t left him.

Kiyoomi doesn’t necessarily like drugging you, but it’s the only way to keep you from hurting yourself again for the next day or so, the only way to make sure you don’t have a repeat offense.

You hadn’t meant it – really, you swear you hadn’t – when you’d left the shower curtain a little too open. The water wasn’t supposed to be splashing out and leaving a puddle directly outside of the tub.

You know how Kiyoomi gets – irritated by the mess, those dark eyes clouding and frustration settling across his features because you’re so damn clumsy, can’t you notice when the shower curtain’s wide open? As you glanced at the clock sitting against the stark white walls of the bathroom, you bit your lip. He would be home any minute now from practice, surely needing to be in the exact space you currently were, aching to get every bit of sweat off his skin.

The towel clutched in your hand wasn’t absorbing as much as you needed it to, the gray already turned a dark, near black color despite how much water was left on the tiled ground. Cursing, you sat back on your heels, resigning yourself to needing to dirty another one and having to deal with Kiyoomi’s multitude of questions.

But as you shifted your weight, hands braced against your thighs to sit up, the sudden impact of the back of your head against the edge of the marbled countertop make you cry out, the stinging sensation followed by a dull thud making you collapse down. Clutching at the injured area, tears pricked at your lashes, body curling up into a feeble position despite the water now absorbing into the freshly clean clothing you’d just changed into.

Your vision was hazy, everything looking warped and bent, and you only very distantly hear the sound of the multitude of locks on the front door opening, Kiyoomi’s grumpy I’m home resounding through the apartment. His footsteps are heavy as he wanders through the rooms, slowly growing in speed and weight as he begins worrying, unable to find you.

But you do hear when he gets to the bathroom doorway, wide gaze catching sight of your curled-up form and the slew of curses falling past his lips as he immediately drops his bag and stumbles down to you. You’re clutching your head and through your bleary eyes you can see the way all color has drained from his face, eyes blown wide.

He doesn’t bother asking what happened as he scoops you into his arms, adrenaline coursing through him and forcing him to run through the apartment to your shared bed, settling you down as gracefully as possible. Before you can orient yourself he’s already pressing cold cloths against your scalp, shoving thermometers into your mouth and compulsively checking your pulse points, terror still running through him.

He’s muttering under his breath, what sounds like your name mixed with mantras of she’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay, though it sounds less like a statement and more like a hope.

It doesn’t take long for you to slip into unconsciousness, only being awoken a while later by Kiyoomi’s thumb stroking at your cheek, his eyes red and watershot, as if he’d been crying. Drink this, he tells you, holding a glass of what looks like water out to you.

When you don’t move, he grimaces. Please.

Your sips are slow, your head feeling like cotton, and Kiyoomi watches with baited breath, a hand still placed high on your thigh over the covers of your shared bed.

Those dark eyes are still fixed on you as you lean back, sudden exhaustion rolling through you, your own eyes fluttering closed once more. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out once you wake up, but it’s early morning now, from the looks of the barred window, and as you slowly come back to consciousness, trying to ignore the sharp pain in your head, you notice Kiyoomi standing at the end of the bed, seeming to loom over you.

He doesn’t say much, only rushing forward to grasp at your hand and once more check your pulse, sighing with relief when it comes back steady and normal. He doesn’t let go for a long time, still silently staring, watching the way you squirm and wince as your headache throbs. And when you eventually wander out of the room that night to see him making dinner, you won’t bother asking why the calendar shows that two days have passed, nor why there seems to be a thick rubber padding on every desk, table, and counter corner you see. It’s not worth it, really, because you already know the answer.

And as Kiyoomi spots you, the small smile that spreads across his lips makes your skin crawl, your thighs shifting weight as the lacy panties you know you didn’t have on previously tickle against your skin.

Sit down, love, dinner is ready.

And he can only smile when you do, something flickering in his heart at the sight of you looking at him with wide eyes, all confused and pretty and so very pliable. Sure, your concussion is no small injury, but the way you’d been sleeping so soundly in his bed, the smallest snores slipping past your lips and your body seeming to mold against his when he’d pulled you against his chest made him almost grateful for your clumsiness.

Stupid girl, he chides to himself. This is why you need me, can’t you see?

OVERALL DANGER:

8/10

 While Kiyoomi himself isn’t inherently dangerous, what makes him such an intense yandere is his blatant disregard for hiding his feelings from you. He doesn’t care whether you see how deeply obsessed with you he is, whether you become aware that he wants nothing more than to keep you with him forever and ever.

Kiyoomi is resourceful and follows through with his plans and goals, so once you’ve gotten his attention, you can kiss any ounce of freedom goodbye. He’s controlling and possessive, and it’ll almost feel like you aren’t even yourself anymore, but Kiyoomi will always be there - looking down at you with an impossible to read expression, before a small flush will coat his cheeks and he’ll gently flick your forehead, telling you that he loves you and that he’s happy to have you with him, where you belong.

Of course, it’s not like you have a choice in the matter, but there’s something deliciously pleasant about pretending that you want to be here, something that makes his heart race and blood rush to both his cheeks and between his legs.

Kiyoomi is a tricky case, because your initial friendship with him and the odd charm of his strange idiosyncrasies will leave you naively blind to the way he slowly devolves into a deeper and deeper state of obsession. You can’t see the way he begins losing himself, all his time and focus beginning to shift only to you, and by the time you truly realize just how far gone he is, it’s too late to get away from him.

Because Kiyoomi has thought of absolutely everything – it’s practically impossible to get away from him, and really, can you so easily disregard years of friendship once the warning signs become clear? Are you so inhuman and cold as to pull away from your closest friend once he starts acting strange?

Perhaps you’re the crazy one here – a sentiment that Kiyoomi will only encourage if it means getting you to touch him, if it means you saying yes to spending the night at his apartment, if it means you say yes when he tells you that pregnancy would suit you.

But really, it doesn’t matter – after all, you’re Kiyoomi’s now, and absolutely nothing will change that.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT helping a partner with chronic pain/fatigue

Requested? Yes!

Genre: Comfort

A/N: I received two requests, one for chronic pain and one for chronic fatigue. I feel that these kind of go hand in hand, if only because pain can lead to fatigue or vice versa, so I’ve combined these requests to avoid too much repetition between posts. 

A/N #2: I grouped members by specific aspects for this one. That’s not to say that any of them wouldn’t do any or all of the items listed (plus more), but they’re grouped by what I think they're most suited for or would do naturally, regardless of your condition.

Helps you stay active - Seungcheol, Woozi, Seungkwan, Chan

This list kind of started as the gym rat line, but I thought better of it, so hear me out. These guys strike me as ones that really enjoy being physically active, albeit in different ways. When you tell him the doctor recommends regular exercise but you just can't bring yourself to do it, his immediate response is, “I’ll do it with you, baby.” He’ll go to the gym with you and stick with you through whatever workout you’re feeling up to today, even if it’s not quite what his workout would usually look like. He’ll ask you to go to the park to play a sport casually with lots of breaks in between, if only to reframe it as something fun rather than exercise. He might even try to teach you some choreography, not with the goal of you really learning it or being good at it, but to find some stress-free, lower-impact ways to move your body. 

Helps you find ways to get quality sleep - Hoshi, Wonwoo, Vernon

You might think one of these things doesn't belong, but I have yet another ‘hear me out’ (I’m full of them!!!). Wonwoo and Vernon both seem to value sleep and having a regular routine around it. They’ll find ways to help you relax - be it a hot shower before bed, some light reading (Wonwoo’s voice reading to you, hello??), or things like heating pads or special pillows to make sleep something that is more likely to happen for you. Now, I think Hoshi needs those things just as much as you do, if only because he needs the opportunity to recharge. Those little habits make it easier to sleep and get restorative rest. 

Helps you manage symptoms - Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao

When you tell him that your doctor recommends cutting or limiting certain things from your diet, he’s totally on board and will absolutely do it with you. The processed foods stop appearing on the grocery list. The sugary dessert after dinner is replaced by a big bowl of fresh fruit. The caffeinated drinks are replaced by non-caffeinated options or different fun substitutes entirely. He’ll never deny any of those things for you if you’re really craving them, but if eliminating and trying new things might help you then he’ll have your back. He’s also got the heating pads, massages, and pain meds on lock for when a good diet just doesn’t cut it. 

Helps you manage stress - Jeonghan, Jun, DK

He sees the cycle. You get stressed with work, school, family life, whatever. On the heels of that stress is fatigue, quickly followed by pain. He’ll do all the things mentioned above when the fatigue and pain is unavoidable, but he really likes to do things that help manage the stress to begin with. The chores are done so you don't have to dread them all day for when you get home. He’s helping you stay active, if only to work off that stress before it consumes you. He’s packing your lunch so you can get a few extra minutes of sleep or just simply take your time getting ready for the day. It’s the little things that you might not even notice he does all the time, but when you remember you needed to do something and find that it’s already been done, you get a moment to sigh in relief and just rest. 

[littlestarbigsky]

been thinking long and hard abt soda and what it did to him to drop out of high school (i also feel bad bc somehow the only fics i have abt soda are all ships and i know i can do better for my boy)

so here’s a quick lil thing abt darry and soda after soda dropped out :p

darry couldn’t remember the last time soda had been this upset. even after their parents died, there were moments when the gang was all together and soda could laugh and feel the littlest bit normal again, but this felt like it was never going to end, and there was no reprieve. there was no end in sight, and darry couldn’t do anything to help him.

his grades had been going downhill for a while. it wasn’t his fault, or at least not entirely. it had been years since soda had done alright in school on his own instead of barely scraping by, and at some point the class had left him behind and it was like they started speaking another language.

and then their parents died.

soda already had enough trouble missing one day of school, let alone missing a week while they tried to throw together a funeral.

a month after their parents had died, after far too many nights at the kitchen table crying over math homework, after screaming matches that shook the roof over his grades, after darry had yelled so many times about how failing out of school was a surefire way to get them sent to a boy’s home, soda finally said that he was dropping out of school.

he could barely leave his room after telling darry, he couldn’t even tell ponyboy himself. he didn’t know what to do with himself, battling with his own mind every hour of the day. thoughts bouncing around his head of feeling like a failure for not even being able to graduate high school, bullying himself over not being able to joke around about it or making other people happy, which felt like maybe the only thing he was good at anymore. he knew that he was going to fail out eventually, so what was the point?

“soda?” darry cracked the door open, his eyes landing on his little brother where he had been for the last three days: curled up in bed, his back to the door. “do you want some dinner?”

soda silently shook his head.

darry sighed, “you can’t stay in here, forever, pepsi. we miss you out there.”

soda didn’t give much of a response, just gave a half hearted shrug.

“listen,” darry let himself into the room, sitting down on the bed and bringing a hand up to rub soda’s back. “i know you feel lousy, and i know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but you’ve gotta get back to living, soda. you’ve just gotta. we couldn’t get along without you.”

soda rolled over and sat up, and darry had to swallow a gasp at the state of his brother. soda’s eyes were rubbed raw and angry red from crying with deep shadows stamped under them, his hair was sticking up at all angles from the grease he hadn’t washed out in days, and his clothes were wrinkled and hanging loosely off of him.

“soda…”

darry could hardly get the word out before soda had thrown himself at his big brother, tears starting up again. god, he was so tired of crying.

“i’m so sorry,” he cried miserably, clutching to darry with everything he had in him.

darry felt the tears hit his shoulder and his heart ached for his little brother, “i know, i ain’t mad at you, honey.”

“mom and dad just wanted me to graduate and i couldn’t even do that! how am i supposed to do anything if i can’t do that?” soda sobbed.

“they’re not mad at you either, baby, don’t say that,” darry could feel tears prickling in his own eyes.

“listen, i don’t care if you’re lyin’ to me,” soda leaned back, his eyes not meeting darry’s. “but can you please tell me it’s gonna be okay.”

darry felt like he had missed a step going down stairs with the way the words made his stomach drop. he grabbed soda’s face in his hands and forced his brother to look at him.

“it’s gonna be okay, baby. i don’t know when and i don’t know how but i promise you, we’re gonna be okay. i’m gonna make sure we are.”

he wasn’t sure soda believed him, and maybe he didn’t even fully believe himself, but he had made a promise, and he had every intention of making good on it. some of the tension soda had been holding in his shoulders seemed to melt away, and darry knew he would be okay with saying everything over and over again if it meant soda didn’t have to be so scared.

“thank you… i know you hate lying to us.”

“i wasn’t lying.”

[girlactionfigure]

A bell. A small silver bell that once adorned a Torah scroll in a shul in Nazi Germany. It was November 9 and 10th, 1938 which came to be known as Kristallnacht or Reichskristallnacht, also referred to as the Night of Broken Glass-for the shards of broken glass that littered the streets after the windows of Jewish-owned stores, buildings, and synagogues were smashed.

My amazing grandmother was about 11 years old when this happened in her town. She remembers walking into her synagogue a few days after that hate-filled night. In the midst of the torn pieces of the sacred Torah scrolls, the broken glass, and the thousands of ripped pages of the prayer books she found a small silver bell sticking out of the debris. She picked it up and put it in her pocket.

My grandmother was lucky in a sense. She was put on a boat at the age of 13 to take a three week trip to America completely and utterly alone. She met my grandfather and they had two kids one of them being my mom— and the rest they say, is history – or is it?

A few months ago, when I was visiting her, she handed me a small jewelry box. Inside was that very bell that she recovered in 1938 a few days after Kristallnacht. It was one of the few possessions she hid on her person and took with her to America when she escaped. She had never told anybody about the bell until recently. But now she gave it to me knowing that it will serve as a testament to generations past and future that we should never forget.

Source: Tamara Edelstein Humans of Judaism

[faithinthekindness9194]

I can’t even imagine how hard this must have been for Rita💔

I never personally met Liam but my heart is still broken. I don’t think the hole in my heart will ever heal. Being a directioner since 2010 and adoring those boys for years hurts that they’re no longer who they were! They will never reunite or meet up with each other as they should again. They can never pick up the phone to check up on him and they’ll never receive a call from him. My heart hurts, grief happens and takes over us all in different ways, I struggle with grief and I always have done so, I’m still trying to sink this all in. I just want to let whoever needs to hear it, that no matter where you are in your grief or how you are grieving never allow someone to devalue your feelings. Your feelings matter, no matter who or what it is. If anyone needs someone to talk to my DMs and asks are always open, please don’t feel like you’re in this on your own! Our fandom is family and family stick by each other, we love each other🫶🏻

Liam,

I miss you so much, my heart is forever broken. I hope you’re in a much better place now and at peace. You didn’t deserve the shit you was dealt and you left us way too soon! I hope one day we will meet! Remember we love you and will forever remember you💔

Rest easy Payno🕊️🕊️

Rita Ora's message and memorial for Liam Payne at the MTV EMA 2024

[jenthebug]

Little Bro and his friends are participating in a race called 24 Hours of Lemons. They bought a car for $500 and are fixing it up with junkyard parts on a strict budget (though the budget for safety equipment is unlimited). They’ll then have a 4-driver, 8-hour race where each driver races for 2 hours. I’m stoked to see how this turns out.

He also got in a wreck (no injuries!) that disabled his daily driver. Someone clipped his rear end going super fast. 😒 (Little Bro is the kind of brother where I find out about this stuff via social media, which is fine)

So yeah, I’ve been on the couch most the day, watching DanWithTheWrench and music videos.

It’s almost time to study. I think this time I’ll use a map and dry erase markers and try to follow what the operations dispatcher is doing.

Wanna see my Christmas decorations?

I’m thinking they’re catproof. A tree would get destroyed, but stuff hanging from the walls and ceiling (away from the cat tower) should be good. It looks more extra in real life, which is exactly what I was going for.

Tomorrow is my appointment with pre-procedure services (anesthesia). I remember that one being pretty chill, which is nice. I also have some lab work to be done, which means I’m hydrating today, because I’m a hard stick. 😒 I wish I could have kept my port. It wasn’t hurting me. And I’m sure they’ll need a few tries to get a big IV on me for surgery; they may even need the vein finder or ultrasound.

I’m taking it super easy, I need to get rid of this cold. In fact, I can’t be sick for 2 weeks before surgery. Back to masking at work.

I also need to do laundry, but I’ll do that after a few hours of studying.

[orphicswanart]

Madatobi week day 2 - Hanahaki disease

story under the cut ^^ ( btw English is not my first language)

Labored coughing was heard throughout the halls of the Senju main house, agonizingly dry and heavy. Choking on the flowers that symbolized romance and passion now just reminds him of what he could never have. Something that will bring him to his grave sooner than anyone wanted.

Thorns made him vomit more blood than any other, making his voice hoarse and pitiful, as pitiful as he felt. Lying on the cushions, of the bed that Hashirama insisted he'd lay on, books scattered on the floor, some pages have drops of blood on them, and a now cold tea at his bedside table in an easy reach so he doesn't have to strain his body further than his brother wanted.

Tobirama couldn't stand it, he didn't cry often but looking at his brother's face made him tear up...it made him feel hollow, how grim everyone had been around him, however, he couldn't do a thing. He didn't want to lose his feelings and his memories of the ones he loved.

He remembered his father how unfeeling he was, how he never felt an inkling of love for anyone. Later he learned that his father sacrificed his happiness, his memories, and his emotions for the good of the clan. He loved another who didn't love him back ...Tobirama wondered if their father hadn't had the surgery would he be gentler, would he laugh with them, would he love their mother the way she deserved, would they be happy. The questions were interrupted by another suffocating cough that made him tear up. A red rose forced its way out.

Oh, how he wished this could stop, he could have gotten the surgery, and now it's too late, he was in pain and it did him little good to think about what he could do, if only he had taken one of the options, his only one was to confess but he also couldn't confess either as his love was vile, he fell for a man, something that was looked down upon. He was sure he would die on the spot as the man he loved hated him. How could somebody love a thing like him. How...

"Tobirama..." A deep rich voice caught his attention. Oh the man he loved, the man for whom the roses bloomed in his chest was looking at him with pity. "I came to check on you per your brother's request..."

Madara sat down and gently wiped some blood away from his mouth. "I wish I could help you cure this flower sickness..." he rasped. He lightly coughed and placed his bare hand to his mouth pushing a few sky-blue flowers into his palm, forget-me-nots. "I wish to..." He paused before deciding to stick the pretty flowers behind Tobirama's ear"... I want you to know that I caught feeling for you, even if it doesn't help you...I...Tobirama?"

Tears went down the pale cheeks as a smile curled on the albino's face. "I..." He lifts a rose to Madara's ear "I love you too..."

Madara's eyes widen in shock for a moment before they soften as a brilliant smile spreads on his lips. Before Tobirama can say or do anything Madara leans in for a kiss, and Tobirama gladly accepts.

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ★ ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚.

They both had hanahaki for each other isn't that rather tragic and romantic, eeee!!!

I decided on the flowers because they fit them both so well, in some fanfics the flowers somebody coughs symbolize the person they love and tho me these two are perfect:

Roses; romance and passion

Forget-me-nots; remembering the ones that passed, true love and devotion

but yeah hope you enjoy bc I am enjoying this so so much!!!!

[thedastravelerer]

I just finished the Dragon Age Veilguard and I need to scream my thoughts into the internet void.

My Rook, Lucrezia, was bought along with other kids by the house de Riva when she was 3 years old. She doesn't remember anything before that. When her magic manifested at the age of 8, she begged Viago not to send her to the Circle. Viago saw great potential in the little elven chaos gremlin, so he decided to hire private tutors for her. From the age of 14, she became Viagos apprentice, accompanying him everywhere. Her sunny, bubbly personality was a great distraction in social settings. She was the Robin and Viago was the Batman, basically.

Inquisitor romanced Solas.

So that is the viewpoint, from which I experienced the game.

The good:

The music is AMAZING

The environments are gorgeous

Spellblade is sooo much fun. The perfect mix of rogue and mage.

Treviso is so beautiful. I am never saving Minrathous. That sh*thole can get swallowed by the ocean.

The final missions were great. The tension, the loss, the heartbreak, the betrayal—10/10. No notes.

Baby griffons

The conversations/dynamic between Lucanis/Spite and Taash crack me up

The dynamic between Viago and Lucrezia was everything I could have hoped for. I still laugh when I remember the letter from Viago starting with "IDIOT".

Viago and Teia—I would die for them. Every time they flirt, I picture Lucrezia sticking fingers into her ears and going LALALALA. I don't want those pictures in my head.

Harding wins the competition for the prettiest room in the Lighthouse.

I love the little offhand comments and banter between all of the Crows. It was fun to hear Lucanis or Lucrezia randomly mention Viago or Teia. It really painted a picture of them knowing each other for a long time and being able to poke fun at each other.

I loved Lucanis as a character. Also, the 3-way relationship between Rook-Spite-Lucanis is perfect. I loved that when Lucanis learns about Caterina being alive, he shuts down and Spite is like: "What?! Why are you putting more locks into our prison? I AM GETTING ROOK! :D

The "Solas therapy" ending was heartwarming (and also a bit funny)

I loved Solas as a character. I see, why he is the god of trickery and lies. And how his wisdom turned into pride. I just wish I could slap that stubborn liar. Just once.

You know it is real love when you spent the last few hours chomping on an archedemon and your Vhenan still kisses you.

I liked the relationship progression between Davrin and Lucanis. They went from open hostility to mutual respect to drinking buddies.

Lucanis questioning Bellara and Neve about their business decisions was hilarious. Crows are first and foremost business people.

Isseyas storyline. I just wish they delved deeper into her story instead of getting an infodump. I enjoyed seeing how the blight twisted her grief and regrets. How she remembered only her love for the griffons she saved. And the blight corrupted that love, forcing her into horrible mistakes.

The bad:

The story is so shallow in comparison to previous games. All of the nuance is gone. There is no Loghain, no Meredith and Orsino, no Anders. Everyone is either the good guy or the bad guy. Maybe except for the Butcher and Isseya.

A lot of the darker, complicated, interesting themes are ignored. After the Antaam Qunari (Sten in DAO), the Ben-Hassrath Qunari (Bull in DAI) we finally meet a scholar of Qun and we get NOTHING interesting from her. We can't have a deeper conversation about the Qun. We can't even talk about her hypocrisy of running away from the very rules she forces on Taash. The Antaam are the a$$holes and everyone else following the Qun is good. Until they disagree with their assigned role in life and get their mind broken until they fit the mold again. But we don't get to learn that.

Who TF is Anaris? Why is he the Forgotten One? What does it even mean? What beef did he have with the Evanuris? We don't get to learn that. We get MWHAHAHA I AM SOOO EVIL. Boring and disappointing. It would have been much more interesting if he convinced Cyrian his sister was a pawn for the Dread Wolf. There could have been a conflict between elves choosing Anaris, who promised them power after their gods turned out to be a$$holes, and elves choosing a new, free path.

Are we not going to address the EXECUTIONER in the room? Who is he? Where did he come from? Why is he totally cool working a desk job in the Necropolis?

We finally see Kal-Sharok and we learn almost nothing about the dwarves living there. How did they survive? How do they govern themselves? What is the culture like?

I don't understand the Titan powers Harding has. Like, I get the concept, but the details are confusing.

I am sick of the words "ritual" and "artifact"

The quests "press button in three places" or "destroy/place crystals so they link/unlink" were a bit repetitive.

Characters sometimes have lapses in memory. Ferelden has fallen to the blight, but Emmerich and Harding are going camping there... Mmmmkay. Rook, baby, you have used the teleport vortex like three times before. We have 2 in the Lighthouse.

I love Lucanis, but his romance is very undercooked. I get, that he pushes a lot of emotions down, and flirting is just another weapon the Crows use to get to their targets. But we see no inner turmoil in banter, no notes wondering about Rook. He touches Rook exactly once - in the romance scene at the very end. They never even address the almost kiss.

The brutality of the life of Crow recruits is smoothed over to be nice and family-like. We are talking about an organization that buys enslaved children and forces them into hunger games to shape them into elite assassins.

The widespread Tevinter slavery is mentioned minimally. The only mention might be the codex of Dorians speech in the Magisterium. Their whole social system is built on slavery and caste system. We don't get to talk to Neve about any of it.

Most of the helmets are hideous.

The "stealing cultural stuff is wrong and we, the pirates and treasure hunters, are not doing it. We are the good guys!" talk you have with Taash right when you meet her was so jarring. Like, it makes sense, because Isabella is in charge. It would have been funnier and less preachy if they went with "We don't steal cultural stuff, because Isabella stole something from the Qunari once and it was a sh*tshow".

No dirt, no persistent gore

You don't get to have deep conversations with your followers. Instead, you get to read their diaries and letters in the codex. I felt like a creep snooping through their notes and letters to each other. Same feeling with the Lighthouse banter.

I miss the more abrasive followers. Everyone is high on friendship. Why is no one protesting against the demon-possessed assassin cooking all of our meals? Why isn't Bellara more wary about the Tevinter mage? Emmerich gets a lot of sh*t for the creepiness, but nobody questions the morality of using body parts as Legos.

I wish we could choose a class for the Inquisitor. She looked so ridiculous and out of place in the last fight. She is one of the most fearsome fighters in Thedas and she wears the blandest outfit possible. She isn't even armed.

We find out the Andrastian faith is a fairytale and no one except Harding comments on it? All of the human followers grew up in Andrastian cultures. Religion forms the structure of society, customs, inner values, viewpoints on the world, and what is considered "normal" on a subconscious level. In DAI you have a conversation with Josephine about how the Andrastian faith provides common ground for negotiations across cultures. Cassandra walks through an elven temple that is older than her religion and still wonders who could believe this nonsense. Why aren't you more upset, people?!

I am going to pretend the post-credit scene didn't happen. You will not soil the beautiful tragedies of the very human mistakes and choices the imperfect characters like Loghain made. I will not accept some demon whispering over the wonderful multi-faceted people and their rises and falls. F*ck you.

The bug, where the game loads the preset character instead of your custom Rook is annoying and didn't get fixed by the patch.

I hate the UI with a passion

No grey streaks in Inquisitors hair is a crime.

I hate the underwater view in Rooks room. I have an irrational fear of deep waters and sea life. The Ossuary is a prison of my nightmares.

I hate the redesign of the demons. They look like dementors with their robes open.

It is not clear how long was Rook trapped in the prison of regrets.

Anyway... rant over. I enjoyed the game like I enjoy the Marvel movies. With half of my brain turned off.

[trvheeheeee]

Reblogging this because someone asked what they were arguing about and I found another one of the koala pictures:

In one day there where 1000+ messages in the chat and if I remember correctly the subject of the conversation went like this: Fries on Pizza -> The German language sucks -> Bladurs Gate 3 -> Weapons (mostly swords) -> Dead animals (one of my friends has a big collection of dead animals and she was very active in the chat showing them off) -> Pizza on pineapple -> Napoleon Bonaparte -> Nerds (the candy) -> a stick -> Emperor Nero -> Marchand (Napoleon's Valet) -> Computer Science -> Magic: The Gathering

At my uni theres a boardgame group who have a very large groupchat full of boardgame nerds. Its extremely active and constantly has people fighting in it over the dumbest stuff imagineable. So recently, one of the people in there (who owns a koala plushie) has decided to calm people down by posting the koala's adventures every time people start arguing. And I just think it's the best thing ever :3